I spoke with thought they were unique. Anyway, Miss Snooty Drawers was eating it up.
“Of course,” she said, rising. “You stay here. I’ll find out if this woman has visited my shop.” She came around the desk, then exited the office.
I relaxed, thinking I’d planted the first seed. If my Ms. Garcia had ever been near this store, I’d soon know who she was and each appearance she’d made. It felt good to have my brain on full function again. That caused me to touch, then caress the lump. Definitely smaller and no wet feeling. Yeah, I was back on my game. I took out one of the pictures and studied it, attempting to capture points I’d missed that might make it more accurate. There was something that bugged me, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I stared, searching my mind. Jake had followed my description, but there was something just below the surface that refused to pop up.
Madam Bergeron bulled her way back into the office. “My girl, Sarah, doesn’t know her. However, she says the woman looks familiar, like she’s seen her somewhere before. Maybe a window-shopper here in the store or some other place. No clue on a name. Sorry, that was as much as I could get. I told her to keep an eye out for her. Maybe, if I keep the picture …”
Madam Bergeron appeared to love a good mystery. She was ready to give her all.
“I’ll do better than that,” I said. I pulled copies from my case. “Here, are some with my name and contact info. Maybe you could give them to your clerk, and she could ask your customers.”
A look of disappointment flashed across her face causing me to think she didn’t like losing her exclusivity. Then a spark showed in her eyes. “Wonderful idea. With my help, I’m sure we’ll find her.” Sherlock Bergeron was back.
As we reentered the display area, my hostess reverted to her phony French character. “ Au revoir, ma cherie . We meet again soon, n’est-ce pas ?”
I smiled while shaking her proffered hand and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “You can depend on it.”
twelve
I spent the next couple of hours going from business to business with my stack of pictures. I was vague about why I needed to locate the woman, but continued to hint that it was important to a rich client of mine. No luck, although I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in a few eyes. Each place took one or more copies of the flyer. I promised to check back daily.
There were a couple of times my eyes betrayed me as I thought I saw her on the sidewalk in front of me. But each time when I caught up, I realized it was just someone with a similar trait. One time it was the hair and the other it was the way she walked. Perhaps I was trying too hard, willing myself to see her where she wasn’t.
The last two stops were the Starbucks—a different set of teenagers on duty, so no help there—and the Chinese restaurant where Ms. Garcia and I talked. The waitress remembered my being there with the woman in the picture, but could add nothing more. It was, as far as she knew, Garcia’s only visit.
Not a great day, but one that might lead to something if Ms. Garcia showed her face again. And I’d pretty much established she wasn’t a regular anyplace—unless folks were lying en masse. And with forty or so mini-posters with the promise of a reward laying around, results could follow. It was still early, only four-thirty, so I went to my car and took out the book I’d been reading. With it in hand, I headed back to Starbucks for a latte. Maybe I’d get lucky and my target would walk past the window as she had two days previous.
A familiar sight caught my eye—a man standing in the median with an armload of newspapers. When cars stopped for the traffic light, he walked along the driver’s side, waving a paper, making it obvious it was for sale. As I watched, most people ignored him as if he were invisible. I wondered if the drivers were invisible to him.
I spent a few minutes watching the vendor. As he peddled
“Of course,” she said, rising. “You stay here. I’ll find out if this woman has visited my shop.” She came around the desk, then exited the office.
I relaxed, thinking I’d planted the first seed. If my Ms. Garcia had ever been near this store, I’d soon know who she was and each appearance she’d made. It felt good to have my brain on full function again. That caused me to touch, then caress the lump. Definitely smaller and no wet feeling. Yeah, I was back on my game. I took out one of the pictures and studied it, attempting to capture points I’d missed that might make it more accurate. There was something that bugged me, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I stared, searching my mind. Jake had followed my description, but there was something just below the surface that refused to pop up.
Madam Bergeron bulled her way back into the office. “My girl, Sarah, doesn’t know her. However, she says the woman looks familiar, like she’s seen her somewhere before. Maybe a window-shopper here in the store or some other place. No clue on a name. Sorry, that was as much as I could get. I told her to keep an eye out for her. Maybe, if I keep the picture …”
Madam Bergeron appeared to love a good mystery. She was ready to give her all.
“I’ll do better than that,” I said. I pulled copies from my case. “Here, are some with my name and contact info. Maybe you could give them to your clerk, and she could ask your customers.”
A look of disappointment flashed across her face causing me to think she didn’t like losing her exclusivity. Then a spark showed in her eyes. “Wonderful idea. With my help, I’m sure we’ll find her.” Sherlock Bergeron was back.
As we reentered the display area, my hostess reverted to her phony French character. “ Au revoir, ma cherie . We meet again soon, n’est-ce pas ?”
I smiled while shaking her proffered hand and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “You can depend on it.”
twelve
I spent the next couple of hours going from business to business with my stack of pictures. I was vague about why I needed to locate the woman, but continued to hint that it was important to a rich client of mine. No luck, although I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in a few eyes. Each place took one or more copies of the flyer. I promised to check back daily.
There were a couple of times my eyes betrayed me as I thought I saw her on the sidewalk in front of me. But each time when I caught up, I realized it was just someone with a similar trait. One time it was the hair and the other it was the way she walked. Perhaps I was trying too hard, willing myself to see her where she wasn’t.
The last two stops were the Starbucks—a different set of teenagers on duty, so no help there—and the Chinese restaurant where Ms. Garcia and I talked. The waitress remembered my being there with the woman in the picture, but could add nothing more. It was, as far as she knew, Garcia’s only visit.
Not a great day, but one that might lead to something if Ms. Garcia showed her face again. And I’d pretty much established she wasn’t a regular anyplace—unless folks were lying en masse. And with forty or so mini-posters with the promise of a reward laying around, results could follow. It was still early, only four-thirty, so I went to my car and took out the book I’d been reading. With it in hand, I headed back to Starbucks for a latte. Maybe I’d get lucky and my target would walk past the window as she had two days previous.
A familiar sight caught my eye—a man standing in the median with an armload of newspapers. When cars stopped for the traffic light, he walked along the driver’s side, waving a paper, making it obvious it was for sale. As I watched, most people ignored him as if he were invisible. I wondered if the drivers were invisible to him.
I spent a few minutes watching the vendor. As he peddled
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