Gestation was the right word for it. The embryonic idea grew inside
him like another evil about to be born. Pascal knew the only way
to convince the crime desk was to show them the body of the sparrow.
Piaf was the murderers nom-de-plume, something they all knew
from the Don’s Blog entry. What they needed now was hard evidence:
the pizza delivery had been at one AM, but after that there was little
to go on. The gecko calling card could have been left by anyone,
though it matched the tattoo. The Luger had no trace of being fired.
If he was right, the next diva to die would be Claudette; that was
her destiny, and he must stop it at all costs. Monsieur Benoit, the
judge who lived on rue St. Martine was guilty, he’d always known it...
|
Hybrid Mode
