Bailey peered at it. “Hard to tell just by looking. Might be blood, but it could be dirt.”
Toni called out to the salesgirl through the doorway. “Where’s the store owner?”
As the person most likely to know the layout of the mall and where all the doors were in this store, the owner made for an attractive suspect.
“At home, probably. She doesn’t come in much.”
She. A woman was less likely to be a kidnapper, but then again Tammy Susie was a pretty small target, even if she was, as Erica intimated, a tad chunky. “Why not?” I asked.
The girl shrugged. “It’s hard for her to get around. Grieta’s pretty old.”
Old. But to this girl that might mean thirty-nine. “How old?”
“We just threw her a party for her eighty-first birthday.”
Eighty-one was a little too old to handle the kidnapping. At least, without help.
“Does anyone work here besides you?” I asked.
“No. Not anymore. Renzo, that’s Grieta’s nephew, used to work on the weekends, but he just left for school up in Amherst.”
“How’s the store doing? Sales good?” Bailey asked.
I knew she was fishing around for motive. If the store was going under, an owner might get desperate enough to collaborate in a kidnapping scheme for some quick cash.
“Sales are okay…”
The way she trailed off told me sales were nothing to write home about. Maybe we were onto something.
“Okay… but not good,” I said. “Is Grieta maybe a little strapped for money?”
“Grieta? Strapped for money?” The girl laughed. “Her husband left her a fortune. This store’s just a hobby.”
I won’t lie. The owner wasn’t looking like our best suspect.
“Do you remember seeing anyone else in the store at the time the little girl was here?” Toni asked.
“I think the lady who works for Tammy Susie was here. I’m pretty sure I showed her a pair of Tahitian pearl earrings.”
Tahitian pearls are not cheap. That Erica has nice taste. And I bet she’d love to hear that she works “for” Tammy Susie. Not to mention the fact that the salesgirl had called her a “lady”-teenage shorthand for “old.” It was probably best that Erica had stayed outside. “Did anyone else come into the store?” I asked.
The girl frowned, then looked up at the ceiling. I watched her eyes move back and forth for a few seconds, as she played back her mental video. “It’s possible someone walked in and then walked out without my seeing them. But if you mean someone who could’ve gotten past me and into the dressing room area without my noticing, no way.”
