Memphistopheles

By Justin Fulkerson

In January 2000, Elvis Presley's 65th birthday approaches.

 

A small-time thief, Bruce Stevens, discovers the credit card he just stole actually belongs to Elvis Presley. When he tries to use it and it works, he goes on a spending spree, partying with friends.

 

On his trail is Lee Davis, an obsessed Elvis collector is determined to get his hands on the card to trade it in order to reclaim his birthright, a nickel-plated .38 caliber revolver with black pearl grips customized with the letters TCB and a lightning bolt. The gun was given to Lee's father by Elvis himself when Lee was a child. The promise of it being passed down to him was shattered when his father sold it instead. He desperately wants it back and will do whatever it takes to reacquire it.

 

Meanwhile, Elvis comes out of hiding to protect his identity, finding Bruce and demanding the card back. The King is not prepared to take no for an answer.

 

All hell breaks loose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Fulkerson
• Release date: Nov 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393302964

Justin Fulkerson

Author of An Hour for Magic, Justin Fulkerson’s literary tastes turned from science fiction (Isaac Asimov) to horror (Stephen king, of course) at the innocent age of twelve years old. His outlook on life was forever changed by the experience and his mind suffered the consequences. The creatures and scenarios running through his imagination forced him to begin his first novels while still in high school.  Twenty years later, An Hour for Magic arrived, consuming his every thought until the first 500 pages were transferred to paper. The next two in the series, Hollow be thy Name and An Hour for Maggie completed the tale. Finally, Hallowed Ground took Justin's mind into the realm of Zombie fiction. With several more novels in the works, Justin hopes that the world can survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of his imagination.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.

The following is a novelization of the story recounted to me by a gentleman I met in a seedy blues bar called The Burning Bush outside Memphis, Tennessee. I will refer to him as Bruce Stevens in the story because his wish is to remain anonymous. The adventure you are about to partake in takes place in January 2000, leading up to Elvis Presley’s 65th Birthday celebration on the 9th.

The beginning of the story comes from intensive research done to piece together the background of an obsessed collector (referred to as Lee Davis for legal reasons) in order to better understand his motivation. Of course, I take certain liberties to keep the reader’s attention.

You need to be aware of the seedy subculture that revolved around Elvis memorabilia in the late 1990s early 2000s. It was a cut-throat business that raked in hundreds of thousands of dollars for those with the right items at the right time while others went broke chasing the dream. Today, those million dollar items go for pennies on the dollar as the glory and worship of the king eventually fizzled out.

For those that do not remember the year 2000, times were simpler back then. Cell phones were making their first appearances, but not smart phones. There was no ‘social media’ at that time. The only way to be social was to get out and live life. Bruce tried to tell his story to a few tabloids before meeting me, but they blew him off, swept his tale under the rug. I took the time to verify several facts of his story before agreeing to sit down with him (socially distanced and wearing masks, of course) in October 2020. My colleague Lewie Spearman took notes while I recorded the story for posterity.

For decades various people from all walks of life have claimed they saw the King in one form or another. The thought of his death being the truth was something they could not bear. Bruce was not one of those people. He did not go out looking for Elvis.

Elvis found him.

Chapter 1

If I can Dream

1

So, word comes to the cockpit that there is a VIP passenger on board with a firearm. Well, knowing I am the captain and I have to remain calm so as not to induce panic among the crew, I ask for the man to be brought to the cockpit.  Of course, I’m freaking out inside, thinking this could be a dangerous situation, but I put on my game face and go with it.

Lee’s father stands in front of the fireplace as he tells the tale, beaming like a star-struck teenager. He holds his glass of scotch in one hand as he rests the other on the mantle beneath the framed pistol hanging at eye level so everyone in attendance to their party could revel in the object as if it is a holy relic.

So, as I’m sitting there, this surreal pillar of a man saunters down the aisle. I can hear him coming and I think ‘this is it’. I turn and Elvis Presley is standing right there, his teeth so white they almost blinded me as he extended his hand for me to shake.

Lee’s father beams again, looking at the nickel-plated .38 caliber revolver with its custom black pearl grip customized with the letters TCB and a lightning bolt.  Lee knew the letters stood for ‘Taking Care of Business’ because his father had taken to repeating the phrase often since being gifted the gun. His father also told him that it was a saying of the ‘Memphis Mafia’.  Lee was too young to know what mafia meant, but his father explained it was a group of close friends and relatives that looked out for each other.

Lee has never seen so much love in his father’s eyes, and as a small child he is just as excited as he watches him recount the tale once again. But as he looks toward the living room, he sees a look on his mother’s face that makes him sad.  She is not sharing in the excitement, seems upset in fact that this tale has been told so many times to so many visitors to their home.  She has her own drink and sips it as she stares at the silenced TV console, seeming to block him out. 

"He tells me that he is returning to Memphis from Washington DC. That he just left a meeting at the White House with President Nixon. As a result of that meeting, you’re not going to believe this, Elvis had just acquires his Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs badge and he was cleared to carry a concealed weapon on my flight.  Being in awe of The King, what else could I do but congratulate him and shake his hand?

"It all seems so unreal. When we landed in Kansas City, I talked to the pilot on the connecting flight and informed him that Elvis was armed and that he had a badge, giving him permission to carry.

"Word got back to Elvis and he requested to speak to me before boarding that flight. He towered over me as we stood on the tarmac. He looked down at me and said. ‘You’re a good man Philip, I want you to have this, to remember this day.’

He held this gun out to me in his palm.  Looking back, it feels like a dream, something out of a motion picture. I told him I couldn’t take it, it belonged to him. He explained that he was packing three other guns at that moment and had dozens more at his disposal.  He wanted me to have it.  So, I accepted it.

The group of ‘friends’ standing in their living room all applaud and laugh.  Philip revels in their approval of his tale

That was December 1970. Almost ten years ago.  I’ll never forget it. The King has been gone three years now and the world will never be the same, Philip says. Come here, Lee.

Lee loves when his father pays attention to him.  Lee jumps up from where he is sitting Indian-style on the floor and went to his dad’s side.

Now, Lee, someday this will be passed on to you, understand? Philip says as the guests watch.  Lee nods. It will be yours to pass down to your children and they to their children. It will become our family heirloom.

Lee looks up at the cold piece of steel behind glass.  At that moment, he hears his mother slam her glass down on the coffee table and leave the room in a huff.  The guests turn for a moment watching her go.  Philip ignores her fit and continues to look Lee in the eyes.

Just remember, son.  No one can ever take this from you. It will always belong to this family.

As Lee grew, he looked forward to the day that his father would take the gun from above the mantle and place it in his hands just as Elvis had to him.  He pictured himself a grown man, leaving home for the great unknown. It would be a rite of passage.

The dream ended just five years later when his mother moved out and Lee heard the word divorce tossed back in forth over phone calls and to other relatives.  Within months, traces of his mother were gone and he rarely saw her after that.

Early one morning while pouring a bowl of cereal, he looked across the kitchen into the living room and saw the bare spot above the fireplace. His heart jumped in his chest.  His first thought was that a burglar had absconded with the pistol, frame and all. He knew how valuable Elvis-owned memorabilia was on the black market.

Dad! Lee shouted, rushing to the living room, looking around the floor in the hope that the pistol had somehow just fallen off the mantle. Dad!

His father came walking through the dining room from his bedroom, wiping sleep from his face. What son? What’s going on?

"The gun! The