some nice scarves here. Got cotton, got wool, got cash
mere
, got silk blends. You can match ’em up with gloves and a cap, make a gift set.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ve got some girl types I need to get stuff for.”
“What kind of girl types? Friends, relations, coworkers?”
Eve huffed out a breath. “Friends, I guess. Friends.”
“Good ones? Or the kind you just gotta come up with shit for?”
She had to laugh. He knew the score.
“Good ones.”
“I’m gonna take you to my associate.”
“Your associate?”
“Yeah. Deke, Manny! You mind the store now, and don’t screw around. You come on with me.” He took Eve’s hand, marched her to the corner. “You remember that shop you busted last time? I told you about how they were bad guys, and you came and took them down?”
“Yeah. Street thieves, identify theft racket.”
“Got a new business in that shop now. Mom-and-pop deal. They’re good people. They’re going to fix you right up.”
“Are they?” Willing to try if it finished this shopping crap once and for all, she crossed the street with him.
“True. Give you a good deal, too, since you’re with me.”
He zigged, he zagged his way through the crowds, then zipped into the long, narrow store.
“Hey, Pop!”
The man, probably no more than thirty-five, used a long hook to reach the strap of one of what looked like a half million bags. He snagged it off the wall, lowered it, offered it to the waiting customer.
Then smiled at Tiko. “Hey, Tiko!”
“Hey, Mom.”
The woman, back at the counter, folded and fluffed tissue into a shopping bag. “Tiko!”
Young for the mom-and-pop label, Eve thought. They looked entirely too relaxed and happy to be New York City merchants. And neither wore black.
“Happy holidays,” the woman said as she gave her customer the shopping bag. “You come back and see us.”
Tiko dragged Eve straight back. “This is Dallas. She’s the cop who cleared this place out so you could rent it.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Dallas. Tiko’s told us all about you. I’m Astrid.” She offered a hand. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Dallas, she needs presents for some girlfriends. How many friends you got?”
“Crap. I need something for . . . I guess there’s five I need to take care of.”
“Let me just . . . Ben, this is Tiko’s Lieutenant Dallas.”
“No kidding? Great to meet you. If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll be right with you.”
“Do you see anything you like?” Astrid asked Eve.
“I don’t know.” There were bags, with straps, without straps, satchels and cases, tiny little purses that would be absolutely useless, enormous ones that could hold a room of furniture. “I don’t get this stuff.”
“Ladies like bags. Don’t you got bags?” Tiko demanded.
“I have pockets. I have a field kit. I’ve got a file bag when I need it.” And she had the dozens of girlie bags that found their way into her closet along with the dozens of shoes, the forest of clothes.
Her husband definitely got that stuff.
“Why don’t you pick one of the five,” Astrid suggested. “Tell me a little about her.”
“Ah. Okay, elegant, classy, not rigid or stuffy, but classy. Mostly goes for soft colors, but can surprise you. Everything always goestogether like she worked it out on a program first. Professional, smart. Kind.”
“I like her already. I’ve got something in the back that just came in. I think it might work.”
“Told you they’d take care of you,” Tiko said when Astrid hurried off.
“The stuff in the back isn’t hot, is it?”
Insult covered his face. “What you think? These are good guys.”
“Okay, okay. Shopping makes me twitchy. Why is there so much of everything?”
“So not everybody has the same.”
Astrid came back with a box, slipped out the long, narrow bag. “I only ordered a few of these, just to see how we did. They’re hand-painted. Really special,
mere
, got silk blends. You can match ’em up with gloves and a cap, make a gift set.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ve got some girl types I need to get stuff for.”
“What kind of girl types? Friends, relations, coworkers?”
Eve huffed out a breath. “Friends, I guess. Friends.”
“Good ones? Or the kind you just gotta come up with shit for?”
She had to laugh. He knew the score.
“Good ones.”
“I’m gonna take you to my associate.”
“Your associate?”
“Yeah. Deke, Manny! You mind the store now, and don’t screw around. You come on with me.” He took Eve’s hand, marched her to the corner. “You remember that shop you busted last time? I told you about how they were bad guys, and you came and took them down?”
“Yeah. Street thieves, identify theft racket.”
“Got a new business in that shop now. Mom-and-pop deal. They’re good people. They’re going to fix you right up.”
“Are they?” Willing to try if it finished this shopping crap once and for all, she crossed the street with him.
“True. Give you a good deal, too, since you’re with me.”
He zigged, he zagged his way through the crowds, then zipped into the long, narrow store.
“Hey, Pop!”
The man, probably no more than thirty-five, used a long hook to reach the strap of one of what looked like a half million bags. He snagged it off the wall, lowered it, offered it to the waiting customer.
Then smiled at Tiko. “Hey, Tiko!”
“Hey, Mom.”
The woman, back at the counter, folded and fluffed tissue into a shopping bag. “Tiko!”
Young for the mom-and-pop label, Eve thought. They looked entirely too relaxed and happy to be New York City merchants. And neither wore black.
“Happy holidays,” the woman said as she gave her customer the shopping bag. “You come back and see us.”
Tiko dragged Eve straight back. “This is Dallas. She’s the cop who cleared this place out so you could rent it.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Dallas. Tiko’s told us all about you. I’m Astrid.” She offered a hand. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Dallas, she needs presents for some girlfriends. How many friends you got?”
“Crap. I need something for . . . I guess there’s five I need to take care of.”
“Let me just . . . Ben, this is Tiko’s Lieutenant Dallas.”
“No kidding? Great to meet you. If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll be right with you.”
“Do you see anything you like?” Astrid asked Eve.
“I don’t know.” There were bags, with straps, without straps, satchels and cases, tiny little purses that would be absolutely useless, enormous ones that could hold a room of furniture. “I don’t get this stuff.”
“Ladies like bags. Don’t you got bags?” Tiko demanded.
“I have pockets. I have a field kit. I’ve got a file bag when I need it.” And she had the dozens of girlie bags that found their way into her closet along with the dozens of shoes, the forest of clothes.
Her husband definitely got that stuff.
“Why don’t you pick one of the five,” Astrid suggested. “Tell me a little about her.”
“Ah. Okay, elegant, classy, not rigid or stuffy, but classy. Mostly goes for soft colors, but can surprise you. Everything always goestogether like she worked it out on a program first. Professional, smart. Kind.”
“I like her already. I’ve got something in the back that just came in. I think it might work.”
“Told you they’d take care of you,” Tiko said when Astrid hurried off.
“The stuff in the back isn’t hot, is it?”
Insult covered his face. “What you think? These are good guys.”
“Okay, okay. Shopping makes me twitchy. Why is there so much of everything?”
“So not everybody has the same.”
Astrid came back with a box, slipped out the long, narrow bag. “I only ordered a few of these, just to see how we did. They’re hand-painted. Really special,
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