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

to maintain hercalm. She’d dealt with such barbs over the course of her career on countlessoccasions. The criminal elements, international or otherwise, often broke windowsbut weren’t exactly shattering glass ceilings.

Now, though, as she paused,staring at the red-faced man, she could feel her own temper rising. Her lipsformed a thin, firm line. “Signore Herrera,” she said, slowly trying to keep herrising anger in check. “I understand your daughter is an adult. She can speakfor herself, yes?”

She glanced toward Anita, whonodded quickly but looked nervously at her father as she did.

“No!” Herrera snapped, wagging hisfinger now and stepping forward so he was pointing the offending digit beneathher nose. “No!” he repeated, seemingly stuck on one of the few English words he’dmastered. “This is no. My daughter speak not to you! Horrible, horrible Frenchgirl.”

Another lance of rising angerjolted through Adele. She tried to count to ten in her head, calming herself asbest she could.

“You leave her alone. Anita,come—we go!”

“Hang on,” Agent Paige called out.“We’ll say when you can leave.”

The man turned to Sophie now too,sniffing dismissively and shaking his red face. “No,” he said, returning tofamiliar lingual territory. “I think no. Come, Anita.”

The round, pretty-faced girlwinced, glancing from her father’s beckoning fingers toward Adele and AgentPaige. Though Anita appeared in her mid-twenties, she seemed little more than achastised child under her father’s fury.

Again, Adele could feel her owntemper rising… Counting to eight… nine… ten…

The counting was supposed toreduce one’s temper, but she could only feel her fury rising all the more atthe stupid look on that red face and behind those beady little eyes. Besides,hadn’t Anita let slip her father’s loathing for his wife? Divorced three yearsago, no love lost. Now, Mrs. Calvetti was dead.

And if anything Signore Herrera didn’tseem much broken up about it.

“Come!” Herrera called with afinal stomp of his foot.

“No,” Adele said, rising from herseat now and facing the Italian. “You wait right there,” she said, finding herown voice, losing some of the normally calm facade she’d grown so accustomed todisplaying in such volatile conversations.

The man blinked at her insurprise, likely ill accustomed to anyone talking back beneath his tidal waveof personality.

“You’re the victim’s ex-husband,yes?” Adele said, speaking slowly so he could track the English.

“No!” he cried, shaking hisfinger.

“He is,” Anita sighed, softly.

Her father’s ire rounded on hisdaughter and he yelled something in Italian which this time went ignored.

“I’d like to know what you weredoing last night,” Adele said firmly. “When did you find out about your wife’smurder?”

“Ex!”

“Excuse me?”

“Ex-wife,” snapped Herrera, stillpuffing his chest.

Part of Adele wanted nothing morethan to take a large pin and pop him like a balloon. She could feel her angerstill swelling and was breathing heavily now as if after a long jog. She’d beenable to get morning runs in most days during the weeks leading up to Robert’sfuneral, but now she felt trapped, stuck in place as if glued to the floor.

“Right,” she amended, her toneharsher than she might have liked. “Ex-wife. Where were you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where were you last night. It’s asimple question, sir. I’m afraid if you don’t have an answer, we can—”

“Stupid girl,” he snapped. “Do youknow who me are? Hmm?”

“Who I am, Dad,” Anita said,sighing. “She’s an agent with the DGSI. Just answer her.”

Adele took a step forward,standing nearly chin to chin with the short man. Her own eyes narrowed, meetinghis beady gaze. He didn’t seem to have the good sense to step back though, andsmelled of an entire bottle of expensive cologne. Her eyes began watering atsuch proximity to the noxious odor and she glanced aside, inhaling deeply throughher nose for the simple benefit of fresh air.

“I don’t know who you are,” Adelesaid, growling now. “I don’t care.” She jammed a finger into his chest and theman suddenly yelped as if he’d been stabbed. He held his chest, making a bigshow of reeling back and thumping against the opposite wall. His eyes widenedin horror. “Attack!” he screamed. “Assault! Polizia!”

“Shut up,” Adele snapped. “Answermy question or I’ll lug your fat ass to a jail cell for a couple of days andthen maybe you’ll figure out how to answer a simple question.”

The moment the spiel fell from herlips, she blinked in surprise at the content of her own words. She could feelSophie Paige watching her now, off to the side. She noted Anita shiftuncomfortably, one hand pressed against her mouth as if trying to hide a gaspof surprise or a creeping smile.

Mr. Herrera though, looked like he’dbeen slapped. He gaped at her a moment, meeting her eyes as if giving her achance to take it all back.

But Adele was in too deep now.Even without John Renee around, she seemed to find a way to piss off theirwitnesses. Then again, as far as she knew, this man was a suspect.

At last, he waved his fingers,adjusting his shirt with an air of wounded pride. “I was not here,” he said. “Iin city—Milan.” He waved a hand airily up the hall in the direction of thegreat city.

“I know what Milan is,” saidAdele. “Do you have proof?”

“I prove? I with girlfriend,” hesnapped.

“You were with your girlfriend.”

Anita coughed, waving delicately. “Healways spends the night in the city with her,” she said. “They usually post aboutit online.” She glanced at her own phone, and then, with a little sigh ofrelief, she hurried over, patting her father consolingly on the arm andextending her device beneath Adele’s nose. “See,” she said. “Look. That’s themright there. Look at the date.”

Adele glanced down, watching asAnita scrolled through a series of social media photos dated from the previousnight. Mr. Herrera was unmistakable, accompanied by a much, much younger womanwith a sculpted nose. Both of them were laughing and drinking in the pictures,equal parts bar-hopping, it seemed, and driving around in a bright red Ferrari.

Adele resisted the urge to rollher eyes and instead checked the timestamp on the photos.

The pictures ranged from ten p.m.through midnight. In each of the photos, Herrera was accompanied by his youngergirlfriend.

She glanced from the phone toAgent Paige, raising an inflective eyebrow and nodding toward the device. Paigestepped in, glancing over