by Blake Pierce
The preservationist didn’t blink, didn’t move. He remained rooted in place.
“You can’t expect to get away with it,” Paige pressed, leaning in now, her shadow swelling across his cautious form. “Why not just come clean. Tell us why you did it. Then you can speak with anyone you want. Do you have family, Gregor? Anyone who misses you, waiting to see you? We can bring this to a quick close if you just speak honestly with us. Well? How about it?”
Adele had to hand it to Paige. The way she moved her whole body while interrogating the suspect suggested years of practice. She transitioned seamlessly from overbearing and firm to accommodating and considerate. She used the light shining above her like a sort of spotlight, moving her body nearly imperceptibly to allow more or less light past her shoulders as she pressed for information.
The whole effect was dramatic.
And yet, Gregor Lavigne remained silent, staring stonily ahead.
Paige glanced up at Adele in exasperation, shrugging nearly imperceptibly. Adele swallowed, stepping in now, trying not to betray her emotions. One hand emerged from her pocket, carrying Mr. Lavigne’s rosary, dangling the beads in front of his nose and allowing the small wooden cross to shift back and forth.
“Is this what the Lord would have wanted?” Adele said.
Perhaps a low blow, to go after a man based on his faith. But wasn’t that exactly what the killer had been doing? Besides, her intent wasn’t to disrespect the cross, but to jar Mr. Lavigne out of his seeming vow of silence.
And… as the rosary dangled before his nose, the tactic seemed to work.
He blinked briefly, his eyes darting to the side for a moment, before returning to attention, staring straight ahead. He swallowed softly and gave a quick shake of his head. “That’s mine,” he said.
“Ah, our little fox can speak,” declared Agent Paige, slapping a hand on the table again. “I wasn’t sure. Well, little fox, can you tell us why it is you were heading to Spain?”
“Lawyer,” Mr. Lavigne said firmly.
“He’s on his way. Now you answer one of my questions.”
“Lawyer.”
“Is that really how you want to play it?” Adele asked, still holding the rosary in front of the man’s nose. “Are you truly the sort to protect buildings, old structures, instead of people? To prey on the helpless?”
He glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “Lawyer.”
Adele felt a flutter of frustration, but forced herself to keep her cool. If Agent Paige could keep from flying off the handle, then so could Adele. Still, Mr. Lavigne had more patience than she would have liked. Then again, after reading his file she supposed this made sense.
Once, on a trespassing rap, he’d chained himself to an old building ready for demolition. He’d stayed that way for three days and nights, peeing into bottles and refusing to eat or drink anything. He’d only left after falling unconscious from sunstroke and being cut free by local police and taken to the hospital.
Mr. Lavigne clearly was determined in his cause. Fanatical, some might say. Though Adele would be lying if she didn’t say she respected him at least a little. Few people were as disciplined or focused when it came to the things they claimed to care about.
Now, though, had that fanaticism, that dedication, turned into something… more violent? She still couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t admitted anything, nor had he denied it. He’d simply clammed up, demanding his lawyer.
She continued dangling the rosary in front of him, staring at the cross and giving it a little shake. “Does your faith approve of murdering old women? Is that the God you serve?”
Her words had their intended effect. His eyes widened and he turned on her sharply, gritting his teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, help me understand then.”
“Lawyer!”
“Mr. Lavigne, surely you can see—”
“Lawyer!”
“Why did you kill them, Mr. Lavigne? They didn’t do anything to you! What was their crime, hmm? Protecting land—was that it? Some sort of sick retribution? Is that why you strangled them with this.” She gave the rosary another little shake.
At this final declaration, though, Mr. Lavigne seemed genuinely taken aback. “Law—hang on, what? Don’t be insane. That’s for prayer.”
“Not for everyone. Not for the man killing women who live on land you tried to buy.”
“Lawyer!”
At just that moment, there came a knock on the door.
Three sets of eyes spun around, witnessed by the blinking red camera over the mirror, and the vibrant fluorescent lights spanning the room.
A man in a police uniform poked around the edge of the steel door, wincing apologetically. “Sorry, Agent Paige,” he said, quickly. “Just popping in as you requested. Mr. Lavigne’s lawyer is running late. Caught in traffic. Should be another hour or so.”
Paige flashed a thumbs-up and a quick wink, which Adele briefly noticed. She frowned. Paige had been the one who said Lavigne’s lawyer was on the way. Had she delayed calling the man, though?
Adele felt a flicker of unease. She supposed the less she knew, the better. Lives were on the line…
Then again, isn’t that what everyone said to justify breaking the rules?
She sighed, returning her attention to Mr. Lavigne, whose expression had turned sour at the news. He continued staring stonily at the mirror again, it seemed, settling into a quiet stupor.
Adele sighed, letting the rosary fall from her hand and piling with quiet plinking sounds against the metal table. She lifted her hand then, shaking a finger slowly.
“Three murders in such short time,” she said. “And we have the proof it was you. Why not save us the trouble?”
Mr. Lavigne stared at her. His eyes flicked to the door for a moment, then darted down to the rosary between his chained hands. He coughed briefly, clearing his throat, and said, “You and I both know this is simply harassment. Who put you up to it, hmm? Mr. Durand? Mr. Becker? One of the other soulless firms? Isn’t it enough you had me fired last year?”
“I thought you were traveling for work,” Adele murmured.
He snorted. “New job. Selling damn insurance. First my job, now you have to come after my freedom too? Is it because you know you’re doing wrong? You know you’re turning sacred land for coin?” He shook his head in disgust, sneering in a very Paigesque fashion.
Adele blinked against this sudden tirade. It hadn’t been in his nature to speak up until now. As he did, though, she felt a flicker of uncertainty bolt across her stomach.
“What do you mean?” she pressed. “We’re not here for anyone but ourselves. We’re investigating a serial murderer.”
“So you said,” he scoffed. “I know a set-up when I see it.” He stared straight at the blinking camera above Adele now. “Hear me?” he called, raising his voice. “Whoever is trying to railroad me—I’ll fight. Don’t think I won’t. The truth will set me free. You will one day face the Lord—don’t doubt it! Liars never prosper!” He shook his head angrily, spitting out these last words, droplets of saliva arching beneath the bright lights and scattering across the metal table. He shifted, his cuffed hands dragging the chain through the loop of metal with a scraping sound as he pressed his shoulders back against the chair.
“That’s what you think is happening?” Adele said. “You think we’re trying to set you up?”
“He’s acting,” Paige snapped. “Don’t believe a thing this killer says. I see right through you, Gregor. Don’t think I don’t.”
He sniffed, shaking his head now. The knowledge his lawyer was tardy seemed to have loosened his lips a bit. He swallowed and muttered a couple of times before turning to Adele and saying, firmly, “I’ve never killed anyone. If you’re being honest—if you really think I had something to do with a crime, just know wherever you got your information is false. Mr. Becker, Mr. Durand, Ms. Reber… Any of them? They all would love to see me come crashing down. One of them acc
used me, yes? Without a shred of proof, no doubt.”
Adele swallowed, trying to track the conversation. Clearly, Mr. Lavigne was furious. At first, she’d taken the anger directed at her for some sort of shtick. Now, though, she was beginning to wonder. What was making him so furious?
“You think this is a set-up, then? Are you denying the murders?”
“I just did, didn’t I? I’ve never killed anyone. This is all about money. That’s what it is. They know that I’m petitioning the government about that cathedral they’ve turned into an office complex. Just like the Lord driving out the money changers and lenders, so I will bring this to every government and authority until we have that space cleared out. As God is my witness, we will.” The bearded man bobbed his head quickly, the visible portion of his scalp beneath his comb-over flashing sweaty beneath the bright lights.
“You flew to Bristol a week ago,” Agent Paige said, firmly, lifting her phone and studying the information they’d been provided. “You then took a flight to Italy. You could easily have driven to Germany from there, couldn’t you have?”
“Germany?” He blinked. “I was in Germany recently, so what? I fly for work.”
“Work?” Paige snorted. “Is that what you call it?”
Her words were riling him up again, but once more Adele saw the sense in it. Mr. Lavigne was beginning to lose his cool, and the more angry he got, the more he seemed willing to talk.
“Yes,” he snapped. “I’m a historian. I work as a preservationist for landmarks, land, and monuments. Specifically related to the church. I don’t just care about French history, but European history. So yes, I travel sometimes.”
“You only just got back two days ago.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I travel a lot. Can you think of anything… Oh, I don’t know, particularly religious that might be in Italy? Any guesses?”
“Don’t get lippy,” Agent Paige snapped.
Adele watched the exchange, trying to make sense of it. They’d gone through Mr. Lavigne’s flight records. It was true, he’d traveled a lot in this last month. The first murder had been in London, about the same time he’d flown into Bristol. He could have easily driven the distance, hoping to throw police of his tracks. Granted, he hadn’t flown to Germany, but driving from Italy seemed the most likely solution.
Adele didn’t blink, staring at the side of the bearded, self-proclaimed historian’s face. He was full of bluster and rage, but that didn’t make him a killer.
“Give me your word,” Adele said suddenly, staring from the rosary to Mr. Lavigne. “Swear on your faith that you didn’t kill anyone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The moment she said it she blinked, surprised at the words. The flashing camera light above her seemed conspicuous all of a sudden, but she let the words linger, allowing them to fill the strained gap of silence now extending over the room.
Mr. Lavigne blinked, glaring at her now and turning from Paige. Adele didn’t look away. She held his gaze, her own expression just as sincere.
As they exchanged furious looks, Mr. Lavigne’s expression began to shift. Some of the fury fled his eyes, and his eyebrows began to twitch up ever so slightly. He swallowed once, frowning in confusion now. It was an odd thing to see a man’s emotions switch so completely.
A second longer passed and he glanced from Adele to the rosary and back. Suddenly, his twitching eyebrows rose completely, and his mouth formed a small circle.
“Dear Lord,” he murmured… “Wait, are you serious? Hang on—this isn’t… You’re not just here because…” He coughed. He turned frantically now, glancing from Paige to Adele, blinking as he did as if suddenly waking from a dream.
At the same time, blood seemed to flee his cheeks. His expression paled completely and he began to stammer, muttering as he did. “Wait—wait, h-hang on. Hold on one moment. You’re actually with DGSI?”
Adele stared in confusion. “Yes. What did you think we were?”
“I… I thought you were…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Now his features were completely pale. “All that stuff…about murders? You’re serious?” He strained this last word, his tonal inflection rising an octave.
“As the grave,” Paige snapped.
Adele watched as pieces fell into place across Mr. Lavigne’s countenance. He was a paranoid man, no doubt. Odd and unusual. She supposed one would have to be to choose his thankless line of work. She didn’t doubt there had been run-ins with powerful real estate developers or financial firms in the past. By the sound of things he’d had more than one altercation.
Had he really mistaken this interview as some sort of strong-arming tactic? Coming after him because of his work?
Adele had faced paranoid killers before…
But just as possible: paranoid and innocent.
She tapped a finger against the metal table, causing the beads of the rosary to rattle. “This is no joke, Mr. Lavigne. We’ve had murders in the same countries you’ve visited these last two weeks. The timeline of your travels perfectly matches the itinerary of our killer. The victims in question all live in a twenty-mile radius of your home—or at least own property. You’ve had altercations with them before and have proven to stoop as low as arson.”
He snorted. “That old thing from seven years ago? I told them then—I was told the building was slated for destruction that week. A lie by Etienne Durand to try to get me thrown in jail. Do you know the man?”
Adele shook her head. “It’s not relevant if I know him. I don’t care about the arson per se. What I care about is that.” She pointed at his rosary. “The murder weapon.”
He slumped now in his chair, his hands flat on the table all of a sudden, his knuckles as pale as his cheeks. “I—I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “You—you can’t possibly believe—you don’t really think—”
“How about you tell us your version of events,” Agent Paige said quickly. “What were you in Bristol for? Why did you then fly to Italy?”
“Business!” he exclaimed, his voice like the yowl of a cat whose tail has been stepped on. “All of it business! I have the itinerary in my phone. Meetings—all meetings. Once with a historian’s guild, another time with a group of young preservationists. All above board. I have itineraries, phone calls, and names. Tons of names who can vouch for me!” He nodded quickly, wagging his head. “You have to believe me!”
“What times?” Paige pressed.
“Oh… I—let’s see.” He glanced off now, closing his eyes in thought. Words were coming quickly. His demeanor having shifted entirely. Another ploy? More acting? Or a paranoid man reaching an obvious explanation?
He coughed and said… “Bristol, probably from ten in the morning until nearly nine at night!” He said this as if he were declaring a victor in some race. “And… and Italy… I was north of the Vatican. Not far, mind you. Near Rome at times. But mostly taxi drives from one site to another. I have receipts too!”
“What times?” Adele pressed.
“At least until ten at night,” he said quickly, wagging his head and breathing slowly in relief. “Yes, at least until ten. Nine and ten both places at the latest.”
Adele considered Germany for a moment, but set it aside instead to think. She considered the details of the case, studied Mr. Lavigne. He seemed sincere. But sincerity wasn’t exculpatory. Liars were often sincere.
Plus… though he provided promises of an alibi of receipts of witnesses of meetings…
The alibi was for the exact wrong time frame.
“The murders happened late at night,” Adele said, quietly. “One after midnight, another just before… You would still have had plenty of time, Mr. Lavigne.”
He paled at these words, gasping now. “I—I didn’t do it.”
“We don’t believe you,” Agent Paige snapped. “If you have no alibi, no witnesses at that time of night…”
“My hotel…” he said, trailing off. “Well… at least, I’m sure they would have seen me.
I—well, I did get back late one of the nights. But that was just from the drive. I stopped for food. I—I have receipts for that too, I’m sure.” He seemed to be panicking, stuttering and shaking his head now, his eyes wide. “Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t kill anyone. I never have. I—I swear! I swear!”
Adele shared a long look with Agent Paige across Mr. Lavigne’s head, their eyes meeting. Adele quirked an eyebrow and Paige glanced toward the video camera above the table, giving the faintest shakes of her head.
Adele sighed but nodded once. She turned on her heel and began to move toward the door, closing her eyes to think.
Just another move, another attempt to jar him, to loosen his lips. Now fear had given way to panic. Panicked people spoke. Often more than they should. Adele still wasn’t certain if Mr. Lavigne’s lawyer had been delayed, or intentionally waylaid. Now, her only focus was on stopping another murder.
If they had the right guy, then this was already over…
What if you don’t? a voice murmured in her mind. Adele winced, pausing now by the door, giving Mr. Lavigne a moment to witness her retreat, to raise fear in his chest.
She paused long enough to hear him blurt out, “I swear it on my faith! That’s what you wanted, no? I didn’t kill anyone! I swear it on the Lord himself. I never killed anyone! I didn’t!”
Adele froze, glancing back at Agent Paige now, twisting and fixing her eyes on the older agent.
Paige gave another small shake of her head and Adele sighed softly, closing her eyes. She turned completely, rotating in the doorway. “You wouldn’t lie to the Lord, would you?” Adele asked, frowning. “Would you?”
Mr. Lavigne was sputtering now, shaking his head wildly, blinking as if caught in truck headlights on a rainy highway. His beard puffed out as he wagged his chin. “No—I’m not lying. Please. Please—you have to believe me!”
Adele waited now, standing in the doorway. What more was there to say? It was his word against the evidence.
“Do you have any alibi for after eleven?” Adele said, her voice softening a bit despite herself. She found her tone was almost pleading. “Give me a reason to believe you,” she said. “Something besides your say-so.”
