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“Okay, go back to March.”
“This store or citywide?”
Eve gave him a cautious stare. “Aren’t you the cooperative shoe guy.”
“Are you kidding? This is the most fun I’ve had all day.”
“Citywide to start.”
“Citywide it is! Give me a few minutes. Have a seat. Would you like some sparkling water?”
“No, we’re good.”
“That’s why people who can afford magilicious shoes shop in these places and pay the full freight.” Peabody nodded after the salesman. “You get offered fizzy water by people who look like vid stars.”
“And who are so freaking bored they’re delirious with joy when you tell them to do a customer search.”
“But that’s good for us.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Peabody clasped her hands together. “Please, you don’t need me until he comes back. Five minutes is all I ask to worship at the altar of the shoe.”
“Don’t drool on any of them.” Eve turned her back, and for the hell of it, tried out her wrist unit in a tag to EDD.
“Any progress?” she asked Feeney.
“We’re going to be able to give you that projection on the rest of the killer’s face. But there’s nothing on the other discs at this point.” He pursed his lips. “You got a new ’link.”
“Sort of.”
“Trans is crystal.”
“It’s my wrist unit.”
“Get out. Those kinds of toys have crap trans.”
“New model.”
“Roarke didn’t mention it. I want a look at that when you come in.”
“Maybe.” She saw the salesclerk walking back, a little spring in his step. “Gotta go.”
“And here we are.” He handed her a disc. “We sold a pair in that color choice in size ten last March, by the way, and another pair in a ten and a half just last month. In Raven, we sold—”
“I didn’t ask about Raven. You sold two pair of those in four months?”
“In those sizes, in that color, in this store. Citywide includes several department stores and boutiques.”
“The ones bought here? Regular customers?”
“As a matter of fact.” He nodded. “So I’m afraid they’re probably not who you’re looking for. Sampson Anthony—the producer—last month, and Winston Dudley, the pharma king—in March.”
“Just for fun, because my partner’s getting juiced drooling over the shoes in here, who sold those two pair?”
“Patrick’s down for Mr. Anthony. And Mr. Dudley only works with Chica.”
Eve made a show of glancing over at Peabody. “I can stall another couple minutes. Why don’t I take a run at Chica while I’m here, it’ll give me something to put in the report and jibe the time she’s having a little fun.”
