The Shoe

The bell above the door jingled as I walked into the restaurant.

It was quiet and dim inside; the late afternoon sun forcing its way through the shuttered vertical blinds was the only source of light.

The waitress sitting at a table by the door startled as the door shut softly behind me. She peered at me out of the corner of her eye and froze, the napkin she was folding hung suspended in midair for a few seconds before she stiffly brought the edges of the linen together on top of the table.

I cleared my throat and she startled again, but didn’t look up.

I glanced around the restaurant, empty of customers and still now, save the lazy cycle of the ceiling fan overhead. My hand moved surreptitiously to the holster at my waist. The same instinct that had lead me to this unassuming little hole in the wall, urged me now to be cautious.

I moved further into the restaurant and cleared my throat again. “Hello?”

The waitresses’ eyes darted nervously toward the kitchen before they returned to the table in front of her. “We’re closed” she said softly. The napkin clutched in her right hand began to tremble.

Before I could take another step in her direction, the kitchen door swung open and a large man stepped out. He folded his massive arms across a smeared white apron and glared in my direction.

I cleared my throat again, the hidden butt of my gun against my palm at my waist a comfort. “Are you the manager? I just wanted to ask a few questions.”

The man glared quietly for a few seconds more. “She said we’re closed” he growled, taking a menacing step in my direction.

I swallowed. I hadn’t been able to save the other victims of the vicious kidnapping ring that was snatching women from the streets and selling their organs on the black market, but I wasn’t about to give up on this last one. Intel had placed her somewhere in the vicinity less than an hour before, and this quiet little Italian restaurant had somehow avoided the attention of most of the local law enforcement. My partner and I had visited this spot a few weeks back, when evidence seemed to be pointing in a different direction. The sleepy elderly owners we spoke to appeared to be an obvious dead end, but something about the restaurant and it’s personnel raised my hackles.

I probably shouldn’t have returned alone, being a young, relatively new female detective myself, but that instinct wouldn’t let me turn away and warned that time was of the essence. Hopefully, the 911 text that I sent to my partner would have him here sooner rather than later.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hands and inched a little closer. “I just want to talk.” The large man in the apron continued to glare. I slowly reached into my coat pocket and pulled out an image of the latest victim. “Have you seen this woman?”

The man didn’t look at the at the image, and somehow his expression seemed to get even more menacing.

“You’re not welcome here.” he sneered. “Get out.”

Recognizing that there was little more I could do until I had back up, I smiled and raised my hands appeasingly again. “No problem. I’ll get out of your hair.”

I backed toward the door, and keeping one hand in the air, reached slowly into my pocket to pull out my card. I placed the card on the table in front of the waitress. “If you think of anything, give me a call.” I looked at the waitress who stared at the card. Quickly, she flicked her eyes to me and then to the far side of the room and back to the table top.

My pulse quickened. I looked back to the aproned man who still stood arms crossed by the kitchen door. As casually as I could, I let my gaze wander to the far side of the room. There, barely visible under one of the pristine white tablecloths, was a single red high heeled shoe.
I grinned and glanced once more at the waitress who continued to stare at the table. Grabbing the door handle behind me, I heard the bell tinkle as it opened. I brought my eyes back to the man with the apron and held his gaze as I backed out of the restaurant. My cell phone buzzed with the notification that my partner was on his way.

I got him.