Random Victim by Michael A. Black Page A

“Not even Hart.”
    Hart looked at him and smirked. “With you inside, I might be tempted to try,” she shot back.
    Leal raised his eyebrows appreciably. Good, he thought. She’s starting to stand up for herself. He remembered the pleasure
     that he got from watching a new recruit or partner gain in confidence and experience. In this case, he had both. The team
     seemed like it was coming together a little, too. They were all starting to work together for the same goals, with the same
     purpose. But it still gnawed at him that Ryan moved with all the speed of a tree sloth. He seemed to lack the fire in his
     belly to get everybody moving. Maybe it’s time for me to exert some command authority, he thought.
    “So, Joe,” Leal said. “Anything from the rest of the judges yesterday?”
    Smith pressed his lips into a frown and shook his head.
    “Nobody seems to know much, or if they do, they ain’t saying,” he said, flipping open his notebook. “They all said she was
     smart, competent, and quiet. Stuck to herself…Seemed happy right before she disappeared…Nothing else significant.”
    “I noticed something in that box you brought back,” Hart said.
    “Yeah, me, too,” Smith said. “It gave me one hell of a sore back.”
    He laughed to break the tension, but nobody else did.
    Leal found himself admiring the way Hart’s pants stretched tautly over her hips and butt as she bent over the box and sorted
     through it. He blinked twice and rubbed his temples, reminding himself that it was never a good idea to think those kinds
     of thoughts about your female partner. It could lead to problems. As he brought his hand down he saw Ryan grinning and licking
     his lips. He stared at Hart’s back, then glanced at Leal and winked.
    Leal was frowning just as Hart stood and turned around. She obviously caught his disapproving look and blushed again.
    “What you got, Olivia?” Leal asked. Dammit, he thought. She’s gonna think I meant that for her.
    “This book,” she said, setting a dark blue hardbound book on the desk.
    “ Ap-hro-deet Rising ,” Ryan said. “What the hell’s this have to do with anything?”
    “It’s pronounced Aphrodite,” Hart said. “Read the inside. The title page is signed by the author.”
    Ryan sighed heavily and paged through the book with sharp, quick movements. The inscription was handwritten in blue ink, just
     below the artfully scripted letters of the ti-tle: To Aphrodite,Yours Always, Simon .
    “Okaaaay,” Ryan said slowly. “I usually slept through English lit class. Want to bring me up to speed?”
    “Simon Ellias is the author. That sounds pretty personal, doesn’t it?” Hart said. “And Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love.”
    “Yeah, I’ve heard all about Greek love,” Ryan said. “But this ain’t even personalized to her.”
    “Which could mean he didn’t want to make it too obvious since she was married,” Hart said.
    “I don’t know,” Ryan said. “It seems like you’re stretching it.”
    “Well, there had to be some reason why she kept this book in her chambers, doesn’t there?” she said. “And look in the acknowledgment
     section. He thanks the Lunge Hill Corporation for their ‘gracious assistance.’ According to the bank records Miriam Walker
     was a principal stockholder in that company, wasn’t she?”
    “Yeah,” Leal said. “Her father was some bigwig with them. Left her a lot of stock in it.”
    Ryan squinted and took out his cigarette pack.
    “I think Olivia’s got a good point,” Leal said. “Let’s go talk to this author guy.”
    “Okay, go get ’em, tiger,” Ryan said, lighting a cigarette and drawing deeply on it. He paged to the back inside flap of the
     book and stared at the picture of Simon Ellias, then shook his head theatrically. “Nothing to look at, is he? But who knows,
     maybe they were doing the nasty. Says here he lives in Willow Springs, which is close enough to check on, I guess.”
    “That could go