Read Rita Hayworth's Shoes for Free Online Page B

his own chest with tiny clenched fists. “Just as we were starting to put our differences aside.”
    The child began to cry as a woman around Jane’s age took him into her arms. She led the boy away from the casket and they glowered at Amy as they passed.
    â€œNot your fault,” insisted Jane. “Not your folks and,” she nodded toward the coffin, “not this one, either.”
    â€œTell that to that child.”
    At that very moment, Zoë appeared. “Dead people are weird,” she said, not taking her eyes off the coffin, where Heimlich’s Band-Aid wrapped fingers “clutched” a book of Shakespearean sonnets and a Blue Hawaii DVD. “But living people are even weirder,” she said, and darted off after the little boy.
    Amy was astonished. “You brought her to a wake? Really ?”
    â€œShe’s going to have to face it sometime,” said Jane. “Better it be someone she doesn’t know up there.”
    Amy gave Jane a blank stare, which Jane didn’t notice. Jane was too busy beaming at Zoë, who was now embracing the hysterical boy. Zoë pulled away from the boy, producing a Smurf figurine from behind his ear! The little boy delighted in the magic trick and began laughing wildly. Jane took it all in, beaming with pride, and finally turned back to Amy. “What?” she said.
    Amy shook her head and went back to sulking and Jane said, “I guess I better go make sure Zoë doesn’t take him outside and show him the trick of the vanishing pants again.” And then Jane was gone, but quickly replaced.
    Amy hadn’t noticed that a man had been watching her since she’d come in and now that man was standing over her. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” the man said, cheerfully, in a deep, thick baritone. Amy didn’t look up.
    But if she had looked up, she would have seen right then and there that these inappropriately cheery words actually came from a gigantic hulk of a man, who also happened to be completely bald. Not just on bald on the top of his head, mind you. He had no hair anywhere . Neither eyebrows nor eyelashes. Nary a whisker on chin or cheek. She may even have noticed that there was no hair in his nose, his ears, on even on his arms or legs. But she wasn’t paying attention.
    So maybe if she had been paying attention, his next words—spoken as he helped himself to the seat that Jane had vacated—may have shocked her just a little bit, “How some people’s passing is surprisingly easy to take.”
    The giant bald man looked at Amy for a reaction and she didn’t react. So he sat a few moments and looked around. He looked at Heimlich. Then he looked down at his watch, and then back again at Amy.
    â€œSo how does it feel to have killed a man?” he asked, in as matter-of-fact a tone as someone might wonder about the performance of a sports team or the recent weather.
    That got her. She turned her head to retort and then let out a large gasp at the sight of him. As stunned as she was by what she saw, however, her anger at what he’d said won out over shock. “I beg your pardon?” He let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Aren’t you the assistant?” he taunted. “The one who slipped him the tainted biscotti?”
    â€œFor your information,” she began, but he didn’t let her finish, cutting her short again with that laugh of his.
    â€œI know, I know,” he said. “Detective Franks is an old friend of mine,” he smiled, nodding at the detective. Franks, noticing them looking at him, crossed his arms over his chest, shook his head and turned away. “He said the old guy choked—that he had some kind of nut allergy, but it was actually chomping the thing down without chewing that got him.”
    â€œOh…” she said, and she looked at him again. Terrifying as he appeared, he had nice eyes and this relaxed her a bit. Until