I was so dizzy I had to sit down again. I knew if I had another concussion I wouldn’t have far to go to find a doctor. Or maybe it was a hangover from my last concussion. Finally I stood and unlocked the door with trembling fingers. The woman in the shoes was standing at the sink.
I coughed. I choked. I reached out as if to grab her. She breezed out of the bathroom so fast she left a trail of scent in her wake. It was familiar, but I couldn’t decide what it was. There was a hint of musk, vanilla and spice. Was it Chanel?
I washed my hands and raced out of the bathroom. But she was gone. Almost like the day MarySue rushed out of the shop with the shoes in her hand. Just like then, I’d waited too long once again. I walked slowly away from the restrooms, looking right and left. What I couldn’t do was crawl on the floor to observe everyone’s shoes. It was maddening and frustrating. The shoe thief and presumed murderer was right here in this restaurant. So it was a woman. Unless it was a man who stole the shoes to give to a woman. Could Jim Jensen have given them to his girlfriend? No one had said he had a girlfriend, but maybe Detective Wall should look into it. I circled the restaurant before I went back to our table, but I didn’t see anyone I knew or anyone who looked like they were wearing silver shoes.
I took several deep breaths before I joined Jonathan at the table. I tried to act like nothing had happened, but Jonathan, being in the medical field, noticed.
“Are you all right?” he asked, looking at me closely.
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. I get that way sometimes ever since my accident. But I’m okay, really.”
He put the back of his hand against my forehead. He frowned. “You may have a fever. Maybe we should leave.”
“Oh, no, not now. Not before dessert.” I knew the coffee and the pastry puffs filled with ice cream and smothered with chocolate sauce would help revive me. “Besides, we have to hear your friend play.”
“If you’re sure you feel up to it.”
I nodded. What a thoughtful, considerate date he was. Just as thoughtful and considerate as he was at the hospital in his professional capacity. Besides wanting the wonderful evening to go on and on, I thought maybe I’d see the shoes walk by our table. And if I did? I’d pounce on the wearer and phone Detective Wall on the spot. I tried to pay attention to the trio of bass, trumpet and drums who played my favorites like “Two O’Clock Jump” and “Satin Doll,” but all I could think about was the shoes. Fortunately Jonathan didn’t seem to notice my wandering brain. When the trio took a break, he introduced me to Daniel, who, though his mother was South American, spoke English with a charming French accent.
It was like a dream, my being here with a handsome doctor, chatting with the musician and eating fabulous food. It was so dreamy that I almost forgot about the one negative. There was the possibility of a murderer in our midst. If she had known I was in that bathroom, the woman in the shoes might have killed me to keep me quiet. I shuddered at the thought.
After the music and an after-dinner drink, Jonathan took me home. He said he’d had a great time. I said I had too.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said when he parked in front of my house. “But not for professional reasons.”
“That would be great because I’m really fine,” I assured him. “Completely healed except for a little soreness in my ankle.” I felt fine except for the nagging feeling that I’d let the shoes slip through my fingers once again. How many times could this happen? I’d let MarySue get away with the shoes twice and now this. In every instance, I was younger and faster than my adversary, but not more motivated or I’d have the shoes in my hand by now.
“I’ll check my schedule and see when my next day off is,” Jonathan said. “There’s so much to see and do in this town. Have you been to Alcatraz?”
I shook my head. Dolce told me she’d take me to the former prison on the island in the Bay, but so far we hadn’t had a chance to go.
“I’ll call you,” he said. Then he leaned over, tilted my chin toward him and kissed me on the lips. I felt a shiver of pleasure up and down my spine. It was the perfect ending to a perfect evening. Except for one tiny detail.
I gave a full account to Dolce the next day except for that one detail. I debated who to tell first about the shoes. The detective or my boss. I hated for either one of them to know I’d failed to get them when I had the chance to grab them. Even worse, I missed a chance to find out who’d killed MarySue. I was sure the missing shoes were tied to her death. Whoever had the shoes had either killed her or knew who did.
The store was quiet that Monday morning, so I told Dolce I was going across the street to get us each a latte to go and I’d be right back.
Once outside I called Jack Wall and told him I’d seen the shoes at Café Henri last night.
“Where are they now?” he asked. He sounded tired. But was he tired of this case or just tired of working too hard?
“I don’t know. I didn’t act quickly enough. She got away.”
“Any ideas? Any hunches? Any clue at all as to who it might have been?” he asked.
“I know who it wasn’t. It wasn’t Dolce. So you can cross her off your list.”
“How do you know?” he asked. I could tell he didn’t believe me. He thought I’d made up something to divert suspicion from my boss. “Because she wore perfume. Dolce never does. It was heavy, but not too heavy. A combination of musk and some other things. I’ve smelled it before, but I don’t know where. But I’ll know it if I ever smell it again.”
“Isn’t there some way you can pin it down a little better? This may be an important clue.”
“I’ll try, but I’m at work now. I can’t just take off and go try on different scents.”
“Never mind. I’ll call Café Henri and ask for a list of their reservations for last night.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. It was interesting to know what you could find out with the power of the law behind you.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm. Detective Wall appeared to have a problem accepting praise, at least from me.
“You won’t see my name on the list or anyone who came with a date unfortunately. But still . . .” I said.
I thought he might ask who my date was, but instead he said, “How was the food?”
“Fantastic,” I said. “You should try it.”
“I will. Once I get this case solved. Until then, it’s deli sandwiches and the occasional business lunch.”
I assumed he was referring to the lunch he’d taken me to. “I’m trying to help you,” I said. In case he hadn’t noticed.
“You’ll have to try a little harder. You seem to get that close to the shoes. A little too close.”
“I know, I know. Then they slip out of my grasp. But I’m getting closer. There’s no way MarySue isn’t really dead, is there? I mean, some people might think she was a vampire.”
There was a choking sound on his end of the phone connection. “You’re joking, right? You don’t believe in vampires, do you?”
I was tempted to tell him about the vampire tour of the city, but he’d probably just laugh at me. You can’t minor in Romanian as I did and not have a healthy respect for people who believed in the possible existence of vampires.