Dark Heart by Margaret Weis;David Baldwin Page A

“Just because you married one asshole guy once upon a time doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen to you again.”
    Sandra shook her head. “You never give up, do you, Benny?” She took out a jug of milk and poured herself a glass. As she drank, she leaned back against the counter and relaxed. “I can pretty well guarantee that dead guys aren’t assholes, at least not anymore.”
    “Okay, Ace. How’s this, then? I think you should mope around your entire life, avoid any kind of intimacy with anyone except your invalid brother, hang out with the recently dead chasing fingerprints, hoping to find out that it was Colonel Mustard with a candlestick in the conservatory. It sounds like a fabulous life—at least for a David Lynch film. Not enough dwarves in it for Fellini.” He reached up and adjusted his glasses.
    “Fuck you, Benny,” Sandra said, tipping her milk glass at him.
    Benny sighed. “Even leaving out the incest angle, you’d be the first in a long time.”
    “Pity party now?” Sandra arched an eyebrow. She’d meant it in jest, of course, but as soon as she said the words, she regretted them. They steered too close to dangerous waters. Dammit, she was tired. She should go straight to bed. She wasn’t alert enough to wrangle with Benny right now. He was smart, funny, and three steps ahead of her even when she was at the top of her form.
    “You seemed to be in the mood for a bit of pity,” Benny said. Sometimes Sandra thought he brought up these subjects just to watch her squirm as she tried not to hurt his feelings.
    “All right, all right. I give up. I can’t beat you with words, and I’m too tired to kick your ass properly. Can we save the yack-fest for another time when I’ve had more than, like, two hours sleep out of the last twenty-four? How’s the computer game design coming?”
    “Almost finished. The project’s not due for another month. I’ll be done in a week.”
    She nodded.
    “How’s the case?” he asked.
    She sighed, shook her head, “I don’t know. Not too good. I need to come up with something more for us to go on. I’m going to start checking specialty climbing shops or exotic blade-making shops or something tomorrow. The entire case sucks. And our guy did another one tonight. Just like Baxter.”
    Benny raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. It was family tonight, though. A cop named Jack Madrone. You’ll probably read about it tomorrow in the papers under a suitably gruesome headline, no doubt, or maybe even catch it on the Net before then. We’re trying to keep the details of the murder quiet, but the killings are so sensational somebody will leak it. Probably already has leaked it.”
    “Same way?”
    “Yep. Same exact fuckin’ way. Hole straight through the rib cage.” She drank the rest of her milk and began rummaging again for solid food, a sandwich maybe, something to calm the rumblings in her gut. “Some kind of incisions on the chest surrounding the open wound.
    “Yuck…” Ben wrinkled his nose.
    “Yeah.” She paused. “I don’t mind telling you, Benny, this one creeps me out. Bad. Same feeling I got when I first saw Baxter’s body. Never felt it before on any other case. You’d think that finding number two would give us something to go on, but the case just keeps getting more improbable. Murder is supposed to make more sense the more data you collect, not less.”
    He smiled. “You sound spooked.”
    She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah, spooked is right. And it takes a lot to spook me. But I’m intrigued, too. It’s weird, the whole thing is, and I want to figure it out.”
    “Fine, then. Go for it. But do me a favor, huh?” Benny’s voice turned serious. “If your killer is taking cops, just make sure you don’t end up on his dance card, okay?”
    “No,” she said. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
    “I always worry,” he said.

four
     
     
    A spattering of rain fell upon the dark rooftop. Deep music thrummed