evidence locker and taken it with me to the counter. But since this
was impromptu meddling, I was left describing the purse to the nitwit
at the counter.
Nitwit was about seventeen years old. Her blond hair tumbled out of
the knot at the back of her head like a fountain designed by someone on
a heavy acid trip. From the bottom up, everything she wore was
irritating: platform sandals that made my feet wince, jeans slung low
enough to reveal a navel ring and bony hips, and a tight belly shirt
that evidently operated like a tube of toothpaste, pushing all her
bodily fluids into her head and retarding the firing of her synapses.
My badge, ID, and lengthy explanation of what I was looking for and why
were apparently lost on her, because she seemed to think I was browsing
around for a new handbag.
And, of course, everything she said ended with a question mark. 'We
don't really have any bags by Esprit right now? But we have, like, a
ton of black leather purses, OK? We have some really cute Nine West
purses over here? And there's some on sale over there? But I really
like these Kate Spade ones?' I was beginning to think she was an evil
robot, programmed to prattle on about purses until her frosty-pink lip
gloss dried up.
I explained it to her a few more times. I wasn't interested in buying
a new purse. I was from the District Attorney's Office working on a
criminal investigation and needed to know whether they carried a
certain black leather purse by Esprit last autumn.
After the fourth try, Nitwit clued in and the frosty lips started
moving again. 'OK, like, I totally didn't understand that before? You
want to ask about something we had, like, way back in November? I so
didn't work here yet?'
I finally uttered the magic words that should have been my first. 'Is
there, like, a manager or something?'
Sweet lord, a woman in her thirties was never such a relief! Her name
tag identified her as Jan, senior sales associate. All that mattered
to me was that she'd worked there for two years and spoke that
increasingly endangered language known as grown-up.
'OK, let's see .. . black leather handbag by Esprit. Around November.'
I was nodding as she thought out loud. 'Yeah, we had a line of leather
bags by them last year. They normally do more canvas and novelty bags.
What kind of strap did it have? There was one that was more like a
backpack, one that had a shorty little handbag strap, and then a couple
with shoulder straps.'
I told her it had a regular shoulder strap and then did my best
sketching it on a piece of scrap paper she gave me.
'Yeah, that looks like one of the shoulder strap ones we had.' She
walked around the counter and pulled a bag out that was on display.
'Does it look kind of like this one, but with seams on the side and
without this little buckle here?'
'That's just what it looks like,' I said, surprise in my tone. I
couldn't believe anyone could distinguish among purses in such detail,
but I guess others would marvel at my ability to distinguish Grey Goose
from Smirnoff.
'Do most of the people who were here last fall still work with the
company?' I asked.
She looked up in the air like she was thinking and counting. 'Yeah,
not everyone, but mostly.'
'And what are the chances one of them might remember selling that
particular purse to someone if I get you a picture of the person?' I
asked, my smile revealing that I knew it was a long shot.
'Boy, pretty slim. That was six months ago.' She could see my
disappointment register. 'Hey, it's worth a shot,
though. Tell you what, you give me the picture and I'll make sure
everyone takes a look at it.'
'Great.' I thought about the easiest way to get a picture of Andrea to
Jan and slipped into thinking aloud myself. 'OK, I can get a booking
photo of her from January, which should be pretty much how she looked
last November.'
Solid, reliable Jan looked alarmed at the mention of a booking photo,
and I laughed. 'Oh, don't worry. She's not a hardened criminal or
anything.' Of course, the truth is that hardened criminals come to the
mall and buy regular, boring things from stable, reliable people like
Jan every day, but I didn't see the need to tell her that. 'It's
actually kind of a long story. A security guard at Dress You Up
excluded her from the store. It was really more of a misunderstanding,
but they had her arrested a few months later when she came back.'
Jan tilted her head. 'God, that rings a bell. I sold a purse to a
woman, and I remember she was red hot about some security guard at
Dress You Up. The guy had accused her of shoplifting, and even though
she told them to look through her stuff and they didn't find anything,
he kicked her out of the store. Didn't apologize or anything. You
know, that would've been around November.'
