Left to Fear (An Adele Sharp Mystery—Book Ten) by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2021-07-26T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Adele was glad the employee break room had been cleared, but it still smelled vaguely of smoke, though the porthole window was open above a round, felted table next to a large vending machine only half stocked with protein bars.

John had refused to use his own handcuffs on the porter, citing the potential for rust. So now the man sat, with his arms behind him, thrown over a spindle-backed wooden chair. The porter's pockmarked features twisted, and he had a wincing, ducking way about him as his eyes twitched around the break room. For a moment, he paused, peering towards the door which led back out onto the deck.

Adele knew they wouldn't be disturbed, however, as two uniforms were now posted outside. Mr. Larsen had tried to enter, most likely to sit in on the interrogation. But though he was a lawyer and a liaison for the company, he didn't represent Mr. Manet, and Adele had denied him entry.

Now, she studied the porter, frowning to herself slightly. A grey Tupperware, which they'd taken from the kitchen, sat in front of her. And her fingers rested over the lip, hovering above the glittering items in the tray.

John stood off to the side, behind the man for no other reason than to cast his long shadow over the fellow and put him off guard.

“I can explain...” The porter said, breaking the long silence. He spoke French well enough, hoping, it seemed, to get into their good graces by using their country of origin. His tongue darted out, like a gecko's, dabbed at his lip, then retreated as he gave another long puff of air.

“Explain why you ran?” Adele said, softly, “Or why we found stolen jewelry on your person.” Her fingers now probed into the grey Tupperware, swirling a necklace of pearls about, and tapping a finger against a silver wristwatch, two of the larger items among an ensemble of earrings, necklaces, and rings.

“I... I can explain,” he said, hurriedly.

“You keep saying that, but don't ever get to the part where you do so. I'm waiting.”

The porter sighed again, shaking his head and tilting back so he was staring at the ceiling for a moment as if gathering himself. He continued to twitch, his eyes darting nervously about even when focused on nothing more than the painted beams.

“I knew about the murders,” he said, quickly, clipped, his words starting then stalling in a rhythm like a failing engine. “I did—I knew... But...” he winced. “I didn't... I mean to say, I knew how it would look.”

“How what would look,” Adele pressed, deadeyed.

“You know...” he tried to move his hands, but then winced as they strained against her cuffs. “This... being on those boats, telling no one. I just knew it'd look fishy.”

“That doesn't explain why you ran.”

The man snorted and dipped his sandy-blonde hair towards the grey tray with the jewelry. He twisted his head side to side as if balancing a scale. “That does.”

“The stolen jewelry.”

“I never said it was stolen.

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