Adele wrinkled her nose. “His name is Buggo?”

  John snorted. “No, that’s just what we call him because of his eyes—you’ll see.”

  Adele glanced at the clock on the dash. By the time they took a flight back to Paris to meet this contact of Renee’s, it would be well past one in the morning.

  “Exactly how late does this guy work?”

  Renee was already procuring his phone with a knowing nod. “As late as needed if you know what to say. I’ll make a call. You book the flight.”

  Adele gave her assent to this work distribution by flashing a thumbs-up and returning her attention to her own cellular device. She felt as if they had fresh wind in their sails. Now they just needed a little direction.

  The killer was striking rapidly, one day after the next… which meant they had to be faster still. Sleep would have to wait.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Adele couldn’t stifle the yawn this time as she followed Agent Renee down the dingy Parisian sidewalk in one of the more cramped sections of the city. The usual farm of large, blocky, beige buildings and oversized streets was now replaced by geometrical patterns of city planning, which created long chutes of streets and cramped sidewalks tended to by the moist air from the river.

  Ahead, a small path led beyond a bus stop missing half its steel partitions. John took the steps with sure-footed motions, and Adele followed cautiously behind him. A bridge spanned the river, arching above them. The water itself was dark and caught stray reflections from tall buildings and winking stars. Otherwise, the water just moved along in quiet, swirling patterns, unobtrusive as it went its merry way.

  Adele yawned again, holding a hand to her lips and glancing at her phone, as she didn’t wear a watch. The flight, the taxi, the trek… it was now nearly 3 a.m.

  “Christ,” Adele murmured, staring at her phone. “You sure this guy is still up?”

  John walked with long, rolling steps ahead of her, carving the way toward his contact. He pointed with a long finger toward a small houseboat jouncing on the faint current, attached to metal posts beneath the bridge.

  Adele stared at the wooden houseboat. It was hard to determine a color in the poor light, but the top half looked something like a double-sized garden shed with a slanted roof. The boat itself curved up on either side, creating a large, bulbous front portion, compared to a sleek, boxy back section. Adele had never spent much time with nautical terms like port, starboard, stern… She’d heard them, knew of them, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to set foot on that treacherous-looking thing.

  “Did you tell him to wait for us?” Adele said, walking brusquely along the river path in her efforts to reach the boat.

  John hesitated, scratching his chin. “Ah… I mentioned I might have some business for him.”

  Adele shot her partner a look. “The jewelry thief?”

  “A fence, technically.”

  “What sort of business would you have, Renee?”

  “I didn’t give my name. If I’d given my name he would’ve refused to meet… or set up an ambush.”

  Adele went very still, reaching out and snaring Renee’s sleeve. She looked him dead in the eyes. “Ambush?” she said testily.

  John waved away her concern with a flutter of his fingers. “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. “It’s fine… well… mostly.” Renee swallowed, shooting a look back at the houseboat. “I mean, it’s not like he knew it was me on the phone.” Renee tried to flash what he seemed to think was a charming smile. It only managed to further frazzle her nerves.

  Adele shook her head, muttering darkly. “Ambush…” she said beneath her breath. “Just great.”

  She approached far more slowly now. Hand on her holster as she cautiously drew nearer the illegally moored vessel.

  John went more quiet the nearer they came. He often got like this when on the alert for danger. And while it always felt good to have John at her side in dangerous situations, Adele was having a hard time thinking straight. The pain in her side was pulsing with each step. Her exhausted form and mind were desperate for sleep.

  If John’s fence did ambush them, it might prove a welcome respite. Ending up in a hospital bed didn’t sound so bad. It had the word “bed” in it, after all.

  As they reached the boat, coming to a stop by the rail, a light suddenly flashed over a doorway in the main shed-like structure centering the vessel.

  A single, naked bulb pulsed two times over the door.

  Adele froze. John stared.

  Adele recovered first, whispering, “Is that some sort of code? What’s the response?”

  John looked as if he’d been called on in class while passing notes to his crush. He stammered, stared, then muttered, “Dunno.”

  “John!”

  He shrugged.

  The light flashed again, more urgently this time. John gave a faint shake of his head, sighed heavily, then stepped onto the boat. Due to the massive man’s size, the vessel swayed and rocked a bit. The light bulb over the doorway no longer flashed.

  Adele stared past Renee, eyes fixed on the entryway to the main compartment.

  No further sights or sounds.

  Once she felt the coast was clear, Adele reached out, fingers against the spray-dappled metal rail. She hopped nimbly over, her feet hitting the wooden deck with a thunk. Thankfully, the boat didn’t rock nearly as much at her arrival.

  For a moment, the two of them stood on the deck, facing the doorway. Adele hesitated, then murmured, “Can you give him a call? Tell him we’re here?”

  John wrinkled his nose, his features cast in shadow. “I… I’m like fifty percent sure we’re on the right boat.”

  She turned to look him full in the face. “We might not be on the right—”

  Suddenly, the door slammed open, the wooden frame striking the wall with a loud bang. A figure emerged from inside, a weapon gripped tightly in his hand, aimed toward the two of them. “Definitely not the right boat, Johnny!” the man shouted as he stepped onto the deck. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  The man’s voice was an octave higher than Adele had expected. He had long, stringy hair like a sweaty metal guitar player. He was bare-chested, boasting a skinny, rail-thin body. His eyes were larger than any she’d ever seen, bugging from their sockets. Every time he blinked, it was as if the orbs flashed out of view, then returned again like headlights on an oncoming car.

  These large, bulging eyes moved from John to Adele and back. The gun, though, remained fixed on Renee.

  “Um, hey, Buggo!” John said, giving a little wave. He didn’t sound too perturbed by the gun waving in his face. “Nice to see you again, bud.”

  “Shut up!” the high-pitched voice retorted. “We’re not buds. You sunk my last house!”

  John gave a nervous chuckle. “I… ah… I forgot about that.” He whispered to Adele, “This is the right place.”

  Adele’s own hand hovered along her weapon. She waited, watching, tense. She didn’t reply to Renee. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He’d been doing his best to protect her, to keep an eye on her. So she knew whatever he’d brought her into wasn’t a threat as far as Renee’s calculations went.

  Then again, John didn’t always define words like “danger” or “threat-level” the same as most. And now, the harmless fence who was supposed to help them solve their case looked ready to put a couple of holes through her partner.

  As the boat rocked and swayed, and occasional flecks of chill liquid splashed over the rail, Adele watched for any opportunity in case Buggo decided to lower his weapon.

  John was still speaking, though, clearly attempting to defuse the situation. “Look, man,” John said, “I’m not here to sink your house again. I actually have a job for you.”

  The stringy-haired man with the gun just glared at this suggestion. “I don’t need your work!” he said with a shout. “I know better than to work with the mob now. Thanks to you.”

  Adele shot John a look. “The mob?” she mouthed.

  Renee winced. “Ah, yeah, about that, Buggo—I’m not with LaGrange’s outfit. That was a farce. A ruse. Pretend. I’m actually a DGSI agent.” John said this last part with a dramatic pause and faint tilt of his eyebrows.

  The fence just stared, licking his lips nervously. “What’s Dijesay? New gang?”

  “No. DGSI,” John said, slower. “A federal agency. I’m a cop. This is my partner, Agent Sharp.”

  Adele flashed a thumbs-up if only to have something to do.

  The man stared at both of them, mouth unhinged. “You’re a cop?” he said.

  John nodded. “I can show you my badge and everything.”

  “I don’t buy it! No way! You’re as crooked as they come. I saw you kill that man!”

  “Buggo, I was working undercover. That man was a CI. He’s doing quite alright and living happily on a beach somewhere. I’m not here to arrest you. I genuinely have work. Paid work.”

  At the mention of pay, the fence’s mood slowly shifted. He let out a faint sigh, running a hand through his greasy hair. Then he lowered the gun. It took Adele a second to realize her mistake as Buggo pulled the trigger.

  Instead of a blast, there was a soft splash as liquid sloshed across the deck.

  A water pistol painted black.

  Buggo chuckled at the looks on their faces. “A guy can never be too sure,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “But I’m going to need to see that badge, or you two can get the hell off my boat. And I’m calling this in—you might be pretty to look at, Johnny, but I don’t trust you an inch.”

  Adele sighed, waiting as Renee fished his badge from his pocket and held it up so Buggo could see. The man clicked something in his pocket and the lightbulb above his head turned on. The illumination cast a shadow toward Renee, but also shone on the identification in his large hand.

  John’s contact leaned in, studying the information. Adele yawled again, her hand relaxed on her holster now. At least it didn’t look like they were going to get shot. But she was having trouble keeping her eyes open, though the same couldn’t be said for the fence.

  His orb-like eyes blinked a couple more times, like a camera lens, taking in the ID. He glanced at Adele, at her weapon, at her suit. Then he let out a faint, shuddering sigh.

  “Shit,” he said. “You’re really a cop?”

  John nodded.

  “So Santo is still alive? For real?”

  John nodded again.

  Buggo looked happy about this news. He nodded once. “Good. I liked the guy. Shit—well, fine. Paid job, you said. What can I do for you, Johnny?”

  Agent Renee just pointed a finger at Adele. It took her a second to realize this was her cue. Adele quickly pulled her phone from her pocket, cycled through to the high-definition coroner pictures, and said, “We need you to take a look at something for us. Images of jewelry.”

  The man chuckled, rubbing his hands against each other. “Shit, jewelry is something of my specialty, sweet thing. Has Johnny told you about me?”

  Adele shook her head. “No, sweetie,” she replied sarcastically. “He hasn’t. Just so you know, the images aren’t very nice.”

  She turned the phone toward the man. The moment she did, he let out a squawk like a crow and cursed. His face went pale. For a moment, he couldn’t seem to look away, his gaze fixated on the images.

  Adele cycled through the picture of the anklet and the finger. She didn’t show the ear, as the markings were nearly nonexistent.

  “That,” he said, pointing after a moment, “isn’t jewelry. Is this a threat?”

  “Not a threat,” Adele said wearily. “We don’t have the jewelry. We were wondering…” She swallowed, realizing how silly it sounded now that she was saying it out loud. But they’d come this far, stayed up this late… it was still worth a shot. “Wondering if you might know what sort of jewelry these women were wearing.”

  “I don’t see women,” he muttered back. “I see a science experiment…” But he trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. “Fine, fine,” he muttered. “One moment. Let me see.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a pair of spectacles. He perched these on his jutting nose, only further magnifying his oversized eyeballs. His thin bony bare chest went still as he held his breath, like a sniper before a shot.

  Focused, he peered in, reaching out suddenly and grabbing her wrist to hold it in place. She tensed against his cold, clammy touch, but it looked as if he were simply trying to stabilize the image. Nose only a few inches away, he studied the pictures. He swiped from one to the next, muttering darkly and shaking his head. At last, he let out a sigh, looking up.

  “I… just so we’re clear,” he said, “these are body parts. You can’t judge my expertise based on—”

  “Not here to judge you,” John called from behind Adele. “Just looking for a bit of help.”

  “Yeah? And how you going to pay me, big guy?”

  “We have a whole branch of our office for that,” John returned. “I’ll give you a number. Now focus—is there anything about those pictures that stands out? You saw the tan lines, right?”

  “Yeah—dummy. That’s not the problem. I saw the anklet mark and the wedding band. I also know that ivy pattern—you can tell by the leaf-shape protrusions. It’s a unique one. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “Hang on,” Adele interrupted. “Leaf protrusions? What’s that?”

  He hesitated, biting back an acerbic remark toward Renee and instead glancing at her once more. “That,” he said delicately, “can show up in a couple of patterns…” He muttered beneath his breath quickly, saying things like, “Gauging for faceting volume, or if there’s black opal… well, no—because that’s clearly not a crescent clasp. Shit… What’s that?” He leaned in again, eyes blinking behind his enormous spectacles.

  He let out a sigh, twisting his head one way, then the next.

  “What?” Adele asked, her voice tinged with excitement. “Do you know what it is?”

  He looked up with a snort. “Hell no,” he snapped. “It’s a damn tan line, sweetie. What do you think I’m gonna find? But… well, I can’t tell you the type of jewelry. And I can tell you that whatever it was, both items came from the same line. Or at least similar. How come you don’t have the jewelry itself?”

  He glanced between the two of them, his eyes magnified to such proportions behind those glasses that he looked something like a barn owl, staring at them.

  “It was taken,” Adele said curtly. “But back to the other part. What do you mean same line?”

  “Oh.” He waved airily. “I mean that the patterns match. See?” He pointed at the severed ankle. Swiped his finger along the screen and indicated the ring mark. “There’s that little protrusion at the top. But then also at the bottom on the back. Leaves. Or vines. Or something similar. It’s a pretty common pattern, except not with the crescent clasp.” He pointed again. “I can’t tell you much else. I don’t know the material. Don’t know if there were stone settings. Shit, I can’t even tell you if this stuff is worth a buck. But there it is…” He trailed off and added a shrug for good measure.

  Adele felt a flicker of excitement rising once more. “So,” she said, pressing, “if they’re both from the same line, what line is it?”

  “Oh… I mean… I could come up with a list. But there’s a lot of companies that make anklets and rings with vine patterns.”

  Her heart fell at this declaration. She tried to think through what she was being told. It didn’t make much sense. The killer was targeting based on some stupid leafy pattern? Why so particular? She let out a huff of air. “Well,” she said, “what about these?”

  She cycled through the images to the jewelry items that had been left on the victims. All of them sitting in plastic Tupperware on metal trolleys.

  Now, the fence’s gaze brightened. He gave a cursory little lick of his lips and smirked. “Well,” he murmured, “now we’re talking.” He tried to take her phone for a closer look but this time Adele slapped his hand. He winced but kept studying the images. “Those,” he said, pointing to a couple of the second victim’s earrings, “are butterflies with rubies in each wing. Not the most expensive, but nice. That one, however,” he said, pointing to a wedding ring, “is at least ten thousand, easy.” He snorted. “Man, is that why you’ve come? Wanna make a little change on the side, Johnny?”

  Renee just rolled his eyes, his features illuminated in the glow from the light over the door. But Adele was shaking her head now. “Hang on, so some of the items he left behind were valuable?”

  “Psh. I’d say. Very nice stuff. Why? I… I didn’t sell any of this, did I?” he said, suddenly, panicked. “Shit—is this a sting?”

  “No,” Adele said, exhausted. “I…” She trailed off, desperately trying to piece it all together. Their killer was taking certain jewelry but leaving others. He had a penchant for this particular pattern, whatever it was… So financial gain was clearly out as a motive. But they’d already determined burglary was off the table.

  She clicked her tongue, then had a sudden hunch. Jewelry lines generally distributed multiple types of ornamentation in their lines. But some excluded certain types. Anklets, for instance, were not a very common adornment.

  She said, “So this vine pattern… are there any lines that include earrings and anklets and rings? Specifically wedding rings.”

  Now, the man was frowning at her. “Earrings? What earring?”

  “It’s not shown yet. We only just found a cartilage piercing. But focus—is there anything like that?”

  “A line that also includes…” He Paused, then suddenly clicked his fingers. “I mean… well, I can think of two. But one of them is based in the United States.”

  “Forget about that one,” Adele said quickly. “Not unless it would commonly sell here.”

  “French buying American wedding bands?” he snorted. “Please. No… not common at all.”

  “So what’s this second brand?”

 

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