Inherited Fortunes

By Frank Kitchens

Bob Evans is a thirty year old former Navy Seal, Former Detective for the Oakland Police Department and current Private Investigator, investigating husbands for rich wife’s that the husband wants to get rid of.

Bob quit being a seal after eight years when he decided if he was going to kill anyone else, he would decide who needed killing. He quit being a Detective for Oakland for three years after he broke the police chiefs jaw.

His former partner on the police force brought him two cases that set him up for life, financially, before he got his license to be a private investigator. Both cases involved invading another country and killing a bunch of people to rescue the captives. The money was in the millions so he had no problem deciding the people really needed to be killed.

Not only were they wrong in what they did, they were also standing in the way of him being able to tell the whole world to go to hell. He also made two very good and useful friends during the rescue of one young girl and one extremely rich girl that was trying to stick it to her father and ended up being the stickee.

The rescue of these two makes him a millionaire many times over. His lifestyle changes to suit his new found wealth. He finally gets his private investigator license and makes around $200,000 a year, almost three times what he made as a detective, but not enough to pay his taxes each year. But he does love the work. Besides even rich people have to do something.

His first real love interest he finds while trying to get her a divorce from a husband that is running around on her. His business is defense related, mostly with the United States Government. The husband decides to kill her instead of getting a divorce and as Bob has already fallen for her body he just can’t let that happen.

Then he falls for the only woman he will eventually marry, Hattie. She is killed in a shootout with pirates leaving him a billionaire. While he is courting his new found love his last love interest, the district attorney, is enmeshed in a trial with mobsters who try and take her out. Bob not only takes them out he goes after the cause in New York City and takes them out in such a way that a war rages between the families for two years.
Then he breaks up a sex slave ring in his latest investigation for a couple of Hollywood wives. He makes the perpetrators pay the ultimate price for the wrongs they have done.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Kitchens
• Release date: May 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370094554

Frank Kitchens

I was born in Forester, Arkansas on July, 28th 1946. Forester was a logging town built by Caddo Lumber Company in 1930 and sold to Dierks Lumber and Coal Company in 1945. The town was closed down in 1952. I took early retirement on Social Security at 62 and have been driving lab samples 5 nights a week. I can never totally retire. I have been an avid reader all my life, when I was younger it was mostly for information, after I turned 26 it was mostly for entertainment. I had always wanted to write but, didn’t have the time. Then I started driving 6 hours a night my mind went into overdrive. I have now finished 9 books. The book I am putting on Smashwords is Inherited Fortunes. I found after I started writing I enjoyed it very much.

Book preview

Inherited Fortunes

By Frank Kitchens

Chapter One

The doorbell rang in the middle of his morning workout. Bob Evans ignored it the first time. Then it rang again with someone pounding on the door to accompany it, Bob stopped his workout to answer it. On the way to the door, the pounding started again with someone hollering, This is the police. Open up Hold on! I’m on the way," Bob yelled back.

Bob opened his door to four patrol officers, two on each side of his door. Two detectives were standing just off the six foot long, four foot wide poured slab of concrete he had for a front stoop. Bob knew both of the detectives.

John, Tom. I see the Oakland Police Department has assigned you an entourage. Lucky you, Bob said. I’m fairly sure this isn’t a social call, so am I under arrest. John smiled and replied, Not right at this moment. We need to ask some questions first, and sorry about the crowd. The new lieutenant is following standing orders regarding questioning you."

Bob smiled at his old partner in return. I was not aware I had been questioned before. It is nice to know there are standing orders regarding it, though. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bob’s smile faded Why don’t all of you come in? What’s this all about? Tom stepped inside You are not aware of the article in the newspapers and haven’t listened to the news on television or the radio? he asked suspiciously.

Bob shook his head It’s too early in the morning to listen to the unhappy news, he said. Why? What’s going on? Someone killed Police Chief Sam Wells, Tom said. Bob looked right into Tom’s serious eyes, his smile returning. Some good news for a change. Sorry I missed that. First good news in decades, and I missed it!

The officers filed into Bob’s house, and he went about his morning routine of fixing a protein shake. No one was saying anything, just observing him, so Bob continued to hold up the conversation.

Seeing as how I’m officially being questioned, the first one I guess should be where I was when it happened, right? That seems like a good place to start, said one of the officers whose name Bob didn’t know. Then first you have to give me a time frame so I can think up some bald face lie. It will take you at least two or three days to figure out it’s a lie and I wasn’t really there. While you are checking it out, I will have time to hire a professional to lie for me.

Tom laughed this time. Well, why don’t we start with the bald face lie first, like to get them out of the way. Where were you between the hours of 8 p.m. and 12am last night? This is really hard for me, Tom, Bob said, sitting at the counter to finish his shake. It goes along with a gentleman should never kiss and tell. Then again, you and I both know I’m no gentleman.

Tom just smiled at him, but John had to chuckle at that one. Yep, sounds about right, John said with a grin. Therefore, it makes it possible for me to tell you, Bob said. I was with our lovely district attorney yesterday from six in the evening till six this morning. I should make you contact her. It always takes forever, but seeing as how I’m just dying to get the details on Sam’s demise, let me get her on the phone and she can verify I was with her.

Bob dialed and put the phone on speaker. The phone rang for a short time and a woman answered the phone. District attorney’s office, how may I direct your call? Yeah, Bernice, is Joan available? This is Bob. Well, well, Casanova himself. She was grinning ear to ear this morning. You need to put that smile on her face along with a great mood at least twice a week, three times would be better! Bernice said with a laugh.I’m taking up a collection for you that you can have if you do that for me.

You don’t have to do that, Bernice. The job comes with built in perks, and the French benefits alone are worth it. Bernice laughed. Well, alright, but the collection is up to five grand. Guess I could abscond with the money and go shopping.

Whoa wait! he said with surprise in his voice. I didn’t realize we were talking real money here. Tell you what, let me talk it over with her, if she is in agreement, she and I will split it. It is, after all ,depending on her smile and her mood. If for some reason I can’t achieve radiance, which would never, ever happen, then she would have to fake it. Oh hell, what’s wrong with me? No problem, she’s a lawyer and good at faking tons of stuff.

Suddenly a more assertive female tone came on the line. Calm down, boy. You’re on speaker phone on this end! Let me get it off that. There, now, talk dirty to your sex slave.

Bob laughed. Sorry, Joan, you’re on speaker phone, also. The police are here, and they’re starting to look pretty impatient, so I’ll get to the point. I know you already know about someone killing Sam Wells. The police are here now to question me, and you need to alibi me to John. I’ll take you off speaker phone on this end. You were awful pushy last night for a sex slave.

I promise to do better in the future. I would not want to lose a good job like that, Joan said, laughing. No, that’s alright. Leave it on. I’m sure Detective Wilson would not talk dirty to me. Might be nice, though. John blushed.

Hi, John. How can I help in your investigation? Joan asked, a little more serious.

Sorry about this Joa---ah, Ms. Beavers. But Bob tells us that he was with you last night between the hours of six this last evening till six this morning. Is that correct?

I thought gentlemen never kissed and told? Oh, I forgot. He’s not a gentleman, she said.

Okay then. Yes, Detective Wilson. Bob was with me between those hours.

"Thank you, Ms. Beavers. That’s all I needed to know and he hung up the phone.

Sorry about all this, Bob. I thought myself you might have done it. Not that I would have blamed you, but the rest of the world probably would have.

No problem, John. The son of a bitch is dead, that’s all that matters. I’ll have Joan keep me updated on your progress. I got a feeling the list of suspects is long.

Turning to the four uniformed policemen who stood quietly by the front door, Bob said, I’m usually not so cooperative with the police when they come to question me. Darn! I keep forgetting I‘ve never been questioned before, but if I had been, I wouldn’t have cooperated. You guys just showed up too early in the morning, he said.

Oh yeah John, when you catch whoever did this service for humanity, let me know. I know a real good defense attorney. Hell, I’ll even pay if the perpetrator isn’t stone cold crazy.

Tom and John both laughed. The uniforms just stared at them like they were all crazy.

Yeah, you know that lawyer who got Morales off on that murder charge last spring?

Bob asked. They all nodded.

Played golf with him last week. He is not as slimy as most of those snake oil lawyers. They are all just one step up from P.I.s. You guys can get in on the fee, if you like. You know me. If I can save a dime, I will.

"If we catch the perp, I know a lot of detectives would be pissed if you didn’t let us in on that,

John said with a sly smile. The other detectives laughed while the cops looked uneasy. They all left after that. Tom and John were laughing with Bob as he showed them to the door, but when they got outside the impatient, uniformed Sergeant just looked at John.

What’s the deal with this guy? He’s glad the Chief is dead, and you two are laughing with him, the cop said incredulously.

Well, yeah, Sergeant Baxter, he’s glad Sam is dead! And all of the detectives on the force are rejoicing with him. Don’t ask me to explain because I won’t, and you really don’t want to know. But Bob Evans is the most stand-up guy I have ever run into, John said.

If he’s such a good man, what’s he got against the best boss I ever had? Baxter asked.

For some reason he never discussed or told anyone, why he broke Chief Wells’ jaw a few years back and then retired. Chief Wells never filed a report, so those of us who really knew him knew he had it coming. You don’t have to believe me because we were partners. Ask any detective that knew him.

Sergeant Baxter was unsatisfied with this explanation, but the group wandered back to their cars to continue their investigation. Back inside the house, Bob called Joan back.

Bernice, Bob again. Please don’t put me on speakerphone. Is Joan busy?

No, here she is, Bernice said respectfully, transferring the call.

You did call back to talk dirty to me, Joan said.

Bob laughed at her insatiability.

No, I called to get all the details about former Chief of Police Sam Wells’ demise. John said he was shot,

Yeah, nine millimeter. Once between the eyes. He was found out on the old ferry road, washed up by those old pilings. The mayor is all upset. Guess I would be to if someone shot my lover.

Not near as upset as your lover would be. I wonder if the has someone in mind to take both places, lover and Chief. I also wonder if the detectives will check out the old lover quarrel thing. Probably not, ‘cause how could you check out the mayor? He wouldn’t shoot someone if they were beating him to death and everyone knows it.

Well at least you’re in the clear. If I hadn’t known where you were last night, I’m afraid I would have thought you did it. You’ve got the nine millimeter and you hated his guts, Joan said matter-of-factly.

But if I had done it, he would have been beaten to death. He wasn’t worth a bullet. It’s too quick, too easy, Bob said as his fist clenched.

Baby, you never told me why you hit him, she said with curiosity creeping in. Bob contemplated just telling her what she obviously wanted to know, but he smiled and thought an ultimatum would be more fun.

I’ll give you a choice: I’ll tell you why I hit him, or I can kiss you goodbye in the morning.

If you’re in doubt which one I’ll choose, just watch your phone. Oh, yeah, Bernice watched it over my shoulder and offered me a hundred dollars for a copy of this e-mail. I think I should hold out for two, but what do you think? Joan asked with a laugh.

Ask her what she would pay for an original home demonstration. I can be had for the right price. The police would never haul you in as a pimp, pretty lady, he said.

They both laughed into the phone at the thought of it.

Hey, we may be onto something here… Bob began as Joan hung up the phone, not wanting to hear another word of his delusional plans at exhibitionism.

Bob finished his protein shake and went back to his workout, trying to ignore the events of the last hour. He wasn’t in as good of shape as when he was a Navy Seal, but he wasn’t in bad shape either. He quit being a Seal at twenty-six. He was thirty now, and would never be in that shape again. He was too rich to work that hard, but he still liked the rush he got from a morning training session. He finished on the weight bench and got on the treadmill. Ten miles and he could take a shower and see if he had any work to do.

Since he punched Sam Wells out three years ago, he had become a private eye. Exclusively rich divorces. He was always on the woman’s side. The pay was good and someone had to do it. If the husband didn’t want to be caught, he shouldn’t have been fooling around.

Bob had been doing this kind of work for almost three years and made about $175,000, this year, almost three times what he made as a detective in Oakland, California. It didn’t quite pay for his lifestyle, but it helped and gave him something worthwhile to do in his spare time.

Chapter Two

The old warehouse he bought and remodeled cost a million and a half total. Great view though. The back faced the bay and the lights of San Francisco at night were beautiful. There were three floors, about 80,000 square feet a piece, and the top floor was his residence. Only about ten people had ever been into his living quarters. He had a workout gym on the first floor because it had the highest ceilings, thirty feet. There was a tennis court and basketball court, along with the garage and all of his mechanic tools. He liked restoring old cars.

His collection included a 1965 red Mustang convertible that had been his dad’s car. He also had a ‘39 Packard he and his dad had been restoring together and a 1929 Model J Duesenberg Dual Cowl Phaeton he had restored. There was also a 1929 Pierce Arrow, 1929 Stutz Speedster, 1924 Bentley, 1948 Daimler, and a 1948 Jaguar. He had four others in the garage he was presently working on. He and Joan drove the Model J sometimes on the weekends to Napa Valley. Nice little bed and breakfast they stayed at while sampling and buying wines.

Bob did all of the mechanical work on the cars himself and had the body and interiors done by qualified professionals. When each of his masterpieces had been completed to his high standards, he had them stored on the second floor.

Bob’s most popular ride was the 1965 red Mustang convertible. His dad bought it in 1985 and Bob helped him restore it. His dad kept it in immaculate shape until Bob went into the service. When he was coming home on his first leave, his dad was picking him up at the airport when a piled up eighteen-wheeler took him out before he got to San Francisco International Airport. At least the son of a bitch had the courtesy to try to swerve after he hit and knocked his dad off the road, flipping the truck and killing himself. Saved Bob the trouble of having to do it later.

Bob bought the car from the people who worked with the insurance company and had them move the wrecked car to his dad’s house in Pittsburg, California, just a few miles from the bay area. Bob’s mom had died in a plane crash when he was eight. He and his dad had grown very close because of that.

Bob’s leave was for a month, but he took an extra two weeks to finish all of the paperwork. When all of the paperwork was finished after his dad’s funeral, Bob had the house and ten acres of land on the outskirts of Pittsburg, California and $1.5 million. His dad put everything in both of their names. The insurance he carried at work went to Bob along with the private insurance he carried. Bob was well off for an eighteen year old. He would rather have his dad back. Despite his wealth, he felt unfulfilled. Without his dad, he felt a lack of direction.

When Bob signed on for four years, he had no idea what he wanted to do or what career he was seeking. He had scholarships to play football, but he didn’t want college right now. If he did want college in the future, he didn’t want football as a condition. After his hitch in the Navy, they would pay for college and maybe he would at least have an idea in which direction he wanted to go.

Bob had talked to a lot of veterans and figured he could stand it. Basically after boot camp he figured it was lots of saluting and yes siring and just-do-your-job commands. Bob figured he could handle that. He was almost right.

He could have ran away with the training, been in the lead in every aspect of it, but one of the veterans he talked to said, Don’t be a leader. Stay in the middle of the pack. If you decide to make a career of it and find what you want to do, then you can become a leader. If you show signs of leadership in boot camp they will go much harder on you. I know, I trained troops for ten years.

Bob stayed in the middle and was pretty much unnoticed, until hand to hand combat training. The instructors were having fun throwing all the guys ahead of him around. Then his turn came and they handed him a knife. It was a very dull knife but a real knife just the same.

Bob tried to tell them he had training along these lines, and they laughed and told him he was full of shit. Bob made a lunge for the instructor, and when he made his move Bob grabbed the hand he thrust forward and pulled it towards him while pivoting his body in a circle and hitting the instructor at the base of his neck with the heel of his foot, just hard enough to knock him down. I told you, I have training in this area already, Bob said with warning.

That just seemed to make the instructors madder, so two of them charged Bob. Large mistake. Bob took the first one out with the butt end of the knife to the base of the neck, rendering him unconscious. The second one got a left foot to the stomach and the heel of the right foot to the base of the neck.

The other eight instructors in the area looked dumbfounded for a few seconds, then got pissed off and decided to show him that was unacceptable. He was a little tired of just trying to be a nice guy so he put the others in sickbay and three in traction. Then men arrived with guns pointed at him, and as bad as he hated it, he did as they commanded.

After they got him cuffed they worked him over pretty good. Bob said nothing but marked each one for an extended stay in the hospital when he got out. He was then marched to the stockade and locked up. When his commanding officer came to see him, Bob explained what happened. He didn’t seem to be on Bob’s side.

Bob asked, When they wouldn’t listen to me you think I should have stabbed him like he told me to, or let him throw me on the ground? His CO didn’t say anything, just went storming off.

Two days after he was thrown in the stockade, a lawyer from the Judge Advocate General’s office showed up. Bob went over his story again with the lawyer, who told Bob, I have questioned the men, and what you have related to me was pretty much what they said happened. The problem is the brass thinks this makes them look bad, not having control of a situation. Bob How could they have control they were not here?

"I know this sounds foolish to you, but believe me, it isn’t to them. It seems like every time you turn around some service man is doing something stupid and they get the blame, so when an issue like this comes up it makes them look foolish. First, you had it on your record you had self defense courses since you were four years old. Second, you tried to tell the instructor and he wouldn’t listen. If there is a court martial proceeding over this it will be all over the news and the big guys will want to know from the brass what the hell is going on.

Then the White House will get in on it because, he is, after all, the Commander in Chief. It isn’t right, but it is the way it is. I know the Shore Patrol ruffed you up pretty good after the handcuffs were put on and you didn’t resist. I can still see some bruises.

They have been transferred to another battalion, but the damage has already been done. I assume you want a little justice for that. Bob looked at him like there was no dumber man on the planet. So what do you want to know? Am I going to file charges? Bob asked sarcastically. I just want out of here. I want to do my time in the service and decide what I want to do with my life. I’m not looking to make any waves.

The lawyer looked relieved. Let’s see if I can make this go away. You will have to remain in here for a few days. That sounded good to Bob.

Late that night, one of the guards was mad about one of his buddies catching hell and being shipped out over the Bob issue. He decided to scare Bob into not pressing charges. Bob was asleep when the guard opened his cell door and took out his knife. He was going to hold it against Bob’s throat and make him understand a few things.

However, when he unlocked the cell Bob woke up, and when he got close with the knife Bob rolled over, caught his wrist with the knife in it, twisted it so the elbow was pointed towards him and with his other hand dislocated the elbow.

While this was going on, he got one foot on the floor and used the other one to dislocate his knee. It all happened so quickly and the pain was so intense that the guard passed out before he could scream bloody murder. The guard who came with him was watching and couldn’t believe what he just seen. He started for his pistol, and Bob drew back the knife.

If you draw that gun, I will be forced to kill you. Do you believe me? Bob asked. The guard froze and nodded his head. Lay your gun outside on the floor, walk in the cell and sit against the bars, then call another guard, is anyone besides you two in on this?

The guard shook his head no and did what he was told. When the next guard came Bob said, Pick up this gentleman’s gun on the floor, then go get your commanding officer and a medic. This is something he should handle, don’t you think?

The guard said nothing, nodded yes and ran off without the pistol. The commander arrived with lots of back up and no medic. What in the hell is going on here? the CO yelled. The officer picked the pistol up off the floor. Bob looked at the guard in the cell pointedly. You tell him, Bob commanded the frightened officer. The guard told it just like it happened.

When he finished, Bob said, You better have a medic here for when he wakes up. He is going to be in a lot of pain and will probably start screaming. And commander, the J.A.G. officer that was here today is trying to make this go away. I’m not pressing any charges against anyone, please pass that on. He nodded.

After the injured guard was hauled off and the ruckus died down, the commander came back.

Son, this isn’t going to make your day, but that J.A.G. officer works for the Navy. He’s a career officer, so he will do what the Navy wants done. He doesn’t give a tinker’s damn about you. I know all this isn’t your fault, but sometimes that doesn’t matter. You know someone that can help you?

My dad is the only one that would, Bob said. "Let’s go call him. I noticed you haven’t had any calls since your arrival, so we can get by with one. Make it