No Test for the Wicked: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Five by Julie Moffett

shoulder. “Where are the vegetables?”
    “I’ve got a cucumber, tomato and carrot in the top drawer. I usually have lettuce, but I finished it off a couple of days ago on a baloney sandwich.”
    He straightened and closed the refrigerator door. “Really? That’s it?”
    “That’s it.” I crossed my arms defensively. “It’s not like I’m starving. There are also cornflakes, Cheerios, peanut butter, trail mix, bananas and crackers in the cabinet along with a loaf of mostly mold-free bread. I also have a bag of oranges and apples in the pantry. But most importantly, I have Christmas biscotti and hot cocoa from the all-important holiday food group. I’m actually pretty well stocked. For me.”
    He sighed. “Let’s go out to eat.”
    “Remember what happened last time we went out to eat? Besides, after the day I’ve had, I’d rather eat at home.”
    “Fine. But let’s make a quick stop to get you some more groceries first. I’ll make you dinner, okay? It will be one of Nonna’s recipes.”
    I loved Slash’s Italian grandmother. She was the best cook in the world. Perhaps in the entire universe. “Really? Do I get to watch you cook?”
    “Absolutely. You can participate, too.”
    “Deal.”
    A quick trip to the grocery store netted me all kinds of items I had no idea even existed. Within the hour we had Christmas music on the stereo, a delicious-smelling minestrone soup simmering on the stove and a loaf of crusty French bread warming in the oven. We sat on the couch, sipping a nice red wine and enjoying the holiday music, my little twinkling tree and each other’s company.
    “So, how did the questioning go with Ansari?” I asked, pulling my legs up onto the couch. I was still in my school skirt, but I wrapped my arms around my legs anyway and rested my chin on my knees.
    Slash set his wineglass down and took my stockinged feet into his lap.
    I leaned back, closing my eyes as he rubbed. “Oh, my God. Really, that feels amazing. Your hands...they are magical.”
    “Good to know.” He continued his ministrations. “Well, Ansari isn’t talking. He completely shut down. We still don’t know the whereabouts of his brother, the others in that apartment or the rest of the bombs. The only person he talked to was you.”
    “Couldn’t you search his apartment or something?”
    “He’s a ghost. He had no driver’s license or identification on him. No home address, no credit card, no known presence online that we can find. We don’t know where he’s been living. That apartment was rented two months ago and the rent was paid in cash. The name and information on the lease was completely bogus. We traced Zogby’s gun to a batch that was stolen from a police station in southern Virginia and then purchased illegally. We’re currently trying to trace the bomb materials and going through the apartment. So far nothing. The only thing we know for sure is that he is Ansari Zogby. We matched his fingerprints to those on documents provided when he first entered the United States.”
    “Tough break. What more do you know about his parents’ background?”
    “We’re researching the
Shahid
organization pretty extensively right now. The police arrested Ansari’s parents and convicted them of money laundering for them. It’s interesting because the group has been in the news lately.”
    “What did they do?”
    “Several minor bombings in Pakistan and one rather high-profile assassination of a popular Pakistani politician who was supporting peace efforts to bring a group called the
Mehsuds
to the table to stop the violence in the country.”
    “So what does the
Shahid
have against the
Mehsuds
?”
    “The
Shahid
is actually a splinter group of the
Mehsuds
. They broke apart in the late 1990s. Both groups are terrorist organizations by our definition. The
Shahids’
violent actions and support of al Qaeda’s activities has netted them a top spot on our watch list.”
    “That’s not good news.”
    “No,