Set Up

James H. Forrest

Description

Sex, murders, and secrets. This suspense/thriller is hard core and has no holds when it comes to this poor boy’s life.
He had nothing in life but tough times, then with murder came fortune. Will it catch up with him? He can only hope not. No one to really love and no idea which way to go. Too many people to choose from. Secrets that no one knows. The least amount of knowledge for others, gets you where you need to be.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 26 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781728378756
• Langue: English

Extrait

SET UP
 
Book 1
 
 
 
 
James H. Forrest
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2023 James H. Forrest. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 01/26/2023
 
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7876-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7875-6 (e)
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgment
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
ACKNOWLEDGMENT

It has been a blessing that my niece Jennifer Lambert has committed herself to becoming my agent and has worked diligently to see my work published. She has given 200 percent and words have not been invented to declare the death of my gratitude for her effort. Many thanks also to the editors and publishers.
DEDICATION

This work is dedicated to my children, Jeannie, Clifton, and Dawn who chose to believe the lies and turned their back on me in my time of need.
PROLOGUE

Spring, 1972
Locust, Louisiana
For those who enjoyed the heat and the humidity, this was the ideal. Temperatures were already running above 90 degrees and the humidity was over 90 percent. Even the multitude of birds sought the shade in the heat of the day. Air conditioners were working overtime. Roads yet unpaved belched clouds of dust each time a vehicle went over them. It had rained, but that was weeks back. The ground dried quickly. Trees looked tired, as if the heat were too much even for them. Cattle grazed lazily in the pastures and men with equipment were dealing with the acres of soybeans and corn.
Odelia May Parker had graduated from LSU Shreveport and made her way home, home being Locust. From Interstate 20, she had driven along US 71 driving through myriad little towns and villages, generally so small the speed limit didn’t change. She drove past massive homes of affluent whites, the shanties of the jillions of blacks, descendants of slavery, still slaves in the true sense of the word. Blacks were seen along the highway driving tractors with bush hogs, but they were also seen on horses dealing with herds of Black Angus and polled Herford cattle. She drove through some lowland area, spotting deer and squirrels. Overhead, buzzards circled the highway looking for the occasional roadkill. Raccoons and opossums were most frequently seen splattered on the concrete roadway.
From time to time, she spotted a turtle, not the ones folk liked to eat, but the striped heads. Surprisingly, she even spotted a few armadillos, and once she was sure she saw a nutria rat scurrying across the highway.
Crossing into La Salle Parish, Odelia Mae relaxed a bit. Home, but she had not really lived here the past four years. Twenty-two years old, she still had no idea what had happened to her father, Adam Parker. Her mother, Pearl had been killed in a one-car accident in Concordia Parish. Drunk out of her skull, Pearl had been speeding when she lost control and wrapped the old pickup around a huge oak.
Sixteen at the time, Odelia Mae was drawn into Aunt Lottie’s home. Mama had had a life insurance policy, something which surprised even Aunt Lottie. The insurance paid for the funeral, but Mama’s will left with Loren Schlingeyer specified that the proceeds be used for college tuition and related expenses. She was permitted to buy from the proceeds a stripped-down model Chevrolet pickup. It had a standard transmission, AMFM radio, six cylinder, and short wheelbase. It literally had no frills, but it would get her where she needed to go. At the time she asked the lawyer to let her buy one of the luxury models, or even a car and he protested. Sleeping with him didn’t change his mind.
That same pickup was still running well and had served her well. Aunt Lottie, like Odelia Mae’s mother had consumed entirely too much alcohol, an easy lay, she had married a much younger George Locus. The deal was that if the pickup would bring Odelia Mae back to Locust, she had a job working for George. Uncle George was eight years older than Odelia Mae, fifteen years younger than Aunt Lottie.
At least she didn’t have to drive into the town proper. Odelia Mae turned off the highway north of town. Two miles along the newly paved road, she turned north into a lane. The trees on either side of the lane seemed to close in on her. Live oaks, probably two hundred years old formed a tunnel of sorts. It was noticeable because they were blocking the light breeze.
The house was built by George’s daddy in the 1950’s. At the time it was built, it was the show home of the parish. Considered a mansion by most, Lowell Locust had black girls taking care of the house. When he died, George inherited everything, including the property along the Louisiana coast now producing millions of barrels of oil. The Locust farm was roughly six sections, with over three thousand acres under cultivation. Half of this was now dedicated to cattle, the other half to soybeans. Odelia Mae had never seen cotton grown but was told that was the principal crop until the boll weevil took charge.
The huge garage was open, so Odelia Mae pulled her truck into one of the vacant stalls. She’d find a cart to retrieve her things, but now, she wanted to see Aunt Lottie. Sliding from the seat, she looked at her short skirt. Too short by most standards and her blouse offered a bit too much cleavage. Odelia Mae liked showing her merchandise. Promiscuous since she was twelve, she could think of nothing she enjoyed more than having a man ride her.
When she reached the front door, a cute black girl, Dora Blasic greeted her. “Hi. Your Aunt has been expecting you. She thought you’d be here early.”
“I drove slowly. How is she?”
“Not good. Mr. George says she needs to be in a hospital, but she insists she wants to die at home.”
“You’re taking care of Uncle George?”
“Pretty much. I think he screws Flora more than me, but that’s ok. I have a boyfriend. Mr. George don’t like the idea of my giving it to anyone else.” Flora was a couple of years older than Dora; both were quite attractive. It was Charlie Blasic who had deflowered Odelia Mae at the ripe old age of twelve. Charlie was favored by Uncle George, a hard worker, even as a teenager. “Charlie asked about you, when you be coming home. I think he like white cat.”
“He around.”
“In the field someplace. You gonna let him get some?”
“If he wants. Aunt Lottie?”
“In the bedroom. She told me to bring you to her as soon as you come.”
“Uncle George?”
“Him’n Flora gone someplace. Probably screwing. No, they here. I think in the garden. C’mon, Miss Lottie wants to see you.”
The house seemed larger somehow, but Odelia Mae had been living in a dorm room. The furniture was old, but sturdy. She walked behind Dora into the master suite. Aunt Lottie was lying on a hospital bed, not the king-size. “I heard you talking. Thought you weren’t gonna see me.”
“Aw, Aunt Lottie, you knew I was coming to talk to you.” Lottie was younger than Pearl, Odelia Mae’s mother. A hand was raised but Odelia Mae bypassed that to kiss her aunt’s cheeks. “How you feelin’?”
“I’m dying, baby. Go close the door, we need to talk.” The real issue was privacy, and the implication was that Dora should not hear the conversation. Odelia Mae walked across the room, closed the door then locked it. Dora could come in, but she’d have to knock first.
When she sat on the side of the bed, Aunt Lottie took her hand. It was a tender moment undisturbed by words. Aunt Lottie released her hand and began caressing Odelia Mae’s bare leg. “You look sexy in that outfit. You get a lot while going to the university?”
“Not every day.”
“Charlie really bust your cherry?”
“We were just kids.”
“He has a pretty cock. George has the girls.”
“You know about that?”
“Baby, the black ain’t the problem. I’m dying and he knows it. I drank too damned much, then, I fucked around with drugs. My liver is shot. Doctor says I’ll be lucky to live to see Memorial Day. Ok, it is time to get serious. He has a decent cock but doesn’t have any idea how to use it. I talk to Flora and Dora. Mostly, they give him head. I never loved him. I guess you figured that. He inherited this place and some oil producing land in south Louisiana. My baby, you gonna have to seduce him. Make him want you, not the nigra girls. You still look like a fifteen-year-old. You do exercises?”
“Have been for years.”
“George wanted you when Pearl died. I told him to wait. I had enough for him. He’d never had pussy put on him like I put it on him. Had he half a brain, he wouldn’t have married me. I screwed Loren Schlingeyer to learn when he made a will leaving me everything. I didn’t know I was gonna die young. You might have to