“But the golf carts are faster,” I said as we got to our car. “So we’re not passing up the ride next time. Got it?”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you hit the gym?” I folded my arms and refused to answer. Bailey nodded. “Exactly.”
But all joking aside-or more accurately all joking now possible-we were fired up. Finally we had what felt like a real lead.
Bailey and I got into the car and she pulled out her cell. “I’m forwarding the article to you. I’ll put out the alert with Brian’s true name, you call in and get the info on the wife and sister.”
We made our respective calls. “I’ve got a suggestion,” I said when we’d both finished.
“Space Mountain?”
I gave her my steely-eyed look. She yawned in terror. “Since we’re on the Valley side of the world, why don’t we hit the jewelry store where Brian was last employed?” I said.
Bailey started the car. “A surprisingly good idea.”
“You can’t teach it. It’s a gift.”
Twenty minutes later, we were riding the escalator up to the shops at the Galleria. From the moment we stepped off, we were surrounded by clusters of teenagers-boys on one side, girls on the other, with occasional meetings between the two that generated squeals and hugs all around.
“You remember hugging that much when you were a kid?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’m a hugger,” Bailey deadpanned. “Ask me, it’s just the guys looking for a way to cop a feel.”
“Perhaps today’s youth are simply more effusive in their displays of affection.”
“Or perhaps boys are always looking for ways to cop a feel.”
“Or that.”
But seeing the kids, their clothing, and maybe just the way they walked reminded me of an earlier hunch. I approached a cluster of girls. “Any of you go to Clarington?”
A girl with pink fringe for bangs looked me up and down before answering. “We all do.” The other girls nodded.
“What about those guys?” I asked, nodding toward a group of boys ten feet away.
“Yeah, them too. Why?”
“Just taking a survey.”
“What do I get?”
I looked at her quizzically.
“For answering your questions,” she added impatiently.
“My undying gratitude.” I walked back to Bailey, who was waiting in front of the jewelry store, and tried not to grumble about “kids today.”
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Bailey asked.
“Misspent youth. Theirs. And like we thought, the Clarington kids hang here.”
Bailey opened the door and we walked in.
“So maybe Brian took the job to get next to Hayley,” I said.
