Free High Heels Are Murder by Elaine Viets Page A

to reconstruct Melvin Poulaine’s lastday,” Detective Causeman said. “I understand that you mystery-shopped his store.”
    Josie could do girl-next-door pretty well herself. She smiled back, took a seat and said, “Yes, that’s right.”
    “It was your report that led to his firing?”
    “Yes,” Josie said. “But that happened after I left the store. Terminating Mr. Poulaine was a Soft Shoe management decision.”
    “When you surprised him in the back room, what did he say?” Was that a smile lurking at the corners of Detective Causeman’s mouth?
    “He didn’t say anything. I yelled at him to let go of my shoe.” Josie could not bring herself to say she’d called Mel a heel. It sounded too ridiculous. “I left and faxed my report to Suttin Services an hour later. I didn’t have any further contact with Mr. Poulaine.”
    “What did you and Mr. Poulaine talk about when he waited on you?” the detective said.
    “We discussed shoe styles,” Josie said.
    “Did he say what he planned to do later in the day?”
    “No,” Josie said.
    “Did he mention any problems with anyone?” Detective Causeman asked.
    “No.”
    “Did he have any money issues?”
    “No.”
    “What was the state of his mind?”
    Warped, Josie thought. “He seemed fine,” she said.
    “Did he have boyfriend or girlfriend issues?” Detective Causeman asked.
    He wanted to elope with my shoe, Josie thought. “We didn’t talk about anything personal,” she said.
    “Was he suicidal? Homicidal?” the detective asked.
    “I tried on shoes for an hour. It’s the only time I met the man. I don’t know anything about him,” Josie said.
    But I’d better find out fast, she thought.
    “Thanks for the water,” Detective Causeman said.
    Josie noticed she didn’t drink any. She showed the detective to the door and leaned against the hall wall. Josie felt like she’d been slammed in the stomach. Suddenly, Mel and Cheryl didn’t seem so funny. Mel wasreally dead. Cheryl was really in trouble. A homicide investigation had a way of reaching out and ruining all the lives it touched—and Josie’s was within its cold grasp.
    Mrs. Mueller was right to be worried about Cheryl. She knew her daughter could go to prison. But Josie bet Cheryl was still sheltered by her invincible ignorance. The problem with people like Cheryl was they didn’t know they were in trouble until it was too late. Nothing bad had ever happened to them. They felt entitled to their fabulous luck.
    Josie had seen this on a smaller scale at the malls, when store security pulled in well-heeled shoplifters. The light-fingered rich didn’t believe those SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED signs were meant for them.
    “I can pay for it,” they would say, as if that solved everything. But it didn’t. They never understood that the stores wanted to make an example of them, to scare away other rich folks getting five-finger discounts. Even as they were being hauled off to jail, they still thought they could talk their way out of the mess. Only the humiliation of a strip search convinced them.
    Josie did not like Cheryl. She wouldn’t mind if the cops scared her a little. But the woman didn’t deserve to go to prison. Her little boy needed his mother. And Josie’s mother needed her committee.
    Josie had to act fast. She ran upstairs to tell her mother that everything was all right.
    But it wasn’t. The day had changed. An icy wind whipped gray clouds across a lead sky. Brown leaves crackled like bones underfoot as she marched to her car.
    There was no time to waste. Josie could shop the bookstores later. She had to see Cheryl now. Mrs. Mueller’s perfect daughter might be too smug to understand how much trouble she was in, but Josie knew. Maybe she could convince Cheryl. At the very least, Josie might learn something that could keep Cheryl from going to jail. Mrs. Mueller was right. Josie did have good mall contacts. A security guard or someone at a nearby store might have