Nobody except Camille.
And she was beginning to wonder how many other people in the company had learned to see customers differently depending on what they looked like.
Evelyn Whitmore had never considered herself prejudiced.
That was important to her.
She thought of herself as practical.
Experienced.
Protective of businesses she patronized.
She knew the names of luxury brands, hotel managers, private bankers, and restaurant owners.
She believed money gave people responsibility.
She also believed people who had earned respect deserved special treatment.
Over the years, Bellmont & Rowe had given her plenty.
Her favorite fitting room was always available.
Her alterations were rushed.
Her purchases were delivered to her apartment.
Once, after complaining about a handbag strap, she received a replacement without being asked to return the original.
She had spent a fortune.
She believed that made her important.
The employees believed it too.
That was the problem.
Evelyn walked through the store like someone who had been given authority without ever being formally granted it.
When she pointed at a display, people moved it.
When she complained about music, the music changed.
When she said a particular employee wasn't attentive enough, that employee received a warning.
Nobody wanted to lose Evelyn.
So when she called the police, Martin didn't stop her.
He watched her make the call.
"Yes," she said. "I'm at Bellmont & Rowe on Madison Avenue."
She paused.
"There is a woman here carrying several expensive dresses. I believe she may be attempting to leave without paying."
Martin's face tightened.
"Mrs. Whitmore—"
She covered the phone.
"What?"
"We don't know that."
"We'll let the police determine it."
"But nothing has been reported missing."
Evelyn stared at him.
"Do you want me to tell corporate that you refused to protect the store?"
Martin went silent.
That was the second failure.
The call continued.
Across the room, Camille watched.
She could have ended the situation immediately.
She could have called her regional president.
She could have called the head of security.
She could have called her assistant.
Instead, she did none of those things.
She wanted to see what happened next.
Officer Daniel Reed arrived seven minutes later.
He was forty-two, experienced, and accustomed to entering retail stores under similar circumstances.
The dispatcher had told him:
"Possible shoplifting. Female suspect. Luxury clothing store."
Reed entered.
Evelyn immediately pointed.
"That's her."
Camille looked toward the officer.
"Good afternoon."
Reed approached.
"Ma'am, can you put the dresses on the counter?"
Camille remained calm.
"Why?"
"We received a report of suspected theft."
"From whom?"
Reed glanced toward Evelyn.
"From a customer."
Camille looked at Martin.
"Has the store reported anything missing?"
Martin hesitated.
"No."
"Did anyone see me conceal anything?"
"No."
"Did I attempt to leave?"
Martin looked down.
"No."
Reed sighed.
"Ma'am, I'm just trying to establish what happened."
"So am I."
"Put the dresses down."
Camille didn't move.
"Officer, I'm happy to cooperate. But I want to understand what I'm accused of."
Reed's patience began to disappear.
"You're carrying merchandise you haven't purchased."
Camille looked around.
"We're inside a clothing store."
A few customers turned.
Someone smiled.
Evelyn didn't.
"She's being difficult," Evelyn said.
Camille looked at her.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Because I'm asking questions?"
"Because you know exactly what you're doing."
Camille slowly placed the dresses on the counter.
"There."
Reed nodded.
"Thank you."
Then he reached for his notebook.
"Identification."
Camille looked at him.
"Am I being detained?"
"Not at this moment."
"Then am I required to provide identification?"
Reed frowned.
"Ma'am."
"I asked a simple question."
The store became quiet.
Reed looked at Martin.
Martin looked away.
Then Evelyn said:
"People who have nothing to hide don't make things complicated."
Camille turned toward her.
"That's an interesting philosophy."
Evelyn crossed her arms.
"Is it?"
Camille smiled faintly.
"Yes."
She reached inside her coat.
Reed's hand moved toward his belt.
Camille stopped.
"Wallet."
Reed nodded.
She removed a black leather cardholder.
She opened it.
Inside were several cards.
One was a driver's license.
Another was a corporate identification card.
And one was a small silver executive credential bearing the Bellmont & Rowe emblem.
Camille handed Reed the driver's license.