A Knight in the Ville: Grave Concerns

They say that no matter how rich you become in life, you can't take that wealth with you when you die. But it seems that a group of Sistersville's oil tycoons did just that, and now a criminal element has descended upon the Ville to unearth those treasures. Sergeant Curtis Knight soon discovers that oil and gas aren't the only things people will dig for . . . especially when there is big money involved.

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A Knight in the VilleGrave ConcernsBy Steven E. WintersAuthorHouseCopyright © 2014 Steven E. WintersAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4969-5312-4CHAPTER 1Perry Davis grabbed his thermos from the kitchen table inside the small camper he called home and set out on his tractor to tend to the graves. He was in his fifteenth year as the caretaker for Greenwood Cemetery. He used to live at the campground south of town but had convinced his employers that moving his camper onto the cemetery property would be beneficial to both sides. He would provide round-the-clock security, and they would pay for his electric and gas. Since that didn't add up to much, his employers had agreed.The camper was small and offered little in terms of comfort and décor. But it suited Perry just fine. Always a loner, he enjoyed the solitude of the graveyard. None of his "neighbors" bothered him, seeing as they were all deceased. During his initial months of living there, he had been awakened on several occasions by teenagers driving onto the property, seeking a place in which to park. He would grab his big flashlight and shine it in the direction of their cars; this always scared them off. Now that he'd been on site for so many years, those late-night excursions had become infrequent.It was late November, and soon he would be closing the camper up for the winter and heading south to Charleston, SC to spend the next four months with his brother and family. Although he would prefer to work year round, there just wasn't enough for him to do in the wintertime. By early December, the ground would be frozen, and snow would blanket the graves until spring. So Perry busied himself with clearing as many of the fallen autumn leaves from the property as he could. Today, there were plenty, as a cold front had moved into the valley last night, causing high winds to strip the oak and elm trees of their last golden and amber leaves.After working nonstop for three hours, Perry decided to take a break. Hopping off the tractor, he pulled his thermos out from under the seat, unscrewed the top, and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. As he leaned against the tractor and sipped the strong brew, he noticed the new grave marker that had recently been placed nearby. It marked the grave of the little redheaded orphan whose body had been found in the deep freeze in Joe Thames's basement more than one year ago. Her story had created quite a stir in the area, and there had been a steady flow of curiosity seekers visiting her unmarked grave. Perry smiled as he bent down and straightened the plastic red roses that had been placed in the ground beside the marker. Curtis Knight had ordered the grave marker and paid for it with his own money. The little girl didn't have a name, and no one had ever been able to discover her true identity. Now, thanks to Curtis, she had a name. On her grave marker was one simple word: "SUMMER."Perry finished his coffee and got back to work. There were dozens of plastic flowers scattered all over the cemetery from last night's windstorm, and he spent the next four hours busily gathering them. He knew exactly where each one went. But rather than hastily plunging them into the ground at each grave, he gently arranged them as closely as his memory allowed to where they had originally been. He took his job seriously, and as the caretaker, he understood that he alone protected these resting places. Each grave was as important as the next, and he gave them all the respect he felt they deserved.As the afternoon sun began to dip low in the western sky, Perry parked the tractor in the shed and went inside his camper for some dinner. Two hotdogs heated in the microwave and a can of chicken noodle soup were more than enough to fill his stomach. Kicking back on his tiny bed, he closed his eyes for a moment and contemplated taking a nap. But he knew there was no time for that. He had promised a group of ladies that he would help them with their efforts to clean up the Oakwood Cemetery at the north end of town. The graveyard was much older than Greenwood and had fallen into disrepair over the past decade. Since he had only a few days left before he headed south for the winter, Perry decided to head over and do his part. Although fatigued, he figured that he would have all winter to rest.He arrived at the old cemetery twenty minutes later. Oakwood sat on a hillside overlooking Sistersville and the Ohio River. Perry trudged up the steep embankment to the highest point, where he paused and gazed down at the beautiful view. The graves sloped below him for several hundred yards, casting odd shadows as the sunlight quickly disappeared to the west. Using a rake, he soon filled three large trash bags with leaves and made several small piles from fallen twigs and branches. As darkness enveloped him at a faster rate, he grabbed an old flashlight from his pickup and began collecting the plastic flowers that had been blown out of the ground overnight. Since he had no idea which ones went where, he placed them all in a plastic bag. It was pitch-black by the time he collected the last ones from the hillside. He decided to return early in the morning to finish the task of straightening some headstones that had been knocked over by vandals. As his truck engine purred to life, Perry looked on the seat for his flashlight. Stepping out of the truck, he checked in the bed and then looked inside his toolbox. He then remembered that he had set the flashlight on the ground as he'd been tying the strings on the garbage bags. He slowly made his way back toward the hillside where he had left it.Perry cursed beneath his breath as he stubbed his toe on an unseen rock. The ground was uneven and sloped steeply. He knew that it was probably wiser to simply go home and return for the flashlight early the next morning. But it was not in his nature to leave a tool outside, regardless of its worth. He caught a glimpse of something shiny just a few feet in front of him, and he walked carefully toward it. Perry could make out the silhouette of a woman. He knew that it was the statue on the Stocking family gravestone. Many years ago, someone had broken off its arms, but it was still a beautiful work of art. Perry saw the shiny object again and bent over to pick it up. He heard a rustling sound behind him and began to stand. That's when the pickaxe penetrated the back of his skull, killing him instantly.CHAPTER 2Amy Knight checked herself in the bathroom mirror one last time before rushing downstairs to grab her purse and coat. She had a date with Curtis, and she knew he hated when she was late. They had been dating for three months now, and she was hopeful that things were going to work out between them. After their divorce, she had felt shame, betrayal, and loneliness. She had not intended to reconcile with her cheating husband. Yet, deep down, she had never stopped loving him. Despite all the advice from friends and family, she had convinced herself to give him another chance. So far, it was more than she could have hoped for. Curtis was more attentive and romantic than he had ever been. Still, Amy was smart enough to know that things needed to progress slowly. Curtis was hers again, but it would be some time before she was his.She walked out onto the front porch and locked the door behind her. She looked up and down Main Street for his white Kia Rio. Curtis was late. Amy frowned. If he was late, something was wrong. She'd learned that lesson years ago. Taking the key from her purse, she unlocked the front door and went back inside to wait. Her cell phone rang about thirty minutes later. It was Curtis."Hey, babe! Don't be mad. I had to assist Andrews with an arrest, and things got ugly. We had to take the guy to the ER to get him patched up. Andrews is taking him to jail now. See you in twenty minutes?"Amy let out a sigh of relief as she hung up. She always worried that something bad was going to happen to Curtis. Even though it was a small town, there were some dangerous people living there, especially the ones who used and sold illegal drugs. What frightened her most was that in small towns like Sistersville, there was usually only one cop on duty at a time. Backup was a rare luxury. She was glad that Curtis had been able to help Officer Andrews tonight.Curtis arrived in exactly twenty minutes. Amy laughed as she climbed into the front seat of his car. "You, sir, are really late!"Curtis bent over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Blame it on our friend, Officer Steven Andrews! He decided to arrest J.J. Simmons. I think he'll call for help before he tries to nab him by himself again.""Steven tried to arrest that big ape by himself?""'Tried' is the key word here, Amy! J.J. was tossing him around pretty good when I got there."Amy shook her head in disbelief. J.J. Simmons was a big country boy who was a gentle giant ... until he got some alcohol in him. He wasn't very bright to begin with, so trying to reason with him was a waste of time. Curtis had arrested him several times and usually had a few lumps to show for it. Officer Andrews should have known better than to attempt to arrest Simmons alone. Sure, he was a tough cop, but he wasn't as physically strong as Curtis."So what's on the agenda tonight? Maybe a little Chinese buffet in New Martinsville? Then a late movie in Wheeling?""No, I'm really not feeling the Chinese. But we can run down to Subway first if you're hungry.""Yeah, I'm starved. A footlong meatball and pepperoni sub sounds perfect!"Curtis turned onto Catherine Street and headed toward the city park. Amy never understood his fascination with taking the side streets through town. She suspected it was force of habit. Being a cop, he was always on duty in his mind. He had told Amy many times that crime didn't happen on Main Street; it happened in the darkened alleys. As they topped the hill from the park and started down South Wells Street, Curtis suddenly slammed on the brakes. Amy quickly used her hands to brace herself against the dash. "Curtis! What the hell?"Curtis threw the gearshift into park and jumped from the car. He ran a few feet in front of the car and stopped. Amy watched as he stood in the middle of the street, the headlights outlining him clearly. He was talking and making hand gestures. He then returned to the car and got back in."Do you believe that kid? Walking right out in front of me like that? I could have killed him!""What kid? Curtis, what are you talking about? I didn't see a kid!""Are you serious? You didn't see that little boy? How could you not see him?"Amy reached over and squeezed Curtis's right bicep gently. "Hey now, big man. It's okay. If you say he was there, then I guess I just didn't see him."Curtis stared at Amy for a few seconds. "Look, Amy, I saw a little boy walk right out in front of my car. Okay?""Curtis, sweetie, it's okay. I just didn't see him. That's all!"Curtis shrugged and placed the car into gear. "Well then you're a lousy navigator!"Amy laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. "Who was he, Curtis? Do you want to go speak with his parents?""I didn't recognize him or his name. He's probably kin to the Stills. They always have lots of family in during the Thanksgiving holidays. I'm pretty sure I scared him enough to keep him from coming back out on the street." Curtis hated lying to Amy. Truth was, he did recognize the little boy's name.They drove to the Subway restaurant and ordered their dinner. After they finished eating, Amy suggested that they go back to her house and watch a movie. "I really don't feel like driving forty-five minutes each way just to watch a movie in a dark, smelly theater," she said."Sounds good to me, babe. Want to stop at the Par Mar store and grab some popcorn?"Amy nodded. Curtis actually drove straight up Route 2 this time, which surprised her. As he pulled into the Par Mar lot, he decided to gas up. "Amy, do you mind going in for the popcorn? I need fuel.""No prob, Bob!"Curtis watched Amy as she entered the little convenience store. After swiping his debit card, he began pumping the fuel into his car's tank. Curtis was troubled by the incident with the little boy whom he had nearly run over earlier. Two things bothered him. The first was the fact that Amy hadn't seen the boy even though he had been in the middle of the road. The second was that when Curtis had asked the little boy his name, the response had sparked a long-forgotten memory that had sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.CHAPTER 3Officer Steven Andrews and a Tyler County sheriff's deputy led a heavily shackled J.J. Simmons into the nearly empty magistrate's office in Middlebourne. Judge Johnathan Hicks sat behind his desk, looking none too pleased at being summoned at this late hour. "Who is the arresting officer?""I am, your honor," Andrews replied."What are the charges?""Resisting arrest, public intoxication, disturbing the peace, and assault on a police officer."Judge Hicks studied Simmons for a moment. "What do you have to say for yourself?"Simmons responded by spitting at the judge. Hicks recoiled and shouted, "That just got you another charge! Bond is set at $15,000. Get him out of here!"Simmons cursed and struggled as he was led back outside and down the street toward the county jail. Now, in addition to his handcuffs and leg shackles, he was wearing a surgical mask that Andrews had placed over his face to prevent him from spitting on anyone else. Once inside the jail, the deputy opened an isolation cell door and shoved Simmons inside."HEY! HEY YOU SONS OF A BITCH! TAKE THESE CUFFS OFF! YOU HEAR ME? I SWEAR TO—"Simmons's words were cut off abruptly when the deputy slammed the cell door. After fifteen minutes of banging his head against the padded cell walls and shouting until he was nearly hoarse, Simmons finally tired and lay down on the bunk, where he promptly passed out.The clicking of keys in the cell door caused J.J. Simmons to stir. His head was throbbing as he was in the throes of a major hangover. He tried to reach up to rub his forehead but could not. He looked down and saw the handcuffs on his wrists. He then saw that they were connected by a chain to another set of cuffs around his ankles. It slowly dawned on J.J. that he was, once again, back in jail. The cell door opened, and the bright light from the outer corridor caused him to close his eyes. The sheriff stood in the doorway, holding a Styrofoam tray. "Good morning, J.J. So glad to have you back with us. I swear, boy, you just never learn, do ya?""Man, could you please take these things off me, Sheriff? I swear, I ain't gonna give you no problems."The sheriff placed the tray down at the foot of the bunk and pulled a small key from his shirt pocket. "Sit up, big boy. Let's get you unhooked."J.J. obliged and sat quietly as the sheriff removed the cuffs. "I brought you some breakfast. My wife cooked it, so no complaints! I'll be back in thirty minutes with some coffee and aspirin."The sheriff left, closing and locking the cell door. He was actually pleased to see J.J. back in his jail. The big man could be a handful when he was drunk, but when he was sober, he was a good worker. Because J.J. had no job, and his family had tired of paying his constant fines, the sheriff used him for chores around the courthouse and jail to help pay off those fines. Since he had to serve the time anyway, the magistrate usually accepted the labor in lieu of payment. J.J. worked hard and did as he was told. In return, the county got free labor for the duration of his jail term.J.J. opened the tray and looked with little interest at the food inside. The sheriff's wife had made him a great meal of French toast, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and two pieces of toast. But he had no appetite at the moment. His head was throbbing, with the jackhammers working overtime on his temples. He slowly rubbed them in a circular motion, hoping that the pain would ease a little. His hand touched the soft gauze of a bandage just above his right eye. He gently poked at it and could feel the stitches beneath. Some of the memories from last night began to return. They were not completely clear—just flashes of images and faces. That's the way it always was for J.J.—just bits and pieces of memory when he drank.There was one face that flashed across his mind, and it instantly made him angry. It was the face of Curtis Knight. For years, Curtis had been his nemesis. When they'd been younger, J.J. had had no problem bullying the smaller boy. But when they had entered high school, Curtis had begun standing up to him, and with each fight they'd had, Curtis had gotten a little stronger. As with most bullies when they are confronted, J.J. had decided to leave Curtis alone and find weaker prey. But that had backfired when Curtis had found J.J. picking on a skinny freshman in gym class. Curtis had challenged him in front of the entire class, and for the first time in his life, J.J. had lost a fistfight. That was not the last time the two would fight. But the results were always the same. Although he got along with just about everyone when he was sober, J.J. Simmons hated Curtis Knight. He had no doubt that the stitches in his head were courtesy of Mr. Knight. (Continues...)Excerpted from A Knight in the Ville by Steven E. Winters. Copyright © 2014 Steven E. Winters. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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