Expired by Evie Rhodes

radio, or glimpse those words being spoken by a television newscaster. Get me the murderer straightaway. He’ll never see the light of day again, and then we will close this case. Good day, Alexandra.” The line disconnected in her ear.
    â€œDamn,” she swore while replacing the receiver in the hook.
    Before she could recuperate from her call with the mayor, her assistant, Maya, stuck her head in the door. “I just thought you’d like to know that Ms. Virginia was found dead in her shop this morning.”
    Maya knew that Alexandra was paranoid about Harlem and wanted to know every little tidbit of information, even if it didn’t relate to anything in particular. She just wanted to be up on things. Maya was competent as well as nosy, so generally she had no trouble accommodating what she considered Alexandra’s fetish.
    Alexandra frowned in puzzlement, wondering what Maya was talking about.
    â€œMs. Virginia, the old woman who owned Visionaries, the bookstore over on 125 th Street,” Maya said.
    â€œOh, yeah,” Alexandra tuned in. “She was a very sweet lady. What happened to her?”
    â€œLooks like she died of a heart attack,” Maya hesitated. “But there was one strange thing.”
    Alexandra’s eyes turned to slits. She glared at Maya. “I don’t want to hear any strange things. She died of a heart attack; that’s a very natural way to go.”
    â€œYeah, I know, but that’s not really it. Well . . . I don’t know how to say this . . .”
    â€œJust say it,” Alexandra spat the words at her. If there was one thing she hated, it was procrastination, and Maya well knew that. It was a waste of valuable time. What the hell was wrong with her?
    â€œIt was the books in her store.”
    â€œWhat about the books, Maya?”
    â€œWell, all the books in the store are missing the words.”
    Alexandra began to laugh; she couldn’t help herself.
    â€œIs this a joke? There’s never been a book printed without words in it, Maya. That’s what makes up the books—the words, get it?”
    â€œYeah. That’s why it’s strange. The covers of the books are all there, only the words are missing on the pages of every book in the store. Every page, inside every book, is blank. There are no words on the pages,” Maya enunciated every word for emphasis.
    Alexandra, for once in her life, was speechless. Maya took full advantage of this. She actually enjoyed it, even though she was unhappy about the circumstances. Ms. Virginia would be missed. She was like the heart of Harlem.
    â€œI bought a book from her just yesterday morning, Alexandra. My book has all the words in it.”
    Maya took a last look at the shocked disbelief on Alexandra’s face and backed out of the office, closing the door behind her.
    For the second time that morning, Alexandra ran a hand through her blond curls. How the hell could the words be missing on every page of every book, in a bookstore that sold books for a living?
    That was impossible.

19
    T he unmarked car flew over the roadway of the Hudson River Parkway. Monica’s hands gripped the steering wheel. Her knuckles were turning a dull pink.
    Lonzo looked at her face, which looked as though it were carved out of stone, and decided he might as well kick off the tantrum that was brewing. No sense in wasting time.
    â€œWhat the hell was that all about at Tracie Burlingame’s house?”
    â€œWhat?” Monica asked through clenched teeth.
    â€œDon’t play me, Monica. I ain’t seen you playing hardball with a dead boy’s mother before.”
    The car raced over a ramp, and Monica’s eyes flashed dangerously.
    â€œThat’s because I haven’t seen that many dead boys asphyxiated, with their throats stuffed with sunflower seeds, and the blood drained from their bodies before.” She pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
    â€œGunshot wounds and