Page 89 of Random in Death

“Let’s try the six and a half. Color?”

“Last one was black. We’ve been out of the red and white for a while. Shipment hasn’t come in, like I said.”

“Do you remember selling that last pair?”

“Lady—Lieutenant,” he corrected, “I’m lucky to remember my name after shift. Could’ve been Carleen, anyway. She rotates.”

He circled his finger. “She’s working activewear.”

“All right. Appreciate it.”

“Whatever.”

“Let’s find Carleen,” Eve said as he went back to work.

They found her folding table stock. Barely older than the customer base, she had pink-streaked blond hair to her shoulders, a glinting nose stud, and a look of unspeakable boredom.

“Shoes? The worst. It’s mostly the boppers, right? The eight to twelve, maybe thirteen, dragged in by Mom. Or Granny. They curl up their toes when you try to measure them. And whine. Sometimes they kick ya.”

“This one would’ve been alone, around sixteen.”

“Yeah, we get those. They mostly don’t go into shoes in groups ’cause they don’t want buds to know they’re buying Kick Its or Sprints or Joe’s.”

“Two weeks ago, the last Kick It Zoomers, six and a half, in black.”

“I don’t know. I guess I sort of remember selling the last pair. Sort of remembering marking it in inventory because now we’re out total, you know, and we’ve been waiting for the shipment.”

“A white kid, about sixteen. Brown hair.”

She poked out her bottom lip as she thought. “Maybe. Sort of maybe. We don’t get them in shoes much over fourteen, maybe fifteen. Do better with activewear, but shoes, you know, that’s status, and they’re really thinking about that once they hit high school.”

“Give me the sort of maybe.”

“Excuse me.” One of the Aunt Janes tapped Carleen on the shoulder. “Can you help me? I have a list.” She held up her ’link displaying said list.

“Of course. Give me a minute,” she told Eve, and led the woman away.

“He’d have gotten the baggies and tee on the main. See if you can track that down, Peabody. I’ll wait, see if we get anything.”

“It’s the first sort of maybe. I’ll hold on to that.”

While Peabody went back up, Eve watched the parade.

Yeah, mostly moms or grannies, herding bored, excited, or fussy kids. A woman pushing a toddler in a stroller had another three in tow.

Potentially four, six, eight, ten.

Four kids, Eve thought, unsure whether to feel astonishment or deep pity.

She had an enormous net bag filled with clothes in the back of the stroller, and another hanging from one of its arms.

“Just shoes, gang, then we’ll go check out.”

She walked by Eve with the look of someone who’d been through one war and was braced for another.

She took a tag from Roarke, and immediately decided looking at his face on-screen was a major improvement over watching irritable kids and exhausted parents.

“Do you own L&W?” she asked before he could speak.

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