Murder on the Lake of Fire by Mikel J. Wilson

Author:Mikel J. Wilson [Wilson, Mikel J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Acorn Publishing
Published: 2017-09-26T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Jeff spent the ride to the Algarotti house trying to dissuade Emory from his planned confrontation, but the TBI agent’s resolve was proving to be immutable. Emory told him, “The way Pristine met her husband is an important clue that has to be investigated.”

“I told you that in confidence. You’ll break my client-investigator privilege.”

“Is there honestly such a thing?”

Jeff threw up his hands. “It’s more like a code really.”

“Then to paraphrase Alan Turing, that code’s about to be broken.”

Jeff pulled down the windshield visor and checked his reflection in its mirror. He snaked his fingers through his thick brown hair, tousling it into charming anarchy. “Why do you even have to bring it up? Pristine can’t be the one behind everything.”

“What rules her out?”

The PI pushed the visor back up and stared at the dashboard. “I didn’t know Victor Algarotti’s complete financial situation two years ago when I singled him out for Pristine. What if, when she found out the money wasn’t his, she decided to kill Britt so her husband would continue to have control over it? The murder would be, in essence, my fault.”

Emory glanced at him, but something else caught his attention—a boy pushing a bike down the road. “Is that Ian?”

Jeff’s downcast demeanor vanished when he saw the youngest Algarotti struggling to walk his bike. “Looks like Damien’s chain came off.” He smirked at the boy’s misfortune. “He’s got a long walk ahead of him.” When Emory turned on his hazard lights, Jeff asked, “What are you doing?”

“Helping him.”

“He doesn’t need us. He has demon-possessed Rottweilers for that.”

“Stop it. He’s just a kid. What do you have against him?”

“He gives me the creeps. I know you weren’t there, but I told you about the conversation we had when I returned Britt’s laptop. He seriously lit up when talking about details of Rick Roberts’ death. Sorry for the pun.”

“We’re helping him.” Emory parked a few yards in front of Ian and got out of the car. “Ian! Do you need some help?” Ian looked at him as if he couldn’t quite place who he was. “Remember me. I’m Emory Rome with the TBI.”

Ian nodded but told him, “I don’t take rides from strangers.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you call your dad and ask if it’s okay for me to give you a ride. That way, he knows who you’re with.”

The thirteen-year-old pulled his phone from his pocket and brushed his blond bangs from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “I’ll text him.”

Emory looked around, uncertain how to pass the time as they waited for a reply from Ian’s father. “So it feels a little warmer today.”

The phone dinged, and Ian told him, “Dad says it’s okay.”

Emory loaded Ian’s bike into the trunk, and the boy scooted into the back seat. “Hey,” he greeted the back of Jeff’s head.

Jeff lowered the car’s visor and looked at Ian through the attached mirror. “Hey.”

Emory slipped behind the steering wheel and eased the car back onto the road. “Ian, where are you coming from?”

“Just riding around.

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