MERCY (The Ball & Chain Thrillers Book 1) by John W. Mefford

Author:John W. Mefford [Mefford, John W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller books psychological suspense series, thriller books best sellers, private investigator suspense thriller series, private investigator thriller series, thriller and mysteries best sellers, private investigator action, african american thrillers
Publisher: Sugar Hill Press
Published: 2019-01-21T22:00:00+00:00

30

Cooper

I swear I saw red pitchforks in Florence’s dark, soulless eyes. But it was her cold scowl that made me quiver.

“You just going to stand there and stare at me, or perhaps you’d like to tell me about your failed writing career,” she said, sneering as if she’d just unveiled the secret location of where Al Capone was buried.

“Oh, Ma, how could you be so rude?” Willow said, turning her head to the front of the house for a second.

Without thinking it through, I pulled out the business card of Archibald Motta and flashed it in front of the evil one. “My literary agent might have something to say about that.”

“Hold on,” Willow said, bringing her attention back to me. “You have an agent? Cooper, why didn’t you tell me? That’s incredible news.”

“Well, I, uh, didn’t want to brag or anything.” I didn’t like how that sounded. I also immediately started regretting the fact that I’d just lied to Willow.

“It’s not bragging. That’s just conveying news about your career, your passion. I couldn’t be more proud of you,” she said, gripping my shoulder.

“Literary agent,” Florence muttered, while rolling her eyes so far back I wondered if she’d been temporarily possessed by the devil. Well, maybe not so temporarily. “It’s either a fake card or this schmuck agent hasn’t sold a book to a publishing company in forty years. Probably some guy that Cooper met while he was begging for money on a street corner.”

“Ignore her,” Willow said. “She doesn’t like to see other people succeed or be happy.”

“Why are you giving this guy any credit, Willow? He’s a loser who knows one thing: how to cut and run, just like someone else we both know,” she said with a knowing nod.

Florence was obviously referring to Willow’s dad, whom Willow hadn’t seen since she was a little girl. Why would she bring up that memory to her daughter, especially during this week? I just looked at her and started shaking my head.

“Got something to say, wise-ass?”

“Ma, that’s it. You need to drop it right now. Why don’t you go over and talk to Jennie again?”

Florence huffed out a breath and started to turn away.

The doorbell rang again.

“Can someone get the front door?” Harvey called out from across the room.

“I’ve got it,” I said, eyeing Willow, who mouthed sorry to me.

“Skin like an elephant,” I said with a wink.

As I turned to walk toward the front of the house, I noticed Florence hadn’t slithered off. It was as though she wanted to fake me out. Whatever. It was better for me to walk away. As I made my way into the foyer, I was in awe of the detailed tapestry on the side wall. Probably some original from fifteenth-century France. The front door had to be ten feet high. I wondered how much it weighed. I pulled it open while I sucked down the last of the most expensive whiskey I’d ever imbibed.

“Excuse me, but is this the home of Harvey Bernstein?”

The man had silver-tipped hair and wore a dress shirt and vest—no coat.

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