“Hit my lungs about a week ago,” said Robert. “Not much longer now.”
Joseph nodded curtly. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
“I’d like that.”
They stood awkwardly in the entryway for a moment, the Sergeant glancing around at some of the paintings tastefully lining the hall. He didn’t have much patience for paintings. A whole lot of money just for pieces of colored paper as far as he saw it.
He glanced toward the open door to their left, which seemed to lead into a study, with books on shelves and two red leather chairs facing a fireplace.
“Would you like to come sit?” said Robert.
The Sergeant shook his head. “Can’t stay long. I’m leaving to return to Germany early tomorrow.”
“Ah, of course. No worries. Well, then, I of course recognize you, Mr. Sharp. How can I be of service?”
“Well… I don’t know much about service. I heard from my daughter your health was declining. Sorry.”
“It’s quite all right. I’ve made my peace.” He smiled again. “It’s funny how many things used to worry me that now seem so silly.”
“I know what you mean,” said the Sergeant, his tone unwavering, his eyes fixed and gaze firm. He felt a flutter of emotion in his chest, but didn’t quite know what to do with it, so he returned his attention to the small Frenchman. “Your English is really good,” he said.
“Thank you. So is yours.”
“I… I just wanted to stop by… And—” The Sergeant scratched the back of his head, glancing toward the two red leather chairs in the study.
Robert waited patiently, his small arms folded over his chest, the silk of his bathrobe crinkling in folds, suggesting it was a few sizes too large now.
“Elise will make good company, you know,” the Sergeant said gruffly, clearing his throat. “When… well, when you kick it.”
“Kick it?” Henry said, raising an amused eyebrow.
“You know. When you…”
“Die?”
“Yeah. Put in a good word with Elise, could you?” the Sergeant said, reaching out and patting Henry awkwardly on the arm, then withdrawing his hand.
“Ah, the afterlife?”
“Yes,” said the Sergeant entirely unapologetically. “Heaven. If you make it, I’m sure she’ll show you around. Elise was nice like that.”
“Your daughter must have picked up that trait from her.”
The Sergeant hesitated. For a moment, he wondered if Robert was taking a passive-aggressive shot, but the small man was still smiling, and he didn’t seem the sort at first blush. At last, the Sergeant sighed and said, “You’ve been good to my daughter… I just wanted to come by and say… well, that. Since, well, I might not be able to again. I’ve always meant to thank you.”
“Thank me for what?”
The Sergeant felt a spurt of anger, and he wasn’t quite sure why. But he shrugged and shook his head, like a grizzly dislodging droplets from its fur. “Look—Adele and I don’t always see things the same way. She’s a good girl. She needed someone like you, a mentor.”
“You raised an amazing child. That credit goes to you.”
“Mostly her mother, really.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Robert said, smiling. “You both have the same eyes. Same grit.”
The Sergeant paused, feeling a flicker of emotion in his chest. The man’s words—a man he’d just met—shouldn’t matter so much, should they? And yet still, he felt for a moment like he’d just been given a gift. The Sergeant sighed, then said, “Maybe you’re right. I tried. I really did.”
“I believe you,” said Robert with a gentle nod. “I… Speaking of Adele, there’s something I wanted to give her, but I’m just…” He shook his head.
“You can give it to her yourself,” the Sergeant said. “Whatever it is.”
“I’d like to. But I think she’s out on a case and,” Robert swallowed, breathing shallowly a moment to stave off another bout of coughing. “If I’m honest, I don’t know how much longer I have.”
The Sergeant glanced at the frail man. “You look sick, but not that sick. You can hang on a few more days, no?”
Robert chuckled for a moment, shaking his head and muttering beneath his breath.
“What was that?” the Sergeant asked.
“Oh… nothing. Just… Yes, you two are more alike than you know.” He sighed now, and shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll just give it to her myself, I think. I… Well…” He frowned now, shaking his head slowly. “It’s the funniest thing. But I have this feeling… you know… Like I might not see her again.”
The Sergeant waved his hand airily. “Ah, forget about it. You’ll see her. Buck up—she’ll stop by as soon as she’s back. I’m sure she will. I know at least that about my daughter. She’s a loyal sort. A bit emotional at times, but loyal.”
Robert nodded. “Yes, she is that. Well, you’ve convinced me. I’ll hang on to it until I see her in person. Thank you, Joseph.”
The Sergeant coughed hesitantly and shrugged his large shoulders. “Well… Good then. And—yes, thank you. For who you’ve been to her.”
The Sergeant jutted out a hand. Robert reached to take it, but began coughing again and doubled over.
Joseph looked at the old, frail man and sighed. He’d seen so much death that now it almost seemed par for the course. He remembered as a child, how invincible he’d felt, how often he’d simply refused to contemplate what came next…
The Sergeant kept his hand extended, and Robert finally manage to recover, grip it, and murmur in a quiet, strained voice, “The pleasure was mine. Truly. And if what you say is true, Mr. Sharp, I’ll tell Elise you’re thinking of her.”
“Appreciated.”
Then, without further ado, Joseph Sharp turned and pushed out the door, frowning. He wasn’t sure what sort of man Robert really was. But Adele often had a nose for charlatans, and Robert didn’t seem the sort. Even on the verge of death, he offered an attempt at placation. A gift to the Sergeant. And a gift to Adele. He could see in Robert’s eyes he wasn’t so sure about eternity, or anything that lay beyond. But in Joseph Sharp’s opinion, oblivion or otherwise, he’d see his wife again.
That was a matter of fact.
He nodded to himself, giving a half wave as Robert called in farewell, and then marched down the steps, leaving the mansion behind him and heading back toward his waiting taxi.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Adele stood in the dining car, one hand braced against the lacquered counter of the bar, her eyes fixed on the station ahead of them. She felt the train chugging along, the French countryside flitting by as the Normandie Express dipped east of Paris, nearing the German border.
No murders in the night. She had the staff check rooms. Everyone alive and accounted for.
Had they been wrong about this whole enterprise? A murder per day, though, meant today would be the next kill.
Adele frowned as the train began to squeal against the tracks, coming to a halt in the last station before the German border.