About This Book

When US Navy veteran Frank Thomas is diagnosed with a brain tumor, he feels that his life will soon be over.  Over the coming days and weeks, though, the diagnosis changes as his brain is awakened to memories and intrigue spanning from his time in the military all the way to his work at the National Laboratory.

Frank and his wife Jo find themselves in the midst of a government spy ring that involves the highest levels of defense in the United States, leaving them both wondering if they will make it out alive.

Sneak Peek of New Book in this Series

UNTITLED
(draft, sequel to BRAIN STORM)

by T.D. Latham
All rights reserved. Copyright 2023 by T.D. Latham

Chapter 1

“But sir, I cannot fix your guitar,” I try to explain to the elderly, impatient gentleman for the umpteenth time.
“Why not, you’re a music store, aren’t you?” he questions again with an even more demanding tone in his voice.
“Yes, this is a music store. I sell musical instruments but I do not do repair work. You will have to find a repair shop or send it back to the factory.”
“Just take a look at it. You can fix it if you want to,” he demands yet again.
“Sir, I have explained, I do not do repairs. You will have to take it to a repair shop or contact the factory.”
“Can’t you take care of that for me?” he questions, and this time I sense anger in his voice.
I calmly but firmly reply with a slightly raised voice, “Sir, you did not buy the instrument here and you have been argumentative since you first came in, so I invite you to leave, please.”
He stares at me for a moment and then he carefully places the old guitar back into its worn-out case and without saying another word he flips me the bird and hastens to the door, slamming it behind him. In his reckless exit, he almost knocks down another pedestrian, he makes no apology, and continues into the street where he barely avoids being struck by an oncoming vehicle. He drops the guitar to the pavement and the case bounces open causing the guitar to fall out and music papers to scatter on the asphalt. He hastily gathers the papers and places them and the guitar back into the case. I can see that one of the papers is wafting across the parking lot; he notices it. He mouths an obscenity to the driver, and proceeds to jaywalk and frantically chase the paper. The driver blares his horn and yells curse words loud enough for the entire mall to hear. The old man stops momentarily, angrily flips a bird to the driver, and then haphazardly continues to pursue the windblown paper across the parking lot. I think the paper is getting ahead.
“What was that all about?” Jo asks as she comes in the door.
“Was that you the old man carelessly ran into?”
“No, but I saw the whole thing. Why was he so upset?”
“He has an old worn-out guitar and he thinks I can make it new again. I tried multiple times to explain to him that I don’t do repair work but he would not take no for an answer. I finally asked him to leave and he was not the least bit happy so he took it out on the door and the person on the sidewalk.”
“Why would he get so upset over an old guitar?” Jo questions.
“I don’t have the slightest idea. The guitar is literally worn-out and, in my opinion, not worth what it would cost to repair but he was adamant that he wanted it repaired. He said he was willing to pay the price for it to be made playable again. But, there’s no visible brand name or any other markings to identify the manufacturer so it would be impossible to get identical replacement parts. So, I declined.”
Jo smiles at me as if she hasn’t heard a word I’m saying and then she asks, “Are you free for lunch?”
“Yeah, I can close the store for a break if it’s necessary.”
“Oh, it’s necessary. It’s very important.”
“Where are Sarah and Joseph?”
“Mom and Dad volunteered to watch them.”
“Okay then, where do you want to eat?”
“Let’s have Mexican today, we haven’t eaten Mexican in a while. There’s a new restaurant just a couple of blocks away, we can go there,” Jo answers.
“All right, Mexican it is. Do you want to walk or drive?”
She thinks for a moment, “Let’s walk. We can both use the exercise. Do you feel up to walking?”
“I think I can make it for just a couple of blocks,” I answer with reservation.
The walk is invigorating and builds my appetite. We both choose to have the lunch buffet; you get so much more for your money when you have the buffet. It all looks so appealing; it makes me want to sample everything.
We both get our plates as full as possible and settle down and start eating. I can’t stand the suspense any longer.
“So, what is so important that we need to discuss it over food?”
She finishes chewing, swallows, takes a sip of water, and beams a big smile. “I want to go back to work.”
I’m temporarily stunned. “Uh … why? I thought you
were happy staying home with the kids.”
“I am, but … I’m tired of just staying home and I would like to go back to work.”
“Are you talking about being a Dental Hygienist again?”
She hesitates. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know for sure. Maybe I will find something else that I like.”
“I’ll miss you at the store.”
“I’ll miss the store too, but I feel like it’s time for me to go back to work.”
“Well, the business is doing pretty good right now so I think I can make it on my own but what about the twins?”
“Mom says she will be glad to take care of them. She will come over and keep them at our house and that way we won’t have to take them out every morning. They’ll be starting kindergarten this fall so it won’t be that much work for her.”
“All right then. It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Any ideas where you want to work?”
“No, not yet.” She pauses and takes another bite and almost gets choked, she sips water again and clears her throat. “I have registered with B&R Employment and the manager said she should be able to place me in a position before the week is out, she thinks the job market is strong right now.”
“Well then, we need to celebrate. Let’s plan a night out tonight,” I suggest. “Any ideas?”
She hesitates. “Not tonight, Mom can’t keep the twins tonight, she and Dad are having friends over to play pinochle. Besides, don’t you think we ought to wait until I’ve actually got a job before we celebrate?”
“Okay, we’ll wait. But I want you to know that I think it’s a wonderful idea for you to want to go back to work.”
We finish our lunch without much more conversation and make our way back to the music store. When we approach the door, I can see that something’s not right, the door is not fully closed and I know beyond any doubt that I locked it before we left, I even remember double-checking it. I caution Jo and then I push open the door and enter. I don’t see anything out of place and no one is in the store. I yell out, “Is anyone here?” No one answers so I continue into the store. “What if someone is hiding in the back; they’re not going to answer, are they?” I say to myself out loud as I investigate the entire store but find nothing amiss. There are a few papers on my desk that seem to be out of place, but I’m not sure. I check the computer but nothing appears to be awry so I come to the conclusion that I must not have locked the door after all. I know I did, but … maybe not.
“What’s this?” Jo asks as she picks up a small piece of paper from the floor.
I take the paper and examine it closely.
“It looks like part of one of the invoices. I wonder how it got here on the floor.”
“Maybe the wind blew it off your desk and out here. You know how it causes a draft in the office when the front door is opened.”
“That could be, but how could it blow just a piece of an invoice? I think someone has been here and gone through the invoices and somehow this piece was torn loose and dropped as they were leaving. Let’s go check the files.”
Jo follows me into the office and proceeds to go through all of the invoices, looking specifically for one that is missing the upper left corner.
“Maybe they took the invoice with them. No, wait … here it is, this one has a corner missing. Is this the one?” She hands me the invoice and I compare the corner and sure enough, it matches.
“This is it, but why would anyone be interested in this, it’s for a used Fender guitar that I sold last week. I took it in on trade for a new one two weeks ago and sold it rather quickly, I also sold her a brand-new case to go with it.”
“Her? You sold a guitar to a woman, isn’t that unusual?” Jo inquires with suspicion in her voice.
I think for a moment.
“She said she was buying it for her son; she called him Red”
“What’s the name on the ticket?” Jo asks impatiently.
“Mrs. Violet Brown,” I recite without looking at the invoice again because I remember her now. “I thought that was a colorful name and I told her so. I think she wrote a check, and I recall that it was on a local bank, so she probably lives here in town.”
“Did she sign the invoice?”
“No, I don’t require signatures on invoices.”
“Well, Mrs. Violet Brown is now the center of a mystery.” Jo’s face lights up. “Do you think she came into the store and rummaged through the invoices?”
“I don’t know, but if she did, why? Why would she be interested in an old invoice?” I ponder for a moment. “Oh well, I guess we’ll never know.”
“Shouldn’t you call the police?” Jo questions sincerely.
I chuckle, “I don’t think so, they’re not going to get very excited about a music store invoice with a missing corner.”
“But the store has been broken into, I think they would be concerned about that,” she states with surety.
“All right then, I’ll give them a call. But I don’t think it will amount to anything. If we really want to figure this out, then we will have to do the investigating on our own. I don’t think the police have the manpower to devote time to such a trivial matter.”
Jo doesn’t say anything for a moment and then she states with authority, “But at least it will be on the record just in case something does come of it.”
I agree and then I proceed to call 911 and report that we think our store was broken into while we were gone for lunch. The dispatcher says that since it’s not an emergency it might be tomorrow before an officer can respond because they are short-handed and everyone is busy. I politely thank her and wish her an enjoyable day.
“Well, so much for that, tomorrow at the earliest, if then,” I state disappointedly.
Jo looks disappointed also. “Let’s study this mystery until the police have a chance to come and give their opinion. Maybe they know something. Maybe there are more cases like this. So, let’s wait and if they can’t help, then we will launch our own investigation. What do you think of that?”
“I think that you think that you are a detective. Jo Thomas, the unemployed detective. But I do think you have a good idea though; we will wait. How are you going to do detecting if you go back to work?”
“Maybe we can solve this before I get a real job,” she answers quickly.
I laugh at her, “Maybe you can go to work for a P.I.”
She laughs also, “Maybe I will, and that way we can kill two birds with one stone. And, maybe I’ll open my own detective agency and employ a whole bunch of bored housewives to detect.”
“Well, right now let’s just take it one case at a time and think about why someone would want to look at that invoice. Why wouldn’t they just come in and ask? There’s got to be something going on here pertaining to that old guitar I sold.”
Jo nods in agreement and continues to go through the other invoices searching for more evidence of an intruder. I think she has already shifted into detective mode.

Chapter 2

The bell on the store’s front door rings and the twins come running in, laughing and giggling and screaming at the top of their lungs. John and June are right behind them, trying to no avail to make them mind. Joseph runs over to the organ and starts banging and Sarah properly sits at the piano and begins to plink out a tune she learned in Sunday School. I think Sarah will be a musician but I’m not sure about Joseph, maybe a piano repairman. He’s trying to sing a song that doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard …

Click to listen to SweetTown, music from the next book

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