The Secrets of Clayton County Vol. 1

By Don Wooldridge

SUMMARY
SECRETS OF CLAYTON COUNTY
MAIN CHARACTERS: Sarah Hunter, investigating agent for the Chicago based IRS Branch; KC (Kent) Crodin, AAA towing service owner; Ralph, Kent's Scottish Terrier; Wilma Frisbie, owner of Wilma's Cafe; Peter Wulfric, Nursing Home Administrator; Carl Mueller, Ford Dealer; Doc Bendenhoff, Dentist; Barb and Brian Darling, Country Club managers; Norm Fischer, Bait and Boat shop owner; Vickie Banks, realtor; Warren Nickel, Sarah's eccentric and secret third-party confidant.
STORY LINE: Contrasts are drawn immediately when Sarah Hunter, a dyed-in-the-wool city girl, is faced with the rural lifestyle of Clayton, Iowa. Her appearance; their behavior; the lack of luxuries and personal services cause uneasy tension. Sarah Hunter finds a mentor in Wilma Frisbie at her cafe. Supportive one moment, and gruff the next, this kind hearted woman coaches and consoles Sarah, and mother's Sarah as she deals with the realities of life. The bartering habit in Clayton is wide-spread. One incident leads to two others, and they lead to another two, creating a spider web of activity. Our IRS agent Sarah Hunter needs help. Her boss suggests third party interviews to gain insight into the matter. So, Sarah complies and finds a third party to help her. It's just that this third party is the looniest man in town, picked upon by middle school boys who hang out downtown every Saturday morning. But it's his secret that she learns to manipuilate him into helping her.The apple she leaves by his walking path signals her need for another secret meeting. There are the automobile accidents requiring that handsome man Sarah's trying to avoid, KC Crodin, to appear and rescue her. Not once, but three times, and even a two day trip together to the dealership for repairs.
There's joy in meeting KC's sister Rita. But learning KC's secret stuns her, confuses her, and makes her so curious that she gets in trouble. In the middle of her struggle to deal with rural life, and the spider web of bartering activity, disaster strikes. A tornado hits the town. KC Crodin is seriously injured while saving Sarah's life, and Sarah is left homeless by a tree that fell through the roof of her rental house. Treating her as one of their own, town folks come to the rescue providing housing, clothing, comfort and kindness. They even repair the roof of her house for her. Could this be the secret of rural life? Responding to her experiences, Warren Nickel prays with her; he counsels her; and he challenges her to learn the difference between "being right and doing right." Their meeting in the dark of night, before she leaves Clayton, reveals Warren's secret love that broke his heart. Then a man in Clayton proposes marriage to Sarah. It's heart breaking for her because it's the right man in the wrong place. Her life is in Chicago. It's taken years to build her career. She can't give it up. So, she kisses him good bye and leaves for home. But the rose colored glasses are gone now. She sees her life as it really is. The man who loves her only for his gain. The boss that is heartless. The life that is filled with luxury, but few friends. And so, the decision is hers. She can either be right and gain the promotion she desired, or she can do right and return to the small town lifestyle of Clayton. How does she want to live her life? True love requires sacrifice. Can she make the sacrifice to follow her heart? Sarah must decide if she is willing to sacrifice her dream of escaping her family dairy farm, for love and a life in the small town of Clayton, Iowa.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Wooldridge
• Release date: Apr 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310772474

Don Wooldridge

Don Wooldridge enjoys writing in a variety of genres, and avoids vulgarity, or explicit sex in his work. To date he’s written 4 fiction novels, 2 non-fiction novella's, 28 short stories, and 1 memoir telling how he found ways to manage his bipolar disorder over 45 years.COMING SOON:SAMMY MY GUARDIAN ANGEL spring 2019.FRIENDS FOREVER, book 4 of the "Secrets of Clayton County" series, Summer of 2019.You can contact Don at [e-mail] website @ donwooldridgeauthor.com

Book preview

The Secrets Of Clayton County

Have you ever bartered products or services? What would you say if someone exchanged Indian pottery for their accountant's tax services? Is that bartering? Can they be taxed?

Well, they can. And that's why IRS examiner Sarah Hunter descends upon a small river town in Iowa, like a fox in a hen house, to investigate potential tax resisters who barter.

Her mission is clear. Get the government's money. But is the big government machine right? Or, do these small town neighbors have the key to survival?

As the lovely Sarah Hunter pursues the truth, she must deal with the man she left waiting in Chicago. Then there are the men in Clayton. The one who saved her life, another who stoked her passion, and a third who gave her a precious gift, meant for another woman.

How do these experiences affect her work and her decisions, as she discovers secrets within the community even its resident's don't know? Only one man, hidden in the shadows, holds the clue.

How will her decisions affect the man who loves her, and her ability to keep the secret he shared with her?

Will the government use her to destroy his friends and the community?

Copyright © 2012 Donald Wooldridge

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

Cover design by Wheat mark, Inc., Tucson, Arizona

ISBN-13: 978-0615636627

Printed in the United States of America

Second Edition

DISCLAIMER

The contents of this story are fictitious. The Pink Elephant restaurant no longer exists. In addition, those characters that are not fictitious were just characters in their own time, tightly woven in the fabric of Clayton County. They could not be ignored.

The author's use of bartering depicts a lifestyle only, not tax advice.

This story occurs in the year 1985, and since tax laws continue to change, any details in this book are probably obsolete.

Tax advice should be on an individual basis, depending upon your own particular circumstances.

This novel is available on the internet, to an international audience, so the information would not apply to the non-USA readers, anyway.

1

Close the door and sit down. You're late.

Sorry sir, I learned I was supposed to be here just a minute ago.

I don't want excuses Miss Hunter. I want results.

Isn't that why you asked me to join your group, because you haven't been getting any?

After making sure Sarah Hunter knew her place, Henry Sly, the Director of the US Internal Revenue Service's Chicago Branch, continued.

Now, for those of you who don't know our late arrival, this is Sarah Hunter. She came from our Claims Department to fill in for Ned Gloster while he's away on medical leave.

That's not what you told me. You said this was a permanent move.

As Henry spoke, Sarah scanned the conference room, spotted an empty seat and took it. There wasn't a smile or welcoming face from any of his staff members. Peering at her like vultures, they all looked about one-step from retirement, and wore either a scowl or a look of disinterest. This department looked more like death row than an opportunity.

Henry Sly continued, Now, you all know about this bartering law. It passed three years ago in 1982. We haven't spent much time enforcing it because, quite honestly, it takes time and the returns aren't big like our normal audits. However, things change. It's 1985, and we can now charge three years interest and penalties to those who break this law. We have orders to locate, investigate and assess additional taxes on bartering exchanges and clubs.

You can't be serious, boss? asked the woman across the table. Sarah took in the woman's appearance and squirmed. She wondered how she could keep a job in her condition. She had flabby rolls of fat that stretched every button on her dress to the limit. Her fat feet had bunions, which were not attractive in her open lattice sandals. In addition, to top it all off she had heavy, greasy black hair. It looked like she needed an oil change.

Sarah looked back to Henry and noticed his comments. "Yes, in spite of my protests, I'm told that every district in the country must carry out this order. And we will. But no more than necessary. We're not going to let our numbers slide just to chase a few fools swapping favors.

The small, thin man beside Sarah interrupted Henry. Who's going to do this?

It surprised Sarah that he had the courage to ask a question. Wearing wire rimmed glasses with circular lenses, he had the appearance of a librarian. His anemic coloring made her think he'd been in one for years.

The question irritated Henry. He glared at the man beside her, and answered gruffly, I'll get to that later! Now as a group, we have to show good faith. To do that, I've picked three areas where we suspect potential bartering exchanges.

Henry picked up a sheet of paper from the table.

The first is a large bartering exchange, suspected here in Chicago, between home builders. The second is a bartering club downstate involving landscapers. And the third is a group at a country club in a rural Iowa community.

Now those in the room came to life, sensing the worst. No one wanted these assignments. The first to respond was the big woman across from Sarah.

Why would anyone want to investigate a small town in Iowa?

I want to nip this thing in the bud. If we can slam them hard, then every little rural community in this district will get the message. Then I won't have to send investigators to every town at every crossroad in a five state area. That's why! Now, before I hand out these assignments, do I have any volunteers?

Everyone seemed to want to speak at once. An older man towards the end of the conference table, wearing a beard and glasses in a thick black frame, spoke first. That job in Iowa. It doesn't sound too big. We should send this new girl. She should be able to handle that.

Girl? Not a woman? So I guess it would be OK to call you a dinosaur?

I agree, said someone behind her.

Me too, came from another.

I vote for that too, replied the thin librarian-type sitting beside Sarah. He'd just waited until he knew he'd be in the majority.

Sarah knew she would be getting an assignment, but why had they ganged up on her for this particular one.

What do they know that I don't?

Now, with all eyes on her, she understood they wanted to dump the assignment on her so they wouldn't have to go. It was time for Sarah to speak up.

Excuse me, do I have any say in this?

Like what? Henry asked.

"Well, first of all, I have no interest in rural America. I've lived in Chicago for many years, I think I'd be better at investigating the construction industry here.

Everyone here qualifies to do that, Miss Hunter.

"Perhaps, but all of this has happened so suddenly. Andy Counts and I have a ton of commitments here that will just devastate us if I have to leave town.

I see. Henry replied. "So you find all this inconvenient?

Well, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I do.

Well, let me tell you something young lady. There's a reason Andy Counts moved on. It would be in your best interest to let him go his own way. Personally, I think it will do you good to be away for a while. You're going on the Iowa assignment. Enjoy the countryside.

OK, now about these other two assignments...

At the close of the meeting, Henry gave her the background reports she needed for five members of the country club in the town of Clayton, Iowa. Suspected of bartering to resist income taxes, Sarah was to investigate each of them. It was bad enough to be assigned to Iowa, but Henry wouldn't even let her take a government vehicle on the assignment. He thought she'd be gone too long to have one of his vehicles out of service.

Now she would have to drive her personal car over 200 miles, through Illinois to northeast Iowa on bumpy two lane roads. It wasn't going to be pleasant.

Sarah left the office for home right after the meeting. She thought she could be home, packed and on the road by noon at the least. She had Andy's car for the day, and driving his navy blue Mercedes was a luxurious treat for Sarah, after such an upsetting morning. She knew it was the largest sedan they made, and Andy preferred it when entertaining his clients. He thought it always set the tone, reminding them of how lucky they were to have him represent them. Sarah doubted that it actually worked but why not let Andy live his dream.

She drove on I-90, then turned North on I-94 toward Wilmette, an affluent suburb on Chicago's north shore. Andy's large luxurious house bordered the country club. Of course, as a member he could entertain clients and still be close to home. Everything about their life together included the best money could buy. Sarah liked it that way. No marriage commitment on her part, just access to the luxuries Andy provided.

After all, they had been partners for over five years. He the charismatic promoter and she the trusted assistant, each helping the other achieve their career goals. When Andy left the IRS to pursue a partnership at a renowned accounting firm, hadn't he said her career path would be secure?

Andy was lounging on the pool deck when she entered their home. That's one of the benefits of being an account manager. They work so many nights, taking time off during the day was normal. The style fit Andy to a tee. He got up, gave Sarah a quick hug and kiss before going off to fix her a drink. When he returned they both lounged on pool chairs, and Sarah began to tell Andy about her day and new assignment in Iowa.

He didn't take the news well. He put down his drink, sat up and turned toward Sarah. His expression was fierce. What will I do without you? I've made commitments. I've purchased tickets to entertain clients. And you're telling me that you won't even be here?

I'm sorry Andy.

You've got to be back by next Saturday, at the latest. You can do that, can't you?

Andy Counts, you can be such a jerk. You test our relationship constantly. We need to talk when I get back.

Sarah got up from her chair and started pacing. Andy, it's my job! You know that! Next Saturday? How can I possibly know? I just got this assignment. I don't even know the scope of the problems yet. I can't even take an official car because Henry thinks I'll be away for at least a couple weeks. Now, there's a clue for you.

Sarah stepped toward Andy, stopped and sighed heavily.

This is enough. I have to go now. I'll call when I get to Iowa.

She went upstairs, packed her bags hastily left the house and threw them into her car, still frustrated with Andy's lack of support.

Driving west out of Chicago wasn't something Sarah did often. A city girl, everything she ever wanted or needed was here in Chicago. That's why she had left home for the city and Northwestern University. Because O'Hare Airport was close, she could easily get to all the beaches and ski resorts that she loved. But not this trip.

2

Four and a half hours later Sarah drove into Clayton, Iowa. She stared at the tiny street signs to locate Third Street where she was to meet the Realtor.

How hard could it be in this little town?

Scanning signs along the way, Sarah became anxious. She didn’t like being alone in this strange place.

Finally, she found Third Street.

She parked her new, red 1985 Toyota MR-2 in front of Banks Real Estate Office. There were no cars around, so Sarah walked up to the front door. She couldn't believe it was unlocked.

You have to be kidding. Aren't they afraid of burglars?

Walking into the office, she found it empty. Looking down at the desk, she saw a sign:

IF NO ONE'S HERE, PLEASE TAKE A SEAT, I'LL BE BACK SOON

Oh great, this is a fine start.

However, she couldn't do anything more than sit and wait until the Realtor returned to the office. Sarah sat in the best of the chairs that looked like they had been there since the '50's. The worn out upholstery and padding looked like pockets for basketballs and held together by square wood frames that functioned as both arms and a holder for the seat board. The longer Sarah waited, the more impatient she became. It must have been the farm report on the radio somewhere near the back of the office that got on her nerves. The harsh realization that she had left civilization was more than she was willing to accept.

After twenty minutes, the chair became quite uncomfortable and sitting was not Sarah's style anyway. She decided to get up and look at the pictures of homes for sale. They covered one whole wall from the top of the tables to the ceiling. The tables themselves weren't much. Just folding banquet tables. They didn't even have a tablecloth on them. They looked crude. The whole place seemed that way. Furnishings looked like leftovers from home and even the carpet looked like it had been in a family room before it got here. There were deep food stains that were never coming out. Maybe that's where the musty smell came from.

Sarah did not like the idea of a house rental when she would normally be checking into a motel. There she could eat in a restaurant, send her clothes to a laundry and have her room cleaned every day.

I can't believe this town doesn't have a motel. This rental house means I'll have to wash, iron and cook.

Sarah thought about cooking while she rummaged through the Welcome to Clayton materials on a table. She was a 'survival' cook at best. And she wasn't looking forward to it. A steady diet of veggie burgers, salmon patties and salads didn't seem too appetizing to Sarah, when she could have been eating fine food in local restaurants at home.

I'll bet those other examiners knew what it was going to be like here.

Nevertheless, she didn't think it would be for long. All Sarah had to do was to meet the people in this bartering club and document how much taxable income they were not reporting.

This place looks like such a 'sleepy hollow' that the locals won't even know I'm in town.

Finally, after forty-five minutes of waiting, a woman burst into the room apologetically. Sorry you had to wait. She was carrying her purse, briefcase and a bundle of papers under one arm. As she unloaded and tried to organize her things, Sarah was slightly alarmed at her appearance. She didn't seem like any Realtor she had known. She was dressed casually, as she would if she were caring for children at home. The four inches of beaded bracelets on one arm and six bracelets on the other were the only thing she could have called stylish. Well, her ten fingers held six rings, of course. It certainly wasn't the shoulder length red hair flopping around her head like a mop. It was obvious to Sarah that she wasn't just late to meet her. Her appearance and demeanor made Sarah think she was late for everything.

As the Realtor seemed to settle herself down, she introduced herself. Welcome to Clayton, I'm Vickie Banks. You must be Miss Hunter."

Sarah stood to introduce herself, Yes, I'm Sarah Hunter, from the Chicago Branch of the Federal IRS Department. I'm anxious to get settled in my rental house.

Vickie looked up at Sarah and smiled. Oh my, are you six feet tall, my dear?

No, I'm only five-nine. But that does seem tall to most people.

"Well, whatever dear. You're beautiful and I have a beautiful place for you to stay. Give me just a minute to make a phone call and we'll be on our way.

Hello, Carl? Yes, it's Vickie. Listen, I have to get an out-of-town guest settled in a rental. I won't be able to come over today. You understand don't you? Oh, my, I forgot. Yes, I'll be there. See you then.

Ok, thanks for your patience. Please, come on. You've had a long drive and we've got to get you settled in so you can get a bit of rest.

Sarah liked the idea. Good.

Vickie turned toward the door. Why don't you follow me? It's not far. We'll turn right on Highway 52 until we reach Bluff Road, then it's left up on the ridge to your rental house.

Their drive to the rental property wasn't very far, even though Sarah was unfamiliar with the area. The surprise was the left turn off Bluff Road, diving down a steep winding lane into a valley where this old, white house sat. At the bottom, on the left, was a weathered wooden shed that may have been a garage at one time. On the right, halfway up a slope, was a small barn.

Terrific, I just know that barn's going to smell like manure.

She parked beside Vickie's car, bewildered. The whole place looked abandoned. Weeds grew everywhere. In fact, some had grown over the fence. A fence of vertical one-by-four boards nailed to cross members and the top cut into a point. It had been white once, years ago and the bare boards needed painting again.

Sarah got out of her car and turned to Vickie. Oh my Vickie, is this all there is in town to rent?

Vickie reached to open the gate. I'm sorry, but this is it. It's a wonderful house though. Everyone who has lived here fell in love with the place. I'm sure you will too. Don't worry about the weeds. I've got someone coming to cut them down.

Sarah rolled her eyes at the mess. I sure hope so.

Opening the gate for Sarah, Vickie said, Come in, you've got to see the house. It's just wonderful. I've even had it cleaned just for you, new linens and everything. Come on, you've gotta' see.

Inside the house, Sarah noticed the thick walls immediately. They were about two feet thick.

Was this place a bomb shelter at one time? Sarah asked.

He he he, good one Sarah. No, it wasn't, but this is the coolest house in Clayton during the summer, because of these thick walls. Please, come and look at the cute kitchen, dear.

Sarah opened drawers and cabinets. "Have they washed all the plates, glasses and cups? Have they removed the utensils and sanitized them and cleaned the