Murder in the Aisles by Olivia Hill Page A

not going to spend what it will cost to run a full set of tests and an autopsy without a damned good reason. Right now they ain’t got one.”
    Eddie peered at Mark over the top of his paper. “I’d think you’d be sounding more enthusiastic. Cut and dry. End of paperwork. Next case.” He cocked his head to the side and waited.
    Mark grunted. “Yeah, yeah. Should be.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œI don’t know. Something is bugging me.”
    â€œThat librarian?”
    Mark’s gaze jumped to Eddie’s placid expression. “Ahhh…” Eddie waved away his comment, then pushed back from the desk and stood. He took his cell phone off of his desk and walked over to the file cabinet.
    When Eddie was out of earshot, Mark pulled his notebook from his back pocket and found what he was looking for. He tapped in the numbers on his phone and listened to it ring. The call connected. He heard some shuffling in the background.
    â€œDr. Swift.”
    â€œYeah, hello, Dr. Swift. This is Detective Rizzo.”
    â€œYes, Detective. Is there any news?”
    The husky sound of her voice did something to him, got under his skin and settled down. He loosened his tie.
    â€œI do have some news. I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”
    â€œShould I come down to the precinct?”
    â€œActually, I’m about done for the day. I could meet you. What time do you get off?”
    There was a beat of hesitant silence.
    â€œIn about a half hour,” she finally said.
    â€œSo what do you say I meet you out front at five-thirty?”
    â€œAre you sure you can’t tell me over the phone?”
    â€œI think it’s better if we talk face-to-face.” He heard her soft sigh. He closed his eyes—imagined.
    â€œFine. I’ll be out front at five-thirty.”
    He was oddly elated. “See you then.” He grinned at his phone as if it had done something amazing, and then sauntered back to his desk. Leaning over without sitting back down, he turned off his computer and locked his desk drawer. He pocketed the key. “I’m outta here,” he called out to Eddie. “See you in the morning.”
    â€œHot date?” Eddie quipped as he walked back to his desk with a file in his hand.
    Mark stopped and glanced across at Eddie. “What makes you think that?”
    â€œYou never leave before seven unless it’s a murder or a date. I’m figuring a date.”
    Mark’s expression creased. “In the morning, man.” He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and strolled out.
    He walked outside to the line of cars parked in front of the precinct. He bypassed his company car and used the key fob to unlock his gray Honda. It wasn’t much better than his working vehicle, but at least it had great heat.
    While he waited for the engine to warm up, the truth behind what he was doing crawled in the car and sat next to him, daring him almost to ignore what he was really doing. He turned the radio on blast to drown out the annoying voice in his head. “Strictly business,” he muttered as he pulled out of his reserved spot.
    The evening traffic made the ten-minute drive longer than usual. Mark checked the digital clock on the dash. 5:38 blinked back at him. His pulse began to race. He banged his palm against the steering wheel when the line of traffic was stopped yet again. He had a good mind to put his spinner on the roof of the car and breeze through this mess.
    Mark shook his head sharply. What was he thinking crazy for? Put on his siren just so that he could get to some woman to tell her something he could have said over the phone? Crazy. He gripped the wheel and forced himself to concentrate on the slow-moving traffic and not the stirring in his groin.
    At ten minutes to six he pulled up in front of the Library of Congress. No one was out front. There was a thin trail of bundled pedestrians dashing down the street in