Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

a few family members that are curators and one that works for Christie’s. So, you could say I grew up around the arts.”

“How very impressive,” he crooned. “I would have loved to have met these relatives. How unfortunate that these circumstances are preventing me from doing so.”

“Indeed,” I replied dryly. I snorted inwardly. This man was nuts.

“Dr. Langley, why do you not drink? This is a very old and special cognac. I’ve been saving this for just the right occasion. Please, don’t be shy.”

“Excuse me if I’m a little apprehensive. I have a nagging feeling this may be poisoned,” I said eyeing my cognac.

“Nonsense,” he chided. “I would never do that to this exquisite vintage. It would be sacrilege.” He reached for my goblet and took a long drink from it. “See, perfectly safe.” He handed it to me, watching me, waiting for me to drink. Shit! This guy cared more about his liquor than he did for human life. My adrenaline was surging as I took it from his hand. Here goes nothing. I took a swig.

“Mmm.” My eyes were wide with surprise, flickering to his. “Mr. Chang, this is… amazing.” I took another sip, relishing the aroma and flavor as it slid so smoothly down my throat. “Mr. Chang, your taste in cognacs is unexpectedly good. I must say I am impressed. Is this Gran Duque De Alba?”

He had a ridiculously huge grin. “I knew you would appreciate it. And yes, you are correct! How very impressive, Dr. Langley, you know your cognacs as well. I don’t have the opportunity to enjoy this with good company often… or with anyone at all, in my line of work.” What the hell? Did he just refer to what he does his “line of work?” He paused, looking at his drink. He had a melancholy expression on his face. If I didn’t know better, I would almost feel sorry for him. “It would be wasted on people such as Tony or Frank who just drink to get drunk, not stopping to appreciate what they are drinking. Not bothering to educate themselves on the finer things in life.” He stopped talking, still gazing at his drink. It seemed like he wanted to say something more but he stopped himself.

“Um, thank you,” I said, taking another drink. “But I’m sure you are able to share this with whatever acquaintances you make at all these art places you go to.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t,” he sighed, his tone somber. “I can never be too careful in my line of work and so I don’t mingle and I rarely talk to anyone else.”

“What about Debbie?” I wondered.

“No.” He shook his head, gazing down at the table unseeingly, saying nothing more. “Dr. Langley, under different circumstances I think we would get along famously.”

Well, I wasn’t expecting that statement. He sounded almost regretful that he’d chosen this path. He had every opportunity to get out, yet he’d chosen to stay. He’d even gone so far as to buy a little twelve-year-old girl! Hm, his speech didn’t match his actions. There was something there I was missing.

“Mr. Chang, why am I here? I thought you wanted me dead so I couldn’t testify.”

He regarded me for an immeasurable moment. “You really are very beautiful,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “More beautiful than I expected and very bright. It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful. It would be like destroying my beautiful Picasso we were just admiring.” He took another sip. So, he saw me as a thing and not a person or a living human being. This must be his way of justifying his actions when he did kill someone. Separating himself from that person, objectifying them, convincing himself they were merely property and not a living, breathing human being. Expendable. All for the greater good of his business. This must be what he told himself when he killed innocent girls, when he killed Tori.

Then inspiration hit me. When he had said, “It would be a shame to destroy something so beautiful. It would be like destroy my beautiful Picasso we were just admiring.” That was the answer! I had to make sure I pleased him and he kept admiring me. It seemed as though he craved conversation and companionship, so that was what I would do. I’d talk art or whatever else he might want. Thank God for my mother always taking us to art museums here and abroad. I never thought I would say that after all those long, boring hours of lectures and tours and reading about the artists. Thank you, Mom!

“It was getting to be nearly impossible to kill you after Tony and Frank accidentally poisoned that FBI agent. Then Ginger told me you are a virgin. My interest was piqued. When I saw you, I knew you could make me a lot more money than anyone else. With your looks and your virginity…” He laughed a high-pitched, bone-chilling laugh. “Let’s just say you will possibly start a bidding war.”

“I see,” I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Never in my wildest dreams, or nightmares for that matter, would I have thought that my virginity would get me into this kind of horrific situation.” An inappropriate giggle escaped.

“Do not fret, Dr. Langley, you belong in a very different category. I am not going to put you on the same website as the other girls. No, you are going into a special one where the clientele has very, very, very deep pockets,” he said smirking, his expression dark. “You will most certainly make me a great deal of money.”

I decided to try and take control of the conversation. I had had enough of the selling Isabel Grace Langley talk. I asked him about the rest of his art he had mentioned, about his sculptures. His face lit up and his smile reached his