“You go tell Mrs. Thorne what we learned while I talk with some of the people here and try to find out who tends that particular bed. Take the car and we’ll meet back at the park entrance.”
Bruce nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll let her know that we’ll follow up on it and get back to her when we know more.”
Harry was waiting when Bruce returned. He got into the passenger seat and told Bruce what he’d found out. “Norah Small, widow, tends the bed where the shoes are. She’s at 33 Oak Circle.”
“Bruce turned the car around and headed out again. “That’s a senior’s division, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and it’s within walking distance from the park. Convenient, I guess.”
Minutes later they Bruce brought the car to a stop in the driveway of 33 Oak Circle. The cottage-style units were in a circular arrangement, all facing a circular street. At the centre was a perfectly round park, featuring benches, picnic tables, flowering shrubs and what looked like young oak trees.
“First time I’ve been here since it was finished,” Bruce said. “Doesn’t look bad at all. Ever picture yourself living somewhere like this, Harry?”
“Not until I can find nothing to keep me occupied and get tired of my own company. It’s fine if a person decides it’s what they want but I’m not there yet.” He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
The door opened a fraction and a round smiling face, surrounded by a mass of snow white curls peeped out. “May I help you?” she inquired.
Both men pulled their ID and she immediately swung the door open. “Please come in.”
Seated in the small but cosy living room, Harry explained why they were there.
“Oh my!” She clapped both hands over her face. “I am so sorry. I never meant any harm.”
“We realize that, ma’am,” said Harry. “But can you tell us why you were burying shoes, all for the left foot, and all looking as if they had never been worn.”
“That’s because they weren’t.” She chuckled. “My late husband, Jim, was in an accident many years ago and his left leg was badly crushed. He never regained full strength of the leg and had to wear a custom-made knee-length boot for walking, though he still couldn’t walk very far. He always tossed the store-bought left footwear in the back of the closet. After Jim passed away just over two years ago, I sold the fairly large house we had and moved here. During the moving process I decided something had to be done about all those shoes because I now have much less storage space. So I ‘adopted’ one of the flower beds in the pack and began burying a shoe every time I set out a new plant or dug out weeds.”
“That’s very resourceful,” Bruce said.
‘I’m not sure burying the shoes like this is such a good idea, Mrs. Small. In fact, I’m not even sure it’s legal.’
‘Oh dear. Then how am I to get rid of them? I can’t donate half a pair of shoes to Goodwill.’
‘Put them in the garbage,’ Bruce suggested.
‘In which bin?’ she asked. ‘They aren’t plastic, glass or cardboard; they’re not household waste… where do I put them?’
Harry rubbed his chin. ‘The only thing I can suggest is to call City Hall. They might be able to tell you how to dispose of them.’
