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“I did the last two days.”
“Where?”
“Here,” the kid said, laughing as he swept dirt onto the street. “Comes down for breakfast, but not until later.”
“What time?”
He shrugged. “Not before nine or ten, after the morning rush is over.”
“You said she comes downstairs. Does she live in this building?”
“Anthony!” a man yelled.
“I gotta go. See ya, mister.”
“Hey, wait!” I was too late. The kid was inside with the door closed behind him.
I waited another twenty minutes and went into the shop.
“Buongiorno,” said an older woman, who didn’t look quite tall enough to see over the counter. “What can I get you this morning?”
“Un caffè, per favore.”
The woman smiled. “Parla italiano?”
“Enough to order coffee.”
“What else? Sfogliatelle maybe?”
“Too rich for me this morning. How about a brioche?”
She put my pastry in a bag and turned to make my caffè.
“There was a young boy sweeping the sidewalk earlier, Anthony?”
“Sì, my grandson.”
“Is he here?”
“He’s at school now.”
“He mentioned a woman, Sloane. He said she came here for breakfast the last couple of days.”
The woman turned around and studied me. “Who are you?”
“A good friend of hers.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know her.”
I pulled the same photo out that I’d shown the boy. “Are you sure you haven’t seen her?” I asked, handing it to her.
Before she could respond, we heard sirens. I turned toward the window and saw an ambulance pull up near the door that led to the building’s elevators.
I tossed a twenty on the counter and raced out. “I’m a trained first responder,” I shouted. “Can I help?”
“Woman called 9-1-1,” one of the paramedics answered. “Bleeding. Maybe a miscarriage.”
I gripped the rail in the elevator after he motioned for me to get on, and counted every ding as it seemed to take ten minutes to reach the twentieth floor.
