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Ritual in DeathByJ. D. ROBB
 
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One owes respect to the living; to the dead one owes only the truth.
—VOLTAIRE
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men aloneare quite capable of every wickedness.
—JOSEPH CONRAD
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Her feet were killing her. And made her imagine traveling back in time,hunting down whoever had invented stiletto heels, and beating the crap outof him.What was the point of them other than throwing a woman off balance,making it next to impossible to run, and inducing foot cramps?The question occupied Eve’s mind as she tuned out the bulk of theparty conversation buzzing around her like a hive of drunk hornets. What if one of the guests at this shindig went off and . . . stabbed somebody in theeye with a shrimp fork, for instance? How was she supposed to take himdown dressed like this? And a foot pursuit in these stilts? Forget about it.It was a hell of a getup for a cop, to her way of thinking. The flimsyexcuse for a dress left most of her exposed. And she glittered. You couldn’thave diamonds hanging all over you and blend.Of course, you couldn’t go to any sort of snazzy function with Roarkeand blend.The only advantage to the ridiculous damn shoes that she could see wasthe fact that they boosted her up so that she and Roarke were eye-to-eye.
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