Read Online Southern Bound - A Paranormal-Mystery (Max Porter Mysteries Book 1) by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online
Authors: Stuart Jaffe
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Max chilled at how easily he accepted the idea of being spied upon. I'm starting to know my enemy.
By the time he reached Wake (and after seven minutes of searching for a parking space), he had formulated his next few steps. First, when he entered the library, he found a private corner and sent an e-mail to Roddy, his pal in Michigan. They had been college roommates, and Max hoped he could still trust the man. Before moving to Michigan, Roddy had worked on Wall Street, and Max's e-mail asked Roddy to draw on those old days to get any information about Annabelle Bowman's stock acquisitions. With the e-mail sent off, Max started his own research on local land deals.
The work kept Max's mind from wandering which kept him from worrying. Hours passed by in research bliss until he had to admit that all his work had turned up no results. According to all the records he could find, nobody named Hull ever owned any land in Winston-Salem. While certainly odd, it was not unfathomable. The Hull's could have numerous dummy corporations set up to hold the land. Such things were done all the time in order to protect family money from litigation damages.
With a loud gurgle, Max's stomach protested the long day. His watch read 3:30, so he hurried over to Benson University Center to grab a quick bite among the students. No sooner had he left the library than his cell phone chirped — his mother.
"Hi, Mom," Max said as he weaved around students.
"Hi, dear."
"I can't talk long. I've got to get some lunch before I get back to work."
"Oh, that's nice. Your work is going well?"
Max sighed. "Yes. It's fine."
"And how's Sandra?"
"She's doing well. Loves it down here."
"I'm so glad. As long as you two are happy than the rest of it doesn't matter."
Here it was. Max tried to refrain from taking the bait but he had to ask, "The rest of what?"
"Oh, never mind. I'm just an old woman all by myself waiting for her grandchildren."
Bingo! Grandchildren. "I know. But we can barely afford to keep ourselves going. A child is way too expensive."
"Your father and I did fine with you, didn't we?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Times were harder then. So, enough excuses. You talk with that wife of yours and get some children. Why on Earth get married if you didn't want kids? It's beyond me."
"Okay, I'll do that," Max said as he stepped into Benson University Center. "I have to go now. I have to eat."
"Are you eating well?"
"I'm trying."
"It's important. Lucas Hoffmeyer died last week because he stopped eating well. Of course, he was ninety-two but still, you have to take care of your body. Do you know I used to bring Lucas meals and read to him and things like that?"
Max dumped his things at the nearest available table, resigned to the fact that he would not get to eat until the phone conversation ended, and that would only happen when his mother decided it would happen. "No, Mom, I don't think I knew that."
"Well, I did," she said, her pride boosting every word. "He would call me 'one of his gals' and he'd tell me stories of his youth. Remarkably warm, gracious man. I really enjoyed talking with him. Oh, and his grandfather, you wouldn't believe the stories about his grandfather. Why the man served during the Civil War! Can you imagine that?"
But Max had stopped listening. The Civil War. Something about it clicked, and he found no internal resistance to interrupting his mother. "Mom, I have to go. I'll try to call you later. Bye," he said and closed the cell phone before she could say another word. Without bothering for food, Max rushed back to the library, his excitement held in check only by the odd looks he received from passing students.
The Civil War. The Hull family may have covered their tracks with dummy corporations now but back during the Civil War? He doubted they would have been so thorough back then. They would have tried but deleting files is different from hunting down every scrap of paper with the name Hull written upon it.
In less than an
By the time he reached Wake (and after seven minutes of searching for a parking space), he had formulated his next few steps. First, when he entered the library, he found a private corner and sent an e-mail to Roddy, his pal in Michigan. They had been college roommates, and Max hoped he could still trust the man. Before moving to Michigan, Roddy had worked on Wall Street, and Max's e-mail asked Roddy to draw on those old days to get any information about Annabelle Bowman's stock acquisitions. With the e-mail sent off, Max started his own research on local land deals.
The work kept Max's mind from wandering which kept him from worrying. Hours passed by in research bliss until he had to admit that all his work had turned up no results. According to all the records he could find, nobody named Hull ever owned any land in Winston-Salem. While certainly odd, it was not unfathomable. The Hull's could have numerous dummy corporations set up to hold the land. Such things were done all the time in order to protect family money from litigation damages.
With a loud gurgle, Max's stomach protested the long day. His watch read 3:30, so he hurried over to Benson University Center to grab a quick bite among the students. No sooner had he left the library than his cell phone chirped — his mother.
"Hi, Mom," Max said as he weaved around students.
"Hi, dear."
"I can't talk long. I've got to get some lunch before I get back to work."
"Oh, that's nice. Your work is going well?"
Max sighed. "Yes. It's fine."
"And how's Sandra?"
"She's doing well. Loves it down here."
"I'm so glad. As long as you two are happy than the rest of it doesn't matter."
Here it was. Max tried to refrain from taking the bait but he had to ask, "The rest of what?"
"Oh, never mind. I'm just an old woman all by myself waiting for her grandchildren."
Bingo! Grandchildren. "I know. But we can barely afford to keep ourselves going. A child is way too expensive."
"Your father and I did fine with you, didn't we?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Times were harder then. So, enough excuses. You talk with that wife of yours and get some children. Why on Earth get married if you didn't want kids? It's beyond me."
"Okay, I'll do that," Max said as he stepped into Benson University Center. "I have to go now. I have to eat."
"Are you eating well?"
"I'm trying."
"It's important. Lucas Hoffmeyer died last week because he stopped eating well. Of course, he was ninety-two but still, you have to take care of your body. Do you know I used to bring Lucas meals and read to him and things like that?"
Max dumped his things at the nearest available table, resigned to the fact that he would not get to eat until the phone conversation ended, and that would only happen when his mother decided it would happen. "No, Mom, I don't think I knew that."
"Well, I did," she said, her pride boosting every word. "He would call me 'one of his gals' and he'd tell me stories of his youth. Remarkably warm, gracious man. I really enjoyed talking with him. Oh, and his grandfather, you wouldn't believe the stories about his grandfather. Why the man served during the Civil War! Can you imagine that?"
But Max had stopped listening. The Civil War. Something about it clicked, and he found no internal resistance to interrupting his mother. "Mom, I have to go. I'll try to call you later. Bye," he said and closed the cell phone before she could say another word. Without bothering for food, Max rushed back to the library, his excitement held in check only by the odd looks he received from passing students.
The Civil War. The Hull family may have covered their tracks with dummy corporations now but back during the Civil War? He doubted they would have been so thorough back then. They would have tried but deleting files is different from hunting down every scrap of paper with the name Hull written upon it.
In less than an
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