Left to Kill (Adele Sharp #4) - Blake Pierce Page 0,78

and yet, still, this was a consideration. Something that often cast suspicion in an investigation. A pitiable thing, for someone’s loneliness to be turned against them, but justice wasn’t known for its mercy.

And Adele didn’t care for it either right now.

Jokes. Switched. Candies. Funny?

She moved to the door, steadied herself, and inhaled deeply. She felt small all of a sudden, standing on her own on the sidewalk, outside the small corner store. The windows glinted, some of them smudged. She could see fingerprints at about waist high where a child had been admiring a red bike in the window.

She pushed open Gobert’s front door. Moved in, the familiar bell jangling above. Her spine prickled at the sound. She’d heard it so much growing up. Memories came back. Most of them pleasant.

Now, though, that was all changing.

She came to a halt in front of the cash register. A woman was checking out, a child at her side tugging at her, pointing to some of the long sticks of candy in the jars on the front counter. The older man behind the counter had a newsboy cap angled over his head, and he was winking at the kid, nodding toward a couple of the licorice sticks.

The kid’s eyes widened behind his mother’s back. He took one of the sticks, and the man held up a finger to his lips and winked. The kid grinned and took another stick, shoving both of the pilfered candies into his pocket behind his mother. The woman paid for her bread and milk, bid farewell, and then turned. Something in Adele’s expression must’ve bothered her because she paused, frowning. She moved her child to the other side, away from Adele, sheltering him. With another couple of furtive glances toward Adele, she clutched her bag of groceries and moved from the store, leaving. Another ring of the small bell.

The older man looked across the counter at Adele. “Yes?” he said. Then his expression brightened. “Ah—hello! I remember you. Just moved in, right? Two weeks ago?”

He smiled genially. Adele was reminded of the older couple back in the cabin. They had been all smiles too.

“Those candies,” Adele said, slowly, “the Carambars…” She pointed toward the offending product.

The man followed her finger and then nodded at the glass mason jar. “Yes, would you like some? How many?”

She shook her head. “Why would you switch the notes?”

The man blinked, his smile diminishing a bit.

Adele stared, deadpan, unblinking. “You would switch the notes. You changed them to meddle with my mother. You taunted her. Scared her. And then you killed her.”

Now, his smile was completely gone. Mr. Gobert just looked at her, stunned. He said, “Excuse me, mademoiselle, are you all right?”

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.” She pointed a finger at him. “Elise Romei. Ten years ago. Murdered. She said someone was switching the notes. On the candies. Someone was changing what was written on the wrappers. I don’t even know what they said.”

Now Mr. Gobert looked like he’d seen a ghost. He stared at Adele, and his jaw unhinged. “I knew I remembered you,” he said, in a sudden spurt of realization. His eyes brightened.

“Do you know anything about it?” she demanded.

He hesitated, distracted, then quickly shook his head. “That nonsense about killing someone? Yes. Of course I deny it. Don’t be silly. But no, I remember you. You’re talking about your mother? Yes? You used to come in here with her. I knew I recognized your name. Adele, right?”

Adele just watched him, her eyes narrowed. Her gaze flicked across his face, along the glass counters, toward the cigarettes behind him, the piles of candies in the jars in front.

Mr. Gobert adjusted his newsboy cap. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t pretending. But he also didn’t look scared, and he didn’t look angry. If anything, it looked like he was pitying her.

This hurt more than anything.

But then he said something that caused her stomach to twist.

“I actually remember your mother complaining once about the candies. I don’t remember exactly what. She seemed to think one of them had been switched. I don’t know. I remember though, because it was such a strange thing to say. Like what you’re saying now. You’re saying someone was switching the jokes?”

Adele looked at him, shrewd, refusing to move an inch. A vague flicker of recollection crossed her mind. Something about Mr. Gobert she remembered from her childhood. He always stayed behind the counter… Once, though, she remembered him coming out… But… but

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