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

“Yes,” Paige interrupted. “I wasgoing to say the same thing. Over here, there seems to be less security.”

“Indeed,” replied the Italian. Hestepped back, extending an arm toward the open hall. “The deed was done justhere. The house-cleaners found the body and called it in—just against the wall.Obviously, the corpse is now at the morgue, but, see what you will, my Frenchcolleagues.”

The man continued gesturing with awave toward the hall and Adele stepped past Paige and moved up the stairsfirst. Sidling along Agent Mariano, she caught a whiff of what smelled likemoth balls and urinal kegs.

She winced, but then peered alongthe small, cramped hallway. No sign of blood, no sign of any murder. Just anempty hall with cheap wallpaper.

“Just there?” Adele asked,picturing the crime scene photos in her mind.

Again, her stomach twisted and againshe breathed slowly, waiting for the Italian’s response. Paige waited on thedrive, watching from the base of the stairs.

“Si, signora. Just there.No cameras inside the guesthouse, though.”

Adele glanced back, wrinkling hernose at another whiff of mothballs. The middle-aged, pallid Italian watched herfrom thick-lidded eyes.

“The killer did his homework,” shesaid.

“Si.”

“He knew about the security system.Knew the cameras. Means he cased the joint before.”

Mariano nodded once, his headabove his black suit bobbing like a pale buoy in dark water. “We have discussedsuch possibilities with Signora Calvetti’s eldest daughter.” He nodded towardthe mansion. “She is still answering questions up at the house.”

Adele looked back, then glanced atPaige. She held the older agent’s hostile gaze for a moment and said, “Think weshould talk to her next?”

Paige’s tongue probed the insideof her cheek, but then she nodded stiffly.

“Say, signoras, er agents,”Mariano amended at another look from Paige. “Is this true what I hear—a serialkiller?”

Adele began to answer, but Paigeinterrupted. “We can’t confirm or deny at this point. We’re looking into all possibilities.”

“But there was another murder. InLondon, no?”

Adele didn’t even bother to answerthis time, once more allowing Paige to take the lead. “A similar murder, yes.Matching ligature marks, but we can’t assume anything more than a coincidenceat this point.”

Adele staved off a slight frown atthis. She wasn’t so sure in this regard, but also didn’t see the point inobjecting, and so she moved past Mariano, down the steps again, and toward thelarge mansion.

If it was a serial killer, itmeant he’d already claimed two victims. Had he stalked them before making hisfirst kill? How many victims did he have planned?

Two already… or two disconnectedcases?

Her stomach twisted and she wincedagainst the physical bout of nerves.

Could she trust her instincts onthis one at all? Had Robert’s death really taken so much out of her? He’d beenher mentor, her instructor. And the Spade Killer had hunted him anyway. Ifanyone should have seen the knife in the dark, it would have been Robert.

And now, Adele felt alone, out inthe cold, driving blind on a highway in a blizzard. She could only hope shedidn’t go careening into anything too important while fumbling around in thedark.

A serial killer. Had to be, yes?Or was she now biased?

She swallowed back her nerves andpicked up her pace, her shoes clicking against the cobblestones as she hastenedtoward the mansion.

The eldest daughter would haveanswers. She would have to. On this case, Adele had a niggling suspicion thatshe would need all the help she could get. One body, two bodies… three? More?

CHAPTER FIVE

Adele settled slowly at theornate, oak dining room table beneath a miniature chandelier likely intended toconvey unpretentious, but rather settling for something closer akin to watchfuland rigid.

The many crystal baubles reflectedthe bright yellow light stretching from within the confines of the bulbs andcast shimmering patterns across the lacquered surface of the antique table.

A round woman with pleasant eyesand a blue turtleneck sat across the table, small hands folded daintily overeach other, her rosy cheeks flushed in the bright light and due, in no smallpart, to the series of questions she’d endured over the last half hour.

Now, as Adele took in the dining room,she cleared her throat politely, glancing from the woman to the two policeofficers who were rising from their seats nearest her.

“Anita?” Adele asked, cautiously,her voice inquisitory.

Agent Paige crowded in behindAdele, offering no small talk and moving directly toward the table. “Hello, Ms.Calvetti,” she said in accented English. “I was told you can speak inglese.Yes?”

Anita Calvetti, the eldestdaughter of the deceased, glanced uncertainly from the Italian detectives whowere now scraping past Paige, along an ornate bookcase and moving back into thehall. Her eyes then darted to Adele and Agent Paige.

“I… yes,” she said, with no traceof an accent. “I studied in America. Who are you?”

“DGSI,” Paige said, softly. To Adele’ssurprise, the gruff, older agent’s voice was gentler now. And one of her neatlymanicured hands reached out, covering half the distance from where she’d sat towardwhere Calvetti’s hands were still wringing each other. Paige stopped though,before quite making contact, allowing the gesture to simply linger as aplacating one.

Adele settled into the cushioned,ornate chair at the head of the table, beneath the chandelier and facing Anita’snervous form. The victim’s daughter was quite pretty, with pure black hair anddark, intelligent eyes.

“I don’t know what DGSI is,” saidAnita, frowning. “I just finished speaking with the police.”

“We’re not Italian,” Paige said,still surprisingly gentle. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“DGSI is French,” Adele supplied.

“Oh… Well. Okay then. How can Ihelp you?”

“Would you like a glass of water?”Paige asked. “I know how exhausting these things can be.”

“I—actually, yes. Water would begreat.”

Paige nodded, rising to her feetand moving around the table. “Kitchen this way?” she asked, pointing toward aside door.

“Last room on the left,” Anitamumbled, still staring at her wringing hands. The younger woman shook her headslowly as Paige hurried from the room, now leaving Adele and Anita seatedacross from each other, facing opposite sides of the enormous oak table.

Adele closed her eyes a moment,trying to place her thoughts. They weren’t so distant from Anita’s, sheimagined. The woman couldn’t have been much past her twenties. The same ageAdele had been when…

When what?

When it had all collapsed.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,”Adele said, feeling some of her nerves fading to