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- File Size: 703 KB
- Print Length: 302 pages
- Page Numbers Source ISBN: 149109379X
- Simultaneous Device Usage: Unlimited
- Publisher: J. Frank James LLC; 1 edition (August 12, 2013)
Overview
Lou Malloy has just maxed out on a fifteen year prison sentence for the theft of $15 million and just before leaving prison he learns that his sister is brutally killed. As he is leaving prison, he's told to keep his nose clean or he would soon be back. As far as Malloy is concerned all bets were off until he finds his sister's killer.
Read an Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
The
warden was a small man, but dressed neatly. Everything about him was neat-from
his hair to his shoes. He was almost too neat.
“So
what are your plans, Lou?”
When I walked into the room, the warden turned
over a little hour-glass full of sand. We both watched it for a few seconds and
then looked at each other. This was the first time I ever met the man. What did
he care about me now? Since he never cared before, I figured the man was just
looking for information. Perhaps he wanted to give me a warning. I didn’t say
anything.
“Do you ever think about time, Lou?”
“After fifteen years, what do you think?” I
said.
He smiled and said, “Most valuable thing we have
and no one seems to mourn its passing until it’s too late.”
I had nothing to say to that. Conversations with
a prison warden came with a lot of maybes. While in prison I trained myself to
watch a man’s hands. If he rubbed his hands in a washing motion, he was lying.
If he messed with his fingernails, he wasn’t interested in the conversation.
The warden was rubbing his hands as if he had touched something distasteful.
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought, Warden Edwards.”
“Call me John, Lou. We’re friends now,” Edwards
said while rubbing his hands in a determined kind of way.
So now we were friends. I wanted to tell him he
was a liar, but my better judgment stopped me. Probably a good way to delay my
release-things get lost, papers go unsigned. Things happen.
“Okay, John,” I said.
“You know, we never found the fifteen million,”
he said.
“I didn’t know you were looking for it.”
I watched his eyes flicker briefly. I seemed to
hit a sweet spot.
“No, Lou. You misunderstand,” he said as he
caught himself. “There is a reward for the recovery of the money. Did you know
that?”
Edwards said it more as a statement than a question.
I said nothing and waited. Edwards shifted in his chair and started to rub his
hands again.
“It would be in your best interest to tell them
what you know.”
“Who’s the ‘them’ John?” I asked.
“They’re the people looking for the money.”
I thought about that for a few moments. The statement
covered a lot of ground.
“Since I didn’t take the money in the first
place, I don’t have anything to tell them. They need to ask the people that
took it,” I said.
Edwards was smiling now and he stopped rubbing
his hands.
“There are some people that think you do.”
“I can’t help what people think.”
“Ten percent,” he said.
“Ten percent of what,” I said.
“The money, Lou. Ten percent of fifteen million
is a lot of money.”
“I hadn’t heard about that,” I said.
“Yeah, it seems the Indian casino had insurance.
The insurance company that paid off on the claim put up a ten percent reward
for the return of the money. A million five is a lot of money.”
“I hope they find it,” I said.
Edwards blinked his eyes signaling he was moving
on to something else.
“Sorry to hear about your sister,” he said. “I
understand they are doing all they can to find her killer.”
Edwards was a real card and running out of
things to say. On any other day, in any other place, he would be dead or
wishing he was.
“Thanks, John. Your words are real comforting,”
I said and returned my gaze to the little hourglass and the sand as it
accumulated on the bottom.
I had nothing else to say except make him happy.
Make them all happy. Just one big happy group sitting around smiling at each
other; happy, happy, now let’s just get the money and spread it all around and
we can go on being happy. In the meantime my sister lies in a hole feeding
worms. I had money on the worms being real happy. No word on how my sister
felt.
Edwards looked disappointed when I didn’t add to
our conversation.
“Lou, it might be a good idea for you to help
them find the money. It could be a big windfall.”
Now we were getting somewhere. Just like all the
rest of the treasure hunters, the miserable bastard was just in it for the
money.
“Windfall for who, John? Me or you?”
As if tasting a lemon, Edwards twisted his face
and, at the same time, waived his hands at an imaginary fly.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Lou. I’m just
trying to give you a head start. If it was my decision, you would still be with
us. Fifteen million dollars is a lot of money to lose.”
“It still is,” I said.
I sat and watched Edwards shift in his chair
some more. We had nothing left to talk about. I could feel him working out in
his mind how he was going to present his failure to get a lead out of me on the
money.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Edwards
said.
Finally, I had enough.
“Leave. Isn’t that what we all do?”
His smile vanished. He knew he was wasting his
time on someone who had maxed out. He also knew he couldn’t hold me. There
would be no parole violation with the threat to re-incarcerate me. No work
release effort to rehabilitate me. Just a new suit made in the prison cut and
sew area and a hundred bucks was the sum total of it. That probably hadn’t
changed since the 30s. I wondered if Al Capone wore the suit they gave him when
he got out.
We were both looking at the little hourglass of
sand now. The sand had drained from the top of the glass to the bottom.
Suddenly, as if being shot out of a cannon, we both stood up. Edwards stuck out
his hand. I turned and left the room. I didn’t shake his hand. I didn’t want to
touch him.
CHAPTER 1
The
warden was a small man, but dressed neatly. Everything about him was neat-from
his hair to his shoes. He was almost too neat.
“So
what are your plans, Lou?”
When I walked into the room, the warden turned
over a little hour-glass full of sand. We both watched it for a few seconds and
then looked at each other. This was the first time I ever met the man. What did
he care about me now? Since he never cared before, I figured the man was just
looking for information. Perhaps he wanted to give me a warning. I didn’t say
anything.
“Do you ever think about time, Lou?”
“After fifteen years, what do you think?” I
said.
He smiled and said, “Most valuable thing we have
and no one seems to mourn its passing until it’s too late.”
I had nothing to say to that. Conversations with
a prison warden came with a lot of maybes. While in prison I trained myself to
watch a man’s hands. If he rubbed his hands in a washing motion, he was lying.
If he messed with his fingernails, he wasn’t interested in the conversation.
The warden was rubbing his hands as if he had touched something distasteful.
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought, Warden Edwards.”
“Call me John, Lou. We’re friends now,” Edwards
said while rubbing his hands in a determined kind of way.
So now we were friends. I wanted to tell him he
was a liar, but my better judgment stopped me. Probably a good way to delay my
release-things get lost, papers go unsigned. Things happen.
“Okay, John,” I said.
“You know, we never found the fifteen million,”
he said.
“I didn’t know you were looking for it.”
I watched his eyes flicker briefly. I seemed to
hit a sweet spot.
“No, Lou. You misunderstand,” he said as he
caught himself. “There is a reward for the recovery of the money. Did you know
that?”
Edwards said it more as a statement than a question.
I said nothing and waited. Edwards shifted in his chair and started to rub his
hands again.
“It would be in your best interest to tell them
what you know.”
“Who’s the ‘them’ John?” I asked.
“They’re the people looking for the money.”
I thought about that for a few moments. The statement
covered a lot of ground.
“Since I didn’t take the money in the first
place, I don’t have anything to tell them. They need to ask the people that
took it,” I said.
Edwards was smiling now and he stopped rubbing
his hands.
“There are some people that think you do.”
“I can’t help what people think.”
“Ten percent,” he said.
“Ten percent of what,” I said.
“The money, Lou. Ten percent of fifteen million
is a lot of money.”
“I hadn’t heard about that,” I said.
“Yeah, it seems the Indian casino had insurance.
The insurance company that paid off on the claim put up a ten percent reward
for the return of the money. A million five is a lot of money.”
“I hope they find it,” I said.
Edwards blinked his eyes signaling he was moving
on to something else.
“Sorry to hear about your sister,” he said. “I
understand they are doing all they can to find her killer.”
Edwards was a real card and running out of
things to say. On any other day, in any other place, he would be dead or
wishing he was.
“Thanks, John. Your words are real comforting,”
I said and returned my gaze to the little hourglass and the sand as it
accumulated on the bottom.
I had nothing else to say except make him happy.
Make them all happy. Just one big happy group sitting around smiling at each
other; happy, happy, now let’s just get the money and spread it all around and
we can go on being happy. In the meantime my sister lies in a hole feeding
worms. I had money on the worms being real happy. No word on how my sister
felt.
Edwards looked disappointed when I didn’t add to
our conversation.
“Lou, it might be a good idea for you to help
them find the money. It could be a big windfall.”
Now we were getting somewhere. Just like all the
rest of the treasure hunters, the miserable bastard was just in it for the
money.
“Windfall for who, John? Me or you?”
As if tasting a lemon, Edwards twisted his face
and, at the same time, waived his hands at an imaginary fly.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Lou. I’m just
trying to give you a head start. If it was my decision, you would still be with
us. Fifteen million dollars is a lot of money to lose.”
“It still is,” I said.
I sat and watched Edwards shift in his chair
some more. We had nothing left to talk about. I could feel him working out in
his mind how he was going to present his failure to get a lead out of me on the
money.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Edwards
said.
Finally, I had enough.
“Leave. Isn’t that what we all do?”
His smile vanished. He knew he was wasting his
time on someone who had maxed out. He also knew he couldn’t hold me. There
would be no parole violation with the threat to re-incarcerate me. No work
release effort to rehabilitate me. Just a new suit made in the prison cut and
sew area and a hundred bucks was the sum total of it. That probably hadn’t
changed since the 30s. I wondered if Al Capone wore the suit they gave him when
he got out.
We were both looking at the little hourglass of
sand now. The sand had drained from the top of the glass to the bottom.
Suddenly, as if being shot out of a cannon, we both stood up. Edwards stuck out
his hand. I turned and left the room. I didn’t shake his hand. I didn’t want to
touch him.
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Dead Money Run
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