A Dance of Life

1

The first thing I notice about people is their shoes. Yes, I know it's weird but a person's shoes say a lot about them.

The detective that's questioning me has new shoes; little to no creases on the charcoal leather. He's either new to the job or he cares about his appearance enough to buy new plain black shoes once in a while.

"Ms. Allard?"

"Sorry, what was the question?" I ask him.

I genuinely can't remember; I had gotten wrapped up in my analysis. His clean-cut beard and overly starched shirt push me towards the latter. No judgment there, not only women should care about their appearance.

"Can you describe his appearance and what he was wearing?"

"He was on the tall side, maybe about 6 feet, wearing a worn-out baseball cap. He had grey-blue tired eyes and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times," the detective raises a brow at that statement and writes something in his notepad. He gestures for me to continue once he was done. "His smile was also crooked with a few chipped teeth; the top front incisors and the bottom canine. He wore joggers and a sweatshirt, both on the dark grey side. His shoes... his shoes were peculiar. They didn't match the outfit; they were really old looking loafers with a small hole on the left foot."

My boss, Mr. Williams, wasn't the nicest person but he didn't deserve to die. He had a family; wife, three kids, and a dog. I can't imagine what they must be feeling.

"Did he have any enemies that you would have known of?" the detective asks.

I laugh slightly then immediately regret it; this is obviously not the time to laugh. "No, sir, I don't think Mr. Williams had any enemies. He might not have been considered as kind but he was a good person. He never even fired anyone unless they were terribly insolent."

"Okay, that's all for now. Stick around, if we have any more questions we'll let you know. If not, then you'll be free to go."

I nod quickly and shuffle to the service counter where the 3 other waitresses that were working tonight are seated.

"He's cute."

"Are you serious, Franky? Is that what you're thinking about right now?" I say as I sit on one of the stools.

She shrugs, "Anything to distract me from this crazy stuff. Let me go see if he needs coffee."

"Are you going to talk normally or put on your 'emo voice' to sound uninterested?" I chuckle.

"Wow, so funny. Can you tell that I'm dying of laughter," she replies with a roll of her eyes before walking away.

I shake my head at her bravery, if I could even call it that.

"This is so crazy," Bella's high pitched voice says from behind me, her palms are cupping her heart-shaped face and her small eyes are opened in fear. "I'm scared, what if the man comes back?"

Patricia smiles at me over Bella's head. "It's going to be okay, B, I'm sure the police would be watching this area for a while. There's no need to worry."

There goes Pat, always the reassuring one. Definitely an amazing trait to have in your best friend and roommate. The past three years have been great and I'm sure one of the main reasons is because I had Pat by my side.

"How about we all have a sleepover tonight? Watch a movie, do our nails?"

I groan, "Pat you know I have to wake up early tomorrow to get to the studio, my audition's in less than a month and I need all the practice I can get."