Lorraine stared in horror at the paint-splattered, cheap brown oxfords. They were made out of what looked like a velour material and had big thick laces. “I don’t know what to say,” she stammered. “I don’t have socks, so I wouldn’t want to…”

Jon retrieved a pair of nylon Peds from the bag. “I didn’t expect you to fall in love with them,” he said gravely, “but I don’t advise walking around New York City barefoot. And our slippers weren’t meant for the outdoors.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Lorraine said. “I wish that I didn’t have to go out again at all. You are so kind.”

Jon stared at her. “Our goal at the Treetops Hotel is to go the extra mile for our guests.”

“And you do,” Lorraine said quickly. “You all do. These shoes are just perfect.”

Lorraine took the bag and hurried out the door, grateful that the greeter was busy with other guests. She’d wait for Clay on one of the benches across the street where she could keep an eye on the front door of the hotel. He’d better get here soon, she thought, as she started to run across the street in her slippers. One of them fell off and was run over before she even reached the other side.

She collapsed onto the bench, and wearily reached into the bag. I guess I have no choice, she thought. Wait till Clay sees these.

Where is he anyway?

28

A s Becky and Kent were leaving the comedy club, Becky couldn’t stop thinking about the couple she had seen leaving together in the cab. If only I could do something to help, she thought. Regan Reilly had said they couldn’t announce that there was a crazy girl out on the streets of Manhattan with a guy named Chip Jones whom she might harm. They had no proof that she’d carried out the crimes her friend claimed she committed. Besides, with the blackout, who would get the word anyway?

But someone must know this Chip Jones.

Kent was married and lived up in Yonkers. “Becky, can I give you a ride? I’m sure it’s tough to get a cab.”

Over the summer, Becky was living in a friend’s older sister’s apartment in Greenwich Village, sleeping in the living room on the Bernadette Castro Convertible. The sister traveled a lot for business and was currently out of town. Becky didn’t really want to go home to an unfamiliar, dark apartment by herself. “That’s nice of you to offer, Kent, especially since you’re heading in the other direction. Do you mind if I just make a quick phone call? A friend of mine was going out tonight with a bunch of people. I’d love to meet up with them if they haven’t gone home yet.”

“Sure. Let’s start walking toward my car. It’s parked down the street.”

Becky pulled out her phone. “My mother always jokes with me that in her day you couldn’t catch up with your friends on a night out if you hadn’t planned it in advance. Nobody had cell phones.”