The Devil's Snare: a Mystery Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 4) by T Patrick Phelps Read Free Book Online Page A

honest with you, with both of you, I’m not happy about being forced to hire you for this case. My ex can be persuasive, as I’m sure you’ve realized. I have a process I follow and my usual hired investigators know how to follow my process. I’m not suggesting you two aren’t good at what you do, that you wouldn’t do a bang-up job; I just need to make certain you don’t do anything that will hurt this case. What I’m saying is, I’m not at all interested in babysitting. If that sounds too harsh, you may want to reconsider working for me. I tell it like I see it.”
    Louis Randall sat across from Derek and Nikkie in the high-backed booth, set deep in the corner of The Chairman’s Restaurant. The restaurant’s walls were crowded with caricatures of famous Italian-Americans. From famous singers, actors and sports legends, to the more notorious leaders of the criminal world. The corner booth, where Derek and Nikkie were chatting with Louis Randall, sat beneath a black and white caricature of Frank Sinatra with only the drawing’s eyes revealing a splash of brilliant color. The booth, known to frequent diners as “The Chairman’s Booth,” was reserved for well-connected patrons not afraid of the three hundred dollar minimum the booth demanded.
    “We’re used to working with different types of employers, each with their own unique set of expectations, processes and desired outcomes. We’re sure things will go smoothly.” Derek responded without missing a beat.  
    Derek considered himself to be a good judge of character. His wife, Lucy, used to tell Derek his ability to read people gave him an unfair advantage.  
    “It’s like you know what people are thinking before they do,” she had said. “Maybe that’s what makes you a good cop and what will make you a wonderful detective someday.”
    “Someday,” Derek had said. “That is the operative word.”
    “You watch,” Lucy had told him, flashing the smile Derek believed was reserved only for his eyes, “things are going to start changing for you any day now. I’d bet my life on it.”
    Three days later, Lucy’s wager was accepted when a deranged murderer placed a gun against her temple, pulled the trigger and sent Derek’s life into a tailspin of changes.
    As he sat across the booth from Louis, watching him direct most of his attention to who was coming in to the restaurant, who was sitting with whom and what a particular red-haired waitress was wearing, Derek knew that he and Louis wouldn’t be sharing personal emails any time soon. He also knew that working with Louis was going to be quite a challenge. Derek wasn’t sure if Louis felt compelled to assert his authority because of Crown and her undeniable ability to still control her ex-husband, or if Louis was just a pompous asshole who believed that his way was always the best way.
    Louis stood an inch or two under six feet and kept his salt and pepper colored hair slicked back and close to his head. It was apparent that he spent more than his fair share of time on a treadmill, but it was also apparent that Louis Randall enjoyed food, liquor or both in frequent doses of excess. His gut protruded several inches over his alligator-skin belt and seemed disproportional to his toned legs, arms, chest and shoulders. His dark brown eyes—which continued to reveal his greater interest in what was occurring beyond the confines of the high-backed booth—were framed by sagging lids above, and darkened bags below, giving him the look of a basset hound.
    "Well, be that as it may," Louis said when his attention returned towards Derek and Nikkie, "but your past experience with other clients and investigating other cases connotes that I need to concern myself with your methods. Remember, this is not only a client, he is my son." Louis held his attention on the two for no longer than a few seconds before the attractive redhead—her dress cut a bit too long for his taste—walked by the Chairman's Booth and