herself trapped in a remote Scottish castle with the local chapter of the Hellfire Club.
Enter the heroes, who, when it came to a pinch and the women they'd been adoring from afar were in danger, would cast off their spectacles to reveal flashing if myopic eyes and shed their mousy garb to reveal lean, muscular bodies that enabled them to rescue the heroines from the clutches of the rogues – now revealed as having the courage of marshmallows.
I liked the fact that the heroines invariably played an active role in their rescue, fighting side by side with the heroes against whatever sinister crowd of minions the villain could muster for the grand finale – piratical deck hands, seedy security guards, or loutish thanes. Although the fighting wasn't particularly well described – what little detail she gave was somewhat inaccurate, at least when it came to swordplay and martial arts, about which I knew enough to be picky. But of course, her focus wasn't on the fighting – in the heat of battle, her heroines would find time to notice the heroes' firm, cleft chins and high cheekbones. During the final clinches each buxom blonde would already be planning to refurbish her rescuer with a better wardrobe and contacts – or, in the case of the historical romance, more flattering spectacles.
Fascinating, I thought, as I put the third one down. But why in the world did Ted feel he had to hide them in his secret compartment?
Presumably, Anna Floyd was the Bodice Ripper. That much was easy. But what was her connection with Mutant Wizards?
I'd worry about that later. Right now, I really needed to get some sleep. Was it dawn yet? I glanced over at the Cave's single, tiny window. Either it was still dark outside, or Michael's landlord had dumped another wheelbarrow load of mulch into the window well, obscuring what little light was not already obscured by the nearly useless air conditioner. I turned out the light and this time fell asleep almost instantly.
As soon as I woke up, I realized that between dodging people and slinking about the office, I hadn't gotten a chance to use the black light. Which was one of die main reasons I bothered to go over in the middle of the night – so I could wield Ted's black light unobserved. I'd have to go back tonight.
I also realized that I was already late for work and destined to be even later by the time I arrived, even if I omitted all my usual little personal grooming rituals – – like running through the shower, combing my hair, and throwing on some clothes.
Since I was late anyway, I stopped by the hardware store on the way in to get Ted's key copied, in case I wanted to snoop in his house again.
I arrived to find Dad seated at the switchboard, looking befuddled, while nine or ten lines were flashing.
“There you are!“ he said. “I seem to have lost the knack of this.“
“I was expecting a temp to show up to take care of the switchboard,“ I said as I scrambled to take his place.
“One did show up,“ he said. “But she left.“
“Left?“ I said. “What do you mean, she left?“
But Dad had escaped. Ah, well. I decided it was academic exactly which staff member had scared away today's temp.
When I'd cleared out the stacked-up calls and put in a complaint to the temp agency, I slipped away long enough to make a copy of the paper I'd found in Ted's cache. Then I called the police station to report finding it and his keys, and sat down to await the chief's arrival.
“Great,“ I muttered as I leaned back in my chair. “The police are trying to railroad Rob, and here I am, stuck at the switchboard again.“
Of course, getting stuck at the switchboard would have been a lot worse if I had any idea what I ought to be doing to clear Rob. But my brain was a blank. So I answered calls and pondered.
And, just to feel I was doing something useful, I took out one of the romance books I'd found in Ted's cache, stuck an emery board in it as a bookmark, and left it lying on the reception desk, so I could watch people's reactions to it.
“Doesn't look like your kind of thing,“ Liz noted.
“Found it,“ I said, waving at the chairs across the room, as if to imply I'd found it there. “Thought I'd put it where the owner could claim it.“
Jack had much the same reaction, and Luis pretended to ignore it. Everyone else who passed by felt obliged to comment on it. Three of them made fun of the male cover model's physical development and questioned his masculinity. Three insisted on reading passages aloud, and two asked me if I would read to them. Five pretended to think I was reading die book for educational purposes, and four of those offered to help me with my homework.
Rico, the graphic artist, was doing the reading aloud routine when Chief Burke strolled in.
“ 'You're mine!' he exclaimed, as his cruel hand savagely ripped the silken fabric of her blouse. He ravished her with his eyes – “
“Am I interrupting something?“ the chief asked.
“Yes, thank God,“ I said. “Go emote someplace else, Rico; I need to talk to the chief.“
“You're no fun,“ Rico complained, tossing the book back on the desk.
“None at all,“ I agreed. “Go spread the word.“
“So what's this thing you think you've found?“ the chief asked.
“Here,“ I said. “I found Ted's keys – he dropped them when he was riding through the reception area Monday, and I picked them up, but with everything else that was happening, I forgot about them till today, when I opened the drawer they were in. And this was with them.“
The chief took the printout and held it at various distances from his eyes, tilting his head up and down, left and right, then up and down again, with an occasional irritated glance in my direction. Was it my fault that the print was so small? He finally gave up, tucked his chin on his chest, pulled his glasses down so he could see over them more easily, and studied the paper.
“And you think this thing is connected with the murder?“ he said finally.
“Of course,“ I said. “Don't you see what it is?“
He lifted his eyes from the paper and looked over his glasses at me.
“It's his list of people he was blackmailing!“ I exclaimed.
“What makes you think that?“
“Look at the notations in the far right column,“ I said. “Stuff like 'coughed up' and 'caved' and 'won't pay' – doesn't that sound like blackmail to you?“
“Maybe,“ the chief said, studying the paper again.
“For heaven's sake, you're the one who's so excited about the blackmail note you found in Rob's office,“ I said. “If the guy would try to blackmail one person, why not several? And here's his whole list of victims.“
“It doesn't have names,“ the chief pointed out.
“Of course not,“ I said. “I expect even Ted knew better than to leave evidence of his crime lying around for anyone to find. But I bet if you figure out who these names match, you'll be a lot closer to convicting the killer.“
I'd said convicting rather than catching because I suspected the chief thought that by arresting Rob he'd already caught his man. He stared at the list a little longer and then reinforced my suspicion.
“You realize your brother's probably on this list,“ he said.
“He may be,“ I said. “And ten other people, too.“
“Maybe he's the Ninja,“ the chief mused.
“In his wildest dreams, maybe,“ I said. “More like the Space Cadet.“
“One of these columns looks like dates,“ he said. “You have any theory on that?“
“No,“ I said, trying to peer over his shoulder to see the column in question.
“We'll look into this, then,“ he said, curling the paper so I couldn't see the contents.
Of course, I had to wait until after he left to pull out my own copy of the paper. Dates? What did he mean,
