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

the same motion to grip the man firmly bythe collar and drag him away from the silver pitcher and the open doorway ofhis room.

As he pulled Lafitte away, Leoniglanced at Adele. “You all right” he asked, the concern in his voice crankingup a few notches.

Adele grunted, rubbing ruefully ather shoulder. “Fine,” she muttered. Then she flanked Lafitte and with Leoni ather side, they pushed him along in search of a more private space forquestioning.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Something about the way theysmiled brought to mind the leer of a corpse. He strolled through thefirst-class car, his eyes ahead, not quite glancing to the left or the right.He kept an easy, carefree grin on his lips. Kind eyes.

That’s what some people said. Theythought he had kind eyes.

But behind those eyes… what lurkedin his thoughts… perhaps not so kind. No—not so kind at all.

He smirked to himself as ifrecollecting an inside joke; the authorities couldn’t find him. They were backon the other train. But that was the beauty of this: he never stayed on thesame train. No. That would be too easy. This new train… this one provided allsorts of opportunities. He passed an older gentleman who was chatting with oneof the waitresses who shuttled food from the dining car to those too lazy toget it themselves. The kind-eyed man felt a sudden jolt of disgust. He glancedover, frowning, appraising. Was this the next one?

Could it be?

The older man looked up, caughthis eye, and then smiled. A frail hand gave a soft little wave.

No. Perhaps not.

The kind-eyed man continued on hisway, giving a quick dip of his head in return greeting. He neared the back ofthe first-class car, near a felt-covered card table where a small group ofplayers were shuffling a deck and preparing for another round of Texas hold’em.

He stepped forward, curious. Thekind-eyed man always did enjoy poker, in all its variations. His life remindedhim of a poker face. He knew how to bluff, deflect, how to hide what he washolding most of all. Certainly, hiding in plain sight was an acquired andcrucial skill given his pastime. He’d finally summoned the nerve to start…Years of hoping, dreaming, of watching degrading images and videos on hiscomputer late at night. But the thoughts were no longer enough; the picturesand movies—poorly acted—didn’t satisfy. Even some of the actual videos he’dfound, of the real thing…

Revenge in its purest form… But itdidn’t provide the same… satisfaction. The same fulfillment. Nor was it a truevengeance against the guilty parties.

No, now that he’d summoned up thenerve, this—he realized—was far, far better. Anyone who’d ever said revengewasn’t satisfying had never experienced it or were simply lying through theirteeth. It satisfied more than sex, more than drugs, more than power. Itsatisfied in a deeper way than any might imagine. So deep, it almost felt likeit welled from his soul.

 A woman caught him watching andfor a moment, she got a glimpse of his eyes. He cursed, glancing sharply away,trying to shove his thoughts down, to focus on smiling, nodding. But the womanstared at him, then sniffed, raising an eyebrow and turning to mutter darkly toa friend next to her.

The kind-eyed man heard the words “leering…creep…”

He frowned, fixing his gaze on herfor a moment. She glanced up and scowled even deeper and turned promptly tomutter to her friend some more.

The kind-eyed man smiled widelynow. He’d found his next message. Those pretty lips, painted with lipstick moreexpensive than some people’s rent, those manicured fingers which likely hadn’tdone a real day’s work in their life—eventually, soon, they would be before himon a seat of judgment. And he’d already decided the verdict.

Guilty as sin.

The judgment would have to wait.Not yet—preparations were in order. But soon—tonight, perhaps? Yes, very soon.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Adele, Leoni, and Isaac Lafittehad sequestered in the staff break room in the dormitory car for the trainemployees. The break room had been cleared, and the large television was nowoff, its blank, black face staring down at the table where Adele, Leoni, andIsaac sat.

Isaac wasn’t in cuffs just yet,and he was still ruefully massaging at his throat where Leoni had jammed histhumbs.

“Do you know why you’re here?”said Adele.

“Bitch, do I look like aclairvoyant?”

Leoni frowned. “Careful with yourwords.”

But Adele held up a hand. “No, it’sfine,” she said. “Let him express himself. Just know, Mr. Lafitte, rightnow, all that’s standing between you and a prison cell back in Paris is me. I’mhere to determine if you’re a person of interest.”

“A prison cell?” he spat. “Don’tbe ridiculous. I didn’t do anything.” The man’s face was now beet-red, and hehad a thin unintentionally monk-like circle of hair due to male-patternbaldness. His nose was bulging, his chin jutting in defiance. Everything aboutthe hue of his skin suggested it had been well treated with more than one drinkfrom the dining car.

Adele held up a finger. “For one,you slammed a door into me.”

“Didn’t know you were cops,” hereplied.

“I announced myself when I came.”

“You said Deegee sigh. What’s thatsupposed to mean?” He seemed ready to add another expletive at the end, butLeoni raised an eyebrow and the man left the sentence as it was.

“DGSI,” Adele said. “Federalinvestigations.”

“Pshaw. I don’t know anythingabout that. Why should I? Do I look like a government employee to you? Crooks,the lot of you.”

Adele massaged the bridge of hernose. Why couldn’t these interviews ever be easy? “Look,” she said, “Mr.Lafitte, I’m investigating two murders.”

“Likely murders,” Leoni inserted.

“Right. Likely murders. And you…”she emphasized the word, “are the one common point between the two.”

He snorted. “Impossible. Getbetter at your job.”

“I’d really like to. Do you thinkyou could help me with that?” Adele said, proud that she’d managed to keep mostof the exasperation from her tone. “Were you on the LuccaRail two days ago?”

“Course,” he spat again. Then hedipped his head and massaged his temples, shaking his head. “Not good to becooped up like this,” he said, tugging at his collar again and glancing around.“Not good at all.”

Leoni frowned at Adele but shepressed. “Sir, LuccaRail, were you on it two days ago?”

“Yeah, so what? I was on it twoweeks before that as well, and two weeks