upset the customer, but also, much more important, lose them the sale.
Maria Rivera prided herself on being an excellent saleswoman, something she measured not only in transactions, but by the fact that her customers felt she cared about selling them the right
clothes and tended, therefore, to come back to her. Maria knew that there were times you needed to lie, or at least to conceal the absolute truth, but there were also occasions when allowing a
customer to leave the store with a garment that was going to make them look ridiculous was, so far as Maria was concerned, a real disservice. She liked seeing a perfect or at least a good fit,
derived pleasure from seeing clientele becoming more attractive because of the clothes they were trying on.
Thursday afternoon had been particularly busy in the Fratelli store on the upper level of the Aventura Mall, but despite the high volume of customers, every single one of Maria’s sales and
fails remained clear in her memory; none more so than the one she’d instantly, privately, named The Freezer.
A strange one, for sure. Trying on jeans, a better than good fit, fine on the waist, snug but not too tight on the behind, excellent length.
Maria had looked at the customer and smiled. ‘You wear them well,’ she had said.
She would have said more, but for the customer’s eyes.
A look that could have frozen blood.
One sale Maria had not minded losing out on, that was for sure.
Usually – always – if Cathy wasn’t going to come home for the night, she telephoned to let Grace and Sam know they could lock up and go to bed without
worrying about her.
Thursday night had been the exception. No show, no call. No sleep for Grace.
She’d told herself over and over that she was being absurd and neurotic, that Cathy was an adult, at liberty to stay out whenever she wanted, but it hadn’t helped because it was
simply so unlike her considerate daughter.
Not that it was only Cathy keeping her awake. Nor was it the baby, who’d kicked around for a while at around one a.m., but had then gone off to sleep.
‘What’s up?’ Sam’s voice came out of the darkness at around three. ‘You OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ Grace told him, stroking his arm. ‘Go back to sleep.’
No point in them both lying awake.
She had told him before they’d left the Hoffman house that afternoon about her conversation with Ryan, and Sam had spoken briefly to the boy, learned that his surname was Harrison, had
given him his card and told him to get in touch next day if he wanted to avoid Sam speaking to his parents first.
‘I’m sure as I can be that he was telling the truth about not being there with Gregory,’ Sam had said on the way home, ‘so I couldn’t see any sense hauling him in
right away – I’d rather have him on side when we speak.’
Grace was silent.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sam had asked.
‘I keep remembering what Greg said to me.’
‘About being seen?’
‘ “Saw me.” ’ Grace had shivered. ‘Suddenly it makes more sense, doesn’t it?’
‘If Gregory saw Muller’s killer, you mean? If the killer saw him.’
‘Don’t you think that’s what he might have meant?’
‘It’s possible,’ Sam had said. ‘But it’s just as likely that “saw me” meant that someone saw Gregory doing coke on the beach.’
‘Would that have frightened him so much?’ Grace had asked.
‘Being arrested would probably have terrified him,’ Sam said, ‘and the prospect of going back into rehab. And don’t forget the kid was probably high as a kite.’ He
had reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t let this make you crazy, sweetheart.’
She’d tried her best not to, and they’d managed a peaceful enough evening, but now she was lying here with sleep still eluding her, and all her various stresses seemed to be
contracting into a single tightly packed hard ball of anxiety focused on Cathy.
She gave it up finally, heaved herself as silently as possible
Maria Rivera prided herself on being an excellent saleswoman, something she measured not only in transactions, but by the fact that her customers felt she cared about selling them the right
clothes and tended, therefore, to come back to her. Maria knew that there were times you needed to lie, or at least to conceal the absolute truth, but there were also occasions when allowing a
customer to leave the store with a garment that was going to make them look ridiculous was, so far as Maria was concerned, a real disservice. She liked seeing a perfect or at least a good fit,
derived pleasure from seeing clientele becoming more attractive because of the clothes they were trying on.
Thursday afternoon had been particularly busy in the Fratelli store on the upper level of the Aventura Mall, but despite the high volume of customers, every single one of Maria’s sales and
fails remained clear in her memory; none more so than the one she’d instantly, privately, named The Freezer.
A strange one, for sure. Trying on jeans, a better than good fit, fine on the waist, snug but not too tight on the behind, excellent length.
Maria had looked at the customer and smiled. ‘You wear them well,’ she had said.
She would have said more, but for the customer’s eyes.
A look that could have frozen blood.
One sale Maria had not minded losing out on, that was for sure.
Usually – always – if Cathy wasn’t going to come home for the night, she telephoned to let Grace and Sam know they could lock up and go to bed without
worrying about her.
Thursday night had been the exception. No show, no call. No sleep for Grace.
She’d told herself over and over that she was being absurd and neurotic, that Cathy was an adult, at liberty to stay out whenever she wanted, but it hadn’t helped because it was
simply so unlike her considerate daughter.
Not that it was only Cathy keeping her awake. Nor was it the baby, who’d kicked around for a while at around one a.m., but had then gone off to sleep.
‘What’s up?’ Sam’s voice came out of the darkness at around three. ‘You OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ Grace told him, stroking his arm. ‘Go back to sleep.’
No point in them both lying awake.
She had told him before they’d left the Hoffman house that afternoon about her conversation with Ryan, and Sam had spoken briefly to the boy, learned that his surname was Harrison, had
given him his card and told him to get in touch next day if he wanted to avoid Sam speaking to his parents first.
‘I’m sure as I can be that he was telling the truth about not being there with Gregory,’ Sam had said on the way home, ‘so I couldn’t see any sense hauling him in
right away – I’d rather have him on side when we speak.’
Grace was silent.
‘What are you thinking?’ Sam had asked.
‘I keep remembering what Greg said to me.’
‘About being seen?’
‘ “Saw me.” ’ Grace had shivered. ‘Suddenly it makes more sense, doesn’t it?’
‘If Gregory saw Muller’s killer, you mean? If the killer saw him.’
‘Don’t you think that’s what he might have meant?’
‘It’s possible,’ Sam had said. ‘But it’s just as likely that “saw me” meant that someone saw Gregory doing coke on the beach.’
‘Would that have frightened him so much?’ Grace had asked.
‘Being arrested would probably have terrified him,’ Sam said, ‘and the prospect of going back into rehab. And don’t forget the kid was probably high as a kite.’ He
had reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t let this make you crazy, sweetheart.’
She’d tried her best not to, and they’d managed a peaceful enough evening, but now she was lying here with sleep still eluding her, and all her various stresses seemed to be
contracting into a single tightly packed hard ball of anxiety focused on Cathy.
She gave it up finally, heaved herself as silently as possible
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