Left to Vanish (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Eight) Blake Pierce (classic english novels TXT) 📖

“Work?”Paige snorted. “Is that what you call it?”

Herwords were riling him up again, but once more Adele saw the sense in it. Mr.Lavigne was beginning to lose his cool, and the more angry he got, the more heseemed willing to talk.

“Yes,”he snapped. “I’m a historian. I work as a preservationist for landmarks, land,and monuments. Specifically related to the church. I don’t just care aboutFrench history, but European history. So yes, I travel sometimes.”

“Youonly just got back two days ago.”

Heshrugged. “Like I said, I travel a lot. Can you think of anything… Oh, I don’tknow, particularly religious that might be in Italy? Any guesses?”

“Don’tget lippy,” Agent Paige snapped.

Adelewatched the exchange, trying to make sense of it. They’d gone through Mr.Lavigne’s flight records. It was true, he’d traveled a lot in this last month.The first murder had been in London, about the same time he’d flown intoBristol. He could have easily driven the distance, hoping to throw police ofhis tracks. Granted, he hadn’t flown to Germany, but driving from Italy seemedthe most likely solution.

Adeledidn’t blink, staring at the side of the bearded, self-proclaimed historian’sface. He was full of bluster and rage, but that didn’t make him a killer.

“Giveme your word,” Adele said suddenly, staring from the rosary to Mr. Lavigne. “Swearon your faith that you didn’t kill anyone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Themoment she said it she blinked, surprised at the words. The flashing cameralight above her seemed conspicuous all of a sudden, but she let the words linger,allowing them to fill the strained gap of silence now extending over the room.

Mr.Lavigne blinked, glaring at her now and turning from Paige. Adele didn’t lookaway. She held his gaze, her own expression just as sincere.

Asthey exchanged furious looks, Mr. Lavigne’s expression began to shift. Some ofthe fury fled his eyes, and his eyebrows began to twitch up ever so slightly.He swallowed once, frowning in confusion now. It was an odd thing to see a man’semotions switch so completely.

Asecond longer passed and he glanced from Adele to the rosary and back. Suddenly,his twitching eyebrows rose completely, and his mouth formed a small circle.

“DearLord,” he murmured… “Wait, are you serious? Hang on—this isn’t… You’re not justhere because…” He coughed. He turned frantically now, glancing from Paige toAdele, blinking as he did as if suddenly waking from a dream.

Atthe same time, blood seemed to flee his cheeks. His expression paled completelyand he began to stammer, muttering as he did. “Wait—wait, h-hang on. Hold onone moment. You’re actually with DGSI?”

Adelestared in confusion. “Yes. What did you think we were?”

“I…I thought you were…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Now his features werecompletely pale. “All that stuff…about murders? You’re serious?” He strainedthis last word, his tonal inflection rising an octave.

“Asthe grave,” Paige snapped.

Adelewatched as pieces fell into place across Mr. Lavigne’s countenance. He was aparanoid man, no doubt. Odd and unusual. She supposed one would have to be tochoose his thankless line of work. She didn’t doubt there had been run-ins withpowerful real estate developers or financial firms in the past. By the sound ofthings he’d had more than one altercation.

Hadhe really mistaken this interview as some sort of strong-arming tactic? Comingafter him because of his work?

Adelehad faced paranoid killers before…

Butjust as possible: paranoid and innocent.

Shetapped a finger against the metal table, causing the beads of the rosary torattle. “This is no joke, Mr. Lavigne. We’ve had murders in the same countriesyou’ve visited these last two weeks. The timeline of your travels perfectlymatches the itinerary of our killer. The victims in question all live in atwenty-mile radius of your home—or at least own property. You’ve hadaltercations with them before and have proven to stoop as low as arson.”

Hesnorted. “That old thing from seven years ago? I told them then—I was told thebuilding was slated for destruction that week. A lie by Etienne Durand to tryto get me thrown in jail. Do you know the man?”

Adeleshook her head. “It’s not relevant if I know him. I don’t care about the arsonper se. What I care about is that.” She pointed at his rosary. “The murderweapon.”

Heslumped now in his chair, his hands flat on the table all of a sudden, his knucklesas pale as his cheeks. “I—I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “You—you can’tpossibly believe—you don’t really think—”

“Howabout you tell us your version of events,” Agent Paige said quickly. “What wereyou in Bristol for? Why did you then fly to Italy?”

“Business!”he exclaimed, his voice like the yowl of a cat whose tail has been stepped on. “Allof it business! I have the itinerary in my phone. Meetings—all meetings. Once witha historian’s guild, another time with a group of young preservationists. Allabove board. I have itineraries, phone calls, and names. Tons of names who canvouch for me!” He nodded quickly, wagging his head. “You have to believe me!”

“Whattimes?” Paige pressed.

“Oh…I—let’s see.” He glanced off now, closing his eyes in thought. Words werecoming quickly. His demeanor having shifted entirely. Another ploy? Moreacting? Or a paranoid man reaching an obvious explanation?

Hecoughed and said… “Bristol, probably from ten in the morning until nearly nineat night!” He said this as if he were declaring a victor in some race. “And…and Italy… I was north of the Vatican. Not far, mind you. Near Rome at times.But mostly taxi drives from one site to another. I have receipts too!”

“Whattimes?” Adele pressed.

“Atleast until ten at night,” he said quickly, wagging his head and breathingslowly in relief. “Yes, at least until ten. Nine and ten both places at thelatest.”

Adeleconsidered Germany for a moment, but set it aside instead to think. She consideredthe details of the case, studied Mr. Lavigne. He seemed sincere. But sinceritywasn’t exculpatory. Liars were often sincere.

Plus…though he provided promises of an alibi of receipts of witnesses of meetings…

Thealibi was for the exact wrong time frame.

“Themurders happened late at night,” Adele said, quietly. “One after midnight,another just before… You would still have had plenty of time, Mr. Lavigne.”

Hepaled at these words, gasping now. “I—I didn’t do it.”

“Wedon’t believe you,” Agent Paige snapped. “If you have no alibi, no