The White Gold Score (A Daniel Faust Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page A

came to talk about. I need to get up close and personal with some music-industry bigwigs and somehow get ’em to open up to me. Any ideas?”
    Corman snapped his fingers, giving Bentley a smile. “The probate hustle.”
    Bentley lit up. “I think I still have my business cards from the last time! I’ll go check in back.”
    As Bentley scurried off, I tilted my head at Corman. “What’s the play?”
    “Right now, this guy’s will is in probate. That’s where the lawyers prove his will’s legit, do property appraisals, inventory his stuff, and finally divvy up the goods. Usually it’s a pretty straightforward process.”
    “But not this time,” Bentley said as he strode from the back room, brandishing a spread of cream-colored business cards like a winning poker hand. “According to an authority, that is, you, the deceased hired a new lawyer and rewrote his entire will just a month ago. The final version, if it truly is the final version, has…problems. Problems requiring an appointed legal investigator to question his family and business associates.”
    He handed me the cards.
Michael Green
, read the crisp black type.
Investigator, Cowrie & Jet Family Law
.
    “What sort of problems?” I asked.
    Corman shook his head. “You can’t say, because it’d violate confidentiality agreements. Don’t even have to make up a story.”
    “And everyone I talk to,” I said, getting the picture, “is going to think I’m there because they’ve been named in Monty’s will, even if I can’t officially say so. Which means if they cooperate, there could be money in it for them.”
    “You got it, kiddo. Play it right and you can string ’em along nice and easy. Drop little hints about what the will might say, and steer the conversation toward the answers you need.”
    “What about the real will, and the real lawyer?”
    “Best to finish your inquiries and leave town before you cross paths,” Bentley said. “This is a handy ruse, but it has a very firm expiration date.”
    “I’m on it.” I tapped the stack of cards. “Where does this number go?”
    Bentley took out his ancient flip phone and held it to his ear. “Cowrie and Jet Family Law, how may I direct your call? Oh, yes, Michael Green? Our
finest
investigator. Yes, we absolutely vouch for him.”
    “The firm’s a real company—on paper, that is—registered out in Sacramento,” Corman said. “We used it a few times back in the day. Some epic cons, too. Remind me sometime, I’ll tell you a story that’ll make your toes curl. I kept the registration up-to-date for sentimental reasons. Besides, you never know when you’ll need your own law firm.”
    I pocketed the cards.
    “All right,” I said, “I’m off to sunny LA. Wish me luck.”
    Corman hauled me into a bear hug. “You don’t need luck when you’ve got skill. And we taught you skill. Go get ’em, kiddo.”
    I was on my way to McCarran Airport, nestled in the cracked vinyl seat of a taxi, when Caitlin called.
    “Hey,” I said, “I’m on my way to Los Angeles on a quick job. I’ll be back in a day or two, tops. How’d your thing go?”
    “Just finished,” she replied, sounding pleased. “A job? What sort?”
    I glanced at the taxi driver, stoic in the rearview mirror.
    “The kind I do,” I said.
    “Don’t leave without me,” she said. “Just let me hose off the blood and I’ll meet you at the airport.”
    “Wait, what?”
    “I’m coming with. I want to see what you do for a living.”
    “Cait,” I said, a nervous chuckle on my lips, “you know what I do for a living. That’s how we met.”
    “I said I want to
see
it. It’ll be fun. Besides, LA is as much my prince’s territory as Vegas is. I need to put in the occasional appearance and make sure the locals are behaving themselves. I’ll make hotel reservations. And dinner. Have you ever eaten at STK Los Angeles? I know the head chef. I’ll handle everything.”
    And that was how my hunt for a killer and a dead