Crimson Heels

By Michele Venne

What if a pair of shoes could change a life?

Presley Jones is satisfied with her life. Then she sees the shoes. A series of events makes her wonder if those strappy, sparkly heels are responsible.

Detective Tate Nelson finds a woman in an alley. His investigation uncovers a string of crimes. Can he protect the witnesses and arrest the one responsible, even when the people he meets resemble characters from a book he read in middle school?

• Language: English
• Publisher: My Joy Enterprises
• Release date: Aug 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781945593352

Book preview

Crimson Heels

Crimson Heels

Michele Venne´

My Joy Enerprises

Crimson Heels

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

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First Edition

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Published by My Joy Enterprises

PO Box 73372, Phoenix, Arizona USA 85050

www.michelevenne.com

Copyright © 2021 by Michele Venne´

Cover art created by Lilly Skye at www.lillyskye.com

ISBN: 978-1-945593-35-2

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.

Contents

Story

Questions to Ponder

Dear Reader

Acknowledgments

Titles by Michele Venne´

About the Author

A rainy Sunday morning found Presley out for bagels and coffee before showing up at her sister’s apartment. She had done well at the late-night pool tournament. The winnings of $275 were folded up in her front pocket, and she decided it was worth her time spent practicing, especially after staring at a computer screen for most of the day. She smiled to herself, remembering the look of surprised disbelief on her competitor’s handsome face when she banked the cue ball and sank good old number eight. Presley considered her lack of a love life, but maybe that would improve without so much time spent inside a building where Billiards flashed in neon blue.

Hurrying underneath the yellow and white striped overhang that joined a bakery and a deli, she readjusted her raincoat, then glanced across the street. A shop she hadn’t noticed before displayed vintage articles in the window. Since most of her winnings went toward rent and time on the felt honing her skill, little was available for extras. But then, shopping had never been one of Presley’s hobbies. However, something in the window caught her attention. She tugged on the hood of her raincoat and dashed across the one-way street.

Nearly pressing her nose to the glass, she stared. The red shoes were something that Dorothy from Kansas would have envied. They were all heels and straps and buckles, with a handwritten price tag that read, $253.

Admittedly, Presley didn’t need much in life, but the desire to own those shoes was battling her inner frugal banker. Come on. I’ll bet they’re good luck, she told the bean counter with all the conviction of a gambler pushing forward a pile of chips.

Presley pulled open the door, her entrance announced by the chiming of the three bells that hung above the door. Wiping her feet on the mat inside the threshold, she glanced up at the cheerful welcome.

Hello. So glad you stepped in out of the rain.

Presley smiled at the woman with gray hair piled on top of her head, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and kind blue eyes. Hello. If those red sequined shoes in the window are a size nine, we’ll both be glad I came in out of the rain.

They are a beauty, aren’t they? The woman gestured to a padded bench next to the door. Have a seat. Let me get them for you.

Eying the price tag on the cushioned seat, Presley opted to stand. Though she hadn’t seen the sign, it was common for eclectic shops to have a ‘you break it, you buy it’ policy, and she didn’t have the cash for that. Glancing at the shelf attached to the wall behind her, Presley surveyed the items. A cream-colored castle with painted gold turrets stood next to an ugly rag doll who wore green elf-like shoes with legs covered in striped stockings. A ceramic lifelike mini terrier sat on its haunches, head cocked to the side, ears lifted as if it listened to the proprietor’s conversations. Presley wondered if these had been part of someone’s collection of movie memorabilia.

These are lovely shoes, the woman said, winding her way around display cases and racks of vintage clothing. She turned them over. And they’ve never been worn. Here. Sit.

That’s alright. I’m wet, and I don’t want to ruin anything.

The woman pursed her lips in thought, her blue eyes focusing on Presley’s red and white checked raincoat. I’ll hold your coat while you try on the shoes.

Presley couldn’t see the size, and the shop owner hadn’t said, but they looked big enough. She slid the coat off her shoulders, then tucked the outside in on itself and made the swap. Perching on the edge of the cushion, she untied her sneakers. Grateful her socks were dry, she shucked them, then slid her feet into the glittery red shoes.

They had a wide three-inch heel and a rounded toe. One strap and buckle crossed the top of her foot. The other three buckles were smaller and attached to thinner straps that wound in front of her ankle and several inches up her calf. She could feel a small amount of cushion under the ball of her foot.

Presley stood and took a couple of steps. She didn’t wobble, but the extra height was new. All of her footwear was of the flat, comfortable variety. Looking down, she twisted to the side, stuck her foot out, and felt something of what her sister, Gloria, mentioned often. A feeling. Whether it was good or bad vibes, Gloria paid attention. Presley, rooted in mathematics and economics, rarely got these ‘feelings.’ Whatever energy vibrated around the red sequins and buckles, she wanted the shoes.

I’ll take them, Presley told the shopkeeper.

Splendid! I’ll carry them to the counter and package them up for you. Unless you want to wear them home?

She was tempted, but Presley didn’t want to ruin them before they saw the inside of a billiards hall. No. A bag will protect them from all the wet out there. She sat and unbuckled the shoes, then handed them over. After retying her sneakers and putting on her coat, she pulled the $275 from her pocket.

It pleases me to know these shoes are going to someone who will enjoy them. Who knows? Perhaps they’ll bring you good luck. We all need a few good friends and a little luck as we travel down life’s road. The older woman secured the cash in a drawer under the counter, then held out the wrapped shoes.

Thank you. What’s your name? Presley asked, tucking the bag beneath her coat.

Emmeline. I’ve had this shop for forty years. My niece will take it over once she graduates from college in May.

I wish the both of you well. Presley turned and left the thrift shop. Once outside, she glanced up at the sign above the door. ‘The White Stone Path… You’ll find what you’re looking for.’ Crossing the street, Presley thought of the shelved trinkets and refused to glance down to see if the small terrier jogged at her heels.

Thirty minutes later, loaded with a bag of bagels, a carrier for the two cups of coffee, and her shoes, Presley knocked on her sister’s door. A moment later, it was pulled open. An older version of herself smiled, chattered a greeting, and reached for the coffee and bagels.

I think it’s going to rain all day, Gloria said. Hang up your coat. Take off your shoes. Come get warm. In a flurry of shoulder-length mahogany hair, black yoga pants, and a pale blue, wide-sleeved blouse, Gloria left the foyer for the kitchen, her light citrus perfume floating above the potent scent of coffee.

Presley shook her head, smiled, and followed her sister’s instructions. Taking her purchase with her, she sat on the couch facing the fireplace and watched the gas flames flicker around the fake logs.

When Gloria entered the living room, it was with a tray. She had a thing about enjoying food and drink with real dishes, napkins,