Randal powered up his computer and opened the program that gave him access to all the reports that had been filed in the past twenty-four hours. He winced when he saw the number. "Damn, the natives were restless last night, Henry," he remarked. "I'm going to send you about half of these. If I just work on them it could take the whole shift."

Henry powered up his own computer, opening the office network program. "Ready when you are, C.B." "I'll shoot you the ones where they have a perp in custody, to start with. You catch whoever comes up and needs a hand, huh?"

"Randal..." It wasn't quite a whine.

"I have Twinkies with your name on them--IF you take the front."

Henry held out his hand. "Twinkies first."

Randal pulled a package of snack cakes out of his desk drawer and tossed them to Henry. "What happened to that new regime you started?"

"My wife dropped a bag of burgers and fries in my lap last night. She told me that she'd rather have me plump and mellow than thin and pissy." He unwrapped the snack and took a big bite. "Who am I to argue with the woman I love?"

Randal settled down and began to sort the individual files into the proper storage folder--rape, assault and battery, theft, auto theft, DUI, possession of controlled substances...

He was working his way through the assaults when he ran across something that made him pause. *Stephanie Bradshaw? Wait a minute, that was the citizen who found the bodies in the Oliphant case. Yeah, sister of the wife.* He read the report quickly. Glancing at Henry to be sure he was preoccupied, he slipped a floppy into the computer and made a copy of the report, then filed it in its proper section.

He was antsy for the rest of the morning, and when lunch time rolled around he shocked Henry by offering to let him go first. He flipped him a five. "Just bring me something back."

"Be more specific, or don't gripe at what you get," Henry warned.

"Some form of burger, no pickles or ketchup, and onion rings."

Henry smirked. "Onions? Not planning on kissing anyone tonight, Randal?"

"That's why God gave us mouthwash, Henry, and none of your business." *Maybe if I'm lucky,* he thought, calling up the Bradshaw file as Henry exited. *I wouldn't mind doing some serious tongue sucking with Naresha, and I bet Milda would taste like her herbal tea...* He found himself smiling. *with honey. But Acacia... a man could lose a lip.*

He read through the account, frowning in concentration. So, the attacker seemed to have known her, or at least known about her. *One room tossed--an absent niece's. Bradshaw claims the intruder asked for the niece during the attack. The responding officer thinks that, since no specific names were mentioned, the victim must be mistaken, and this is a simple B and E and assault. Who the fuck is this idiot? Even if he doesn't know about the past history...* His frowned deepened. *Okay, what about this niece? Where is she?*

After a moment's thought he did a search on Stephanie Bradshaw's name, and came up with something very interesting--a missing person report. Bethany Oliphant. *Hello! It looks like the Akuji's may be doing more than trying to clear a cold case. I think it's time for another trip out to their lair.*

He arrived at the warehouse at sunset, and pushed the bell. There was no response at first, but he was sure someone had to be home, so he leaned on the bell. He had to lean for a long time. He was beginning to think that perhaps he'd been wrong when the intercom crackled. "Hello?"

He didn't recognize the voice. "Hi."

"Look, they're not home. You'll have to come back later."

He thought for a moment, then made a guess, "Miss Bradshaw, right?"

Again there was silence, then, "I told you, they aren't here, and I can't let anyone in."

"I'm a policeman, Miss Bradshaw."

He heard a snort. "Yeah, right."

He took out his shield and ID and held them up in front of the camera. "Honest Injun."

More silence. "Do you have a warrant?"

"No. I'm not here on official business. I'm working with the Akujis on your case." It wasn't entirely a lie--he had gotten the information for them.

"Look, I can't let you in. Not just won't, but can't. They showed me once how to work this system, but it went right over my head."

As they had spoken, the sun had set, the last streaks of color fading from the sky. "When are you expecting them back?"

"Any minute now, darling."

He smiled at the familiar drawl. "Hello, Naresha."

"Hello, Goth Cop. What are you doing here?"

"A name associated with that information I got for you came up. I want to help."

"You do realize," Naresha sounded interested, "that associating with us, particularly as it involves an ongoing case, could be very, very unhealthy to your career?"

"What career? They aren't letting me out of that records room unless I go the haircut and conservative tie route. That isn't going to happen. If they kick me off the force I'll get a PI license."

"Personally I'd advise against it. Deal in licenses and all sorts of nasty authority groups start to poke their noses in your business. Well, Milda and Acacia are, respectively, approving and resigned." There were faint beeps, then a buzz as the door opened.

Naresha stepped aside, dropping an ironic curtsey as he came in. As she reset the security system she said, "You know, Randal, you might come in handy at that. There are things that have to be done during the day, and it isn't always convenient for Nana to take care of them." She leaned back against the door. "Plus sometimes we'd just rather she didn't have to go into certain situations or deal with certain people."

Randal nodded. "She's a nice old girl. I'd be happy to take over some of the riskier projects."

Naresha smiled. "The 'nice old girl' is not to be taken lightly, Randal."

Randal glanced down the empty hallway. "Where's Bradshaw?"

"Back in Nana's room. She isn't very fond of the police."

"Neither am I. So, are you going to tell me what all this is about? I have the feeling that it's more than you doing charity work, trying to solve a cold murder case. I think that missing person report Bradshaw filed and that attack on her in her home are connected to it somehow."

Naresha still smiled, but it was shrewd. "My, it's a bright little thing, isn't it? I wonder if I should have let you in."

Randal stepped closer, moving into her personal space. Most people would have tensed. Naresha remained totally relaxed, keeping her eyes on his face. She was wearing a royal purple peasant blouse that made her eyes seem almost violet. The neckline bared a good bit of her shoulders, but it was shallow. He traced one finger along the neckline. "You can always tell me to go."

"And it's bold, too." She gave him a considering look, then nodded slightly to herself. She reached out with her left hand and took hold of his belt at his right hip, then led him to the stairs. "Let's not stand about in the hallway, darling. Not when there's a perfectly lovely bedroom going to waste."

Randal's mouth was suddenly dry. *Just like that,* he marveled. *I've seen guys bust a nut trying to get her interested in the club. I put a little sweat into it myself, and nothing except that one blood trade, now this.* As they rounded the turn on the second floor and started up to the third he thought, *Shit, what if this isn't what I think? What if she does just want to talk? Wait a minute, if I make it with her, what about Milda?.

Randal thought very, very hard during the minute it took them to get to Naresha's quarters. He decided that as attractive as she was, he'd rather wait for a little while and see what his chances were with Milda. Just outside what he assumed would be her bedroom, he stopped. Naresha tugged lightly, but he didn't move, and she looked back at him questioningly.

"Naresha... Will Milda be home soon?"

That gave her pause, but the look she turned on him was amused. "Darling, do you mean to tell me that I'm being shot down in favor of my little sister?" He shrugged. "I'm not offended, Randal. If it was anyone else but Milda I might be." She tapped his chest with one sharp fingernail. "Just remember two things--Milda does not step into relationships lightly, and Acacia and I are very protective."

"Understood."

"Tell me, would the answer still be the same if I offered to share blood?" Randal was silent, and Naresha nodded. "Good. I know that was a greater temptation than straight sex, and if you could resist that you may be suitable." She turned him around and gave him a small push. "Go on down to the kitchen. Milda will be either in her room or her lab. I'll send her to you."

Randal went down to the kitchen as instructed, but as he did, he wondered. If at least two of them were here, why hadn't one of them come more quickly to investigate who was at the door? He sensed an almost feline curiosity in the sisters--it wasn't natural for them not to investigate.

It wasn't more than five or ten minutes before he heard a light tread on the stairs, and Milda appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He could see her smile even through the gloom of the hallway.

The bright lights of the kitchen struck glints off her red hair and her glasses. "Hello, Randal," she said warmly. "Naresha said that you made the connection between the murders, the disappearance, and the assault. That was clever of you."

Randal smiled wryly. "First Naresha, now you. I'm beginning to feel like a kid who just got a hard word correct in a spelling bee."

She smiled. "Then you ought to get a reward." She went toward the counter. "What type of goodie would you like?"

Randal gave a rueful look at the well draped, barely detectable curve of her ass, wondering if she'd be offended or amused if he made a lewd reply. "What have you got?"

There were a good dozen fancifully shaped cookie jars scattered down the long counter. Milda began pointing to each one. "Well, we have our standard chocolate chip, spice drops, sugar cookies, peanut butter, M & M..."

"What?"

"It's basically a chocolate chip cookie with M & Ms instead of chips."

"That one."

Milda went to a cookie jar that was shaped like a fat bellied monk, complete with tonsure. He was smiling, and across his belly it said 'Thou shalt not steal'. Milda brought back a handful of cookies and handed them over.

Randal examined them. Sure enough there were colorful candy nuggets buried in the golden dough. He took a tentative bite and chewed. Then he enthusiastically popped the rest in his mouth. Milda smiled. "I take it you like them. I make them with peanut butter, too. You'll have to try them sometime."

Randal was already finishing up the last cookie. He dusted crumbs from his hands. "I'd be delighted to try everything you're willing to give me."

Milda caught the double-entendre easily, and cocked her head. She said softly, "It's been a long time, Randal. A very long time." She studied him. "It's odd. You're nothing like him."

"Him who?"

Her eyes were soft and sad. "Colin."

"Colin isn't in the picture anymore?"

"No." She was quiet for a moment, then whispered, "He died."

*Wonderful, Randal. Remind her of a dead flame.* "I'm sorry, Milda."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you. It still hurts, but not quite as much as it once did." She straightened, her manner becoming brisk. "If you're going to help us, you should talk to Margaret yourself and get the details." She went to the door at the back of the kitchen and knocked. "Margaret? Can you come out, dear? We have a new associate who needs to be briefed."

Margaret, wrapped in a robe, came out, and Milda introduced them. She went over what she had told the sisters. When she was done Randal shook his head. "They have their heads up their asses. With the evidence of stalking that you have they should be treating this as a kidnapping." He looked at Milda. "What are you girls doing so far?"

"We feel that Bethany probably hasn't left the city. We have a contact at the post office who's going to go through the change of address submissions for the last month and see if they come up with anything. I've also hacked into the electric company's data base, but if she rents someplace where they pay the bills, that won't do us any good."

"I can start going through the list of suspects for the murders."

"I think Acacia and Naresha will want to do that."

"I have no doubt, but since you girls don't do business during the day... I AM right about that?" Milda nodded, an oddly cautious look in her eyes. "It will be easier for me to get to them. It would be better if they didn't know I was a policeman. They'll be less likely to call the station and enquire as to why they're being questioned again."

"Then you'll need something official looking, won't you?" Milda went and rummaged in a drawer, came back, and handed him a small card. It read THREE SISTERS INQUIRIES. "Notice that we don't say investigations."

"Because you're not a licensed detective agency, because that makes you deal with the nasty old power structure. Naresha told me."

Milda folded her hands. "In the event that you are caught or killed, this secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions." She started humming the Mission: Impossible theme. Randal smiled, but Margaret frowned. Seeing her irritation Milda explained, "Please, don't think we aren't taking this seriously. But there's been so much grimness in our lives that we tend to inject humor whenever possible."

Randal stood up. "I'd better go. Miss Bradshaw, a pleasure to meet you. I'll do everything I can to help clean up this mess."

Milda walked with him to the front door and punched in the security code. She reached to open the door for him, but his hand settled over hers. She looked at him questioningly.

There was a light on in the hall now, and Randal looked down at her, studying her face. *They could be triplets instead of just sisters. God, her eyes are so blue.* "I'd like to see you, away from the case."

She gazed steadily back at him. "As I said, it's been a long time. But maybe it's time to move on. I'd like that, Randal."

He reached up and touched her cheek. She turned her head, pressing into the caress like a cat. Randal gently turned her back, then bent down and kissed her. He kept it almost chaste--he didn't try to part her lips, didn't use his tongue. She responded sweetly, swaying against him. For a moment he felt the soft weight of her breasts against his chest, then the kiss was over, and she was smiling up at him.

When he left, she twiddled her fingers after him, like a little girl. He was smiling as he drove away. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met. *But then again,* he thought, reviewing each of the sisters, *aren't they all?*