Free The Scent of Murder by Barbara Block Page B

had a chance to adjust to the light, I could see them better. They both looked to be about thirteen. They had bleached their hair blonde and plastered their faces with makeup, trying, no doubt, to look older, but the puppy fat on their bodies and the high notes in their voices betrayed them. They should have been in their houses doing their homework, watching TV, and talking on the phone to their friends—not standing here answering my questions.
    â€œNo,” the bigger one said. “She didn’t.”
    In a couple of years, the girl’s expertise would grow. But right now, she was still a bad liar.
    â€œI’m telling you the truth,” she insisted, when I politely expressed my disbelief. “She left with this guy.”
    I thought of the man who had been waiting for me outside my house. “Is his name Toon Town?”
    She gasped in amazement. Robin Light. Genius. “How’d you know?”
    â€œI had the pleasure of meeting him last night.”
    â€œHe gives me the creeps.”
    â€œHe gives me the creeps, too.”
    I was rewarded with the shadow of a smile. “He’s always bragging on how he’s always spying on people. How he knows everything we do.”
    â€œNice.”
    â€œAmy told me her mother said if she saw him around the house, she’d call the cops.”
    I didn’t say anything, even though I could sympathize with the sentiment. Instead I put my hands in my pockets and looked around. “So how long have you guys been here?”
    â€œA couple of weeks.”
    I gave an involuntary shudder. “That’s a long time.”
    â€œIt’s not so bad,” the bigger one said. “You get used to it.”
    â€œHow do you stand the cold?”
    â€œWe got blankets and camping stuff.”
    â€œAnd anyway, we’re waiting for someone,” the littler one said. “Justin’s taking us to Chicago.”
    â€œMelanie.” The bigger one’s voice was fierce. “Shut up.”
    I could see Melanie flinch.
    â€œHow old is Justin?” I asked.
    â€œOld enough,” the one who was talking said. Her voice had taken on a defiant edge. “Not that it’s any of your business. If my parents don’t care, why should you?”
    â€œNo reason at all,” I replied soothingly.
    â€œYou don’t believe me, do you?”
    â€œNo, I do.”
    The girl looked as if she were going to cry. Melanie patted her shoulder. Her friend gave her a wan smile. I wanted to hug her. The four of us stood in silence for a few seconds. Then I offered everyone a piece of gum and brought the subject back to Amy. “So what’s Amy’s story? How come she ran away?”
    This time the girl answered. She was relieved to talk about someone else. “She didn’t run away. Her father threw her out.”
    â€œReally?” Charlie had said Amy had taken off.
    â€œThey got into a big fight.”
    â€œOver what?”
    â€œStuff.”
    â€œWhat kind of stuff?”
    The girl shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
    â€œDo you know why she was sent to Cedar View?”
    â€œThe usual. Smoking weed, skipping school, staying out late, talking back.”
    I remembered something else Charlie had said. “I heard Amy had a bad acid trip.”
    The girl stuck her chin out. “It wasn’t that bad. I’ve seen worse.”
    She probably had, too. She was probably a better judge of that kind of thing than I was. “Okay.” I wiggled my fingers to get the blood flowing. “Are you sure she didn’t say anything to indicate where she might be going?”
    The girls exchanged another glance.
    â€œWhy are you looking for her?” asked the one that was doing all the talking.
    â€œHer brother wants to help her.”
    â€œRight,” the girl said, sarcastically. She shifted her weight from one foot to another and inspected a lock of her hair for split