C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) Read Online Free Page B

C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series)
Book: C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) Read Online Free
Author: Jack Thompson
Tags: thriller, Mystery, series, private investigator, mystery series
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directions, noting which way the police van must have been heading to arrive at the location where the three policemen were killed. He noted the packed rows of vehicles parked on both sides of the narrow street. He looked at his watch.
    “What exactly did your wife say?” asked Raja.
    “I’ve been going over that in my mind. She said only, ‘ Oh, dear Lord.’ That’s it, nothing else. Like she had been startled by something bad. Something shocking. It’s the only circumstance that would cause her to take the Lord’s name in such a way. She is an extremely pious woman.” Tears welled in the professor’s eyes.
    “I understand. Anything else?” asked Raja.
    “No, that’s all.” After a long pause Browning said, “She didn’t deserve this.” Now he sounded angry.
    “You are right,” said Raja. “Okay, that will help. Next I will be going to see the inspector.”
    “Let’s go,” said Browning.
    “No. I’m going alone once I drop you off.” Raja knew that bringing the professor along would put too much pressure on the police inspector. “I have other work for you.” On the way back to the hotel, Raja had to come up with something to keep Browning busy. He called Vinny at the flat.
    “Do you have that list of television stations covering all the investigations?”
    “I can put one together.”
    “Good. I’m going to need that for the professor. He’s going to help us.”
    Vinny understood. “I’ll have it in three minutes. You should also have him map out his wife’s possible routes on the day she disappeared. That will keep him busy.”
    “Perfect.”
    “I’ll send the data on the media to your phone.”
    “You’re the best.”
    Vinny smiled. She knew she was.
    When his phone trilled, indicating a message, Raja had the professor copy the list of TV stations.
    “I need you to watch the news and note any details on your wife’s case or the case of the three murdered policemen.”
    “Do you think they are linked?”
    “Perhaps. That’s what we will determine. I also want you to draw a map of all the possible routes your wife could have taken the day she went missing, including any possible stops along the way.” Raja gave him an email address and asked him to send the map when he was finished. That would keep him busy, at least for a little while.
    After dropping off the professor Raja drove to the police station alone, parking in front of a massive stone building that housed the Paris police and other government offices. The building oozed government authority and red tape. Raja hoped he could find a good guy to work with inside. In any government bureaucracy there are always a high proportion of stoppers—people who see their primary job as getting in the way and preventing action. The trick is to find a helper—someone who has not lost sight of the true government function of helping people to get on with their lives. Raja called them “good guys.”
    Once inside Raja informed the officer at the front desk who he was. After two phone calls and a lot of chatter back and forth, the officer sent him through to the next layer of bureaucrats. He was about to repeat his story when a tough looking man in plain clothes interrupted him.
    “Monsieur Williams?”
    “Yes.”
    “This way.” The man turned with no further communication and walked toward a hallway expecting Raja to follow.
    Raja followed down the hall and into a small office containing an old wooden desk that was cluttered with stacks of folders and a small, very old computer monitor. The policeman pointed to the solid wooden chair in front of the desk and Raja sat down. They exchanged a few awkward sentences in French about Mrs. Browning and the antique shop murders.
    Then the French policeman said, “It would be better for both of us, I think, if we spoke in English. I am Inspector Gilliard.” Knowing the American custom, he extended his hand for a handshake. Like many Frenchmen, the inspector had been raised to think of
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