“Can you prove your shoes are yours?”
He frowned.
“Ma’am.”
“I’m serious.”
He sighed.
“That's different.”
“How?”
“Because we're investigating a complaint involving store merchandise.”
“No.”
“You're investigating a customer’s accusation.”
The distinction made him pause.
The Black woman continued.
“No store employee has told you my handbag belongs to the store.”
The officer looked around.
That was true.
He turned toward the nearest sales associate.
“Does that bag belong to the store?”
The associate looked at it.
Her eyes widened slightly.
She recognized it.
“No.”
The blonde woman turned.
“How could you know?”
The associate swallowed.
“Because we don't have that model yet.”
The Black woman glanced at her.
Smart.
The blonde woman’s expression shifted.
Only for a second.
Then she recovered.
“Maybe she brought an empty bag in to fill it.”
The officer looked toward her.
Now even he seemed uncomfortable.
The Black woman remained motionless.
One customer whispered:
“Oh my God.”
The blonde woman heard.
“What?”
Nobody answered.
The Black woman reached slowly into her handbag.
The officer’s posture changed immediately.
“Hands.”
She stopped.
Her fingers had barely crossed the opening.
She looked at him.
“I’m taking out a key card.”
“Slowly.”
“I was moving slowly.”
She removed a small black card between two fingers.
No visible logo.
No name.
She placed it on the glass counter.
The blonde woman laughed.
“What is that supposed to prove?”
The Black woman did not answer.
Instead she looked toward the staff hallway.
At the end of the hall stood a matte-black door marked only by a tiny brass symbol.
No customer access.
Executive office.
Inventory vault.
Private consultation suite.
The officer followed her eyes.
The blonde woman did too.
The Black woman picked up the card.
Walked toward the door.
The officer stepped in front of her.
“Where are you going?”
“To save everyone some time.”
“Stay here until management arrives.”
She stopped.
“Fine.”
Then she held the card toward the young employee who had returned from the hallway.
The employee had gone pale.
Behind her came the boutique manager.
White woman.
Early forties.
Black fitted suit.
Hair pulled back.
She took three quick steps into the sales floor.
Saw the police officer.
Saw the blonde woman.
Then saw the Black woman.
Her entire face changed.
Not recognition alone.
Alarm.
She moved faster.
“Ms.—”
The Black woman lifted one finger.