The cuckoo bird is a master of deception, fooling other species in their race to copy their chirping begging call. Donald Drummond and his wife, Anne, chase after the killer of his father, Henry Drummond, but find themselves up against a radical right wing supremacist organization called the Society of Southron Patriots and, like the cuckoo bird, deception is the Society’s mission. The couple unravels a terrorist plot aimed to kill Washington dignitaries at the Super Bowl and delegates at the United Nations. Donald, a retired news reporter, and Anne, a retired school teacher, unfold the mystery leading them on a wild chase from Alabama to Texas. And one of the many murder suspects is Donald’s biological mother, Betty Jo Duke, who he only just met after his father’s death. Donald and Anne are hired as informants by the FBI to unravel the mysterious case and they get a lot more than they bargained for.

REVIEW

Sometimes finding the truth opens up a can of worms that can't be disposed of. Retired news reporter Donald Drummond, and his retired teacher wife, Anne, begin to unravel a family mystery that leads to death and intrigue. Trying to discover his father's killers, Donald is whisked into the confidence of the FBI and faced with insurmountable truths.

Donald is forced to deal with his father's underhanded business with the Society of Southern Patriots, and an unmasking of his own identity that he must come to grips with.
After sixty one years, Donald meets his real mother. And his mother is a suspect in his father's death. His father was poisoned. However, as Donald works closely with the authorities, he unravels one bad soap opera after another, how much can one man stand to know about his heritage? And can he live with the knowing?

John Wayne Cargile takes us on a journey that starts with much intrigue and ends with bold characterization of family life sometimes better left unsaid. Even when all is well, it isn't. What an emotional jaunt Mr. Cargile leads us on, spilling forth with page turner characters and strong plotting that keeps one on the edge of his seat to finish this book. I enjoyed it no end.

Mr. Cargile has my undying admiration for writing a book that has no holes barred. Equal in emotion and plotting to a William Faulkner book, this one is a real keeper and one you won't forget for some time! Thanks for the enjoyable read.....

Reviewed by: Rita Hestand
Amazon.com

EXCERPT

Chapter Two

Kilgore, Texas

The phone rang six times before the maid answered. Al Falvey was impatient.

“Mattie, let me talk to Betty Jo,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Jist a minit, sir, yes sir.”

“Ms. Duke, it’s your mister on the phone,” Mattie shouted over the intercom system.

Betty Jo was sipping on a glass of orange juice and eating bacon, eggs and grits still steaming hot on the tray in her lap when she heard Mattie’s voice. She placed the food tray on an ornate end table and leaned over to pick up the telephone by her bed.

“Betty Jo, I have some wonderful news for you this morning,” Falvey’s voice cracked with excitement. He was a life-long friend to east Texas’s richest heroine.

“What?”

“Henry Drummond is dead!”

“He’s dead?”

“How did you find out?” she asked, knowing Al’s fastidiousness about the news of the day and an eye like a hawk for details. She felt blessed to have him as her friend the last forty-four years, through thick and thin, as they liked to intimately tell one another.

“I found out on the Internet,” Al said.

Henry Drummond was Betty Jo’s first husband all of six months during World War Two. She kept abreast of Henry’s shenanigans because she still had a stake in him.

“It’s high-time to make your presence known in Alabama, Ms. Duke. “The hay is in the barn!”

“You’re right, you gorgeous man,” she said. “The hay is finally in the barn. You have been my friend through all of this and I want you to share these blessings with me. I want you to go with me to his funeral.”

“Well, this just happened today,” Falvey said. “They’ll bury him before Christmas.”

“Call and find out when the arrangements are made. Get back to me quickly. I’ll start packing as soon as I hang up.”

“You want to fly or drive?” Falvey asked, knowing Betty Jo’s twin propeller Cessna at the ranch was the most comfortable.

“I’d rather Amos drive us,” she replied. “Let’s leave early tomorrow morning. It’s been a long time since I was in Birmingham, Alabama, and I have a lot to think about. It’ll give me time to sort out the mess that happened sixty-one years ago.”

She tried to fight off thinking about the past, but she knew this day would come. She pushed back the quilted bed cover and eased out of bed. Her breakfast was in her throat and her stomach felt queasy.

The idea that Henry was dead didn’t bother her as much as the sobering fact she had to retrace her life as a teenager again, look back in the mirror and do a lot of explaining. She couldn’t simply say she had learned her lessons for the millionth time. The haunting words she lived since 1946 surfaced again. “You have no other choice, Ms. Duke. You have no other choice, trust me.” She had to face it all again. It was time to reclaim that which was hers.