Ramsey's Gold (Drake Ramsey Book 1) by Russell Blake Read Free Book Online

Nellis law firm. Is this Jack Brody?”
    “Uh, sure. Whaddaya want?”
    “I’m handling an estate, and I’m looking for the Jack Brody who’s named in the will.”
    “Will?”
    “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind, can I ask a couple of questions?”
    “That’s one.”
    “Yes, it is. Thanks for helping out. Do you know a Patricia Ramsey?”
    Drake listened attentively, every fiber of his being keying in on tone, word choice, volume, breathing, timing.
    “Who?”
    “Patricia Ramsey. Or does the name Ford mean anything to you?”
    “I drive one. Hell of a truck. Although I’ve had a few crap ones the first model year.”
    “Thank you for your time, Mr. Brody.”
    Drake hung up and scratched the first name off his list. Forty-five minutes later, he struck pay dirt. A woman’s voice answered the phone, and he asked for Jack. Her voice sounded young.
    “Who’s calling?”
    “Frank. Frank Lombard. Is he there?”
    “I don’t know any Frank Lombard.”
    “No, I wouldn’t expect you to. Who am I speaking with?”
    Long pause.
    “His daughter.”
    “Ah. Very good. Is he home?”
    “What can I tell him the call is regarding, Mr. Lombard?”
    Drake sighed, hoping the exasperation of the long-suffering cog in the machine carried over the phone line and engendered sympathy, or at least kinship. “It’s a personal matter. A legal matter, actually. I’m with the Nellis law firm.” He paused. “Long distance,” he added, hoping to hurry the process along.
    “You should get a calling plan. Hang on,” she said, and then the phone clattered as it struck a hard surface and bounced. A minute later a gruff male voice picked up.
    “Yeah? What’s this about?”
    “Jack Brody?”
    “You got him. Now answer my question.”
    Drake went through his introduction and began his interrogative. At the first question, he got what he was looking for. A hesitation. An instant too long to be innocent.
    “Patricia? Mmm, no, can’t say as that rings any bells. Where was she from?”
    “Idaho.”
    “Idaho? Son, Texas is a long way from Idaho. Sorry I can’t help you.”
    “You’re sure you never heard of her? The estate’s rather significant.”
    “Story of my life. You got the wrong Jack, Jack. Good hunting,” he said, and hung up.
    Bingo.
    Drake had been doing skip-tracing long enough to recognize the subtle tells. This was his Jack. Drake checked the address on his computer screen and executed a Google Earth search to find the nearest airport to Flatonia, Texas.
    Which was Austin.
    Fifteen minutes later he’d packed an overnight bag, stuffed all his money in his pockets, and called the airline to book a flight departing in three hours, which he could just make out of San Jose if traffic wasn’t bad. He took the stairs to the parking area two at a time, energized in spite of his lack of sleep. As he started the car and let it warm up, he called Harry.
    “New Start Bail Bonds,” Betty answered, her voice perennially cheerful.
    “Betty. It’s Drake. Harry there?”
    “He just got in. Hang on a moment, mmkay?”
    Harry’s voice came on the line after a brief pause. “What – are you in jail?”
    “No. I’m taking your advice. Heading out of town for a few days.”
    “Wow. Look at you. Where you going?”
    “Texas. I’ve never been there.”
    “Why Texas?”
    “Looking up old friends around Austin. Taking some time off. Wasn’t that what you advised?”
    “Yeah. Have a good time.”
    “I will. And I wanted to ask you straight. Will there be a job for me whenever I decide to return to lovely Menlo Park?”
    The extended silence on the line said everything.
    “Look, kid…”
    “No problem, Harry. We had a good run, didn’t we?”
    “Sure. Sure we did. Hey, when you get back, I’ll buy you a beer. We can talk about it. That’s all I can promise. I gotta see what happens in the meantime.”
    “Yeah. Absolutely. Hopefully you don’t get sanctioned or investigated or anything.”
    “Too late. They’re