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enough to reveal a navel ring and bony hips, and a tight belly shirt

that evidently operated like a tube of toothpaste, pushing all her

bodily fluids into her head and retarding the firing of her synapses.

My badge, ID, and lengthy explanation of what I was looking for and why

were apparently lost on her, because she seemed to think I was browsing

around for a new handbag.

And, of course, everything she said ended with a question mark.  "We

don't really have any bags by Esprit right now?  But we have, like, a

ton of black leather purses, OK?  We have some really cute Nine West

purses over here?  And there's some on sale over there?  But I really

like these Kate Spade ones?"  I was beginning to think she was an evil

robot, programmed to prattle on about purses until her frosty-pink lip

gloss dried up.

I explained it to her a few more times.  I wasn't interested in buying

a new purse.  I was from the District Attorney's Office working on a

criminal investigation and needed to know whether they carried a

certain black leather purse by Esprit last autumn.

After the fourth try, Nitwit clued in and the frosty lips started

moving again.  "OK, like, I totally didn't understand that before?  You

want to ask about something we had, like, way back in November?  I so

didn't work here yet?"

I finally uttered the magic words that should have been my first.  "Is

there, like, a manager or something?"

Sweet lord, a woman in her thirties was never such a relief!  Her name

tag identified her as Jan, senior sales associate.  All that mattered

to me was that she'd worked there for two years and spoke that

increasingly endangered language known as grown-up.

"OK, let's see .. . black leather handbag by Esprit.  Around November."

I was nodding as she thought out loud.  "Yeah, we had a line of leather

bags by them last year.  They normally do more canvas and novelty bags.

What kind of strap did it have?  There was one that was more like a

backpack, one that had a shorty little handbag strap, and then a couple

with shoulder straps."

I told her it had a regular shoulder strap and then did my best

sketching it on a piece of scrap paper she gave me.

"Yeah, that looks like one of the shoulder strap ones we had."  She

walked around the counter and pulled a bag out that was on display.

"Does it look kind of like this one, but with seams on the side and

without this little buckle here?"

"That's just what it looks like," I said, surprise in my tone.  I

couldn't believe anyone could distinguish among purses in such detail,

but I guess others would marvel at my ability to distinguish Grey Goose

from Smirnoff.

"Do most of the people who were here last fall still work with the

company?"  I asked.

She looked up in the air like she was thinking and counting.  "Yeah,

not everyone, but mostly."

"And what are the chances one of them might remember selling that

particular purse to someone if I get you a picture of the person?"  I

asked, my smile revealing that I knew it was a long shot.

"Boy, pretty slim.  That was six months ago."  She could see my

disappointment register.  "Hey, it's worth a shot,

though.  Tell you what, you give me the picture and I'll make sure

everyone takes a look at it."

"Great."  I thought about the easiest way to get a picture of Andrea to

Jan and slipped into thinking aloud myself.  "OK, I can get a booking

photo of her from January, which should be pretty much how she looked

last November."

Solid, reliable Jan looked alarmed at the mention of a booking photo,

and I laughed.  "Oh, don't worry.  She's not a hardened criminal or

anything."  Of course, the truth is that hardened criminals come to the

mall and buy regular, boring things from stable, reliable people like

Jan every day, but I didn't see the need to tell her that.  "It's

actually kind of a long story.  A security guard at Dress You Up

excluded her from the store.  It was really more of a misunderstanding,

but they had her arrested a few months later when she came back."

Jan tilted her head.  "God, that rings a bell.  I sold a purse to a

woman, and I remember she was red hot about some security guard at

Dress You Up.  The guy had accused her of shoplifting, and even though

she told them to look through her stuff and they didn't find anything,

he kicked her out of the store.  Didn't apologize or anything.  You

know, that would've been around November."

I had to refrain from throwing my arms around solid, reliable Jan.  It

had to have been Andrea.  She must've bought the purse the same day she

had the run-in with Kerry Richardson at Dress You Up.

"And this woman bought the Esprit purse we've been talking about?"  I

asked.

"I have no idea.  I just remember the thing about the security

guard."

"What about the woman who bought the purse?  Was she about thirty-five?

Brown shoulder-length hair?  About my height?"  I was doing my best to

describe Andrea, whose appearance was most notable for being

nondescript.

Jan shook her head.  "I don't know.  Like I said, I just remember that

conversation.  Maybe if I saw her picture "

I dashed back to my car and drove over to Northeast Precinct.  It was

only a couple of miles, but pesky things like lights, cats, and

frolicking children kept getting in the way of my car.  The forty

minutes it took me to print Andrea's booking photo from X-imaging and

take it back to Jan felt like an eternity.

Jan looked carefully at Andrea's picture and said, "Yeah, I think

that's the woman.  I remember her now."  It wasn't the best ID in the

world, but it was a hell of lot more than I had a few days ago.

I was too excited to go home to my usual routine, so I picked up Vinnie

for a visit to Dad's.  In the car, I checked my cell for messages.

There were two from Chuck.  I'd been avoiding him since the shit hit

the fan in Duncan's office.  Hell, I had to face him eventually.  I

left a message to meet me at Dad's if he felt like it.

Dad was so happy to see me he didn't even complain about Vinnie tagging

along.

Going to Dad's is a major treat for Vinnie.  Dad's yard is large enough

that there were still some bushes that Vinnie hadn't managed to pee on

yet.  Vinnie would sniff around back, seeking out unsoiled ones to

violate.  Add the Milk Bones that Dad keeps around to control Vinnie's

breath, and Dad's house was the Vinnie equivalent of a Yankees-Mets

game.

By the time Chuck showed up, Dad and I had fed Vinnie, gone to the

market for the "grocks" as Dad called them, and put a dish of baked pen

ne in the oven.

Dad took great pleasure announcing Chuck's arrival before he headed

back to the kitchen.  "Sam, your man's here and he's got wine."