The Money Trane

By Charlie Girard

Billionaire Benson Money is convinced that one or all his children are out to kill him for their inheritance. Mr. Money hires Jack Trane, a hard-nosed detective from New York City, and his young, brassy assistant Trudy to round up his children and their spouses, then ensure they show up at his Portland mansion by the weekend. That weekend, he plans to read the changes in his will to them. All his children are reluctant but agree to come. Along the way, Jack is being followed by a mysterious, thin man with white hair and a white, bushy mustache. Jack loves fine cuisine and street vendors, and throughout the week he samples as many as he can. By the time they all arrive at the mansion, all mayhem breaks loose. There is a murder and several attempted murders. In the end, Jack is forced to try to solve a mystery that nobody saw coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350920338

Book preview

Chapter 1

There was a crispness in the air like that of a newly minted dollar bill. It was an early morning, in late September in New York City and like clockwork the streets were flooded with cars, buses, and pedestrians, all moving at a pace equal to the organic flow of the city. Jack Trane sat in his office with a blueberry muffin and a steaming cup of coffee directly in front of him on his desk. The aroma from the vanilla latte and the muffin rose into the air and filled his senses. Most people would be contemplating what lay in the day ahead, but Jack contemplated the muffin. He had been a private investigator for the past twenty-five years. He had been shot at, beaten up, and survived explosions and bar fights. After all was said and done, he now valued food more than he did people. There were a few exceptions to that rule, however. Jack had been dating Debra Thorn, a hot detective with the robbery division. She was smart and quick, and she seemed to complement all that Jack was. She was also a redhead and easy on the eyes. He couldn’t picture himself without Debra in his life. Still, he wasn’t sure that she felt the same way, but that’s a chance he was willing to take.

Jack also had an assistant, Trudy. She had been working for him for a little more than seven years. To Jack, Trudy was more valuable than a new Rolex. But that would be an understatement. Jack knew that without Trudy he would probably just be another down-and-out private eye working out of his car. With her, he felt that there was no case that he couldn’t solve. She gave Jack the confidence and the edge he needed to track down the bad guys, find missing persons, and make the connections he needed to stay one step ahead of the pack. Jack had pretty much no computer skills, that’s where Trudy did most of her work. She was about thirty years old, blonde hair and very attractive. She also had a smart New York mouth. She loved fashion and she loved wearing jewelry, even if it was the cheap kind, and she ate like a teenager. She spoke with a distinctive New York accent that was both irritating and endearing at the same time and she liked giving Jack a hard time. There were always a lot of wise-mouth comments about the way he dressed and the cases he took. But he actually enjoyed this office banter. Trudy could dish it out, but she could also take it. He felt that these daily exchanges kept him on his toes.

Jack was not a flashy dresser but, in his own mind, he dressed for success. A pair of dockers, a pristine white shirt, an old tie, a plain sport jacket, and an added hat, made up his ensemble on any given day. Today, he was wearing a pair of off-white dockers, a white shirt, a blue striped tie, and a grey sports jacket. He had never been a slave to fashion and his wardrobe certainly reflected that. The way he dressed was pretty much the same as when arrived in New York about twenty-five years ago. He was a throwback to a different era. If you put a little bit of Eastwood, McQueen, and Bogart into a bottle, shook it up, and poured it out, you’d end up with a little bit of Jack Trane.

The aroma from the muffin and coffee continued to fill his senses. He finally picked up the muffin and took a big bite, and then he took a long sip of the coffee, sat back in his chair, and enjoyed the flavor. He yelled to Trudy in the next office, Trudy, thanks a bunch for bringing in the coffee and muffins, I owe you one.

Trudy sat at her desk with one eyebrow raised and yelled back towards Jack’s office, Glad you feel that way, Jack. You can pay me back by bringing me the Cadillac of burgers from C.J. Clarke’s for lunch.

Trudy was giggling at her desk. Jack was smiling at his desk, he shot back, I don’t know about the Cadillac of burgers, Trudy, but maybe we’ll head over to Big Jim’s Sports Bar for the best burger in the city. What do you think about that?

Trudy smirked as she looked up at the ceiling, and said, You’re the last of the big spender’s Jack. But if you’re buying, I’m flying.

His laugh was muffled as he stuffed the last bit of his muffin in his mouth, and he declared, And if you behave yourself, I’ll let you drive my car. Jack drove a brand-new Shelby Mustang GT-500. It was his pride and joy. It was unusual for him to let anyone drive his Mustang, but Trudy was the exception. In his mind, he really did owe her more than one.

Now it was about 10:00 a.m. and Jack proceeded to read the newspaper. It was the same old headlines, the black print could have read, bla-bla-bla-, and it would have amounted to the same thing. He turned to the comic strips. To him, that was the best part of the paper.

Business had been slow, but that was nothing new. Sometimes weeks passed between cases, but to Jack, it seemed like months as his checking account would dwindle to the point where Trudy would remind him that there wasn’t enough in the account to cover her paycheck. But Jack was patient. He knew that sooner or later someone would come through that office door with a case worthy of his experience and expertise. Something that would put him on top again. At least that’s what he was hoping.

In the meantime, Trudy sat at her desk, looking at the clock, filing her nails and snapping her gum. She got up, walked towards Jack’s office, and stopped at the door. She tilted her head to one side and said, Jack, did you know that the rent is due next week? And we’re behind on the electric bill and your credit card is maxed out? If we don’t get a case soon, we’re going to be working out of your apartment.

Jack smiled, and he said, We’ll, I’m a little behind on my rent there too.

Trudy’s eyes widened, and she said, Well Jack, what are you going to do? We need a case!

He sat back in his chair calmly and smiled. Don’t worry, Trudy, something will come up. I’ll bet we get a case before the end of the day.

Just then the door to the office opened and a man walked in. Jack looked at Trudy with a smirk. Don’t you think you should get back to your desk and see who just came into the office? She snapped her gum and twirled her shoulder-length blonde hair as she headed back to her office.

Trudy sat down at her desk and did her best to look busy. The man who had just come into the office approached her and said, I’d like to see Mr. Trane. Trudy, in her native New York accent asked, Do you have an appointment? The man smiled and replied, No, but I think he will see me. Can you please tell him that Benson Money would like to speak with him about a very lucrative opportunity? Trudy looked him up and down. It was obvious that Mr. Money didn’t buy his clothes off the rack. He was wearing a very well-tailored, dark gray, pinstripe suit and he had on a bright orange tie. He was about six feet tall and had salt-and-pepper hair. He was a good-looking man probably in his sixties, and smelled like he was wearing a very expensive aftershave.

Trudy pointed to the chairs and said, Please take a seat, Mr. Money, and I’ll see if he has time to see you. Mr. Money turned around and looked at the chairs against the wall, there was a visible layer of dust resting on the seat covers. They didn’t appear to be up to his standards, so he made a disgusted face, dusted off one of the chairs with a white handkerchief that he pulled from his pocket, and sat down.

Trudy got up from her desk, walked into Jack’s office, and closed the door behind her. She looked at Jack, face solemn, and said, Jack, there is a guy out there who calls himself Mr. Money, and he wants to talk to you about a case. Trudy’s eyes widened as sarcasm laced her words. Mr. Money, Jack. Doesn’t that sound a little made up? Want me to tell him to get lost?"

Jack squinted his eyes and sighed. Trudy, if this guy is Benson Money, he’s worth about a zillion dollars. Look, you go back out to your office and sit at your desk and act casual like this is just another case. Then calmly tell him that I will see him now, and just send him in.

Trudy raised her right eyebrow and in a low gravelly voice, said Yes Boss, whatever you say. She went back into her office, sat down, and in her best casual voice said, Mr. Trane will see you now. Benson Money stood up, dusted himself off, smiled at Trudy, and walked into Jack’s office.

Jack stood up and from behind his desk, extended his hand toward Mr. Money. Benson Money shook Jack’s hand. It was a firm handshake, the kind that you would expect from a billionaire. Then Mr. Money began, Hello Mr. Trane, my name is Benson Money, it’s a pleasure to meet you. He sat down in the chair directly in front of Jack’s desk.

Jack smiled and said, I think that the pleasure is mine. Then he sat down and started, So Mr. Money, how can I help you?

Mr. Money pulled out a small silver case from the inside of his jacket and opened it. He pulled out a cigar and looking at Jack asked, Would you like one? They are Cubans.

Jack’s face was blank. He said, Thanks but I don’t smoke.

Mr. Money nodded and said, Do you mind if I do?

Jack smiled, and although he hated the smell of cigar smoke, he knew that it wouldn’t be a good business move to refuse him. He said, Of course Mr. Money, go right ahead. Mr. Money pulled a gold lighter out of his outer jacket pocket and lit his cigar. Jack had no doubt that the lighter was no less than 24k gold.

Mr. Money puffed on the cigar a couple of times and then looked at Jack and said, Mr. Trane, let me get right to the point. I want to hire you to round up my children.

Jack squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, and said, Mr. Money, with all due respect, missing children is really not my specialty.

Mr. Money laughed, and said, Mr. Trane, all my children are fully grown, in their 30s and 40s, and they are not legally missing, they are just missing from me.

Jack was nodding his head, and said, So, you want me to find your children and then give you their location?

Mr. Money took a puff on his cigar and chuckled a little, he said, Not exactly, Mr. Trane. Let me explain. I have four children, three boys, and a girl. Their names are William, Peter, Davis, and Martha. My children and I are not exactly what you would call close. In fact, I haven’t spoken to any of them in close to five years. I’m a very wealthy man, Mr. Trane. My assets come close to a billion dollars. And as you can imagine my children are expecting a hefty inheritance when I expire. The problem is, I think that at least one or possibly all of them are looking to collect their inheritance sooner than later. The thing is, there have been several attempts on my life over the past couple of years, and I’m very much convinced that one of my children is trying to kill me for my money.

Jack was taking all of this in, he was nodding his head as Mr. Money spoke. Every time Mr. Money would pause, Jack gave him the usual I see. Then Jack broke in, and asked, Mr. Money, are you sure that this isn’t a police matter? I find that murder can get quite messy.

Mr. Money chuckled and took another puff on his cigar, and replied, Mr. Trane, I don’t believe that any of my children will attempt to kill me when I inform them that I have changed my will, and if I should somehow die of homicide, regardless of who might be the killer, all my money will go to charity. So, I have removed the motive from all my children to do anything sinister. Jack was nodding his head up and down as Mr. Money continued, "the thing is, since none of my children are aware of this change, I need to get them together and inform them of the new conditions of my will.

Jack raised his right eyebrow and responded, OK, Mr. Money, so what exactly do you want me to do?

Mr. Money looked around for an ashtray. Jack had the muffin cup from his blueberry muffin on his desk. He moved it toward the end of his desk and Mr. Money flicked his ashes into the cup. He moved closer to Jack, leaning on the desk with his right elbow, and instructed, Mr. Trane, what I would like you to do is contact each one of my children, personally, and convince them to come to my vacation home in Portland, Maine, for this coming weekend, which gives you just about a week.

Jack laughed, and replied, Mr. Money, if none of them have even spoken to you in five years, why would they come to visit you at your home in Portland, Maine?

Mr. Money puffed on his cigar and then he smiled a big smile. He said, All you have to do is tell them, it’s about my will. Once they hear that my will has been changed, they’ll all be there like a pack of hyenas on a wildebeest.

Jack sat back in his chair, trying to avoid the cigar smoke that was drifting in his direction, and said, OK, Mr. Money, I’ll take the job. My normal fee is $1,000 a day plus expenses, and I’ll take a week upfront. Let me have my assistant draw up the paperwork.

Mr. Money shook his head and took out a checkbook from his inside jacket pocket. He took out a gold pen and placed the checkbook on Jack’s desk, wrote a check, ripped the check from the pad and handed it to Jack, saying, Mr. Trane, here is $50,000 if you agree to take this case. When the case is complete, I will give you another $50,000 to complete the transaction. How does that sound?

Jack smiled, and he thought to himself, This is the easiest $100,000 I’m ever going to earn. Then without hesitation, looked at Mr. Money in the eye and replied, That sounds like a good plan. Jack took the check and slid it into his top desk drawer. He looked at Mr. Money with a straight face and said, Mr. Money, would you mind if I have my assistant draw up a formal agreement? I just like to keep things clear and simple.

Mr. Money took another puff on his cigar, and said, Of course, Mr. Trane, whatever makes you feel comfortable.

Jack called Trudy into his office and explained the case to her. She went back into her office, drew up the contract and brought it back to Jack’s office and placed it on his desk. Then she waited for Mr. Money and Jack to sign it. While Trudy stood there waiting for both parties to sign the contract, Jack inquired of Mr. Money, So, Mr. Money, you’re a very wealthy man, you could have had any private investigator handle this case for you, why did you come to me?

Mr. Money pushed his chair back from Jack’s desk and crossed his legs. He said, Because Mr. Trane, frankly, you looked like you needed the money. Then he laughed loudly. Jack sat there looking at Mr. Money and politely laughed as well. Trudy joined in with the laughter and started to leave the office, but Mr. Money said, Please stay, young lady, I’d like you to come up to Portland too.

Trudy looked surprised and said, Really? I normally just work out of the office, but I think we can make an exception. Right, Jack? Jack rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Trudy loved to get out of the office and work on any case when she had the chance. The problem was that every time she worked on a case something went sideways. The last time she worked on a case, Jack’s car had been blown up and Trudy was almost killed.

Jack was about to say something, but before he could, Mr. Money said, Let me see that contract. He pulled out his pen again and added Trudy’s name to the body of the contract and signed it. He said, Now it’s official.

Jack was looking puzzled, and said, Mr. Money, I’m not really sure what you expect Trudy to do.

Mr. Money smiled, and he said, Well, Mr. Trane, let’s just say that I will feel better if both of you are there. I want you both to come to my home in Portland, Maine. I will have one of my associates send you the address. There are plenty of rooms, and it’s right on the ocean. With my four children and their spouses, I don’t think there will be a dull moment for the whole weekend, especially after I explain the changes to my will.

Trudy was looking at Jack with her eyes wide and answered, Well that totally works for me.

Mr. Money smiled and said, Fine, fine, it’s all settled then. Get my children together and don’t forget, they all need to bring their spouses along. He looked at Jack and then at Trudy and said, I know that I’ll feel much more comfortable with both of you there too. And when it’s all settled, I will pay the balance of the $50,000.

Mr. Money got up from his chair, shook Jack’s hand, smiled at Trudy, and left the office. Trudy looked at Jack and said, Jack you were right, we’re back in the money, and we get a weekend vacation in a mansion in Portland, Maine! How great is that?

Jack sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. He said, It sounds too easy, Trudy. I might be wrong, but I think there is something else going on here. He pulled the check out from his desk drawer, signed the back of the check, and handed it to Trudy saying, "Why don’t you just run this check over to the bank this morning? I’d feel a lot better with $50,000 in our account.

Trudy’s smiled widened and she said, Of course Jack, but aren’t you a little bit afraid of me walking around with $50,000?

Jack smiled. Trudy, I’m a little bit afraid of you walking around without the $50,000.

They both laughed. Trudy put her hand up and waved at Jack, and said, Don’t worry Jack, we’re getting a free vacation in a Portland mansion. What could possibly go wrong? Jack put his hand on his chin, and mumbled to himself, That’s what I’m worried about. What could possibly go wrong?

Trudy got up and started walking towards her office, then turned around and said, Come on Jack, stop being so negative, nothing is going to go wrong.

Jack raised his eyebrows and Trudy walked back to her office. Jack looked down and noticed that the cigar ashes had lit the muffin cup on fire. Jack put it out with his fist, then just stared at the ashes on the back of his hand and he thought to himself, What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 2

The sun had come up over the New York City Skyline about two and a half hours ago. Jack lay motionless in his bed in a deep sleep. Suddenly the high-pitched ringing of the alarm clock cut through the silence. He opened his eyes, to see the clock on his nightstand with the illuminated red numbers that read 8:00 a.m. He moaned a little, reached over to his nightstand, slammed his hand down a couple of times on top of the clock, and the annoying sound of the alarm stopped, as the silence returned.

He laid back down in his bed and just stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. In his mind, he started to picture a sprawling mansion on the coast of Maine outlined in the cracks of the plaster on the ceiling. He pictured the waves crashing against the rocks that bordered the exterior of the house. He imagined what the inside of the house might look like; just then the silence that dominated the moment was interrupted by the buzzing of a housefly. The fly passed over Jack’s head like an F-14 Tomcat flying over a battlefield. Jack hated flies. He reached up with his left hand and grabbed the fly mid-air, then he clapped his hands together. The fly was no longer a fly, now it was just a squished mess in the middle of Jack’s hands. The image of the mansion on the ceiling was gone. But the silence had returned. He forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom to wash his hands until he was confident the remains of the fly went down the drain. This was not usually the way that he liked to start his day, but he couldn’t tolerate flies. To Jack they were much more than a nuisance, he figured it was either the fly or him.

He showered, shaved, and came out of the bathroom before heading over to his walk-in closet. Somehow all the broken appliances and old broken furniture always ended up there, and he couldn’t even remember the last time he actually walked into his walk-in closet, but since it had