Shadow Valley

By Alan Brown and Brian Brown

Northwest Arkansas is home to a budding metropolitan area. From Bentonville to Siloam Springs to Fayetteville, the region is now home to about half a million people. And with big-city growth comes big-city problems.
When the wife and daughter of a Branson real estate mogul go missing in Pea Ridge, he turns to his old friend Detective Booger McClain to track them down. McClain and his wife, Rose, soon find themselves entrenched in a fresh world of lust, drugs, money, and corruption as they get closer to discovering the truth in the Natural State. All they need is some help from the working girls of Shadow Valley Trailer Park. The answers are all around the I-49 corridor, but will the detectives know where to look in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891262065

Alan Brown

Alan Brown is a seasoned children’s illustrator with over twenty years’ experience. He has a keen interest in the comic book world; he loves illustrating bold graphic pieces and strips. He works from his studio in the north of England with his trusty sidekick, Otto the chocolate cockapoo, and his two sons, Wilf and Ted.

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Shadow Valley

Booger McClain Ozarks Detective Series Book 5

by

Alan Brown and Brian Brown

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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World Castle Publishing, LLC

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © 2024 Alan Brown, Brian Brown

Smashwords Edition

Paperback ISBN: 9798891262058

eBook ISBN: 9798891262065

First Edition World Castle Publishing, LLC, May 13, 2024

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

Smashwords Licensing Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Cover: Karen Fuller

Editor: Karen Fuller

CHAPTER 1: A FRIEND FROM THE PAST

It took nearly two years to rebuild the office building of Booger McClain after the fire. It had destroyed most of the second and third floors. Nearly all of the damage on the main floor was from smoke and water, and almost everything needed to be replaced.

That was fine with Rose. She was never happy with Booger’s décor anyway, and she especially didn’t like his so-called bachelor pad on the lower level. She referred to his pre-fire pad as the dungeon. Reconstruction of the former warehouse and office into a new home and office for the couple, she said, would give her the opportunity to add some feminine touches. It was a thought that haunted Booger. They were, after all, married now, so he expected to have to make some concessions. Still, he’d be damned if they were going to rebuild his bachelor pad as a foo-foo palace.

We can maybe add a few windows to the place, but we’re not going to go crazy, the private investigator said of what would become their massive and expensive remodeling project. He was, himself, quietly excited about making some office-space upgrades.

As for his living quarters, previously, they were completely void of outside light. Booger enjoyed his privacy and thought of his bachelor pad as a hideaway from the world. It was, in fact, hidden from view on the other side of a secret door on the first floor in an otherwise largely bare and cold warehouse. Before the fire that nearly killed Booger and destroyed his beloved upstairs office, which he dubbed The War Room, the detective had been the only one who knew about the bachelor pad. It was his escape from the fast-paced world around him. It was an oversized man-cave, a place only for him where he could do as he pleased. It was the ultimate place to unwind from the turmoil of the day. By removing a specific brick in the wall of the warehouse, a secret door opened to a large work area with computers and video surveillance monitors. Booger referred to it as The Spy Room. The monitors connected to nearly a dozen video cameras, which provided views of the perimeter of the building as well as the stairwell leading up to his office.

When Booger’s secret room was constructed, it was done so with funds from the FBI. It was to be used as a sort of safe house if needed. Those were dangerous times for the detective. He was involved with the feds in an investigation of a drug syndicate operating in Springfield and, at the same time, he was looking into the disappearance of the Springfield Three, aka the three missing women, who vanished in the night from a quiet home in a well-heeled neighborhood of Springfield in 1992. In the initial part of his investigation, it was speculated that the drug syndicate may have had something to do with the women’s disappearance. The case has never been solved – a source of great frustration for the former sheriff.

Threats were made on Booger’s life, an informant was murdered just outside his office, and a fire was set to his war room and office that nearly killed him. In those days, his bachelor pad was more than a sanctuary from the realities of the day. It truly was his safe house.

But times were different now. Short of the emergence of new evidence that could prove what happened to the three women, there was nothing he could do. It was time to move forward, to start fresh. Booger and Rose needed to create a new normal for themselves – a workspace and home that worked for each of them.

So, when Rose wanted to handle the design of their new office/home, Booger agreed with one exception: the man cave was his project alone. It would remain just as it had been. That room had been Booger’s pride and joy. It was the largest room in the house. Located down a long hallway past the bedroom, past the bathroom, and behind a four-inch-thick hardwood door. The room contained a massive oak bar stocked with a variety of Booger’s favorite rye whiskeys, beer, and an assortment of other spirits. A large stainless steel refrigerator kept the beer cold and provided ice for the whiskey.

Movie-theater quality sound, oversized leather reclining chairs, and a 100-inch screen with cable and every conceivable sports channel made up the detective’s décor. The room was sound proofed from the remainder of the living quarters. That was Booger’s favorite room, a place he spent almost every night. More times than not, he would fall asleep stretched out on one of the cushy leather chairs watching his favorite baseball team, the St. Louis Cardinals, or football, hockey, or a wrestling event.

Rose knew how much her husband cherished that room, so she gladly left that area to him. He could do as he pleased with his little room, she said. The rest of the home and all common areas were her domain. Colorful walls, large windows that poured in the sunlight, and pictures around every bend. Fresh flowers in the living room and bedroom. There was a dining room with a fine pine wood table and a matching china cabinet filled with her fine china, glassware, and silverware. The kitchen was large, bright, and modern, with stainless steel appliances and a professional-grade gas stove. She also had a four-pot commercial coffee maker. She was not known for her abilities in the kitchen, but she took her coffee seriously. Booger would tell people that Rose was the best damn waitress and wife that God ever made – and He made her in that order. People never laughed at that the way Booger did.

The bedroom was three times as large as the one the private investigator had before the fire. It was bright and colorful, with a large window that reached from the ground to the ceiling and a sliding glass door that opened to a private patio. There were two large walk-in closets of equal size, but Rose’s wardrobe and shoes overflowed into Booger’s, easily taking up most of his space. Next to the closets was a large bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and walk-in shower. A huge vanity with two sinks and large cabinets both above and below line one entire wall. But the thing Rose most enjoyed about her newly designed bathroom was the separate toilets on opposite sides of the room – one for her and the other for Booger. A contractor told her, You know, most people have separate sinks, but I can’t remember ever putting two toilets in a single bathroom. She wondered why more people didn’t think about that, and it gave her a since of pride to know her bathroom was unique. Her toilet, which was about twice the size of his, contained a magazine rack, heated floor and seat, and a bidet. The bidet was a luxury that Rose had always wanted, one that Booger had trouble comprehending.

So, its only purpose is to shoot water up your ass? Booger asked.

No, Booger. Its purpose is to clean you much more thoroughly than toilet paper.

By shooting water up your ass?

Please don’t be crude and say ‘ass.’

Okay, shooting water up your butt.

Yes, in a stream that completely cleans you.

Is the water warm?

Well, it’s room temperature, I suppose.

So, let me get this right. You do your business, and then a spray of cool water shoots up your butt without any warning?

Not exactly. You have to turn it on. You can even adjust the intensity of the spray, and you can stop it whenever you want by turning it off.

The intensity? Booger questioned. You mean the water shoots up your butt at varying speeds?

You should try it sometime, Booger. It really feels good and cleans you up really well.

No, I don’t think so. Toilet paper works just fine for me, said the man who thought highly of his own common sense and instincts. After all, he was an early investor in Walmart. I’m pretty careful about what I put up my butt.

By the time the remodeling was completed, the office-home no longer resembled the abandoned warehouse it used to be. Fresh paint on the exterior, which was mostly new construction, gave it the appearance of a new building. It had a condominium feel to it with three stories, large windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, a bright, colorful lobby just inside the entrance way that led to a large meeting room on one side, and a wide, carpeted stairway on the other side of the lobby. An elevator straight ahead of the entrance provided an alternative to walking the stairs to get to the second and third floors. It was a simple design that kept their personal rooms away from the office spaces but still kept them close. What used to be the open warehouse area was about half its original size and contained a large conference table, vending machines, a bistro area, colorful walls, and plenty of fresh flowers and green plants.

A hallway at the end of that conference room led to Booger and Rose’s private house. No longer a secret room that only opened when one special brick was removed from the wall, the couple’s new home had a large oak door with a doorbell and a welcome mat.

Both the second and third floors were unrecognizable from the pre-fire days, too. Before, the second floor was a place for old cobwebs and forgotten storage. Now, it looked like a floor in a high-rent office building. Thick carpeting throughout, along with bright lighting and hallways that led to large offices and a common area for lounging and eating. It had vending machines and men’s and women’s separate bathrooms. The floor gave the appearance of multiple tenants although there were no other businesses that occupied the building other than Booger McClain, P.I.

Every room had a purpose. One was for video surveillance. Cameras were strategically placed on both the outside of the building as well as the inside. Video monitors showed views from each of the dozen cameras. Rose thought that was all a bit unnecessary, but Booger insisted. He was a cautious man, and his investigations tended to create enemies. Another office contained his new war room, which now had an expansive desk with large drawers for files, enormous white boards for writing notes, as well as several cork boards for penning newspaper clippings or pictures. It was all highly functional for a private investigator. The room had no windows and contained an alarm system that included a hand-print pad to open and lock the door. A third office was for his archives. It contained all the notes and evidence from previous investigations he wanted to keep. It, too, had no windows and a state-of-art alarm system. In the final space was a safe room. From the outside, it looked normal. Inside, it was much different. After entering the room, there was what appeared to be a steel vault, which encased most of the room. Two video cameras recorded all activity by anyone entering the room. A special lock with a twelve-digit password and face-recognition software was both outside and inside the vault. Inside was a small arsenal of guns, enough supplies and water to last two people for a week, a bathroom, and a panic button to notify the police. Also, built into the floor was a secret door that opened to a stairway leading to a hidden room on the first floor with a door that could only be opened from the inside and led to the parking lot. Initially, Rose had sketched out a simple floor plan for a couple of offices but knew it was better to leave that stuff to her husband. She felt as long as she got her way on the shared spaces, she didn’t care what he did.

However, when Booger first showed Rose the plans for the safe room, she thought he had lost his mind. Are you crazy? with a tone that reflected real concern. They lived, after all, in Springfield, Missouri, a mid-size Midwest community that was safe compared to the big cities. But Booger was Booger, and with memories of that fire and the break-in still fresh in both of their minds, she wouldn’t fight his over-protective impulses. They both knew the detective had enemies from the past. He had managed to irritate both low-rent jail birds and powerful people with money and influence. Just because things were quiet and peaceful now didn’t mean they would be in the future.

The third floor of the building had the official office for his investigation business. The stairway and the elevator stopped in a large open area with thick carpeting, bright lighting, tall ceilings, and a large window that gave a view of the skyline of downtown Springfield. A fine, thick, wood door with a plated glass sign saying Office of Booger McClain P.I. marked the entrance. Two large, rectangular mirrors on both sides of the door were actually two-way mirrors that gave Rose and Booger views of any visitors that found their way to the third floor. The office door was locked at all times, and visitors were instructed by a metal sign just above the handle to ring the doorbell to the right of the door and wait for a buzz before entering.

Booger left the design of the office up to Rose, as he ironically viewed his actual office as a shared space. Happy wife, happy life had become his motto. He had only simple requests for her to consider: Oversized leather chair; oversized oak desk; dark colors; dark carpet; no windows; no flowers; and an oversized bathroom with no bidet.

Rose just shook her head. I guess I can make that happen. In the end, she was happy, and he was happy. She didn’t want to change him, and that would be a hopeless cause anyway. Plus, she got what she wanted: domain over the common areas. This marriage was about give and take. The way she saw it, if he’d buy the Folgers, and she’d make it for him.

After two years of construction, Booger and Rose were able to move into their new home on the first floor of the building. Since the fire, they had been living in Rose’s small two-bedroom ranch home. Booger had operated his business out of the spare bedroom. When he needed to meet with clients, he met them at George’s Steakhouse. It was challenging, but now things were settling into their new normal. They had put Rose’s house up for sale and moved everything to their new home. Booger’s office was just two flights of stairs up from their new home, which he gladly walked to work. Rose took the elevator. She woke up at 5 am. Rose had always been an early riser, mainly out of habit. She had been a server at a small diner and then at George’s Steakhouse for over 30 years. For her, mornings went hand in hand with work.

After waking up, she set the alarm for 7 am for Booger, got dressed, made breakfast – normally pastries, cinnamon rolls, or biscuits – grabbed the newspaper from the front door and took them upstairs to her husband’s office. Booger always ate breakfast at his desk while reading the newspaper. He’d been doing the same routine ever since Rose came to work for him.

Before that, he ate breakfast at the diner where Rose worked. That’s where they met. She was a server. He was a customer. They had known each other for three decades but had only been married for two years. Booger, like his wife, was a creature of habit. He went to the same diner and to the same table at the same time every morning and only let Rose wait on him. They were friends. In time, they became part of each other. He had been in love with her almost from the beginning, but he was also in love with the memories of his wife, who had died of cancer nearly forty years ago. He had vowed then never to marry again. Rose eventually wore him down.

Rose was slower to fall in love with Booger. He was a difficult man to understand. Loud, intimidating, gruff. He reminded her of Walter Matthau’s character in the movie Grumpy Old Men. It took her some time to discover the soft side of Booger. When she discovered he had one, she became more invested in him. Plus, she liked his predictability. As she once told an old waitress friend of hers, I know how to steer this ship.

Booger McClain was able to spend over a million dollars on their remodeled office home in north-central Springfield – an amount he loudly complained and bragged about from time to time to just about anyone depending on his mood – thanks to a wise early investment in the aforementioned global retail giant. Booger, who was briefly sheriff in Branson, had largely been retired ever since he was fired as sheriff of Connorville, Mo., in the 90s for being right! Yet, other than the office building and his home inside it, no one, he thought, would know he had more than a dime to his name. He still drove the first car he ever purchased, a 1969 red Corvette convertible, which he detailed regularly and kept in tip-top shape. Booger, a man of contradictions, considered himself frugal. The truth was he was normally cheap but would spare no expense for the things he valued. Rose also considered herself frugal, but she was a bit of a hoarder and was more stubborn than cheap. She drove an AMC Gremlin for decades before she and Booger got married, and he insisted on getting her something safer. She shopped at discount stores and purchased clothes out of season. Then, of course, there were the shoes. She had shoes for every possible occasion. When she got her new closet, she kept about four dozen pairs in it and had a couple dozen more stored away.

Booger and Rose were a team through and through. They were as distinct as heads and tails but always two sides of the same coin.

On one particular morning, which started much like the dozen before it, Rose made her famous prune danishes. Shortly after they came out of the oven, she wrapped them and put them in a breadbasket before she headed to the third-floor office, stopping to pick up the newspaper before getting on the elevator. Her husband would sleep for at least another hour before getting dressed and heading up to work, which gave her just enough time to water the flowers and plants, set up a breakfast tray, make a pot of Folgers for Booger, and work on another crossword puzzle. The newspaper had a new one every day in the classified ad section. Booger never missed that part of the paper, and Rose always removed it before setting the remainder of the paper on his desk. It was part of her new routine. Their routine.

That morning was different, though. She had just unlocked the office door when the buzzer to the lobby went off. Rose put down the plate and walked over to a video monitor on her desk. It showed the area just outside the lobby door where an older gentleman with long, curly gray hair and a medium build stood.

Hello, can I help you? Rose said through a speaker next to the doorbell.

Yes, ma’am. My name is Bobby John Trussle. I’m an old friend of Booger McClain. I was hoping to speak with him.

I’m sorry, Mr. Trussle. Booger is not in the office yet. Could you come back in another hour?

Well, ma’am, I came an awful long way to see him, and I don’t really have any place to go. Could I just come inside and maybe sit in the lobby until Booger gets in?

Just a second, Mr. Trussle.

Rose called the phone in their house below. It rang six times before Booger picked up.

"Rose, you woke me from a sound sleep. What do