frequently challenged the establishment in his chosen fields.
The similarities did not end there. Both Henry and Percival had married into wealthy families. Henry had wed an Evansville socialite, Percival a Boston heiress.
The brothers had also died just five weeks apart in early 1900. Henry had succumbed to a heart attack on February 15, Percival to a stroke on March 22. Each man had left behind a young wife, two small children, and an unfinished legacy.
Cameron thought about the youngest of those children as he put Henry's biography away and brought another item to the top of the stack. He had learned a lot about Candice Bell in the past two weeks, including things that made him happy and things that made him sad.
Thanks to several trips to the library, he had filled in a few blanks. He had learned, among other things, that Candice had dropped out of Indiana University as a sophomore in 1920 to become the society editor of the Evansville Post . He had also learned that she had published numerous articles in national magazines under the name C.L. Bell.
Cameron glanced at one of the articles as the flight attendant pushed her beverage cart toward the front of the plane. Entitled "The Dark Side of the Heartland," the 1924 piece had created a stir in literary circles and elevated C.L. Bell, at least in name, out of obscurity.
In the article, Candice had revealed corruption, vice, and Ku Klux Klan activity in an unnamed Indiana community. She had painted a troubling picture of Main Street America that seemed at odds with the ones most people saw or at least admitted to seeing.
Cameron read two more of C.L. Bell's pioneering pieces and then turned to a news article he had purposely saved for last. He was not eager to revisit the story, one of many he had found and copied. He had already read the details of Candice's murder on July 2, 1925, and saw little to gain by reading them again, but he did so anyway. If nothing else, he wanted to better understand and appreciate a seemingly senseless act of violence that had forever changed an Indiana town.
The facts, as reported by a rival Evansville paper, were not pretty. According to police and media reports, Candice had been beaten and abandoned in a narrow alley behind her workplace. For three weeks, police had investigated the crime, several suspects, and possible motives. For three weeks, they had come up with few answers.
Then, on July 23, responding to intense public pressure, authorities charged a thirty-year-old black man with the murder. Tom Parker, a part-time custodian for the Evansville Post , had found Candice's body. Tried and convicted of the crime four months later, he was electrocuted at the Indiana State Prison in Michigan City on September 5, 1926.
Cameron added the homicide story to the stack of copies, put the pile in his briefcase, and closed the lid. He sipped his coffee, paused to gather his thoughts, and then returned to the portrait of Candice, which remained undisturbed atop his folding tray.
He picked up the photograph, studied the beautiful face one more time, and then looked out his window at the landscape below. The scraggly fields of Kansas had given way to the snowy peaks of Colorado.
Cameron did not know what he would do when he touched down in Los Angeles, but he did know he would do more than collect information. His quest to learn more about Candice Bell and her times had become more than a research project. It had become an obsession. He decided to give that obsession the consideration it deserved.
CHAPTER 4: CAMERON
Los Angeles, California – Saturday, March 4, 2017
Cameron watched the natives go by and wondered for the second time that morning why he had never visited California. The Golden State – or at least the stretch between the Santa Monica Pier and Marina del Rey – was intriguing, stimulating, and hopelessly captivating.
He sipped some iced tea, placed his glass on his round patio table, and let his eyes