Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Twisted Oak Chapter Six (Analysis)
Chapter Six
My eyes blinked as they grew accustomed to the diminished light. The body didn’t move; the chest didn’t rise and fall with slow shallow breaths; no pulse throbbed in the artery at the base of the neck. I sidled closer and reached out to shake her shoulder.
“Lady, lady, are you all right?” Remembered from a CPR class taken years before. The woman looked familiar, maybe a much older version of Kay Hollowell, with the same cheekbones, but more wrinkles, more sagging skin on her face and neck than Kay would allow on her entire body. This woman wasn’t plucked, tucked, toned, injected and dyed. She was just dead. I poked at her shoulder again. “Lady, lady!” I couldn’t get closer than arm’s distance. Lingering memories of hands grabbing at me in the dark prevented getting too close. “Lady, lady!”
With no response, I backed up to the door and started to fumble through my purse looking for my cell-phone. I squatted, and pulled things out at random- my calendar, hand lotion, pitch-pipe, wallet, loose papers- but no cell-phone. Must have left it in the car. “I’ll be right back,” I said to the dead woman.
The car door was locked, but I could see my cell-phone on the center console right next to my keys and the empty Sonic cup.
“Help, help!” The empty strip mall held no assistance. I ran over to the convenience store and pushed open the doors. “Help. Call the police. A dead woman. Over there.” I waved in the direction of Saxon and Associates as I caught my breath. “Dead woman in the office. Call the police.”
The dark-skin man behind the counter, Patel in red letters on his yellow shirt hanging from his thin body, paused from ringing up a carton of Marlboros and a twelve-pack of Busch beer. “Dead woman? Not there. They are closed.”
“I know they’re closed, but I was just there. A dead woman is in the back office. Call the police. Call 911. Now!”
The burly male customer pushed a twenty-dollar bill across the counter, then turned to look at me. “Lady, are you okay? You’se about as riled up as Maybelle when she scents wild pig. Patel, maybe we better go over and check this out.”
Patel’s dark brown eyes opened wide. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t think this is so very good. Perhaps I just call my brother, the manager.” He pulled a phone from under the counter and punched in some numbers.
His customer disentangled a blue can of beer from the plastic rings and popped the tab. He extricated a slender phone from his overalls pocket and pushed what must have been the speed-dial code for 911 “Yep. Hank here. I’m gonna go over and check something out for a lady, she says there’s a dead woman at the Saxon office. You want to send over a car? Thanks.” He flipped the phone shut and returned it to his pocket. “Patel, get the little lady a bottle of water and put it on my tab.” His broad back filled the door as he strode out. Excited chatter from his hounds filled the air as he passed by his truck. He nodded at them, calming them down.
Patel brought a bottle of cold water and rolled his stool from around the counter for me to sit. “My brother the manager is not happy. He does not like it when the police must come, unless it is for coffee. Is not good for business to have dead people. I do not like dead people.”
We watched the window for blue flashing lights announcing the arrival of the law. I prayed that it would be Thomas answering the call and wondered if I should call Jax for legal advice. I decided that would be a prudent move under the circumstances and turned to ask Patel for the use of his phone since mine was still locked in my car.
“Look the sheriff!” Patel jumped up faster than I thought his spindly legs could manage. “Sheriff! Sheriff!” He ran outside, and I followed.
The patrol car slung gravel across the parking lot as it came to a stop. A short pudgy man reached for a stiff-brimmed dark green campaign hat. He aligned it squarely on his head, and stepped out of the car, sliding a night-stick through his belt. His face maintained a grim, serious appearance, not cracking a smile; his eyes hidden by his reflective Ray-Bans even though it was almost dark. “Patel.” He gestured to the clerk. “You call this in?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Patel almost bobbed his head in servitude, bouncing from one red Chuck to the other.
The burly customer from earlier walked back. “Keep your britches on, Homer. This lady here says there’s a body over in the Saxon Building. Door’s locked up tight. Nobody answering the buzzer.” He turned to me. “My baby brother. Tends to get a little bit snippity sometimes. So how did you get in?”
The deputy’s face turned crimson. “Dang it, Hank, this is my case. Ma’am, could you tell me your name, please, and what exactly you were doing in the Saxon Building?”
I told him about my conversation with Lilah Hodgson and Gary Saxon and my subsequent trip to the Sonic.
The deputy nodded and took notes on a small flippad. “Well, Dr. Hayworth, now if you saw Mr. Saxon drive off, why did you go back to the office?”
I glanced over at the parking lot. “That Cadillac was still there. I hoped someone would still be working and could help me.”
Patel interrupted. “No, no,no. They are closed. No one has come for coffee in a week. Maybe two weeks.”
The deputy slid the notepad into his back pocket. “And then you broke in. Sized the place up. Maybe saw a computer or two?”
“No! I pushed the buzzer and jiggled the door and it just opened.” I said.
Hank reappeared from inside the store, holding another beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Door’s locked up tighter than a drum. Jiggled it. Pushed on it. Nothing happened.”
“The window!” I said, heading across the parking lot. “The back window must have been open. I saw the curtains move in the breeze. You can get in through the back.”
Hank chugged his beer in one big gulp and tossed the empty can in the direction of the trash barrel. “Slow down, missy. Back of that building got a big ditch that butts up near Little Creek. Alligators back there, some big ones. Homer, get your shotgun.” Hank stopped by his truck and grabbed two large flashlights. By now another sheriff’s car appeared on the scene. “Grab a light,” Hank directed, “and follow us.” He led the procession across the parking lot and around the building. “Stop.” He held up his hand, then swept the area overgrown with tall grasses and weeds with his flashlight. Frogs in the nearby creek stopped their croaking. The crickets silenced their chirping. Something large splashed into the water. “Which window?”
I looked at the building and mentally repositioned myself. “That one!” I pointed to the end unit, a tall narrow double-casement window. The edge of a gold curtain fluttered in the crack between the two windows.
Hank directed his flashlight under the window. “Homer, you got a camera. Might want to get a picture of this broken grass here by the window.”
Muttering under his breath, the deputy went back around the building. He returned with a digital camera and photographed the area his brother indicated.
Hank reached over to the window and pulled. The hinges creaked but the crank spun and the windows opened completely. He ran his finger along the window frame. “Wonder where the screens are? Nobody in their right mind gonna open a window on a creek without screens. Get eaten up by mosquitoes. Somebody check around.” Lights flashed against the remaining back walls of the building as someone followed Hank’s instructions. “Homer, gimme a leg up, I’m going in.”
“But Hank,” Homer sputtered. “You ain’t even on duty. Dang it.” But he gave his brother a boost.
Just like Four and Jack, I thought.
A sudden glow of light showed Hank found the wall switch. “Y’all go around front, I’ll open the door,” he said.
Deputy Homer took my arm when I stumbled in the uneven grass. Around front, streetlights finally cast a glow on the sidewalks and parking lots. The sounds of the frogs and crickets resumed after we turned the corner. A bellow resounded through the night.
“We’ve got to go back,” I said. “Someone could be hurt.”
“Someone could get hurt. You ain’t from around here, are you? That’s an alligator,” said Homer.
Hank stood in the doorway. “Now just where did you see this body?”
“Behind the desk in that back office.” I swallowed hard against bile in my throat. “She was lying mostly behind the desk. In front of the window. The drapes blew over her a few times.”
A screech of tires made me turn back to the street. Jax and Thomas jumped out of the car and quick-stepped over to where Hank and I were talking.
“Deputy.” Hank nodded at Thomas.
“Sheriff, deputies.” Thomas nodded at the three men. “This is Jax Hayworth; he’s Dr. Hayworth’s nephew and attorney of record. We heard the radio call, thought maybe we could help.”
“Jax? Why do I need an attorney?” I grabbed my nephew’s arm. It was one thing if I thought I needed legal advice. It was something else if Thomas and Jax thought I needed an attorney. “Why did Thomas call Hank Sheriff?”
Jax loosened my fingers and flexed his. “Dang Aunt B! Hank? How do you know Sheriff Duncan?”
I felt my knees tremble again. “Sheriff Duncan?” I looked across the parking lot at the patrol car with an unfamiliar seal on the door. “I guess I’m not in Liberty anymore?”
The big man rocked back on his heels, his face more stern than it was in the convenience store. “No, missy, this is Ware County. Now if you will just come with me.” He led the precession down the hallway to the back office. The overhead fixture flooded the room with light, showing the dusty trails on the furniture and the pile of painter’s canvas tarps on the floor behind the desk. “Now, just where is this here body of yours?”
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Having read your synopsis for this, I went ahead and dove in, but I promise to be sensitive that this is chapter 6. I just really wanted to hear more of your story!
Opening of chapter is very much a hook and you did a good job with your character’s reactions to the situation.
I particularly liked this: “I’ll be right back,” I said to the dead woman.
Not meant to be humorous, but it has that touch of human being in it we can all relate to.
Good secondary characters too. Hank and Patel—Very well-treated, I can visualize and relate to them. Dialog works well, is appropriate for the characters, etc.
I honestly haven’t seen anything grammatically to pick on, but then, I’m not much of a grammar wonk. I’m more about plot and characterization (which is what sells novels). I thought from your synopsis you had a great plot, and now I see you can hook me with great characters and setting.
Hank and Homer—good scene!
*Good decription of the setting too. I think you said Georgia, but I can relate being a Florida native, with Ga ties. Good job here too!
Sheriff’s (Ware County) done well too!
I liked it a lot! I would keep reading.
I honestly see nothing here to quibble with. Are you finished? If not, keep writing! Books must be finished to sell, etc. I believe you could a have publishable novel!
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I think you have an idea for how you want your story to be, but I think you need to work on your delivery some. Like when she found the dead body, she was distraught, but was this the first time she has been around a dead body? What was she feeling? She seemed to fumble around in her purse for a phone, then run straight to the store to get help. I think I would be in a little more shock, you briefly compare the dead body to a Kay Hollowell which gives the reader a good idea of what she looked like alive (assuming they have heard of Kay Hollowell) but what about dead? Was she in an odd pose?
The characters are there, but I think they too could be more developed. You give brief descriptions visually, but what about sounds and smells? Were their voices raspy? Did Patel speak with an accent?
Keep writing, and try to develop the idea you already have.
Overall, very nice work! It felt a bit choppy in a few sections. e.g. “A screech of tires made me turn back to the street. Jax and Thomas jumped out of the car and quick-stepped over to where Hank and I were talking.” This seems like it could be smoother by forming one sentence from the two.
Another example, from earlier in the reading: ”A short pudgy man reached for a stiff-brimmed dark green campaign hat. He aligned it squarely on his head, and stepped out of the car, sliding a night-stick through his belt.” Seems like the flow would be much better if you worded it: ”A short, pudgy man, aligning his dark green, stiff-brimmed hat squarely on his head, stepped out of the car and slipped his night stick through his belt.”
Again, overall, very nice. Just needs a little polishing!
I haven’t read the other chapters but I liked this one based on your characters. I would like to read more and see where it’s going. The writing flowed nicely
Wonderful! This is the only selection of this work I’ve read and I love it! I truly cannot find anything about it I don’t like, I was instantly grabbed by the characters and felt like I was standing there with everyone. It isn’t too wordy where I get buried in adjectives and layouts, but direct and to the point. I look forward to reading more! :)
It’s moving in the right direction, but if she knew she was dead by did she keep saying lady lady. Watch the “remembered” line in the second paragraph”. What did she remember. There was no CPR activity happening
When she yells “help help” explain how she yelled or the emotions going into it. Make the reader feel her emotions. When you make the reader guess they may guess wrong and get bored quickly
no pulse throbbed in the artery at the base of the neck.
This would not be able to be known without touching, it’s actually a hard artery to find except when you’re pushing in deeply. I’d take it out if you could.
Patel in red letters on his yellow shirt hanging from his thin body,
maybe Patel was written
Good job with the different dialects of the people, from Patel to the store’s patron, both of which show distinction and that is often hard to do believably within a story.
Reminds me a little of Murder She Wrote but in a good way! Your writing itself is very strong except for the few typos which I noted. I think you caught the exact reaction of most people when they are faced with trouble not their own, protecting their own ass! You really created some believable characters. I wonder where this will go.
I am very thankful for the “notes for the reviewer”. Those notes helped put everything into perspective. I did enjoy the chapter, however, I also have some things that I would change.
If writing for a target audience that will enjoy these types of novels, you might want to keep your vocabulary at about the 8th grade level. Words such as sidled and extricated could very easily be replaced with scooted near and pulled out. Most of the story seemed to be written at the right level, but those two instances really stuck out.
As for the story itself, you seem to follow the events very well in some places and in others, you just seem to jump through time to 5 minutes later. Here is an example of what I mean:
The car door was locked, but I could see my cell-phone on the center console right next to my keys and the empty Sonic cup.
“Help, help!” The empty strip mall held no assistance. I ran over to the convenience store and pushed open the doors. “Help. Call the police. A dead woman. Over there.” I waved in the direction of Saxon and Associates as I caught my breath. “Dead woman in the office. Call the police.”
Other minor changes:
“Lady, lady, are you all right?” Remembered from a CPR class taken years before. ( I would change “remembered” to “remembering what I could”)
The dark-skin man behind the counter, Patel in red letters on his yellow shirt hanging from his thin body, paused from ringing up a carton
of Marlboros and a twelve-pack of Busch beer. “Dead woman? Not there. They are closed.” (I would change to: The very thin, dark-skinned man behind the counter had “Patel” written in red block letters on his loose fitting yellow shirt. He stopped ringing up the carton of Marlboros and looked up at me. As he glanced across the street, he said “That is not possible. That place is closed. There are no dead people over there.”
When Homer flashes his light at the gator, they generally won’t run away. However, if Homer notices the eerie glow of the gator’s yellow eyes as the light flashed over them and then he threw a large rock at the gator, that would be more realistic. It would also allow you to set the mood a little more.
I hope that this advice is helpful. I did like the this chapter. Keep up the good work.
Wow. I came into this story from this chapter, not knowing anything that had happened previously, and now I’m tempted to go and read the rest. Very well written, with balanced tension. You have me interested, which is always the biggest hurdle for a writer…
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