called
After a long silence that wasn’t really uncomfortable considering I didn’t expect him to answer me, I said, “There’s something else I’d like to know and that’s, who put that shoe box in my garbage?”
“Sorry,” Jack said. “No luck on that. Anything else I can help you with?”
As if he would. His job was to keep me in the dark. And my job was to keep bugging him and keep investigating on my own.
“Actually there is something that’s been bothering me. It’s the fortune I got with my Cambodian food the other day. It’s not really a fortune, it’s a puzzle.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the small crumpled printed message. “ ‘You cannot step in the same river twice without getting your feet twice as wet.’ Well?”
He didn’t miss a beat. He said, “It’s obvious what it means. You should forget this investigation. Not only have you stepped in the same river twice, you’ve stepped in it too many times and you’re in danger of getting very wet. Maybe even dangerously wet.”
“As in drowning?” I asked with a little trickle of fear across my scalp. I wrapped my hands around my teacup to warm them.
“That’s right,” he said sternly.
Detective Wall drove me home in his BMW convertible he’d parked in an underground garage. “Are you sure you’re not nervous about staying here alone?” he asked when he pulled up in front of my house.
“Should I be?”
“Just keep out of this investigation. That’s my advice to you. The more distance between the shoes and yourself the better.”
“Whoever put the shoe box in my garbage knows where I live. I wish I knew who that was. Can I assume you’ve ruled out Harrington and his sister as possible suspects?”
“Let me put it this way: you have nothing to fear from them except the possibility of imitation designer shoes and clothes.”
“I appreciate your warning me, but I can’t rest until I locate the real shoes.”
“Rita, forget the shoes.”
“Okay,” I said. Why not let him and everyone think I had given up? That’s what a normal person would do. Forget the shoes, MarySue and her murder. “What about MarySue’s celebration of life next week?” I asked.
“If I were you, I’d stay home,” he said. “With a big crowd like that your absence wouldn’t be noticed.”
“But it’s a party,” I protested. “Aren’t you going?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I’m going to go,” I said. “I have to. If I don’t, it would be admitting that I’m afraid of seeing Jim Jensen, which I am, but I don’t want him to know that. He wouldn’t dare accuse me of murdering his wife again at his own wife’s party, would he?”
“I doubt it,” Jack said. I was hoping he’d say something more forceful like, “He’d better not, or I’ll arrest him,” but he didn’t.
“I’m sure Dolce will close the shop for the afternoon so we can go. Everyone who is anyone will be there.”
“I can’t stop you,” he said. “I can only warn you.”
“Here’s a warning you might laugh at but don’t say I didn’t warn you. There is a theory that MarySue may have been bitten by a vampire, which would explain why you can’t find her attacker.” I paused, expecting him to burst into uncontrollable laughter, but he didn’t.
“Go on,” he said.
“In which case according to legend she won’t stay buried long. Unless of course she’s buried in such a way she can’t find her way out of the grave.”
“And what way would that be?” he asked.
Of course he was humoring me. No way did he believe in vampires. Neither did I. But what harm did it do to speculate? We’d both be singing a different tune if MarySue magically reappeared.
“No point in looking for her killer when she is undead and has been all along.”
“Please, Rita, spare me the folklore,” he said.
“I can’t help it,” I said. “You and I don’t believe in vampires, but some people do. Those people say that one way is to bury the body facedown, then the corpse is confused and can’t find her way out of her coffin. Another way would be to—”
“That’s enough,” he said. “Let me know if you learn anything important.”
I assured him I would even though his definition of “important” was different from mine. After another pointless warning to forget about MarySue’s murder, he walked me to my door and waited until I’d bolted it. After he drove away I went to my closet to look for something to wear to the memorial. I pulled out a black crepe Alberto di Feretti dress with a sleek silhouette and stitch-detailed paneling that Dolce had given me. I took a sleek clutch out of my drawer and slipped on a Lanvin bracelet. If I were going out for cocktails to the Top of the Mark I’d wear sky-high ankle boots, but this was a celebration of life at a neighborhood tavern and I wasn’t allowed to wear sky- high heels anyway. Not yet.
I knew that at MarySue’s memorial party as well as everywhere I went, I represented Dolce and our shop and I owed it to her to look my best. So what about shoes? I sat down on a bench and tried on a pair of flat ankle boots with my dress, but they were too casual. Next, strappy sandals in glossy patent with a pair of opaque tights. Better but not perfect. Maybe glossy wasn’t subdued enough for this occasion, although MarySue would have appreciated them. I kept the tights and tried a pair of black suede peep toes. Yes. My ankle was still a little weak, but I couldn’t baby it forever.
When I got up the next morning, the air was crisp and the sun was shining. Seeing as I hadn’t been to kung fu for weeks, I decided I needed some exercise, so I joined a group of people practicing tai chi in Golden Gate Park. My kung fu instructor had recommended it to us because he had a reciprocal arrangement with the instructor. I’d observed them previously, and I was impressed by their fluid, seemingly effortless movements. Just my kind of exercise, I thought. I just hoped Nick didn’t walk by and ask me why I didn’t take his class instead of that one.
I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but sometimes it’s nice to exercise anonymously. Before the MarySue shoe episode, I did everything anonymously; now it seemed as though every time I left the house, I ran into someone I knew. Just in case I did, I was wearing a pair of stretch leggings that were comfortable as well as stylish with a high-performance racer-back tank and a black training jacket. On my feet were a pair of MBT sneakers, which as everyone who exercises seriously knows can activate neglected muscles and tone and shape the entire body. MBT stands for Masai Barefoot Technology, of course. Since the Masai tribes are the best runners in the world, I had no doubt their shoes would help me run faster if I needed to.
When I arrived at the meadow where the tai chi instructor held his class, he smiled and beckoned to me to take a place in the front row, but I stuck to the back so I could watch the others and copy their movements. I quickly found it was harder than I’d thought it would be to achieve that fluid movement I’d admired. I knew it involved deep breathing and mental focus, but today I was happy just to be waving my arms around slowly and inhaling the fresh air, and feeling proud of myself for making the effort while other fashionistas were still in bed. The focus would come later, I hoped. I wanted to focus just enough to forget the scene that had almost torpedoed Dolce’s fashion show.
After the class I felt refreshed and invigorated, so I wandered around the park, into the area called Chain of Lakes, enjoying the feeling of being away from the hustle and bustle of cars and tourists and screaming children flying kites or kicking balls in the field. I walked around the misty lake, drinking in the atmosphere and hearing the wind in the trees.
As fate would have it, there was a food, art and music festival going on in the concourse, so I stopped for a Korean taco stuffed with seasoned rice,
Layers. That was all I could think of. I started with my new skinny jeans, tossing my old boyfriend jeans aside. They were so torn up and dated I could barely believe I was ever tempted to buy them.
Next, shoes. Knee-high boots or loafers with argyle socks? The boots looked great with the jeans tucked in, but since I’d be with Dr. Jonathan, I decided to be sensible and go with the loafers. I chose a silky top and a black hooded cashmere sweater over it. Slim fitting and luxurious, it felt soft and warm. That way I’d be comfortable on
