The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

a feeder hung from a wooden trellis.
                The door opened and a cheerful man in a crisp white Bolero jacket, bright white shirt, black four-in-hand tie, and perfectly creased black trousers greeted Thorne. In a cheerful British accent he said, “Good day, Sir.” He stepped aside and escorted Thorne down a long Mexican-tiled foyer to a living room with whitewashed stucco walls.
                Thorne was surprised at the demeanor of the butler. He’d always pictured the typical English butler as being staid, stiff upper lip-types. He seated himself on a velvet maroon sofa stacked with colorful pillows, and mused on the British obsession with creased trousers as the butler disappeared behind a Cheshire Cat smile.
                Raskin appeared, tastefully dressed in casual slacks and a pink cashmere sweater over a dark blue golf shirt. He held out his hand and said, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Thorne.” He had used the same pleasant, automatic voice in their first meeting at the hotel.
                “Please come into the den and meet the rest of the group. They are all anxious to meet you.”
     
    The den of the mansion was much larger than the living room. Two large butter-soft brown leather sofas and four heavy wood chairs, surrounded a circular carved wood coffee table. The chairs were covered in a southwestern desert motif fabric, and were set on a large Navajo rug fronted on an enormous native stone fireplace.
                Kirk-Halstrom, casually dressed in a pastel-colored golf shirt and sweater, stood to one side of a large table. He was frowning and nervously straightening a pile of magazines.  Blackstone sat on the raised fireplace hearth. Neither man made a move to greet Thorne.
                Raskin introduced two younger men. “This is Mr. Gilbert Bada and Mr. Frederick Hollister. You know Mr. Kirk-Halstrom and Mr. Blackstone.” Kirk-Halstrom produced a nervous smile and returned to the pile of magazines. Blackstone glanced briefly in his direction before returning his attention to a cell phone.
                Hollister was a slender fair-haired young man in his early thirties. “My friends call me Freddie,” he said with enthusiasm, and extended his small hand. “I’m so very pleased to meet you.”
                Bada nodded to Thorne and sat back down without speaking or shaking hands.
                Raskin sat on the arm of one of the sofas and inclined his head toward Bada. “Mr. Bada is CEO and Chairman of Bada, Limited, and the primary sponsor of our group. He will describe to you our plans and intentions.”
                Bada was not what Thorne would have pictured in a leader of a large multi-national company. Thorne expected the Chief Executive Officer and Chairman of the Board of a giant conglomerate like Bada, Limited to be a man of powerful presence and charisma, a man of physical substance.
                Instead, he saw a pleasant young man with large doe-like—almost feminine—eyes and neatly combed dark hair above a soft rounded face. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his appearance, but on closer inspection, he did project a presence not seen in the other men in the room. It was an air of confidence, that of one of the well-born and privileged class whose pronouncements would be accepted without question.
                Perhaps there was more substance to Gilbert Bada than a first impression would indicate.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
     
    Bada studied the man seated across from him. From his time spent attending college in America he had become familiar with the American character. Based on the popular conception of private detectives shown in the movies and television in England—and America—Thorne met expectations. Casual dress, relaxed attitude, reserved and not overly enthusiastic—and apparently unimpressed with the wealthy men and their opulent