In Death 22 - Memory in Death

Saturday,” Eve began.
    Jayne ground her fist into the small of her back. “Honey, I sold a hundred pairs of socks between Thursday and Saturday.”
    “Lieutenant,” Eve said and tapped her badge. “White athletics, size seven to nine.”
    Jayne dug in her pocket. She seemed to have a dozen of them between her black shirt and black pants. She pulled out a piece of hard candy, unwrapped it. Her fingernails, Eve noted, were as long as ice picks and painted like candy canes.
    Yeah, Christmas made people insane.
    “Oh, white athletic socks,” Jayne said sourly. “That’s a real tip-off.”
    “Take a look at a picture, see if you remember.”
    “I can barely remember my own face after a day like this one.” The candy made rattling noises against Jayne’s teeth as she played with it. But she rolled tired eyes and took the photo.
    “Jeez, what are the odds? Yeah, I remember her. Talk about primo bitch. Listen,” she said and sucked
    air through her nose. “She comes in, grabs a pair of socks. One lousy pair, complains we don’t have enough help after she gets to me, and demands the sale price. Now, it’s clear the socks are on sale in lots of three. Says so rightonthe display. One pair’s nine-ninety-nine. Buy three for twenty-five-fifty. But she’s squawking that she wants the socks for eight-fifty. She’s done the math, and that’s what she’ll pay. She’s got a line clear to Sixth behind her, and she’s busting on me for, like, chump change.”
    She crunched down hard on the candy. “I’m not authorized to cut a price, and she won’t budge. People are going to riot any minute, so I’ve got to call over the manager. Manager caves because it’s just not worth the aggravation.”
    “When did she come in?”
    “Man, it blurs together.” Jayne rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been on since Wednesday. Straight seven days from hell. I get two off starting tomorrow and I’m going to sit on my ass for most of it. It
    was after lunch, I remember, because I thought how this asshole woman was going to make me lurch
    my gyro. Gyro!”
    She snapped her fingers, shot her index up, leading with the festive ice pick. “Friday. Me and Fawn grabbed gyros on Friday. She had the weekend off, and I remember crabbing about it to her.”
    “Was she alone?”
    “Who’d hang with that type? If anybody was with her, they stayed back. She strutted out by herself. I watched hergo.” She smiled a little. “Shot her the bird behind her back. Couple of the customers applauded.”
    “Have you got security discs?”
    “Sure. What’s this about? Somebody kick her ass? I’d’ve held their coat.”
    “Yeah, somebody did. I’d like to view the discs for Friday afternoon. We’ll need to make copies.”
    “Wow. Okay. Gee. I’m not in trouble with this, am I?”
    “No. But we’ll need the discs.”
    Jayne shoved herself to her feet. “I gotta get the manager.”
    * * *
    Back at her office, Eve reviewed the disc again. She drank coffee and watched Trudy walk in through
    the street doors. Sixteen-twenty-eight on the time stamp. Time enough to stew about the result of her
    visit to Roarke, Eve decided. Time enough to discuss it with a partner, or just walk around until a plan formed.
    Pissed, Eve noted, when she paused, magnified Trudy’s face. She could almost hear the teeth grinding together. Seething anger, not cold deliberation. Not right now, anyway. Impulse, maybe. I’ll show them.
    Had to look for the socks, elbow people out of her way, skirt around tables. But she found what she wanted … and at a bargain price.
    Eve watched Trudy’s teeth bare in a snarl when she yanked the socks from the display. But she frowned at the price, at the sale display, before marching over to stand in line.
    Tapping her foot, glaring at the customers in line ahead of her.
    Impatient. And alone.
    She continued to watch, through the altercation with the clerk, Trudy looking down her nose, fisting her hands on her hips. Digging in. Turning briefly to snap something at the woman behind her in line.
    Making a scene over pocket change.
    Buying her own murder weapon on the cheap.
    She didn’t wait for a bag, didn’t wait for a receipt. Just stuffed the socks in her purse and stalked out.
    Eve sat back, perused the ceiling. Had to get the credits. Nobody carries enough to fill a sock around
    with them. And the way she’d slung the purse around didn’t indicate it was weighed down.
    “Computer, find and list all banks