Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) by Blake Pierce (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📗

her head. “Boat? No, I’m not here about a boat.I’m here about a piece of property you sold nearly five years ago.”

The man blinked, scratching at his chin. “Oh? Well, five yearsis long past any statute of limitations. My lawyer is on speed dial. He can behere in ten minutes.”

“I’m not here with an accusation,” she said, hurriedly, ashe fished into nonexistent pants pockets for his phone, his hand movinginstinctively. He peeled down the elastic of his boxers just a bit too far forher comfort. He quickly cursed and muttered, “Oh, sorry, there it is.”

He spun around, reaching for his phone on his desk, whichshe could make out just inside the trailer’s open door.

“Hang on,” she said, quickly. “I mean it. I’m not hereabout the problem. I’m looking for information.”

Etienne glanced over his shoulder, frowning. “What sort ofinformation?”

“It’s about a property you sold five years ago. 632 Routede Contis.”

He wrinkled his nose, which gave his features a plastic,shiny look. “You have to give me a second. I sell a lot of property. Onemoment.”

He slammed the door shut, leaving Adele outside, blinking.

For a moment, she considered knocking again, but then sheheard movement about inside the trailer. A couple of curses, and then theclatter of a keyboard.

A second later, she heard a voice call out, “What was thataddress again?”

She hesitated, staring at the metal door, and glancedsheepishly over her shoulder at the taxi driver, who was watching her with anamused expression. She repeated the address, and heard more clacking on keys.

She straightened her suit, and, almost instinctively,double-checked to make sure she was still wearing her pants. Apparently, inthis part of town, one could never be too careful.

Etienne reemerged after a couple of moments, slamming openthe door again. This time she was prepared and kept her distance, lest she wassent flying.

“Yes,” he said. “I sold it. So what?”

Adele felt a flicker of satisfaction. One step closer. Onestep at a time. “What do you remember about it?” she asked, keeping her toneeven.

“Not much.” He glanced back over his shoulder at a computerscreen which she could see on the desk. “The parcel was owned by an old Frenchfirm,” he said and tapped his nose. “About a decade ago I bought a few of thoseplaces from them. Cents on the euro.”

Adele frowned. “So this is one of a few lots?”

“You’re standing on another one, yes. All of themundeveloped in the same area. Ten years ago, this part of the region wasn’t asexpensive.” He puffed his chest. “Independents like moi have helped developthis area.”

Adele nodded, continuing. “All right, so before thishousing boom, you bought up a bunch of the land. That particular parcel, do youremember anything about it?”

His stretched features now turned down in a sort of mouthshrug. “I remember that a house had recently been constructed on the land,” hesaid. “The original owners left because the area was going downhill. The Frenchfirm who sold it to me gave me a good deal.”

Adele remembered how the house back on the second victim’sproperty had only been built fifteen years ago. Five years before Etienne hadbrought it and then sold it to Gianna Calvetti.

“The house,” Adele said, “it’s pretty modern.”

“We didn’t cut corners on it,” he said quickly. “Well, atleast the original builders didn’t. Good materials. Is that what this is about?”

“No.”

“You didn’t find bodies on the property, did you?” he asked,his eyes widening.

Adele stared.

He shook his head. “Is that a yes?”

“Should I have found bodies?”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

“No. Hang on a second, why did you think I might have foundbodies?”

He wiggled his fingers. “I just looked you up. DGSI doesn’tinvolve itself with minor property crime. So why are you asking about theplace? No bodies I know of. Just guessing.”

Adele exhaled slowly. Blinking a couple of times wonderingif the word bodies had simply been a Freudian slip. Or an educatedguess.

“This French firm you bought it from. Do you remember theirname?”

“Of course. Look, the property wasn’t that special. But Ido remember one thing.” He nodded slowly.

“Anything might help.”

“Still not sure what I’m helping with, but all right. Therewas some old ruins on the ground. Some broken down building. It was clearedout, completely scrapped, they rebuilt on the same spot. Beyond that, I can’tthink of anything else you might be here about. This isn’t some sort ofhistorical site, is it? Because I don’t own that property anymore. You’ll haveto take it up with the new owners. I can get you their address if you want.”

His quick pace of words and his tone suggested he would doanything to get the federal officer off his door step.

Adele shook her head. “I have their address. But do youmind telling me what the name of that French firm was? The one who sold you theland?”

The independent real estate agent held up a finger,muttered to himself, and turned, heading back into the house. This time he didn’tslam the door. She heard more clacking, the blue glow emanating past him as hebent over his computer. A second later, he turned back and said, “Becker andAssociates. That’s all I’ve got,” he added.

Adele frowned, gnawing on the corner of her lip, trying to pieceit all together. She still hadn’t turned up anything. Cleared ruins on thesecond spot suggested maybe there had been an older building there as well. Butshe needed to find some connection. Anything at all. The families didn’t know eachother. Didn’t go to church together. As Paige had said, didn’t have similarreal estate agents, nor guests or families. Which meant there had to be anotherconnection; the properties themselves. Maybe the French firm would have it. Atthis point, she felt like she was grasping at straws.

And whatever the case, she couldn’t keep going on likethis. She nodded to herself as she turned without so much as a farewell; if sheended up another dead end, she would have to drop this thread. If she didn’t reacha conclusion soon, and if this was all just a wild goose chase, her failinginstincts, or failing investigative skills, were undoubtedly going to lead toanother murder. And this time, it was all going