Left to Lapse (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Seven) by Blake Pierce (a book to read .txt) 📕

IsaacLafitte’s wife had died the previous year, all of a sudden. She’d been young,too—in her forties. Died from a heart attack according to the report.

Johnstared at the name. He pulled out his phone, frowning to himself as he dialedin the number provided for Lockport Enterprises, the overseeing company forboth train lines. He waited as the phone rang.

“Thankyou for calling Lockport Enterprises,” came a robotic voice. “If you know thenumber of the extension you are dialing, please—”

“Letme speak with someone!” John growled into the phone.

Therobotic voice continued, uninterrupted, listing the directory. “If you arecalling the mailing office, please press one. If you are calling for—”

“Letme speak to someone!” John shouted, his voice rising.

“Ifyou would like to speak with an agent, please stay on the line.”

Johnfelt his knuckles clenching tight around the phone, his breath coming quicklynow as he resisted the urge to crush the device in his hand.

Atlast, the robotic voice was replaced by a very human one which said, “Hello,Colette speaking, how can I help you?”

“AgentJohn Renee,” he said, still growling. “DGSI. I need travel itinerary for aclient of yours.”

“Oh,well, I have a note here to transfer you to managerial. One second.”

“Don’tput me on—”

Musicstarted playing over the phone and John found himself grinding his teeth,resisting the urge to scream at the ceiling. A minute passed with John sittingon the couch, then another—which saw his martini glass emptied of allcontents—then a third, which saw his martini glass arching through the air andsmashing against the far wall.

“Hello?”said a voice.

“AgentJohn Renee,” he repeated, grinding out the words through gritted teeth. “I needtravel records. We already have clearance. And the number I’m using is loggedas a federal line. Now give me the information I’m looking for, or I’ll makesure every tax auditor I know gets your name and the name of everyone in yourbloody family!” John hadn’t realized he’d been shouting until the silencefollowed.

Heexhaled slowly, and then waited.

“Ah,yes, I recently spoke with Executive Foucault. Would you mind providing yourbadge number for verification?”

Johnsighed and complied with the request.

“Excellent,thank you, Agent Renee. How can Lockport Enterprises be of service?”

“Ineed travel records for a previous passenger of your LuccaRail and NormandieExpress.”

“Allright, shouldn’t be too difficult. One moment.”

Johnheard muttered instructions in the background suggesting the manager wasn’t theone actually logging the information in their system.

“Name,please?”

“IsaacLafitte,” John said. “Traveling coach.”

“Isee in our records the last list requested was for first class, are you—”

“No,not first class. Coach. Well?”

“Ah,one moment.”

Moremuttered words, and the sound of a clacking keyboard far removed from thephone. Then the voice on the other end said, “Isaac Lafitte, you say? Yes, Ihave his records right here.”

“Anyindication of how many times he’s traveled with you?” John asked.

“I’mafraid we don’t tend to keep information like that for more than a month, whichis the billing cycle turnover. But… well, hang on… Interesting.”

Johnperked up, pressing his phone even more tightly against the side of his face.

“Mr.Lafitte did travel with us, yes, but he’s not done.”

“Whatdo you mean?” John asked, his frown deepening, transforming from irritation tocuriosity in a moment.

“Imean,” said the manager’s voice, “that Mr. Lafitte bought a ticket thismorning.”

“Thismorning? Where?”

“NormandieExpress again. Strange that. He got on for the French leg, then got off whenthe rail was sequestered, but now he purchased another ticket for the trip intoGermany.”

“Hejust bought it you say?”

“Yes.He should have boarded only an hour or so ago. Also he purchased a room in oneof the first-class sleeper cars. Room three, it looks like.”

“Anythingelse?”

“Yes,perhaps it isn’t important. But our two previous trips with Mr. Lafitte, herode coach. This time, though, it seems as if he has booked first class.”

“Firstclass, you’re sure?”

“Certainly.”

“Isthat all you can tell me?”

“I’mafraid we don’t keep an extensive deposit of client information. All we have isthe name and ticket information. Is there any other way I can be of—”

Johnhung up, jamming his phone in his pocket and rising to his feet. Adeletheorized the killer would strike once per day and perhaps, once per country.Which meant it was either a strange coincidence that Mr. Lafitte was back onthe train for its German leg the day following the last death.

OrJohn had singlehandedly found the identity of the murderer.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Adelefar preferred Agent Leoni’s first-class quarters to the solitary confinement ofher hellish sleeper car room. She sat in a lavender love seat, listening asAgent Leoni listed off, in a quiet voice and with the door to his unit closed,what he’d found so far.

“Apartfrom the argument the first victim had,” Leoni was saying, “he also had ahistory of flaunting his cash. At least that’s what some of the otherpassengers said.”

“Andyou think it got him killed?”

“Hiswallet was missing,” said Leoni. “After he was found dead, maybe a half hourfollowing according to the coroner, it was noted his wallet had vanished.”

“Acrime of opportunity?” Adele suggested, leaning on the cushy bed and feeling,for the first time, some comfort on this train.

“Ora motive,” Leoni replied; he nodded seriously, glancing out toward the windowframed by raised drapes as the train chugged along, having left the station andnow moving toward the German border.

Adelestudied Leoni’s silhouette, the scrunching of his brow, the way he spokeEnglish nearly perfectly. Firsthand experience told her he was fluent inmultiple languages, knew how to fly a plane, and was as professional as theycame. It also didn’t hurt that he looked like he belonged on the front cover ofa magazine at the grocery store.

Shefound her own lips curving into a smile as she watched him, the sunlightreflecting through the window, catching his face in a soft glow.

Henoted her attention and looked over, smiling that crooked grin of his.Good-natured as ever, he said, “What is it?”

Sheshrugged but didn’t look away, watching him a moment longer, realizing now thatthough the compartment was first class, it wasn’t large enough to provide muchdistance between them. The door was closed, the room their own.

Hecontinued smiling, either clueless or unperturbed by the thoughts now movingthrough her mind.

“Leoni,”she said, carefully. “I wanted to ask you something—”

Beforeshe could finish, her phone began to buzz and she jolted. Adele glanced down asshe fished out