Read Online Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 04 - A Deadly Change of Power by Gina Cresse - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gina Cresse
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the patent holders and the cities where they live.”
I reached over and stroked the puppy’s ears. “He’s really tired. You must be too. Why don’t you go to bed? Tomorrow you can call your insurance company and get that whole process started.”
Ronnie forced a smile and lifted the huge puppy, handing him to me. “Good idea. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I took the puppy out for one more potty check, then powered up the PC in my office. I logged into the Internet and searched for telephone numbers or addresses to go with the names on the patents from Ronnie’s file. Out of six names, the only two I could find phone numbers for were both on the East Coast. It was too late to try to call them. I decided to wait till morning.
Of the other four names, two were in Southern California, not too far away. One was in Riverside and the other in Burbank. I couldn’t get an address for the Burbank name, but I was able to find an address for the Riverside name. The remaining two were in Nevada and Texas.
The next morning, I got up early to see Craig off to work. Ronnie was still asleep. I took the cordless phone to the kitchen table and unfolded the paper I’d written the phone numbers on the night before. The first name on the list was Casper Harris. I dialed the number, rehearsing what I was going to say when he answered. That never happened. I got a recording informing me the number had been disconnected. I tri ed again, just in case I’d dialed wrong . Same recording. I made a note next to his name.
I dialed the second number and a woman answered on the third ring. “Hello?” she blurted into the phone, sounding out of breath.
“Hello. Is Ozie Dartmond in?” I asked.
“Mr. Dartmond? Oh, no,” she replied, with a heavy Latino accent.
“Can you tell me when he might be home so I can call back?”
“He no coming home. He gone almost a year,” she explained, in broken English.
I tapped my pencil on the table. “Gone? Has he moved?”
“Yes. He gone. Missis Dartmond throw him out,” she said, sounding almost anxious to tell all the sordid details.
“I see. Do you have a number where I can reach him?”
“No. No number. He live somewhere in the Bahamas, I think. He sends child support and alimony check to Missis Dartmond, but they no speak. He not tell her how to find him. She happy as long as she gets money.”
“Bahamas? Are you sure?”
“I pretty sure. Yes.”
“I see. Well, thank you anyway,” I said before I hung up the phone.
Bahamas. Isn’t that where really rich people move to avoid paying income taxes? I wondered if one of Ozie’s inventions had paid off and put him in a new tax bracket.
The next name on the list was Clyde Waterman, who lived somewhere in Burbank. I had no address or phone number for him. I called the power company and waited for an answer.
“Hello. My name is Marcia Swenson. I’m the new bookkeeper for Clyde Waterman. He hasn’t received his bill this month and I wanted to verify that you’ve sent it,” I said.
The woman on the other end coughed into the receiver and cleared her throat. “What’s the name again?”
“Marcia Swen —“
“Not your name, honey. The customer’s name. Your name doesn’t mean anything.”
“Right. Clyde Waterman. He lives in Burbank.”
I could hear her fingernails tapping computer keys. “You don’t have his account number handy, do you?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Of course you don’t. Let’s see. Yes, we mailed that out on the fifteenth. He should have it by now.”
“Hmm. Well, he doesn’t. Can you verify the address for me?”
“Sure, honey. What address do you have?” she asked. I could see this wasn’t going to be easy.
I shuffled some papers on the table. “Let’s see. He wrote it down for me, somewhere. Ah, here it is, I think. Five twenty-six Elm
I reached over and stroked the puppy’s ears. “He’s really tired. You must be too. Why don’t you go to bed? Tomorrow you can call your insurance company and get that whole process started.”
Ronnie forced a smile and lifted the huge puppy, handing him to me. “Good idea. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I took the puppy out for one more potty check, then powered up the PC in my office. I logged into the Internet and searched for telephone numbers or addresses to go with the names on the patents from Ronnie’s file. Out of six names, the only two I could find phone numbers for were both on the East Coast. It was too late to try to call them. I decided to wait till morning.
Of the other four names, two were in Southern California, not too far away. One was in Riverside and the other in Burbank. I couldn’t get an address for the Burbank name, but I was able to find an address for the Riverside name. The remaining two were in Nevada and Texas.
The next morning, I got up early to see Craig off to work. Ronnie was still asleep. I took the cordless phone to the kitchen table and unfolded the paper I’d written the phone numbers on the night before. The first name on the list was Casper Harris. I dialed the number, rehearsing what I was going to say when he answered. That never happened. I got a recording informing me the number had been disconnected. I tri ed again, just in case I’d dialed wrong . Same recording. I made a note next to his name.
I dialed the second number and a woman answered on the third ring. “Hello?” she blurted into the phone, sounding out of breath.
“Hello. Is Ozie Dartmond in?” I asked.
“Mr. Dartmond? Oh, no,” she replied, with a heavy Latino accent.
“Can you tell me when he might be home so I can call back?”
“He no coming home. He gone almost a year,” she explained, in broken English.
I tapped my pencil on the table. “Gone? Has he moved?”
“Yes. He gone. Missis Dartmond throw him out,” she said, sounding almost anxious to tell all the sordid details.
“I see. Do you have a number where I can reach him?”
“No. No number. He live somewhere in the Bahamas, I think. He sends child support and alimony check to Missis Dartmond, but they no speak. He not tell her how to find him. She happy as long as she gets money.”
“Bahamas? Are you sure?”
“I pretty sure. Yes.”
“I see. Well, thank you anyway,” I said before I hung up the phone.
Bahamas. Isn’t that where really rich people move to avoid paying income taxes? I wondered if one of Ozie’s inventions had paid off and put him in a new tax bracket.
The next name on the list was Clyde Waterman, who lived somewhere in Burbank. I had no address or phone number for him. I called the power company and waited for an answer.
“Hello. My name is Marcia Swenson. I’m the new bookkeeper for Clyde Waterman. He hasn’t received his bill this month and I wanted to verify that you’ve sent it,” I said.
The woman on the other end coughed into the receiver and cleared her throat. “What’s the name again?”
“Marcia Swen —“
“Not your name, honey. The customer’s name. Your name doesn’t mean anything.”
“Right. Clyde Waterman. He lives in Burbank.”
I could hear her fingernails tapping computer keys. “You don’t have his account number handy, do you?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“Of course you don’t. Let’s see. Yes, we mailed that out on the fifteenth. He should have it by now.”
“Hmm. Well, he doesn’t. Can you verify the address for me?”
“Sure, honey. What address do you have?” she asked. I could see this wasn’t going to be easy.
I shuffled some papers on the table. “Let’s see. He wrote it down for me, somewhere. Ah, here it is, I think. Five twenty-six Elm
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