Left to Lapse (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Seven) by Blake Pierce (book club suggestions txt) 📗

Beforehe’d finished, though, another quick knock echoed out on the door, and OfficerAllard poked his head in again.

“Ah,pardon me,” he said, quickly. “But I couldn’t help but hearing. You mentioned aMr. Rodin?”

Adelefrowned. “Hang on, were you eavesdropping?”

“Juststanding by in case you needed anything,” he said, unperturbed by her hostiletone.

John,though, didn’t seem to care and instead said, “What about Mr. Rodin?”

“Ah,yes. I’d been waiting to tell you until you were finished in here. But about anhour ago, I received a call from Mr. Granet—the conductor.”

Adelefrowned now, crossing her arms and facing off across the small, dank room. “And?”she prompted.

“Hesaid Mr. Rodin went missing about an hour ago, after we left the station.”

“Missing?”John said. “Did he mention he was leaving to anyone?”

“Notaccording to the conductor. He vanished. They don’t know where he is.”

Adeleshared a long look with John. “Well,” she said. “It’s looking worse and worsefor our friendly barkeep, isn’t it?”

Johnsighed, rubbing a hand through his slicked hair. “He couldn’t have gotten far,could he? He doesn’t have his own vehicle.”

“Maybehe called a cab,” said Adele. “Or maybe he took another train.”

“Maybe.Maybe he’s still at the station. We’d best start looking unless we want Mr.Rodin to get another shot at some unwitting passenger.”

Adelenodded and marched out of the room, speaking over her shoulder, “Let’s checkany train that’s left in the last hour. See if any of the nearby taxi companieswere dispatched to the area. And barring that, we search the station, from thetop to the basement. No stone unturned. Wherever Mr. Rodin is hiding, we needto find him now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Adeleand John stood before the stationary Normandie Express, glancing at the fourother police officers Allard had procured to search for the missing bartender.John’s hand braced against the rail of the small balcony at the front of thelocomotive as he eyed the police. “Everyone have a picture of the suspect?” hesaid, his voice booming in the broad station.

Thepolice all regard Allard, who was flashing a printout of Mr. Rodin’s face.

“Nonew trains left in the last hour,” John continued, “and a cursory look at thesecurity cameras displayed no one matching Rodin’s description leaving thestation. Which means he slipped away undetected, or he’s still here, hidinginside the station.”

Thepolice all nodded in response. Allard then broke them off into groups of twoand directed them toward portions of the station for a grid-search pattern.John hopped down from where he’d been standing on the small balcony andapproached Adele. “Where do you want to start?” he said.

Shethought for a moment. “Maybe the restrooms? Though he might be wanting to blendin.”

“Perhaps,”said John. “Think he’s armed?”

Adelewinced. She didn’t want to imagine a shootout in a train station full ofcommuters. “Let’s hope not,” she murmured.

Then,together, John and Adele moved through the side door which Allard had broughtthem through and down a tunnel, stepping out into the main portion of thestation. This particular train station wasn’t the busiest Adele had ever seen.A few people moved about the platforms, some of them clutching bags or tickets,waiting for their rides to arrive.

Asshe moved along with John, walking briskly to keep up with his long stride, sheglanced at the faces of the passengers. A large woman sat on a bench, munchingon a sesame bun. A red-haired man leaned against a glass partition advertisinga perfume. A family of five gathered around a ticket collector who was standingin front of the compartment to a more modest train when compared to theNormandie Express.

Adeleand John passed a small restaurant, with a few customers sitting out on fauxpatio seating. She scanned the customers, but didn’t spot Mr. Rodin.

Hereyes did land on a small pile of books near one of the customers. Her own mindshifted, thinking back to red leather seating in front of a small fireplace.She considered her old friend Robert Henry, and his penchant for books and allthings literature. As she thought of him, she closed her eyes for a moment,wishing she’d been able to contact him back at DGSI. She’d need to make anothereffort soon. Days were passing quickly, where Robert was concerned, and whilehis health still seemed a bit improved, eventually, if the doctors were to bebelieved, his case was terminal.

Adelesighed, ripping her gaze away from the small stack of books likely purchasedfrom one of the station stores.

Theycontinued on, still in silence, moving toward a cafe at the back of thestation. Adele spotted two of Allard’s officers also meandering in the samedirection. She watched as one of the officers drew near the cafe, peeredthrough the glass window, and then went stiff.

Theofficer nudged her partner and pointed. The second officer frowned, his handdarting to his hip holster.

“John,”Adele said, slowly. “I think they found something.”

Johnfollowed her glance and just then, Adele heard shouting. The first officer who’dlooked through the glass raised her voice and shouted, “Martin Rodin, handswhere I can see them!”

Twofirearms leapt into the police officers’ hands, now pointing through thereflective glass. Adele cursed and broke into a sprint, with John racing behindher. Adele watched, still racing, as the two officers entered the small cafe.

Shegritted her teeth, darting around a family of five, while John bellowed, “Moveout of my way!”

Shereached the cafe’s glass windows a few moments later, her own hand pressedagainst her holster. Through the smudged glass, she spotted a single customersitting at a round table, his hands jutting into the air, while the twoofficers pointed their weapons at his head, shouting instructions.

Adelejostled into the cafe, pushing the glass door with her shoulder and, breathingheavily, coming to a halt inside the room. He was stammering, while the firstofficer shouted, “Get on the ground! On the ground!”

“Whatis this?” the man gasped. He had ferret-like features, with an angled face thatall seemed to come to a point at the end of a large noise. “Please,” he said, “Iwas just here to speak to a friend—a friend!”

Thecafe attendant was leaning over a counter, past the cash register, and shouting,“What are you doing to him! He didn’t do anything!”

Adelemoved quickly over. She glanced toward the attendant. “Do you know this man?”

Themiddle-aged woman, who was wearing a green uniform and pinstriped apron, noddedquickly. “Martin. He’s