Mrs. Rankin sat on her stool behind the counter. She seemed amused to be able to bark out orders from atop her throne. "Let's see," she said ponderously. "What can I get you started on?"
Andie looked for something toward the front, near the dress in the window. The long shelf of sweaters looked in disarray. "How about those sweaters? I could fold them up neat for you."
"Yeah, that's good. Had a couple of women in here yesterday who tore through every last one of them. Didn't buy a darn thing, but left the place a mess, they did."
"I'll take care of it."
"Twenty minutes. That's all it should take you. Nobody putters around in this store. I hate putterers. You're not a putterer, are you, Kira?"
"No, ma'am." Andie turned and rolled her eyes. Yesterday the old lady was on her own. Today she's a union buster.
The noisy heater had not yet warmed the store, so Andie left her coat on. She folded the sweaters into neat stacks, working diligently from left to right, ever the eager new employee. She didn't stop until she had worked halfway across the store, even with the dress in the window. She stopped and touched it, as if admiring it. Discreetly, she checked the tag. It was a Donna Karan, easily worth several hundred dollars new. She flipped the tag over. The dry-cleaner's marking was written with indelible ink. Her heart skipped a beat. It read, "B. Wheatley."
No denying it. The dress was Beth's.
"Don't get any ideas, girl."
Andie started. "What--what do you mean?"
"That dress. You'd have to work here a month to pay that one off."
That was a relief. The old woman had thought she was dreaming, not snooping. Andie stroked the fabric. "Where did you get something like this?"
"Girl named Shirley. Good kid. Used to be one of my best suppliers. Not just quantity but real quality. Storefront Shirley is what I used to call her. Everything she brought went right in the front window. My best merchandise."
"Think Shirley can get me something in red?"
The old lady snorted. "Even if you could afford it, I wouldn't expect anything from Shirley anytime soon." "Why not?"
"She's locked up. For a long time."
Andie looked away, feigning disappointment. She checked the label again. "Who's this B. Wheatley?"
"I don't know. Somebody sells me a dress, I don't ask those kind of questions. You shouldn't either."
That was for sure. Andie was starting to sound too much like the heat. She went back to folding sweaters, but her mind was still on the dress. Things were starting to fit together. She couldn't waste the morning.
"I'm hungry," she said. "I'm going over to Wendy's. You want something?"
"You just got here."
"I was so excited about starting this morning I couldn't eat. And now I'm hungry."
"Oh, all right. Ten minutes, no more. And I'm taking it out of your lunch hour. Bring me back a biscuit or something."
"Okay." Andie hurried out the door and across the street. The pay phone was around back near the drive-thru. She didn't call her contact agent. She didn't even call her supervisor. She dialed the ASAC directly.
"Isaac," she said in a serious tone, "I think it's time to cut a deal with Shirley Borge."
Gus was halfway back to Seattle when his car phone rang. It was Andie.
"You were right," she said. "The dress was Beth's."
Gus eased up on the accelerator without even realizing it, slowing well under the limit. Traffic started to fly past him on the interstate. "What does this mean?"
"The owner told me she bought the dress from a woman named Shirley, who is now in jail. That's obviously why Shirley told you to check out the store."
"But Shirley has been in jail for six months. How could she have known that Beth's dress would still be there?" "It's high-end designer merchandise, not the cheap stuff that moves fast in a store like this. That's why it was on display in the window. And Shirley might not even have had this particular dress in mind. The owner told me that Shirley brought her lots of nice clothes. If we look around, we might find dozens of things in that store that belonged to Beth."
Big, wet snowflakes began to splatter on the windshield. Gus switched on the wipers. "The better question, I guess, is how did Shirley get her hands on Beth's dress in the first place?"
"That's why I called. At the moment you're the only one Shirley is talking to."
"She's not going to say another word until you cut her a deal."
"I think we can probably get her back on the prison pet program."
"She doesn't care about the dogs. That's just a test. If we're going to get any real answers, you're going to have to come up with a lot more than that."
Andie was careful not to speak out of turn. She still had to clear things through the bureau. "I'm working on it."
"That's what you want me to tell Shirley? You're working on it?"
"Gus, let me be honest with you. The FBI will promise to write a nice letter to the parole board on Shirley's behalf only on two conditions. One, if her information helps us find Beth. And two, if she was totally uninvolved with Beth's disappearance."