The case of the missing sling-backs

So I think that someone has broken into my apartment: my pointy black sling-back heels are missing. Now I know those of you who have been to my apartment in recent months will say, "Jessica, really, the shoes are probably in the earthquake rubble you charmingly refer to as your bedroom." To you I say--NO! I know exactly where every pair of shoe I own is. Like shoe sonar or something. Without going to look, I can tell you:
The green Union Bay sneakers? Under the glass table in the living room.
The peep-toe heels that were a party to the tumble? One is sitting on top of a pile of clothes, the other is on the bathroom rug.
The green flip-flops with pink flamingos? Kitchen.
The distressed brown Mary Janes? Under the coat rack.
The Abominable Snowman slippers? Under the desk near my feet.
The caramel color slip-ons that make my feet smell? Coat closet.
The gray pointy sling-backs? One is on the kitchen table, the other is in a purse near the kitchen counter. (I keep mistaking this one for the shoe that is MIA.)

The point to all this is that I know where my shoes are when they are not on my feet. And I have no clue where the pointy black sling-back heels are. And I have looked in all the usual places: closet, under the bed, under the couch, in the fridge (that's usually where my keys or cell phone hide), etc. I think a robber came in and took my shoes. Or a weird little gnome with a shoe fetish.

Speaking of which, I wonder if Oola took them.