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

elbow shoved into her chest, andshe stumbled, nearly tripping over another duffel bag which had been left nextto the privacy screen separating the cots from the TV.

Mr. Johnson raced forward, sprinting toward the divider inthe back of the dormitory car.

“Stop!” Adele shouted.

John, having recovered first, jammed the insulin bottleinto Adele’s arms and sprinted after the retreating form. His long legs coveredthe distance rapidly, his footsteps thumping into the ground. John flunghimself into the air. The waitress must’ve had a degree in filming, because shedidn’t seem to miss anything. She tracked with her video camera as Johnhurtled, parallel to the floor, arms outstretched.

Adele watched in slow motion, it seemed, as John slammedinto the back of the reserve conductor and brought him crashing down to theground in a pile of limbs.

Mr. Johnson let out a croaking sob, and John scrambled ontop, holding him firmly to the ground, both hands placed in the smaller man’s back.“Don’t move,” John barked. “Stay down. Don’t move. Stay on the ground.”

Adele, massaging her chest where she’d been elbowed, heldthe bag with the shot and the unknown substance, delicately keeping it at arm’slength as she moved across the dormitory car, toward the collapsed forms of thetwo men.

After another couple of curses and a flurry of struggling,Mr. Johnson went limp, and his voice probed out in the suddenly still car. “Iwant to call my lawyer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Mr.Johnson sat glumly in the remodeled car, shooting the occasional look ofreproach toward where the body lay beneath the tarp. “I want to speak with thereal police,” he muttered, darkly. “You’re not even German! Let me go!”

Johnturned and snapped, “Quiet. We’re almost to the station, then you can have yourprecious German police take you to prison.”

Theman muttered a series of dark oaths beneath his breath, one hand raised, cuffedto a metal rail next to one of the bare walls.

“Howmuch longer, do you think?” Adele asked quietly beneath her breath, addressingAgent Leoni, where he fiddled with his phone, tracking their progress on GPS.

“Fiveor so minutes, tops,” Leoni murmured, raising his eyes to look at the glaringreserve conductor.

“Whyshould it matter?” John called across the car, making no effort to lower hisvoice. His large frame blockaded the glass partition into first class,preventing any prying eyes. “We have the bastard.” He nodded toward Mr.Johnson. John had a couple of scrape marks along one cheek and a pretty bruisejust beneath his eye.

Adelewinced in sympathy, but John noticed the gesture and only glowered even more.

Shesighed, passing a hand through her hair and reminding herself to take a showerfirst opportunity she got. Still, as she felt the train continue to rumblebeneath them, she couldn’t shake the rising feeling of unease somewhere in hergut.

Itall seemed off, somehow…

Sheregarded Mr. Johnson, feeling a dash of sympathy again. He took a long sip fromthe water bottle she’d managed to finagle from the valet and his cart. Shefigured it was the least she could have done, given how things had gone back inthe dormitory car.

“Idon’t know…” she murmured, glancing at John, then returning to look at Mr.Johnson.

“Don’tknow?” Renee said. “Don’t know what, Agent Sharp? He’s the guy. You saw thepoison yourself.”

“Itmight be insulin, though.”

“You’rebuying that? He resisted arrest!”

“Wedid catch him while sleeping. And you weren’t exactly nice about it.”

Johnsnorted, crossing his arms and slouching against the glass partition at hisback. “He was on all three trains where a victim was murdered. His name wasn’ton the manifest.”

“Yes,but the manifest wasn’t his doing. Remember what the conductor said? Theysometimes don’t even mark down the seconds.”

“Still,”John said, shrugging his large shoulders. “It has to be him.” He turned toregard Leoni. “What do you think, hmm? Is this the guy?” Again, John made noeffort to lower his voice, and Mr. Johnson pretended to be particularlyinterested in the floor all of a sudden. Adele guessed he was listening toevery word—she wasn’t sure if he was French, but to travel as much as he didand work on French trains, he likely knew the language.

Leoni,in perfect French, replied, “I don’t know.” He looked apologetically up atAdele. “It does fit, a bit. He could be lying about the insulin.”

“I’mnot!” Johnson called.

“Quiet!”Renee retorted.

Adelefelt another flash of unease. “But what motive?” she said, lowering her voiceeven more and turning her back fully to the man in custody. “Why would he killtravelers—it makes no sense.”

“He’sinsane,” John said simply, finally—to her relief—matching her volume.

Adelepaused, clicking her tongue, lost in thought. The motive simply wasn’t there.He’d had the means, the opportunity, but why? It wasn’t like anyone elsefit the bill. They had no other suspects. No one else on the staff manifest orpassenger list who’d been on all three trains. Why kill wealthy first-classpassengers in three separate countries? Besides, as a reserve conductor, hewouldn’t even have interacted with them. How could he have poisoned them?

Thekiller would have a reason, a gripe, a grudge. Some hidden hatred. And whileJohnson seemed particularly loathsome of Agent Renee at this moment, it wasn’tlike he didn’t have cause. She hadn’t detected any other motive. So far, all he’ddone was deny and shout for a lawyer.

Nomotive, then.

Sowhy kill?

“Idon’t know,” Adele murmured, quietly. “I don’t think it’s him.”

Atthat moment, a voice suddenly echoed off the intercom, reverberating in thestill room. “We are now approaching our final destination. Please stay awayfrom the doors until we’ve come to a complete stop. Thank you for your patienceduring this delay. In addition, we’d like to offer any passengers who want totravel with us in the coming month a deal for half off their next ticket in wayof a thank-you for your continued patience.”

Thevoice crackled over the speakers and then went silent.

Adeleshifted uncomfortably, staring at the black speakers above the windows. Soon,they’d be disembarking. There was no more time. But there was also no motive.No time left to find another suspect.

“Excuseme,” she said, suddenly, looking across at Mr. Johnson.

Hestopped studying the floor long enough to glance up and present her with ascowl. “What?”

“I’msorry for any inconvenience, truly. Things…” she half glanced toward John, butreturned her gaze to Mr. Johnson, “may have gotten a bit out of hand.”

Hejangled the handcuff against