The Devil's Snare: a Mystery Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 4) Read Online Free
Author: T Patrick Phelps
had laid down on it. Shit, this should be an attempted homicide investigation.”
Kevin said, “Slow down, Bo. I know you’re pissed but it seems more likely that someone was sending you a message, not trying to kill you. We’ll grab the knife, tape and the note, run them all through forensics and see what we can find. In the meantime, get yourself cleaned up, go to the station and be with your department. They are probably wondering why the hell you’re not there already. Wouldn’t want your absence to hurt your chance in the election. We’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bo and ten members of the Ravenswood Fire Department walked into the Route 69 Bar and Grill at precisely eighteen hundred hours. The owner of the Bar and Grill, Lance Mahoney, had called Bo after he heard the news.
“Bo, you bring as many of your team as you can gather up here tonight. Drinks and food are on me. Mack was a good guy, he didn’t deserve what he got. You bring as many guys as you want.”
The eleven members of the Ravenswood Fire Department sat at the stretch of tables Lance had arranged. He estimated that twenty members would show up, so when Bo told him that he didn’t expect any more to show, Lance pulled one of the end tables apart from the rest, and prepared it for other diners, hungry for Route 69’s “World Famous” steak burgers and thirsty for any one of the twenty-nine beers Lance kept on tap.
“Listen boys,” Lance said to the group, “I knew Brian Mack for over forty years. He was a good friend and a great man. I know his son will make arrangements for his dad, but us being here together is what Mack would’ve wanted more than to be put on public display in some stuffy funeral home.”
“He won’t be on display,” one of the members said. “He was pretty burned up. Wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone to see him how he is now.”
No one said a word in comment.
Lance said after several seconds of quiet, “Well, all the better, I suppose. Here’s to Mack.” He raised a glass full of some brown liquid, and slammed the liquid down his throat. Every member did the same with whatever drink they had ordered.
Bo had just ordered his fifth beer when deputies walked into Route 69 Bar and Grill. They looked around the place for a few seconds before seeing the person they were looking for. One of the deputies reached over and grabbed the radio transmitter off his left shoulder, spoke a few words into the transmitter, then looked at his partner. His partner nodded then glanced back towards the entrance. Within a few seconds, three more uniformed deputies walked in. The deputy who did the talking into the transmitter nodded towards the stretch of tables where Bo and the other fire department members were finishing their meals and, by the looks of them, moving quickly to states of inebriation. Together, the deputies walked over to the group.
“Bo Randall?” the lead deputy asked. “We need to speak with you about the death of Brian Mack and his mother, Claire Mack.”
Bo, looking up from his beer, said, “Then sit down, order a drink and we’ll tell you everything we know. You don’t need to be so formal. Where’s Kevin and Ken? Thought they’d show up and have a few with us tonight.”
The lead deputy, who Bo had met only once or twice, put his hands on his hips, leaned closer to Bo and said, “We need to speak with you down at the station. Now, this can go one of two ways: Either you come with us on your own, or any one of my partners here will be glad to assist you. Let’s go, now.”
“What are you talking about?” Bo said, loud enough to capture the attention of everyone at the table. “You think I know something about Mack’s death?”
“Down at the station, Bo. Let’s go.” The deputy placed his hand on Bo’s shoulder, something Bo was not a fan of. He jerked his body away, nearly causing him in his current state of inebriation to fall to the floor. Before Bo could regain his balance,
Kevin said, “Slow down, Bo. I know you’re pissed but it seems more likely that someone was sending you a message, not trying to kill you. We’ll grab the knife, tape and the note, run them all through forensics and see what we can find. In the meantime, get yourself cleaned up, go to the station and be with your department. They are probably wondering why the hell you’re not there already. Wouldn’t want your absence to hurt your chance in the election. We’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Bo and ten members of the Ravenswood Fire Department walked into the Route 69 Bar and Grill at precisely eighteen hundred hours. The owner of the Bar and Grill, Lance Mahoney, had called Bo after he heard the news.
“Bo, you bring as many of your team as you can gather up here tonight. Drinks and food are on me. Mack was a good guy, he didn’t deserve what he got. You bring as many guys as you want.”
The eleven members of the Ravenswood Fire Department sat at the stretch of tables Lance had arranged. He estimated that twenty members would show up, so when Bo told him that he didn’t expect any more to show, Lance pulled one of the end tables apart from the rest, and prepared it for other diners, hungry for Route 69’s “World Famous” steak burgers and thirsty for any one of the twenty-nine beers Lance kept on tap.
“Listen boys,” Lance said to the group, “I knew Brian Mack for over forty years. He was a good friend and a great man. I know his son will make arrangements for his dad, but us being here together is what Mack would’ve wanted more than to be put on public display in some stuffy funeral home.”
“He won’t be on display,” one of the members said. “He was pretty burned up. Wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone to see him how he is now.”
No one said a word in comment.
Lance said after several seconds of quiet, “Well, all the better, I suppose. Here’s to Mack.” He raised a glass full of some brown liquid, and slammed the liquid down his throat. Every member did the same with whatever drink they had ordered.
Bo had just ordered his fifth beer when deputies walked into Route 69 Bar and Grill. They looked around the place for a few seconds before seeing the person they were looking for. One of the deputies reached over and grabbed the radio transmitter off his left shoulder, spoke a few words into the transmitter, then looked at his partner. His partner nodded then glanced back towards the entrance. Within a few seconds, three more uniformed deputies walked in. The deputy who did the talking into the transmitter nodded towards the stretch of tables where Bo and the other fire department members were finishing their meals and, by the looks of them, moving quickly to states of inebriation. Together, the deputies walked over to the group.
“Bo Randall?” the lead deputy asked. “We need to speak with you about the death of Brian Mack and his mother, Claire Mack.”
Bo, looking up from his beer, said, “Then sit down, order a drink and we’ll tell you everything we know. You don’t need to be so formal. Where’s Kevin and Ken? Thought they’d show up and have a few with us tonight.”
The lead deputy, who Bo had met only once or twice, put his hands on his hips, leaned closer to Bo and said, “We need to speak with you down at the station. Now, this can go one of two ways: Either you come with us on your own, or any one of my partners here will be glad to assist you. Let’s go, now.”
“What are you talking about?” Bo said, loud enough to capture the attention of everyone at the table. “You think I know something about Mack’s death?”
“Down at the station, Bo. Let’s go.” The deputy placed his hand on Bo’s shoulder, something Bo was not a fan of. He jerked his body away, nearly causing him in his current state of inebriation to fall to the floor. Before Bo could regain his balance,
Readers choose
Lia Davis
Richard Herman
JJ Knight
Shelly Alexander
Livia J. Washburn
David Baldacci
Suzanne Ferrell
Joel C. Rosenberg
Texas Wildcat
Madison Smart