Page 11 of Booked for Theft

THREE

“It’s so beautiful.”

Bradley’s new Indian restaurant succeeded where all other restaurants failed. With a horrified squeak over the spontaneous combustion of my eyeballs, I retreated to the kitchen for milk and yogurt to douse the flames to tolerable levels. Huffing and puffing, I regarded the takeout container with delighted yet wary respect. “What is that?”

“My sweet victory, apparently,” he replied with a grin. “They included mercy yogurt.”

With his proudest grin, he slid over the container.

I accepted the mercy and the defeat, took off the lid, and added several scoops of relief to a corner. “It has been a long time since that has happened.”

“You’re crying,” he informed me.

I bobbed my head, grabbed a clean napkin, and dabbed at the corners of my eyes. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Do you agree with the reviews, then? Should this Indian dish be classified as a biohazard?”

“It should be labeled as a spicy work of art, infused with true joy. I will be reviewing them and praising them for having done what no other restaurant in our area has accomplished yet.” Better prepared for the assault on my senses, I dove into the challenge of the dish, expecting to need several glasses of milk, all the yogurt in our home, and if my luck held, some sugar to help dull the glorious pain. “You have surpassed all expectations. And no, you are not trying this. You might die.”

“Are you in future wife mode or bodyguard mode with that statement?”

“A little of both. The bodyguard mode is remnant force of habit. The future wife mode is under development. I definitely need you alive to pay for this ridiculous condo. Do you know what a librarian can’t afford? This ridiculous condo.” I took a breath to steady myself and targeted a piece of potato. With a little luck, it would carry the full essence of spice.

While I liked meat, I accepted vegetables if they made it hurt better.

The potato met my expectations. I sighed and enjoyed the burn before taking a small sip of milk to help contain the fires of hell enough I could continue my meal.

“I’m telling our mothers that I have witnessed a miracle. You have chosen the humble potato over the large chunks of slow cooked meat presented for your enjoyment.”

“In this case, the potato should have the highest concentration of spice. My soul will burn after this meal.”

“As will your stomach lining. I don’t want to hear any complaining when your entire digestive system protests your current actions.”

“This is worth the price paid.” As the level of spice I inflicted upon myself could blind someone unfortunate enough to get it in their eyes, I gestured to the memory stick. “Why don’t you get that started so I have a good defense if the situation offends me enough I start crying again.”

The first time I’d become frustrated enough to cry, I’d alarmed everyone in my life except for my parents, who had dealt with me as a teenager. As an adult, I’d mastered the art of waiting to cry out my frustration until in the safety of home.

Home now had Bradley, and if I so much as sniffled, he showed up ready to vanquish any foe.

The first time I got a cold, I expected him to lose his mind.

He couldn’t defeat viruses.

While I incinerated my tongue and stomach, Bradley fetched his antique laptop, booted it up, waited for the poor thing to come to life, and once it was usable some ten minutes later, he plugged in the memory stick and opened the files.

A moment later, he whistled. “You have no idea what he gave you, do you?”

“Not a clue. There was no way I could ask,” I replied between bites of my supper and sips of milk. That I needed the mercy yogurt pleased me. “What’s on the stick?”

“Remember how Dr. Castor thought we should engage in some acts of theft?”

I nodded. “We have had zero luck getting into any sort of position to do that. I mean, except today. And that was accidental reception of illicit goods more than theft.”

“He has provided a roadmap for our thieving activities. He even helpfully labeled each folder as what to steal, when to steal it, and how to steal it.”

My eyes widened, and I gestured with my fork at the screen before taking another bite of spicy goodness. As I wasn’t going to talk with my mouth full, I gestured with my fork at the device again.

Bradley laughed at me. “It’s a complete list of all the upcoming bills for vote between now and the election. There’s also a section of bills expected to be ‘debated’ between the election and the inauguration. There are even references to the top candidates in here.” Bradley clicked around, and a moment later, his eyes narrowed. “Interesting. He’s included digital copies of his files along with notes on how they might differ from other politicians. The notes also include who our best targets for stealing copies would be.”