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Excerpt from Chapter 1

 

Where to start? To be clear right from the beginning, I am not an author of books. My name is Tara Blunt. My métier as a syndicated columnist does not necessarily qualify me as being one. Still, I cannot ignore the events that put me smack in the middle of wickedness, and so I feel compelled to tell this story. I am writing it first and foremost for myself, needing to vent the morbid involvement, in order to draw the final curtain. Capturing any potential readers’ interest in the process, I consider a bonus.

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I guess the kickoff was when all hell broke loose on the day I finally landed an interview with Dr. Jake Unger. I had discovered that several scientists had entered a contest sponsored by a leading company in the soft drink industry named Tops & Associates. They were to come up with an eco-friendly cellulose-derived product that would replace all types of petroleum-based packaging. I was determined to interview these scientists about their entries.

Let me explain a little more about myself. I’m a 33-year-old light brunette who inherited my high cheekbones and long legs from Mom, a former model, and the ability to think logically from Dad, who is an engineer. I run my columns in multiple major national newspapers and magazines. On occasion, I also submit my work to specific targeted publications. Among other things, I am interested in environmental and conservation issues, and some of my articles reflect those subjects.

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The task of talking to the scientists proved harder than I imagined. Initially, they all refused to see me. Since Jake Unger lived in my hometown of Huntington Beach in Southern California, I was persistent and contacted him several times. At long last, he agreed to meet me at the Starbuck’s on Main Street for a short interview on that terrible Saturday morning of April 14 - - I presumed to get me off his back. 

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I judged him to be in his mid-to-late-thirties, tall and lanky, with a long skinny neck. I could not help comparing him to a giraffe as he awkwardly walked toward my table, cappuccino in hand. He was not a conversationalist at all. I had to drag every bit of information out of him, meager as it was. I learned that he had a master’s degree in physics and first worked in a government-funded laboratory doing experimental research, then switched over to the private sector and became self-employed. I asked him how he could survive being self-employed with the cost of research projects coming out of his own pocket. He gave me a look of annoyance at my obvious ignorance but answered the question, informing me that he contracted with different companies, who in turn financed the research for the assignments. When prompted about his current project as participant in the contest, he became even more tongue-tied.

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