Free Hard Rock (A Hardboiled Private Investigator Mystery Series): John Rockne Mysteries 2 by Dani Amore Page A

were good.  Who knew vegetables could be so tasty?
    The computer screen popped to life and I reached forward, clicked on my Internet browser and launched it.  Then stared at it for awhile.
    I wasn’t so much engaged in brainstorming as brainwandering.
    And then my cell phone rang.
    It was a woman claiming to be Eddie Starks’s assistant.  She informed me that her employer had no connection with United Asset Management.  While I tried to think of anything else to ask her, she hung up.
    Okay. Two down, one to go.
    A funny thing how the mind works.  When you start running out of ideas, the vacant room is quickly filled with doubt.  I had a sinking feeling that my hunch about a connection to Tripp Collins was wrong.  How many guys are on an NFL team?  Fifty? A hundred?  And how many cycle in and out every year?  Over the last ten years what was that, maybe a couple thousand players?  If you’re a local wealth management company, you’re bound to get one or two of them, right?  It’s a statistical probability, not a hot lead in a murder investigation.
    My phone rang again.
    “John Rockne,” I said.
    “Hi, this is Melvin Jamison.  You stopped by asking about some company, right?”
    “I sure did.”
    “Yeah, I talked to Desmond and we never heard of them. Our investment guy is in Chicago, where we’re from.”
    I wasn’t surprised.
    “When we came here a few years back, we made a point of sticking with our roots, you know?” Melvin continued.  “Why are you asking, by the way? Are you really with the Players Association or you got something to sell?”
    The idea hit me that Melvin Jamison was bored.  He was no doubt a part of his son’s management team but maybe he probably didn’t have a lot to do.  He also seemed like a pretty sharp guy.
    “No, nothing to sell.  Like I said, I’m just following up on an issue related to this financial management company.  I personally don’t have an issue with them but there is the distinct possibility others do.” It sounded pretty good, I thought.  I’d pulled back a little on the accusatory tone of my original pitch.  No sense in word getting back to Tripp Collins that I was slandering his company.  Grosse Pointe Investigations didn’t have a very robust legal plan.  In fact, it didn’t have one at all.
    “Well hell, there’s more of those people around here than anything else,” Melvin said.  “All this money floating around Grosse Pointe, everyone wants a piece, right?” 
    “That’s for sure,” I said.  This was going nowhere, but I was short on ideas.
    “How did all three Lions players come to live in that little area?” I asked.
    “We like to joke it’s so we can keep tabs on when the other guys are getting home, but it just happened,” he said.  “We all knew each other and so when a house came up for sale, we’d tell the others.  It’s a good location, a quick drive down to the field.”
    Melvin Jamison was a straight shooter.  I was about to ask him if had ever played but then something occurred to me.
    Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
    I literally threw the bag of chips down on the desk, swung my feet down and grabbed a pen and paper.
    It was a struggle to keep my voice even, but I did.
    “So you said you bought the house a few years back, right?” I asked.  “So were you the first to buy in the area?”
    “Yep, we sure did,” Melvin answered.  “Both Greg and Eddie just bought their places last year.  The same realtor had both properties listed so it was a no-brainer.”
    The next question was the big one.
    “And about when did you buy your place?” I asked, my voice as even and as casual as I could make it.
    “Hmm, now, let me think.”
    I waited.
    Looked at the computer.  Felt a gust of fresh air breathe into my office.
    Finally, Melvin Jamison told me the exact date.
    I wrote it down, but my head was spinning.
    The date was a week after Benjamin Collins had been