subject. I asked her why she didn’t say something about it to her father, or the police. Her answer was simple: she said she wouldn’t tell. And since Todd hadn’t elaborated on what he saw that day, Jenny wasn’t sure how much it mattered. I couldn’t understand why she kept something so important to herself, but then again, she was young. Maybe at her age she couldn’t comprehend how a simple piece of information could make such a big difference.
“So which one do you think he is?” Maddie said.
I opened the car door. “Let’s find out.”
By the time we were halfway across the street, the music had stopped, and all eyes were on Maddie who was showing more skin than clothing. She hadn’t bothered to change after her dip in the pool earlier that morning, and had just thrown a cover-up over her bikini, announcing she was “ready to go.” The only problem was, I couldn’t figure out what the cover-up “covered up;” the sheer fabric showed everything. She didn’t seem to care. The boys didn’t either.
One of the boys set his guitar to the side and walked down the driveway to greet us. “Can I help you, ladies?”
“Which one of you is Todd?” I said.
Inside the garage, a boy with brown, shaggy, moppish-looking hair and small silver hoop earrings raised a single finger into the air.
A boy standing next to Todd socked him in the shoulder. “He’s Todd. And I’m John. Oh, and that’s Paul,” he said pointing at the boy in front of us.
Maddie laughed. “Where’s Ringo?”
Unfortunately, Maddie and I were the only ones old enough to get the joke.
Todd, a.k.a. lead singer of screaming boy band, eyeballed me with curiosity but didn’t say a word.
“Now that I know who everyone is, I need to talk to Todd for a minute,” I said.
“What for?” Todd said.
The boy standing next to Todd gave him a look like he was crazy. “Dude, why does it matter?”
“You used to work at Maybelle’s, right?” I said.
Todd shrugged.
“With Jenny? She’s quite fond of you. She wanted me to say hello.”
“What are you, like, a relative of hers or something?” Todd said.
Maddie beamed with pride, blurting out, “She’s a private investigator.”
She and I exchanged the kind of look only a friend would understand, and although I was confident there would be no further outbursts, it was too late; all three of the boys looked at each other like they’d just been caught skinny dipping in the principal’s pool.
The boy standing in front of us fidgeted with a pick he held in his hand, flipping it over and over until it got to the point I thought he’d worn down the skin under one of his fingers. “Is this about the other night, ‘cause we already told the cops, it wasn’t our weed. We were just—”
“Relax,” I said. “Cops don’t send private investigators out over a bag of weed.”
“Why you here then?” Todd said. “I haven’t seen Jenny since her dad fired me.”
“I wanted to ask you about Olivia.”
“Who?” Todd said.
The boy standing next to Todd socked him—again. “Don’t you remember? The missing chick.”
I appreciated teenagers who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.
The realization hit Todd like Evander Holyfield the moment he realized Mike Tyson had, in fact, taken a bite out of crime.
In the midst of all this, Maddie entered the garage, sitting down behind a set of drums. With a drumstick in each hand, she looked at Todd and said, “You,” tap-tap “saw” tap-tap “something.”
I glanced at Todd, finishing the jingle. “And I’m here to find out what.”
Todd glanced at the door of the house like he wished he was behind it.
“I’m not here to get you in trouble,” I said. “I just need some information. Then I’ll leave, and you won’t see me again.”
Todd looked at his friends and then at the ground. “I—I don’t wanna talk about it.”
I faced Maddie, giving her the I-need-to-get-him-alone look.
She pointed her drumsticks at John and Paul. “So, boys—which one of you wants to show me how to really play this thing?”
They stepped up to the plate simultaneously. Todd walked into the house. I followed. Thankfully, no parents were in sight. It appeared to be a bachelor pad.
It took a moment for Todd to notice I was still in tow, but when he finally glanced back, he muttered something to himself and then shook his head. “You can’t just walk into my house,” he said without turning around.
I smiled.
“I just did,” I said.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Get