Page 32 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Can I get a roll like the last guy had too?” I flashed her a smile. Candy, according to her name badge. “I promise I won’t get upset over napkins.”

“I did put the napkins in, honest, but that man always likes to complain about something.”

“He comes in often?”

“A couple of times a week.”

“Well, he can’t be that unhappy if he keeps coming back.”

“I guess, but I’d rather he just kept his six dollars and went someplace else.” She sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say things like that. My boss gets mad if I complain about the customers.”

Especially to other customers, I bet. “Don’t worry; I won’t say anything. I already decided he was a dick when he parked in two handicapped spots.”

“One of his colleagues came in last month and reversed into another vehicle as he left, then denied the whole thing.”

“What an asshole.”

“They all are. Want a coffee? On the house?”

“That’s real kind of you.”

Back in the car, I took my time eating breakfast. After all, I didn’t want to appear too eager for the next part. I had one name, and I wanted more. Once I’d finished my roll—and now I understood why Simeon-the-dick drove the whole way out here to get his fix—I looked up the general enquiries number for the British embassy.

“Hey, I stopped off to buy breakfast this morning, and a guy walked past me out of the door and dropped a glove. At least, I think it was his. I couldn’t catch him before he left, but he was driving a car with British diplomatic plates. Number one-nine-six. I’m with the state department, so I know how the codes work. Normally I wouldn’t bother calling, but the glove looks expensive. Leather, cashmere lined. I could mail it back if I knew who to send it to.”

“Hold on, let me check. One-nine-six, you say?”

She sounded upper class, although most Brits did to me. At least she hadn’t blown me off.

A minute later, she came back. “That vehicle belongs to our head of management affairs, but he’s out of the country at the moment.”

Head of management affairs. Thanks, sweetheart. I could work with that.

“I definitely saw someone driving it this morning. White guy, dark hair.”

She gave a dainty laugh. “Robert’s always been generous with the keys, and the staff in his department do tend to borrow it. Consuls mainly. Between you and me, they’re not really supposed to do that.”

Because consuls didn’t have full diplomatic immunity. Could this be a lucky break? What if one of them was driving that night?

“Happens all the time.”

“If you want to leave your number, I can send an email around about the glove.”

“I’ll be flying overseas myself this afternoon. Tell you what, why don’t you give me your name, and I’ll mail the glove to the address on your website. Hopefully you can trace its owner.”

And hopefully, she’d forget about this phone call by the time the glove didn’t arrive.

“That’s ever so kind of you. Yes. I’m Felicity Barnwell.”

“No problem. I’ll send it before I leave.”

“Have a lovely day.”

“You too.”

***

Our management officer, Robert Turner, heads up a department of twenty to oversee all diplomatic mission operations from real estate to people to budget.

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