Dead Money Run, by J. Frank James
Dead Money Run is the first book in The Lou
Malloy Crime Series by J. Frank James.
Genres: Crime / Fiction /
Mystery / Thriller
Synopsis:
Lou Malloy learns of his sister's death right before he is released from prison, having served 15 years for the theft of $15 million from an Indian casino. He wants two things: to keep the $15 million, which no one has been able to find, and to track down and punish whoever killed his sister.
Lou Malloy teams up with Hilary Kelly, a private investigator. In no time, Lou has found the hidden $15 million, recovered guns and ammunition hidden with the money, and murdered two low-level mobsters and fed them to the crocodiles.
As the body count rises, the story grows more complex and his sister's death becomes more mysterious.
Praise for Dead Money Run:
"Dead Money Run is a hard-boiled
thriller. It is a book of short chapters and almost unrelenting excitement as
Lou and Hillary Kelly avoid cops, kill mobsters, and try to unravel the mystery
of who killed Lou's sister and why.” - Reviewed by Wally Wood at BookPleasures.com
“Fans of James Ellroy and Elmore Leonard are going to love
James’ ingenious capers, devious characters and wry humor. The entire book goes
down like a strong yet smooth shot of bourbon.” - Reviewed by BestThrillers.com
"Dead
Money Run by J. Frank James is a pure adrenalin rush from the very beginning.
Yes, it is very violent with some strong language, but filled with excitement
that keeps the reader wanting to know what comes next." - Reviewed by Paul Johnson for Readers' Favorite
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.
About the Author:
J. Frank James has a passion for writing, and he certainly has the
knowledge and experience to write realistic crime thrillers, thanks to his
extensive background in law. Jim attended law school, where he was a member of
the law review. He even went on to pass the state bar and started his own law
practice that specialized in complex litigation. Jim's experience in law helps
lend credibility to his crime fiction books. He has also traveled extensively
and gains inspiration for his crime thrillers from his travels. From observing
other cultures and gaining new experiences, Jim is able to infuse new life into
his books and develop believable characters that readers can identify with.
J. Frank James writes crime thriller novels that are gripping and
suspenseful. He is the author of the Lou Malloy Crime Series and the Indigo
Marsh Detective Series.
J. Frank James is also an artist and he creates all of his own book
covers.
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