“Being alone with him, how long he was taking. We’re not some huge department store, how much time does it take to go through the merchandise? And most guys have no patience at all, they’re in and out or asking for help. Anyway, this guy said he was fine and Kat returned to the counter. But something gave her a funny feeling and she checked him out again. Couldn’t see him, but heard him behind one of the double racks and she went over and peeked. The guy had taken out a dress and was holding it up against his own body. Stroking it — like fitting it on himself. Kat said she couldn’t control herself, she just broke up and the guy heard it and nearly fell over himself putting the dress back. But instead of apologizing, Kat just stood there. And instead of rushing out, the guy turned and stared at her. Being… blatant. Like he needed to show he wasn’t ashamed. Kat told me that really pissed her off, she wasn’t going to take shit from a weirdo, so she stared back. I guess you could call that conflict.”

“Sounds like an assertive weirdo,” said Milo.

“Kat thought it was hilarious,” said Amelie. “I was appalled. Everyone’s got their secrets, why make them feel stupid?”

“Then what happened?”

“The guy stared some more, finally gave in and left quickly. Kat said she made sure to laugh some more. So he could hear her as he slunk away. It’s probably nothing, but you asked about problems.”

“Did Kat describe this guy?”

Black-rimmed eyes rounded. “You think it could be him? Oh, no, what if he comes back?”

“I’m sure there’s no connection, Amelie. We just need to collect as many facts as possible.”

“That would really freak me out,” she said. “The thought of being here with—”

“You’ll be fine, Amelie. Did Kat describe him?”

“No, no. She just told the story and laughed. It kept her giggly the whole rest of the day.”

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER
17

A jewelry store named Cachet was visible at the end of the block.

Milo said, “Being a big-time hoohah detective, I’m willing to guess that’s where Beth Holloway works. But first, blood sugar therapy.”

I followed him into the coffee store. The place was nearly empty but it took a while to get the attention of the iPod-wearing kid hiding behind the espresso machine.

Milo bought two Frisbee-sized bagels smeared with crème fraîche, filled a small paper cup with free water, brought his bounty to a corner stool.

One bagel down. He wiped his chin. “Been a while since I worked a case with overtones.”

Years ago, he’d reported to a captain who’d made sure to assign him every homicide with “unconventional overtones” that came through the division. Meaning anything but male on female, the more lurid the better.