“Are you saying my head is going to roll, Ms. Jayne?”
The Interpol correspondent didn’t hesitate, didn’t apologize, didn’t soften the blow, but also spoke without any malice whatsoever. It was a simple, professional response, like a banker deciding on a loan. She said, “Perhaps mine first. But if mine, then yours too. This killer is attacking the wallets of nations. More than just gawkers on the TV are paying attention now, Adele. We’re talking industries worth billions of dollars. We’re talking curators, and bureaucrats far more powerful than either of us would like to interact with. Suffice it to say, if my head rolls, yours may follow.”
“I hear you. And I’m on it.”
“I certainly hope so. Good luck, good day, Agent Sharp. Solve this one, and quick. And don’t be so arrogant to think you are the only one who can know a killer’s motive. If it’s tourism, investigate that.”
Adele cleared her throat. “I will leave no stone unturned, ma’am.”
“Good.”
Ms. Jayne hung up. And yet, as Adele stood, listening to nothing, she couldn’t help but shake off the thin layer of sweat slicking her brow, and the shroud of anxiety pressing against her shoulders. Where money was involved, power was often hiding. Where power was involved, motives were often unclear. This killer was attacking tourist industries. The Sistine Chapel, Notre Dame, and now, the Acropolis. Would the ripple effects of fear cost the countries millions? Billions? Who knew? Whatever the case, fears were rising, lives were on the line. And if Ms. Jayne got in trouble because Adele was too slow to solve this, undoubtedly Adele would be shoved into the same boat, sent into dark waters, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
Adele returned to the crime scene, frowning, a lump in her throat.
Leoni watched as she approached, standing in the dusty ruins. “Everything all right?”
“Fine, fine,” she murmured, waving a hand beneath her chin. She frowned, thinking of Ms. Jayne’s words. Thinking of how this might look to everyone watching if she failed. They’d wanted her by name, but she was sleeping on the job. She needed to solve this one.
“What is it?”
Adele sighed. “We need to go over our notes again. Carefully—meticulously. No shortcuts. As in now… There’s nothing more for us here. Let’s go.”
Leoni nodded, falling into step as Adele turned to march away, past the media frenzy. “All right,” he said as they moved, “I know just the place.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Another café. Again recommended by Agent Leoni
This time, they were sitting inside, and though a couple of others were on the patio seating, the interior of the small café, which was only a five-minute drive from her hotel, was neat, quaint, smelled of sugar cookies, and, in Adele’s assessment, far more importantly, was nearly abandoned.
It wasn’t that the business was struggling to find customers, but rather that most of the customers seemed to come in, grab their paper bags rolled at the top, with their initials marked against the order, and then leave beneath the quiet, tinkling bells over the door.
Each time this happened, Adele would shiver. She wasn’t sure why, until she remembered Gobert’s. The small corner shop her mother used to frequent a decade ago. The same shop where the Carambars had been found. The same shop Adele had investigated.
She shivered as another customer left the café, clutching their brown bag.
In front of her, Adele had a small egg sandwich and a half-sipped cup of espresso.
Agent Leoni sat opposite her in the corner booth, his shoulders pressed against the red and white striped cushion seating. He was staring at his laptop, fingers delicately tapping against the keys.
He frowned as he cycled through the information, reviewing the case. Adele, for her part, had left her laptop back at the hotel. She was cycling through her phone, reviewing the crime scene photos and then moving over to the case files.
They had been sitting in silence for nearly half an hour since the food had arrived. This seemed to suit Leoni just fine. He had the air of a man secure in himself. He didn’t seem to need her attention, but neither did he shun it when it was given. Something about the self-security, the self-confidence, manifested in silence only annoyed Adele.
And yet, every time he glanced at her, looking at her with his deep, dark gaze, his perfectly sculpted jaw set beneath his Superman curl, as if he were lost in thought, she found the annoyance melt and give way to something else… a curiosity
Agent Leoni caught her looking a bit too long, a moment later, and glanced up. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
Adele didn’t look away, lest it look like she’d been caught in the middle of staring, and instead asked, “What do you think of my theory?”
A moment passed but then he looked back at the laptop. His expression was emotionless, placid, peaceful. He said, softly, “Which theory?”
“The one about the tourist angle?”
Leoni regarded her again. There was something fascinating about his features, and the way the sunlight streaked through the window and caught his eyes, casting half his face with yellow streaks through the glass while burying the rest in shadow. “I think you might be onto something,” he said. “Perhaps tourism isn’t the only angle. The religious symbology is hard to ignore.”
Adele tapped her nose, pointing at Leoni. “Exactly. The riddle this time is as confusing as the previous one.”
Leoni pursed his lips, then recited from memory. “Round eyes in round hands, my longing for you has grown, squares in circles once, my heart is cast in stone.” As far as Adele could tell, he’d only read the riddle once. A photographic memory? She wouldn’t have been surprised. Adele mulled over the riddle herself.
“What do you think the round eyes in round hands means?” she said.
Leoni shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps something to do with the nature of the location itself. A circular pool? A large bay window?”
Adele nibbled her lip. “Maybe a statue?”
Leoni shrugged.
Adele groaned. “It could mean any number of things.”
The Italian glanced back at his computer, then his eyes flicked to her phone. “Did you try searching?”
Adele shook her head, but considered this. It wasn’t a bad idea. Nowadays, almost everything could be found on the Internet. It was like having an entire library in her pocket. She glanced through the phone, cycling toward the Internet browser. Then, focusing on the riddle in her mind, she picked out the key phrases.
“If you use quotation marks around phrases,” said Agent Leoni, “it’ll search for the entire phrase, rather than just the words.”
Adele nodded as she typed in the first line of the riddle. “Round eyes in round hands.” She pressed enter and searched the results in the engine. Nothing. She skipped to the next page of the search results, and then the next.
But nothing stood out.
She frowned, focusing, and then picked at the next conspicuous phrasing. A bit more confusing, in her estimation, but important too. The final line of the riddle. “My heart is cast in stone…” This time she typed it again, putting the phrase in parentheses. She pressed enter.
As she did, she began to scroll the results, and she found Leoni watching her this time. She glanced up, and this time he was the one to look away quickly.