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

Adele blinked. “Hold on, you wereon the LuccaRail three times in the last month?”

“Six,” he retorted. “I ride thetrain. Often.”

“How often?”

“Every day sometimes. Depends.” Hepulled at his collar again, his face reddening further, and he shook his head,causing his sweaty hair to shift and sway. “It’s too hot in here,” he murmured.“Can we open a window?”

To her surprise, Leoni hopped tohis feet, moved over to the nearest window, and cracked it a bit. Lafitte didn’tprovide much in the way of a thank-you, but at least he didn’t curse them outagain. He inclined his face toward the open window, breathing softly as iftaking in the breeze.

“Sir, are you all right?” Adele asked,slowly.

The man glanced back at her andswallowed. He returned to looking out the window at the passing countryside asthe train finally moved from France into Germany. As he watched the rollinghills and the green flatland, his eyes seemed almost to mist over and hisbreathing came more regularly.

 Hesighed, staring through the window, watching the passing countryside. “I didn’tkill anyone,” he said.

“Mindif we check your luggage?” she said. “We can get a warrant.”

Itfelt like a shot in the dark, given his previous reactions to them, but now ashe stared out the window, he almost seemed mesmerized, as if entranced by thepassing terrain.

Hegrunted and shrugged.

“Isthat a yes?” Adele pushed.

IsaacLafitte continued to stare out the window, watching the tranquil greens andblues.

“I’lltake that as a yes,” Leoni murmured.

Adelenodded and got to her feet, turning toward the door, but Isaac grunted, stillstaring out the window. “Not you—the one who opened the window. I have nothingto hide.”

Adeleslowly lowered back into her seat. Leoni gave her significant look, raising aneyebrow in greeting to his single curl of hair.

“I’mfine,” she answered the unspoken question. “Go on—I can handle this.”

Leonishrugged, but then left, making sure to leave the door propped open as he movedback toward the first-class sleeper car to search Lafitte’s belongings.

“Soyou ride trains often?” Adele asked, hoping to keep Lafitte in this new, calm,lulled state.

Hecontinued to ignore her, staring out the window. Then, as if the question hadonly just reached his ears, he murmured a soft reply. “Often as I can. Daily.It helps.”

“Helps?”

“Yes,”he said, turning to her now. As he looked away from the window, his eyebrowslowered again, as if he were somehow stepping into a frigid room without asweater. He clenched his teeth. “Helps. Damn you all. Can’t a grieving man beleft in peace?”

“Grieving?Why are you grieving, sir?” Adele pressed. “Your wife?”

Hestared at her. “You know about Claudia?”

“Iwas told. She passed away last year, didn’t she? A heart attack?” As she saidthis last part, she watched his reaction closely.

Butthere was nothing except a flash of grief across his countenance and a mutteredprayer beneath his breath and he returned to staring out the window.

Afew moments passed, with Adele unsure what else to say. It made sense he’d begrieving his recently deceased wife, if he wasn’t behind her death. Heartattacks weren’t exactly uncommon—perhaps it was a coincidence… But why would someoneride a train so often?

Ithelps… he’d said. Helps with what?

Adeleheard a soft clearing of a throat and she glanced back to find Agent Leoni hadreturned, carrying a brown bag with him.

IsaacLafitte turned, and his face reddened. “What are you doing with that?”

“Yousaid we could search,” Adele reminded him.

Hehesitated, his eyes flickering as if in recollection. “Did I really?”

Leoninodded sympathetically, but held up the bag toward Adele. “This was the onlyitem in his cargo hold. No toxins—no poisons. A small bottle of pills, though.”He held up an orange container with a white lid and gave it a little shake.

Lafittenoted this and it seemed as if he were now being confronted by an old enemy. “Pshaw,”he spat. “Throw those away for all I care. They make me dull—muted.”

“Whatare they?” Adele asked.

Leonianswered first though, “Mood stabilizer,” he replied, softly. “My mother usedto take the same sort—though a lesser dosage.”

“Joy-stealers,”Lafitte added, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to take them twice a day. Bah!Riding the train is better. It keeps me sane. Those devil things,” he said,pointing at the pills, “make me forget. Forget her…” He trailed off andlooked out the window again. In a murmur he added, “I wouldn’t have them if mydaughter hadn’t made me promise.”

Adelelooked from Lafitte, feeling a flash of sympathy herself, and regarded Leoni. “Nothingelse?”

Leonishook his head, gently placing the satchel next to Lafitte. “I confirmed withmy own people as well.” He nodded toward the man staring out the window. “He’sbeen riding trains daily for nearly a year now. Almost every day.”

Lafitteglanced at them after a moment, his eyes widening in surprise as if he hadn’trealized anyone else was in the room with him. “What?” he snapped, as ifsomeone had interrupted him on a phone call. “What do you want? Who are you?”

Adelesighed, exhaling a long breath. She stared at the man; did she really think aman of this mental capacity could kill without detection? The murders were planned,careful, speaking of a shrewd, sharp mind. There was nothing sharp aboutMr. Lafitte.

Atlast, massaging her temples, she said, “Mr. Lafitte, we may have more questionsfor you in the future, but you’re free to go. Mr. Lafitte? Hello?”

Buthe seemed lost in his own thoughts, his eyes transfixed by the blurringcountryside. Adele hesitantly rose to her feet, with Leoni standing next toher. For a moment, they both glanced uncertainly toward the seatedtrain-hopper. But he had his luggage clutched close to his chest, his chin nowpressed against the soft leather on top.

“I…”Adele trailed off. She shook her head. “Have a good day, Mr. Lafitte.”

Sheturned, following Leoni from the compartment.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MargaretMoulin arose and moved from the first-class compartment to stretch her legs.She smiled at Bella, her traveling friend and companion and confidant. Theyoung woman gave a little wave back, smiling as she did, then turned to herboyfriend, who sat in the lounge chair of the first-class compartment next toher. Margaret could almost sense their topic of conversation shifting as shemoved from earshot. She knew they would be discussing her, because Margaretherself had few other preferable topics of conversation