The Faded Alibi
Chapter One "You’ll need to sign here, Gaspard, and here." The clerk’s finger tapped the parchment, a dry, authoritative sound that echoed in the small, damp room. Gaspard Caron, forty-two and heavy with the weight of years spent at the border, leaned over the desk. The ink was wet, black and smelling of iron. He did not sign. He looked at the man, a junior inspector named Proust, who was...
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