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

the brass jazz pulsingthrough the bathroom. He hummed to himself as he swayed, stripped completelynude as he examined himself in the mirror. His clothing was folded and placedneatly on top of the toilet lid, a metallic mask resting on the pile just overtwo black gloves.

The razor moved across one eyebrow, taking away the finalremnants of hair. The man hummed along with the saxophone solo pulsing in fromthe other room and reached for the tape he’d left on the back of the toilet.Still humming, he peeled off a fragment of tape, pressing it to his foreheadaround the eyebrow and pulling away. He gasped in pleasure at the sheer pain ofthe sudden removal. He pulled another section of tape and pressed it lower downhis face now, over the eye, around the socket. He pulled away again, makingsure to catch the final remnants of any fiber of hair from his eyebrow.

Then, staring at the clear, translucent tape, he moved backto the razor, bringing it up to his next eyebrow. He continued to sway, feelingthe breeze against his unclothed form in the still, darkened bathroom.

The lights were off throughout most of the house, save thepulsing glare from the small screen he kept by the sink. The screen displayedvideo image of the apartment where Adele Sharp lived.

The painter glanced down at the apartment again, smiling tohimself and humming some more as he reached for the tape again.

“Soon,” he murmured softly. “Dear, dear friend, very soon…”

In the background, just above the sound of the pulsingmusic, he heard the faintest of mewls as if from a cat.

A frown flickered across his face, and he glanced infrustration toward the open door. No rest for the wicked, he supposed. Helooked back into the mirror.

Of course, he couldn’t introduce himself to Adele first.No—best to let a mutual friend make the introductions. First impressionswere hard to shake, and he intended to make a marvelous initial approach. Hesmiled at the thought, staring at the video feed. Someone was exiting thebuilding. He leaned in, peering at the footage from the camera he’d managed totap into across the street.

“Is that…” The man’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that man,wearing a thin white T-shirt and a walrus mustache. He watched as the man leftthe apartment building, moving up the street and out of sight.

Curious. Was Adele entertaining friends and family? Whyhadn’t he been invited?

Another mewling sound echoed from down the hall. He grittedhis teeth now, not pressing too hard. His teeth, like some of his bones, weren’tthe strongest things in his body.

He frowned, his face collapsing into a glare as he gazedinto the mirror, staring into his deep eye sockets, his bony cheeks etchedagainst thin skin. Not nice to exclude your closest friends… Not nice at all.

He puffed a breath, trying to calm himself, to still therage suddenly burbling like hot tar from in his chest.

Not nice at all. He’d have to introduce himself soon… Verysoon.

The thought of what he had planned for tonight prompted himto relax a bit, sighing in relief.

He ripped the tape away again, wincing in delight at thepain and continuing to hum with the smooth jazz as his naked and bony bodycontinued to sway and dance in the mirror… He trusted his source. Trusted theinformation.

She’d served food to the agents after all. A cafeteriaworker, she’d said. He hadn’t known when he’d picked her up late at nightacross from the DGSI. And yet, he’d struck the jackpot. She’d known Adele.Known Adele’s friends.

Of course, he’d had her company for more than a week now.He’d only intended to keep her for three days, but after the first escapeattempt, followed closely by a second, he’d been required to work a bit harderwith the cafeteria worker. Some potter’s clay was tougher than others, neededmore pressure, more force.

He paused for a moment, some of the moisture from thedampened razor now trickling down his face. He licked his lips and stared intothe mirror.

He heard another whimpering sound and this time lost it.

“God damn it!” he screamed at the top of his lungs,slamming his bony hand against the mirror and shattering it. He cursed, glaringnow at where blood dripped from his knuckles and speckled the porcelain sink. “Damnit,” he repeated, quieter now. The blood poured down his wrist and along hisforearm, dripping off his elbow and spattering on the ground, flecking his baretoes.

“Bitch,” he muttered to himself, growling through clenched teeth.

He stomped away, leaving his clothing on top of the seat.He marched down the hall, approaching the sealed door with the many locks. Themewling was louder now, more a whimper, really.

“Shut up!” he screamed. “Shut up, shut up!” He flung hishand toward the white painted door, sending a spray of blood from his injuredfingers to dapple the doorway itself. He ripped open the bolts, turned thelock, used the final key, and shoved open the door. He jammed his head into theroom, like a gopher emerging in daylight, and screamed, “Shut your damnedmouth!”

A woman sat strapped to a chair. Shivering, gasping,covered in injures of a different variety. No, none of her injuries had comefrom glass. He preferred other tools.

The woman’s eyes were sealed shut, bloody, her lips couldbarely move where she gasped, head tilted in the chair.

Seven days of torture had a way of limiting one’sawareness.

“Honestly,” he said, exhaling now, standing naked in thethreshold of the door. “I thought you were already dead.”

The woman whimpered again, shaking, trying to cry, itseemed, but failing to emit a full sound.

He sighed, staring at her near corpse. Of course, he’druined this canvas. Something about his anger was harder to control when athome. It was easier to manage his emotions when he was out and about. Hesupposed most people had this issue. Manners were best displayed with newcompany, and the devil inside often was witnessed by the closest friends.

Not that he considered the cafeteria worker much of a friend.He hadn’t even properly spent time with her. He’d ruined some of the intricatepatterns. Ripped more than cut in places.

He sighed. “Just die already, will you?” he said. “And inthe meantime, shut the hell up.”

He slammed the