Contains some adult themes

Disclaimer: Hi! I’m just writing this as sort of a lark. I’m not sure how many parts this will end up having, but I’m thinking a total of five chapters. They say ‘write what you know’ so here goes! I hope you like it, but if you don’t, please understand that I have no self-esteem and if you tell me you hate it, well, I can’t be held responsible. Thank you and hope you enjoy the rest of the program. Oh, yeah – these are licensed characters, I’m using them w/o permission, etc, etc, etc, Amen.

The Spring Break Scam

by Shana

Prologue

Clearwater Beach, Florida
Lifeguard Stand #4
3:30 p.m. EST

"So, like, um, what hotel are you staying in?"

"The Ramada over there."

"Cool. That’s cool. Me and my friends are down the beach a bit at the Sands."

"Who are your friends?"

"Right over there. See those two? That’s them."

"They look an awful lot alike."

"That’s because they’re twins."

"Hm. Well, I should probably get back to my friends, too."

"Oh? Where are they?"

"They’re sitting over there, on those pink towels. The two blonde girls. See them?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, hey, Cindi. I’ve got an idea. You have two friends, and I have two friends. What say you and me and they get together for dinner?"

"Um, I think they might go for that. Where do you want to go?"

"I hear Bern’s is a nice place."

"Ha! Yeah, right. Like you three bums could afford it."

"Not me! I’m flat broke and happy to admit it. But those two over there. My friends? They’re loaded, so they’re paying."

"For everyone?"

"For anyone."

"We’ll meet you in our lobby in two hours. I hear it’s real fancy. Hope you brought a jacket to wear with those shorts!"

*      *     *

Outside Bern’s Steakhouse
Tampa, Florida
Same Day, 10:30 p.m. EST

"What we gonna do, Bobby? What we gonna do?"

"Yeah, man! Try getting us out of this one! We are in such deep trouble. My dad is gonna kill me when he finds out!"

"Cool it, you two! First, he’s got to find out. Then he’s got to find you. I might have an idea."

"Well, spill it! I don’t got the rest of my life here!"

"Hey, clone! Stop talking like a juvenile delinquent! You make me look bad."

"I can’t help it if you got all the ugly genes!"

"Guys! Cut it out now! I’ve got an idea and it’s brilliant! Give me your phone."

"Huh?"

"He wants your phone, you idiot! You do have your phone, don’t you, little brother?"

"You jerk! Just because you were born 10 minutes before me, you have to –"

"Guys! Stop it! Do you have the phone or don’t you?"

"No. I don’t. But here’s some change and there’s a pay phone over there."

"Thanks."

"Who are you going to call?"

"Who always gets us out of jams?"

"That’s great! Think she’ll come?"

"She’s my sister. She’ll come."

"You know, your sister is one fine looking woman. You think she’d go for a younger guy?"

"No."

"What about one 10 minutes older than that idiotic younger guy?"

"Definitely no. Now shut up. It’s ringing. Damn! It’s going to voice mail. ‘Leave a message’, yadda-yadda-yadda. Beeeeeeeep. Hey, it’s me. I’m in trouble. Can you get down here ASAP? Oh – and don’t tell Moms! I don’t want her worried, but I really, really, really could use your help – hey! Give that back! Hey! HEY!!!"

<click>

 

Chapter One

Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York
The Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency
10:15 a.m. EST
the following day

"I tell you, Honey! If I have to do surveillance on that creep one more time, I’ll end up doing something completely awful and irreversible!" Trixie Belden slammed shut the door and threw her purse, a duffel bag and keys onto a small sofa.

Honey Wheeler looked up from her magazine sympathetically. She had been lounging casually on the opposite sofa, in the reception area of their office suite. "Trixie, it can’t be that bad. Can it?"

Her friend and business partner sighed and tugged on her hair. "It’s just not fair! We start this business so that we can solve crimes and help people, and what do I end up doing with my time? Staking out insurance frauds! Snapping pictures of adulterous spouses! Hiding out in the woods all night waiting for alien beings to kidnap Joe Vandershoot – and then being told it didn’t happen because we didn’t believe hard enough in the aliens themselves!"

Honey giggled and set down her magazine. "Trix! Come on. You get this way exactly 10 days after we’ve solved our last case. Our last ‘important’ case, as you call them. Another one always comes along. You know that. It always has and always will, just when you’re not looking for it."

Trixie stared at her friend angrily for thirty seconds, then relaxed and smiled. "You’re right. I’ve been this way all my life. I just hate feeling like my life’s ambition was to catch men cheating on their wives!"

"Or baby-sit delusional weirdoes instead of going out on a date?"

"Whatever." Trixie gathered her things in her arms and started past Honey. "Has Anne fixed the computer system yet?" Honey dropped her magazine onto an end table and followed Trixie through the dividing door to their shared office.

The reception area of Belden-Wheeler reflected warmth and comfort and was designed to put clients at ease. The office, however, reflected the personalities of the partners, and put very few at ease. Two large desks faced each other in the center of the room. Filing cabinets lined the back wall. A detailed map of the United States hung on the left wall while a map of New York hung on the right. A water cooler stood humming in the corner, next to a small refrigerator, a microwave and electric teapot, all on top of a small folding table. A door in the opposite corner led to a bathroom and a storage closet. Upon every flat surface, including the floor and walls, were papers, Post-It notes, scraps, letters, notices, cards, pages torn from phone books, restaurant delivery menus, newspapers, magazines – as well as reference books, notebooks, cassette tapes and assorted electronic parts. Not always neatly.

Trixie dumped her assortment of items on her chair and glanced at her blank computer monitor. "Anne? Is it working yet?"

"Just about." The voice emanated from underneath Honey’s desk. Trixie heard the clanking of metal tools as the other woman searched through her toolbox. "I think I solved your problem, but do me a favor and don’t try to upgrade your computers yourself ever again. Trying to undo whatever it was you managed to do took all morning!"

Trixie sighed. "Sorry, Anne. I guess I thought ‘how hard can it be’? You seem to have no trouble making these darn things behave!"

Anne laughed. "Just leave computers to the experts, okay? I’ll leave the detecting to you."

Trixie heard the computer case being slid back into place and crossed her fingers. "Did you hook them back up yet?"

"No. And don’t touch anything! You’ll jinx it." Anne scrambled out from under Honey’s desk and brushed off her jeans. Though she was a year older than Trixie or Honey, Anne still resembled a teenager. Her small frame and long reddish hair contributed to that impression. When it came to computers and mechanics, though, Anne was light-years ahead of anyone they had ever met, or were likely to. She pushed the CPU back under the desk and readied the monitor. She grabbed a long gray cord and connected it to a central hub. "Honey, you’re just standing in the doorway. You afraid the thing’s going to blow up?"

"It wouldn’t be the first time," Honey noted, purposely not looking at Trixie.

"Well, it won’t now, I assure you." Anne smiled and switched on the central power to both computers. They heard the motors kick in, and the beeps of the processors checking out all the components. Right on cue, Trixie’s monitor and then Honey’s lit up with a scrolled list of commands and data.

Trixie just stared at the familiar-looking words, understanding only that the computer had to get through the whole list in order to work. When the familiar blue-cloud scene popped up, she let out her breath. "So far, so good!"

Anne scowled at her. "You doubt me?" She watched as the password protection software kicked in. She entered the password and watched as the tool bars appeared. Trixie did the same. "There. It’s all done," Anne smiled smugly.

"Hello, what’s this?" Trixie leaned forward as a message screen appeared. "Hey! Someone called the computer last night and left a message! It worked! I did install it correctly!"

Anne looked startled. "No you didn’t! You couldn’t have!" She joined Honey, now standing over Trixie’s shoulder. "Maybe you did?" she added dubiously.

Trixie allowed herself a moment of smugness. "I think I might have!" She knocked her things out of her chair and sat down at the desk. She got the mouse and began clicking to receive the message. The trio waited intently as the computer prepared to run the captured sound file. Then they listened; jaws dropped in horror, as Bobby Belden’s voice sounded in the office.

"Hey, it’s me. I’m in trouble. Can you get down here ASAP? Oh – and don’t tell Moms! I don’t want her worried, but I really, really, really could use your help – hey! Give that back! Hey! HEY!!!"

"Oh, My, God," Trixie stammered. "What has that little monster gotten himself into now?"

"Hey," Honey reminded her, "that ‘little’ monster isn’t so little. He’s taller than Brian, you know!"

"Isn’t he on Spring Break in Florida?" Anne asked.

"He’s supposed to be," Trixie said. "Let’s see. There’s supposed to be a way to Caller ID and get a location. You know, that didn’t sound like a cell phone."

Honey thought about it for a moment. "No, you’re right. And I heard traffic. And birds. Did you hear birds?"

Trixie replayed the message. "There’s something in the background." She stared thoughtfully at the screen, imported the sound file into an editor and began clicking on options and opening tool bars.

"You know," Anne remarked, "it’s just amazing to me how little you know about why a computer works, but you can still get it to do anything you want, software-wise."

Trixie just grinned and continued fiddling with the controls. "Okay, I think this will bring up just the background noise." She clicked on PLAY.

The sound of quail echoed from the small computer speakers. "Sounds like sick birds being tortured to death," Anne remarked dryly.

Honey’s eyes widened. "No it doesn’t! That’s how Larry and Terry whistle! You remember, they never quite got it right! Jim spent hours and hours trying to teach them, but they just couldn’t do it!"

Trixie nodded, remembering. "So why are they whistling –" she stopped suddenly and looked up at Honey. "You think they’re using the old signal?"

Honey nodded. "That means they’re in real trouble!"

Trixie leaned back in her chair. "I’m not so sure. Remember, they used to use that signal at school, too, to signal each other they were having trouble with a test."

Anne laughed. "They did?"

"The Lynch kids aren’t exactly known for being smart."

"Well, the girls aren’t stupid," Honey defended her teenage protegees. "It’s just that nobody gives them any credit for the things they do know. Like Diana."

"I’ll give you that." Trixie hit some more keys and started the tracking program. "This may take awhile, if it’s off their cell, so – whoa! That was quick!"

Anne smiled. It was her turn again to be smug. "I made a few improvements while I was down there."

"Thanks!" Trixie leaned close to the monitor. "It says here, they called from a pay phone on South Howard Avenue, Tampa, Florida." She brought up the phone number and relayed that and the address to Honey.

Honey grabbed a CD-ROM from a stack of similarly uncased disks and slipped it into her drive. A moment later, she said, "Found it! Apparently, they were just outside Bern’s Steakhouse when they called. Huh! That’s a pretty fancy place for three guys to eat."

"Unless they’d met somebody they were trying to impress," Anne offered.

"Bobby? Meet a girl?" Trixie asked. "Are you sure? That just seems so, I don’t know, unlikely."

"Trix!" Honey scolded gently. "He’s almost 19 years old! In some cultures, he’d be married with kids by now!"

"Bobby? Little Bobby?" Trixie asked weakly. "What is this world coming to?" She thought a moment, then shook her head to clear it. "Okay. What do we have? Bobby calls us from a pay phone in Tampa while on Spring Break with Terry and Larry, who whistle the old bob-white code for danger, then Bobby gets cut off unexpectedly. So, these are our questions. One, why a payphone and not the cell? Two, why are they signaling for danger? Three, what caused Bobby to cut the connection? Four, if it was just a simple disconnection, why hasn’t he called back? Five, who would date Bobby?"

"Uh, Trixie," Anne said. "I really don’t see how that last one’s so impossible to understand. If I were his age, I’d go for him. Bobby’s a nice guy, real sweet, and real gorgeous. Haven’t you ever noticed?"

"He is?" Trixie repeated.

"Yeah, Trixie," Honey agreed. "He’s grown up a lot in the past couple years. And lots of girls go for that surfer look with the long, curly blond hair and those baby blues."

"I’m starting to worry about you, Honey. Maybe you’re engaged to the wrong Belden brother?"

Honey laughed. "I can still appreciate a good looking guy, you know. And you could, too, if you weren’t related to him."

Anne glanced at her watch. "Oops. I’ve got to run. Dan’s coming by to pick me up for lunch and I haven’t cleaned up yet." She hurried back to Honey’s desk and began replacing her tools in her toolbox. Just then, the outer door opened, jangling the bells hanging off the handle.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Anne let out an Ack! as Honey went back to the reception area. "Hi, Dan! What’s up?"

Dan bent down and kissed Honey on the cheek in greeting. "Not much. When are you coming by the ranch to visit? I think Lady misses you."

"I know I haven’t been down to see the old girl and I really should. Tell Bill that Brian and I will make plans in a couple of days, okay?" Honey turned as Dan looked up at Anne’s approach.

"Hey, Stranger!" she greeted him, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "Aren’t you late?"

"I had trouble finding a spot to park the truck. What’s Trixie up to in there?" he questioned, looking to the back room.

Honey shook her head worriedly. "Bobby, Terry and Larry are in trouble."

"Trouble? How much trouble could they be in? They’re in Clearwater for Spring Break!" He thought a moment. "Oh." Dan smiled, hoping to reassure Honey.

"Hello, Dan!" Trixie called from her office.

Dan pushed past Anne and Honey and went to the office. He saw Trixie pulling on her curls in thought. The glow from the monitor shone on her face, illuminating the freckles that still showed faintly on her cheeks. Her blue eyes looked troubled as she stared at a group of photographs on her desk.

"Bobby’s in trouble?" he asked gently.

In response, Trixie replayed the message. Dan’s face darkened with concern. "Did you hear the bob-white whistle? That was Terry."

"Yeah, we figured that out, but thanks. I’m just not sure what I should do."

"Help them, of course."

"Well, of course! But is this serious enough for me to go down there, or should I just call or should I just chalk it up as a prank?"

"I doubt even the Lynch twins would misuse the bob-white whistle. Jim was always pretty adamant about that, and you know how much they respect him." Dan leaned a hip against Trixie’s desk. "Why don’t you just call the hotel first? Then you can see what’s going on."

"I was just doing that, but I got put on hold." She gestured to her phone. The speakerphone button was lit.

A woman’s voice came over the phone. "Thank you for holding. How may I help you?"

"Yes. Please connect me with one of your guests. He’s staying with friends and I think the reservation would be under Lynch, either Terrence or Lawrence. That’s L-Y-N-C-H," Trixie requested.

"One moment, please."

Trixie and Dan shared a grin as they waited. "I’m sorry, Ma’am, but that party has checked out."

Trixie leaned forward. "What do you mean? When?"

"Early this morning."

"Did they say where they were going? Like, to another hotel or something?" Trixie felt herself slide into alert mode.

"No, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t on duty at that time."

"What time was it?"

"According to the records, it was at 4 a.m. this morning. Now, ma’am, if there’s nothing else, I do have guests to see to."

Trixie rushed to ask her next question. "Just one more thing. Who signed the bill?"

The woman sighed. "It looks like Terrence Lynch."

"Thank you for all your help," she said slowly.

"Thank you for calling the Sands Hotel, where every day is a sunny day." The line went dead.

Trixie leaned back in her chair. "That makes no sense." She grabbed the phone and dialed another number. As it rang, Honey and Anne returned to the office.

"What’s going on? Who are you calling?" Honey asked.

Dan answered. "She called Bobby’s hotel and found out they checked out at 4 a.m. Terry signed the bill. I don’t know who she’s calling now."

Trixie held the receiver to her ear. "Hello? Who is this? Let me speak to Terry!" An instant later, she punched a code into the phone and launched another program on her computer. "Terry Lynch! This is his phone and I want to speak to him now!" She winced and hung up the phone. "He hung up on me, whoever he was."

"What happened?" Dan asked. "Who answered?"

"I don’t know. It wasn’t the Lynches or Bobby. But he was expecting a call, because he answered right away, after the second ring. He just said ‘yeah-what do you want’ in a low gravelly voice. When I asked to speak to Terry, he seemed surprised. Then he hung up."

They were silent for a moment. Then Dan spoke up. "So when do we leave?"

"What?" Trixie replied, startled. "When do who leave?"

"When does the Belden-Wheeler Agency leave, then?" Honey asked.

"As soon as we can get a flight out of here. Honey, could you call the airlines? I’ve got to make some other arrangements." Trixie began shuffling through files on her desk as Honey dialed up a familiar number on her extension.

Dan straightened and nodded firmly. "Right. I’ll tell Bill, pack a bag and meet up with you by, say, 2?"

Trixie stopped flipping through her notes and stared up at him. "You’re not going!"

"Of course I am! Bobby’s in trouble and that means you need all the help you can get! Besides, I’m the only ‘muscle’ you’ve got. You know that."

Trixie scoffed and continued her search. "Right. Like Honey’s and my karate training means nothing."

Dan grabbed Trixie’s chair, wheeled her around to face him, put his hands on the armrests and leaned in close to her face. In a threatening growl and with a completely evil expression, he said, "You couldn’t intimidate a frightened mouse. You need me. I’m going along. That’s final." Relaxing his grip and his expression, he continued. "Please, Trixie. I care about Bobby, too. He’s like my own little brother and if I can help him at all, isn’t it worth having me along?"

Trixie sighed. "Okay, fine. Grab a bag and meet back here as soon as you can. You got your phone on you?"

Dan nodded. "It’s in the truck."

"Well, keep it on. I don’t know when Honey can get the tickets."

Honey was just getting off the phone. "The jet is being fueled as we speak. We can leave when we get there."

"The jet?" Trixie asked. "What jet?"

"Daddy’s jet, of course! Now, before you say anything tiresome like, ‘we have to pay our own way’, let me remind you that this is family. That means we spare no expense! And if it makes you feel better, we can pay for the fuel later." Honey brushed her dark blonde hair off her face and nodded once in emphasis. "Now, are you going to tell your brothers or am I?"

"I guess you’re right. You’ve got that deal with Brian to never leave town without telling him first, and if Bobby’s involved, then he’s going to tell Mart. You know they’d never leave it up to us to do this without them, so we should plan for them to come along. I guess one of us should call Di." Trixie sighed in surrender.

"Isn’t she in London?" Anne asked.

"Her number is on Honey’s Rolodex. Would you call her, Anne?" Trixie finally found the paper she’d been searching for. "I’ll get a rental car for us in Tampa and make hotel reservations. Let’s see. We’ve got you, me, Dan-" she began ticking off the expected party. "Gleeps! It sounds like the Bob-Whites of the Glen are back in action!"

"Whoa! Sorry, but you’ll have to count me out," Anne said, dialing Diana’s London apartment. "Not that I don’t care about Bobby and the guys, but I’ve never been much of a good-luck charm where your investigations are concerned. Besides, if you need anything from the office, I can be here in five minutes."

"Okay. Reservations for six. That means two rooms. I should get a van." Trixie picked up the second line and dialed out.

"Make that seven."

They looked up and saw Jim Wheeler standing in the doorway, a storm raging in his green eyes. "What? You think I’d let you all go off to rescue the kids alone? Who’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid?"

"Fine. Seven. I’m still just getting two rooms, though." Trixie heard the other party pick up, ‘Thank you for calling the Sands Hotel, where every day is a sunny day. How may I help you?’ so she ignored the rest of the conversation around her.

By the time she’d made the hotel arrangements and provided for a rental van, Dan and Jim had left to pack bags and make provisions for their unexpected trip to Florida. Anne had left a message on Diana’s machine and Honey had packed a duffel bag full of equipment she thought they might need once they got to Clearwater.

"Anne," Trixie said, standing, "I know how much you’d like to go along with us, despite what you said. I appreciate your offer to handle anything here that we might need. We won’t be gone long and we will keep you posted."

"Thanks, Trix. Who knows? Maybe I’ll organize things in here while you’re gone." She grinned.

"Don’t you touch a thing! This is my foolproof security system! Anyone breaks in here, they won’t be able to find a thing!"

Honey laughed, adding, "Either that, or they’ll think someone else got here first!" She grabbed her purse and the duffel bag. "Come on. We’ll call Brian from the car on our way to the apartment."

Three hours later, six adults boarded the Wheeler private jet, waved goodbye to a small redhead on the tarmac, and set off for Tampa International Airport. The Bob-Whites of the Glen were back.

Chapter Two

an alley outside Bern’s Steakhouse
Tampa, Florida
10:15 p.m.

Bobby woke up. He was sitting on a cold, damp slab of concrete, leaning against a Dumpster. His head hurt and he thought he could feel an entire colony of ants crawling on his bare legs. He saw Larry and Terry standing a few feet away, shaking their heads in concern.

"Hey. Bobby’s awake." Terry (or was it Larry?) pointed toward him. It was Larry. He leaned over and held out a hand to help him up.

"Thanks. What happened?" Bobby asked, brushing mud off his bare legs. He scraped the excess off his hands using the edge of the Dumpster. He felt a bit concerned that he was only wearing his bathing suit, socks and shoes. He took consolation in the fact that Terry and Larry weren’t wearing much, either.

"Oh, man! Those girls robbed us! They took our clothes and everything and robbed us! They left us here to die or something!" Terry gestured wildly at him. "This is, like, so not cool!"

Bobby looked at Terry, then at Larry, then at himself. "You’re right. This is definitely not cool. Terry," he asked as kindly as possible, "happy face boxer shorts?"

Terry huffed and folded his arms. "At least it’s not red bikini briefs!"

Larry flushed angrily. "I took them from your suitcase, little brother!"

Bobby sensed the twins were about to lose sight of their predicament. He stood between them. "Hey, guys. Quit it. We have more important things to worry about. Like, where are our clothes? Where are the girls and what was that stuff they gave us to drink out of that bottle?"

The twins relaxed. Terry ran his fingers through his hair, making a chunk of it stand on end. Larry crossed his arms and rubbed his elbows. "You’re right, Bobby. Sorry we got out of hand. But what are we going to do? How can we get our clothes back?"

Bobby looked around wildly. "They aren’t here?" He felt his heart race as Terry and Larry shook their heads.

"No, man. We even checked in the Dumpsters. Those girls ran off with them. And I don’t know what was in that bottle they gave us. I don’t even know why I drank some," Terry complained. Larry just looked scared.

Bobby thought a moment. "I suppose the valet ticket was in your jacket?" Terry stared at him blankly. "Okay. So. We don’t have the ticket, but surely the valet remembers us. He’ll let us have the car."

Terry frowned. "So what? We don’t have the keys."

Bobby smiled kindly. "The valet has the keys."

Terry grinned. "Oh, yeah. That’s right. Cool!"

Larry frowned now. "But wouldn’t the girls have taken the car? I mean, they’d have had the ticket. Not to mention all our money."

"Probably," Bobby admitted. "But it won’t hurt to ask and find out."

"Hold on, man! I ain’t going over there in my underwear! You go," Terry said to Bobby. "At least you’re wearing your bathing suit."

"Hey!" Larry said. "How come you weren’t wearing underwear?"

Bobby thought a moment. "I guess I didn’t have any that were clean." He shrugged at the twins, then turned and left the alley to reconnoiter the valet.

He returned five minutes later. "Bad news, guys. The girls took the car. They left with it about thirty minutes ago." Bobby took a deep breath. "I hate to be an alarmist, but we’re in trouble."

Terry and Larry just stared at each other. "Somehow," Larry growled at his twin, "you’re to blame."

Bobby sighed. "Let’s point fingers after we get back to the hotel. We can argue then. Meantime, let’s see if there’s anything around here we can use to cover you two up."

A brief search of the alley found a folded stack of dirty towels shoved under the dumpster. Grimacing slightly, the twins each took a towel and tied them around their waists. Bobby followed suit. "Tell the truth, Bobby," Terry pleaded. "It looks like we came from the beach, right?"

Bobby checked them over. The twins each had smears of mud and other nameless muck across their arms and legs. A large smear across Terry’s stomach gave evidence that Larry had recently slugged his older brother. A similar smear down Larry’s face proved that Terry had retaliated. They still had their dress socks and shoes on, though.

Bobby smiled encouragingly. "You guys look great. How about me?"

Terry groaned. He was cold, wet and far from home. The enormity of their situation began caving in on him. "We look like bums. How are we going to get back to the hotel? No cab is going to pick us up looking like this! We gonna walk? What we gonna do, Bobby? What we gonna do?"

Larry retied his towel higher around his waist and chimed in with his own argument. "Yeah, man! Try getting us out of this one! We are in such deep trouble. My dad is gonna kill me when he finds out!"

Bobby sighed and tried again to calm them. "Cool it, you two! First, he’s got to find out. Then he’s got to find you. I might have an idea." In fact, several ideas raced through his mind. It was just a matter of deciding on the best one.

Terry stamped his feet and rubbed his arms. Goosebumps had sprung up all over his skin. "Well, spill it! I don’t got the rest of my life here!"

Larry, wet, muddy and feeling a distinct chill through his towel, gritted his teeth and growled at his brother, "Hey, clone! Stop talking like a juvenile delinquent! You make me look bad."

Terry sneered, "I can’t help it if you got all the ugly genes!"

Bobby sighed. This was getting old fast. He needed to get them across town, which really shouldn’t be all that difficult. Getting into their hotel room was the tricky part. How could they get duplicate room keys made up without proof of identity? How could they prove their identity without wallets? Suddenly, the perfect solution popped in his head: get someone else to provide the answer, preferably someone who provided answers for a living. "Guys! Cut it out now! I’ve got an idea and it’s brilliant! Give me your phone."

Startled, Terry could only grunt. "Huh?"

Larry rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the ache that had begun ten minutes earlier. "He wants your phone, you idiot! You do have your phone, don’t you, little brother?"

Terry decided not to tell his brother he’d just smeared more muck on his forehead. "You jerk! Just because you were born 10 minutes before me, you have to –"

Bobby felt himself getting impatient. "Guys! Stop it! Do you have the phone or don’t you?"

Terry saw something glittery on the sidewalk. He picked it up. "No. I don’t. But here’s some change and there’s a pay phone over there." He had seen it earlier and was glad he had had the unexpected presence of mind to mark its location.

Bobby took the money. "Thanks."

Terry followed Bobby back onto the sidewalk. "Who are you going to call?" He glanced down the street. A Car was leaving Bern’s parking lot, but it turned north. In the dark, he felt relatively unnoticeable.

Bobby smiled slyly. "Who always gets us out of jams?"

Terry punched the air in excitement. "That’s great! Think she’ll come?"

Bobby reached the phone and inserted the change. "She’s my sister. She’ll come."

Terry grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You know, your sister is one fine looking woman. You think she’d go for a younger guy?"

Bobby didn’t even hesitate. "No." He punched in the first phone number that came to mind.

Larry, feeling braver about his towel, came closer. "What about one 10 minutes older than that idiotic younger guy?" He grinned as his brother playfully swung a fist at his face. They laughed, relieved that their problems were almost over.

Bobby turned his back on them to concentrate on the phone. "Definitely no. Now shut up. It’s ringing. Damn! It’s going to voice mail." Bobby waited through his sister’s recorded greeting, ignoring Terry & Larry’s sudden, inexplicable birdcalls. He recited along with the familiar recording, "‘Leave a message’, yadda-yadda-yadda. Beeeeeeeep. Hey, it’s me. I’m in trouble. Can you get down here ASAP? Oh – and don’t tell Moms! I don’t want her worried, but I really, really, really could use your help – hey!" He felt a sudden cool breeze as his towel unwrapped itself from his waist. He turned to find a huge man, covered in sweat and grime, holding three familiar-looking towels. The Grimy Man grinned, displaying a pair of teeth, then turned and ran. "Give that back! Hey! HEY!!!" Bobby slammed down the receiver and ran after the huge man, but being unfamiliar with the area, quickly lost track of him. Larry and Terry had fled back to the safety of the alley. Things had gotten worse.

*      *      *

"What now, Answer Man?" they wanted to know as Bobby shuffled back, towel-less. Bobby couldn’t believe his luck. Just when he thought his first college Spring Break was going so well, he ends up half way naked not with a girl, but with Terry and Larry Lynch. How exciting. He thought hard. What would Trixie do? He heard a grunt. He almost didn’t turn in time to see Grimy Man’s sudden, violent return. Bobby cried out in surprise, then pushed the twins ahead of him.

Grimy Man charged after them into the alley, brandishing a heavy stick. "Get out of here!" he screamed. "This is my place and you ain’t welcome!"

Terry, Larry and Bobby, cowering in shock and sudden fear, covered their heads with their arms and ran as fast as they could in their dress shoes past Grimy Man out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. Terry instinctively ran away from the lights, toward Bayshore Boulevard. They were young, active men and could run for a long distance without getting tired. They made it all the way to the boulevard itself before having to stop, worn out and breathless.

They stared at the huge, divided street. The well-lit road curved along the edge of the bay. Two lanes in each direction were separated by a wide grassy median. Elegant mansions set well back from the street lined the north edge while a wide concrete platform, a sort of extended sidewalk, ran along the other edge, overlooking a large body of water. Cars sped along the road at great speeds, carelessly maneuvering along the serpentine road. The property directly to their left had a tall hedge border. The trio crouched beside it in the shadows.

"Is that the bay?" Terry asked.

"Yes, you idiot. That’s the bay. Isn’t it, Bobby?" Larry answered.

"I’m pretty sure." Bobby thought a moment. "That means that Clearwater is… that way." He pointed west, then peeked out beyond the hedge. To the east he could see a few tall office-type buildings, well lit at night with searchlights and neon striping. "I figure that’s downtown Tampa."

Terry and Larry peeked, too. Terry laughed. "That’s it? That can’t be bigger than Sleepyside!" He reconsidered. "Well, maybe Croton, but not by much."

"It’s big enough. Besides, we are not going that way." Bobby looked toward the west. He could see the road stretch before him and curve south. Several tall apartment and condominium buildings in the distance blocked his view. "We’re going that way. If I’m right, and if I can remember how we got here, we should go along this road and we’ll come to a bridge. The first bridge takes us to St. Petersburg. The second to Largo. We need the third. Or can we take the second? I’m not sure. Maybe by then we’ll find someone who can direct us. Or at least a few signs." He smiled encouragingly. "Come on. It’s just over there. Not much farther than from your house to Wimpy’s back home."

Terry looked hopeful. "They say people are friendlier in the South," he remarked.

"Yeah, like those local girls Bobby picked up today. Real nice. ‘Come have a drink’, they say. ‘Let’s have some fun’, they say. ‘What are y’all waiting for’, they say," Larry said in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate the girls’ southern drawls.

Bobby felt pressure build up in his head. What did they want from him? He turned to face them. "Hey, guys, listen. You don’t want my help, fine. Don’t take it. But I’m going back to Clearwater the only way I have left. My own two feet. You want to join me, fine. You want your daddy to come bail you out, you call him collect. Go ahead. And then see what he has to say about you! I won’t have to worry about my report card! Your father will kill you before the semester ends and I’ll get straight A’s for ‘bereavement’! Let me tell you something. That’s okay by me!" Bobby finished his tirade and stalked off across Bayshore toward the huge sidewalk.

The sounds of the waves crashing against the pylons and rocks echoed soothingly across the pavement. Bobby began walking west, resolute and determined. He didn’t hear anyone following him, but he refused to turn around and check. Forget them if they were going to blame him for any of this! It wasn’t his fault those girls turned out to be thieving wackos! But it was going to be his sister who fixed it all for them. Their sister was just an actress. What good was that?

"Hey! Bobby, wait up! Hey!"

Terry and Larry were running after him with their dress socks and shoes in hand. Bobby turned, an expression of disinterest carefully plastered on his face. They caught up to him and then stopped running, their faces blood red with exertion, their chests heaving, their expressions desperate. "Come, on, man!" Terry panted. "You, know, we, can’t, get, back, on, our, own! We’re, sorry. We’ll, do, what, you, say. Promise." Larry nodded, unable to speak. "Just, please," Terry sucked in a huge breath, "can we walk on the shady side of the street?" He pointed eagerly to the residential side with its tall hedges and low level lighting.

Bobby allowed himself a smile. They were so easy to bluff. Their journey would be more like walking from their house to Croton, but not quite so scenic. No way was he going alone! He agreed to their plan to keep to the shadows. Apparently, this side of Bayshore was used as an exercise course, with permanent workout equipment stationed every twentieth of a mile. There were a lot of stations ahead.

The trio waited near a clump of bushes and palm trees for the next big break in traffic, then darted across the road. Larry stumped his toe on the curb and cried out in pain, but continued across.

"Why did you guys take off your shoes?" Bobby asked.

"We looked stupid with them on," Terry replied.

Bobby pointed out the obvious. "You’re standing there in happy face boxer shorts, and you’re worried that your shoes make you look stupid?"

Larry defended his twin. "We figure that, if someone asks, we’ve come from a pool party somewhere. These are just our swimsuits."

Bobby glanced at Larry’s tight red bikini briefs. "Swimsuits?"

Larry dared Bobby to make something more of it. "It’s a Speedo. Got it?"

"Whatever. Let’s go." Bobby waited until they started walking in front of him before giving full vent to his amusement. The twins ignored his laughter and strode as quickly as possible westward.

The trio kept to the bushes when possible and only crossed the pools of streetlight when absolutely necessary and no witnesses seemed present. A few cars did pass by, some of them slowing down for a closer view, some of them honking at them. One old car slowed almost to a crawl. The windows were rolled down and the driver, a man in his late 30’s, called out to Terry, who was in front, "Hey, kid! You looking for a ride?"

Terry walked faster. Larry walked faster. Bobby walked faster. The car followed them.

"Hey! I asked you a question! You want a ride? I’ll give you one!"

Terry started running. Larry started running. Bobby started running. The car turned at the next street and drove away.

"What did that guy want?" Bobby asked after they all stopped running.

"To give me a ride," Terry nearly shrieked, still panicked.

"Gross." Larry said. "He wanted to give you a ride? Couldn’t he tell I’m the cuter one?"

Terry aimed a punch at his brother, but Bobby intervened as usual. "Let’s just concentrate on getting to Clearwater, okay? We seem to be coming to somewhere." He pointed over head through some trees. "See that highway up there? That’s got to go somewhere. Maybe we can find an onramp and just take it to the beach. What do you guys think?"

Terry and Larry shared a look. "We think you know what’s best." Larry offered. "You’re the man."

Bobby sighed. Sometimes he wondered what it might be like not to be in charge. "Okay. Then we’ll go there. At least, we’ll get some a better idea of direction. Of course, how we’re going to escape notice when we’re barely dressed is another issue altogether."

At the next intersection, he led them away from the bay and, he hoped, toward the overpass. He lost sight of it after a few minutes, but since he could now hear the traffic roaring above, he figured they were on the right track.

The neighborhood they now moved through, clump of bushes by clump of bushes, avoiding porch lights and guard dogs, had a charm about it undiminished by age. The houses were huge and most were built in a typically New England style, although a few did resemble small Spanish castles or missions. Clearly, although this was not the most modern of neighborhoods, it had retained its property value.

Small streets intersected smaller ones and they kept moving toward the sound of traffic. After ten minutes, they discovered that the highway towered above them at least 20 feet, and no onramp was in sight. They stared up at the gray concrete monstrosity, an ugly blot in this charming, well-maintained neighborhood, and despaired.

"How are we supposed to get up there?" Terry wondered.

Larry looked dubiously at the thick undergrowth that clung to the support columns. "I don’t think we can climb those vines and things. I think that one bush has got thorns."

"Great," Bobby muttered. Things had gotten worse again.

They heard a horn just behind them on the street. The trio jumped and stared into a car’s headlights as it crept slowly toward them. A man leaned out of the driver’s side window. "You ready for a ride yet?" It was the creepy old man.

Terry swallowed hard. "Bobby," he whispered without moving his lips, "do something! Get us out of here!"

Bobby froze, unable to come up with a single escape tactic. The entire neighborhood stood breathless, poised, ready for his decision. What would Trixie do? He asked himself. He heard his sister’s calm voice, explaining to him: If you’re in trouble, the first thing to do is calm down. If you panic, you’ll only make things worse. When you’re calm, the situation seems much more manageable. Bobby took a deep breath and felt his heart rate slow.

Trixie continued in his head: Second thing is to think about all your options. All of them. Run through them in your mind one by one, dismissing an option only when it’s completely unfeasible. Bobby thought: 1. Go with him and end up dead or worse. This guy’s a major weirdo. 2. Talk to him and explain we don’t need his help. Maybe he’ll just go away. 3. Run screaming toward one of these houses. Someone has to be home. Of course, he couldn’t see a single car in anyone’s driveway, not even the telltale blue glow of a television program.

"We’re okay!" Bobby called out to the driver. "We don’t need a ride."

The man frowned. "You sure?"

Then Bobby heard another sound: music. Loud music. Loud, thumping party music. He relaxed. "Yeah. We’re going there." He pointed through the overpass down the street. He saw about 20 cars packed into somebody’s front yard. "Our friends invited us to their party. Let’s go, guys. We’re late."

Terry and Larry, wide-eyed, arms crossed to cover as much of their bodies as possible in the bright headlights, hurried to walk next to their friend as he strode confidently toward the cars. They didn’t dare whisper to each other as they tried not to appear nervous. As they got nearer to the house, they could hear the music clearer, as well as shrieks of laughter and splashes of water. They walked faster. It was a pool party. Things were getting better!

The car followed them slowly, waiting until they had gone all the way onto the front stoop and rang the bell. When the door opened, the car sped off.

"Hi!" A pretty dark-haired teenage girl answered the door. Oddly, she had a sheet wrapped around her, but she didn’t seem to mind. "Umm, I don’t know you. Are you friends of Steve’s?"

"Yes!" Terry answered quickly.

"Cute swimsuit!" she smiled at him and let him into the house. When Larry passed her, her smile grew larger. "The party’s mostly out back. There’s a keg in the garage, one on the patio and the rest of the liquor’s in the kitchen. Help yourself!"

Bobby glanced around. They were standing in a large open room full of about twenty people either slouching on one of the two couches, laying on the floor or leaning against the wall. Each one wore a sheet wrapped around them, like their hostess. They all stared at the TV, but the monitor faced away from the door, so Bobby couldn’t tell what had them all fascinated. Everyone had a drink in their hand. Several bottles, cups, glasses and mugs littered the coffee tables, end tables, side tables, the floor.

The girl had pointed toward the kitchen, on the other side of the room. Terry and Larry were already stepping carefully over legs and arms to go there. Luckily, everyone seemed too wrapped up in the action on the screen to pay attention to the happy face boxers or the red bikini briefs. When they turned to see if Bobby was coming after them, they saw the TV. And understood what had everyone’s attention.

Bobby saw Terry’s and Larry’s jaws drop open in utter amazement. Then their heads, already so completely identical, turned in the same direction at the same rate of speed. Bobby noted that everyone else watching the TV was also turning their head just the same way. He heard a giggle beside him.

"Look at them. Like monkeys." She gazed up at him in an open invitation to get to know her better.

Bobby stared at the girl. She was cute, if a bit young for him. "You got a phone?" he asked suddenly.

She blinked at him. "Yeah. In the kitchen."

Bobby stepped over the people stretched out in the living room, grabbed Terry and Larry and pulled them with him into the kitchen. He saw the base of the phone, mounted on the wall by the refrigerator, but the cord stretched taut out of sight beyond the island workstation in the center. The surrounding countertops were covered with soda bottles, cans, juice containers and glasses, cups, mugs and napkins, towels, straws and swizzle sticks. Except for the unknown person currently using the phone, the kitchen was empty. A throng of people crowded the patio outside, however, all gyrating to pulsing drum and bass. A voice from the kitchen floor rose above the music.

"Yeah? Is that so? Since when have you been such an expert in relationships anyway, Mr. ‘I’m Such A Sensitive Guy’? Oh, I’m so sensitive!" a female voice mocked. "I cry at movies! I have a teddy bear!! HA!"

Bobby saw the cord jump violently in the air. Apparently, a girl sitting on the floor on the other side of the island held the receiver. He heard her huff in frustration. "Just forget it, Mister! You’re such a jerk! You’ll never understand the first thing about women! Yes, women! I’m a woman and you’ll never understand me, you sexist, perverted twit!" Bobby stopped moving. Would it embarrass her for her to realize there were witnesses to all this? The cord jumped around again, slacking and then growing taut, sliding against the edge of the workstation. Bobby saw that if the cord kept moving, it would drag the contents of the bar onto the linoleum. Instinctively, he grabbed the cord and held it tight.

"Hold on," he heard the girl say. He glanced across the counter and down and saw she had short blonde hair and wore a bright blue bikini. A sheet lay bunched next to her. Bobby noticed she had painted her toenails a matching shade of blue. Before Bobby could say anything, she reached up to grab the cord and, without looking, yanked. Hard. The cord slipped out of his hand straight across the bar and pulled right out of the wall.

Later, it was hard to say what startled Terry and Larry more. Was it the sudden snap of an elastic phone cord slapping against the counter top? Was it the sudden crash of several bottles of rum, tequila and other liquids, along with an ice bucket, on the bare linoleum floor? Or was it the fact that the liquor bottles fell just inches from their feet, splashing them with a sticky mixture of multi-colored liquids and ice, soaking their shoes and socks (still clutched in their hands), drenching the happy face boxer shorts and the red bikini briefs? Things were getting worse.

Hours later, the memory of that moment, with its inherent hilarity and crushing misery, drifted across Bobby Belden’s mind as softly as a southern breeze across warm water. He lay on a plastic chaise lounge, staring up at the stars, a half-empty beer bottle in one hand, the other hand wrapped around the cute blonde from the kitchen, now sharing the lounge with him. She had stopped crying about her broken relationship and was now idly tapping her long blue fingernails against his chest.

"Your friend seems a little strange. Cute. Funny. But strange," she remarked.

Bobby thought her name was Linda. Or Lisa. Or Louise. Something like that. It was all a blur. The broken glass, the shouting, the blaming. Somehow he had managed to escape it all and make it outside to the patio, find a beer and start to relax. At some point, he’d discovered that he and the twins had crashed a fraternity toga party. Bed sheets had been appropriated from a linen closet and were now wrapped around Terry, Larry and himself. No one had commented on the lack of clothing, he figured, because most of the people here were drunk.

Bobby had never been drunk before. He’d tasted alcohol, though, at Brian and Honey’s engagement party the summer before. He’d spiked his own glass of punch with half a cup of vodka and spent the rest of the evening struggling to remain upright, and the following morning struggling to keep his breakfast down. But beer, he decided, wasn’t too bad. Maybe he should have spiked his punch with the beer.

Across the patio, on the other side of the pool, Terry held court. He stood at the top of the slide, toga in place, singing at the top of his lungs the ‘Chicken Song’. "Da, da, DA DA da da DAH. Da, da, DA DA da da DAH. Da, da, da, da, dai, dai, DAI. Quack, quack, quack, quack!" He tucked his hands under his arms and flapped his elbows. He sang the verse again and wriggled his behind. On the last verse, he threw himself headfirst down the slide, screaming. His audience laughed and applauded as he pulled himself to the swim-out and sat on the step. The next drunken idiot got on top of the slide and began to sing.

That’s probably dangerous, some portion of Bobby’s mind told him, but the larger part of his brain had begun to shut down for sleep. Wasn’t there something he had to do? He wondered, but nothing came to mind. Wasn’t he supposed to call someone? No one came to mind. He remembered being on the phone, and talking, so he supposed he was just going crazy and forgetting to do something he had already done. Or something like that.

The patio only took up about half of the huge backyard. On the grass, several couples danced, some moving to the pulsating beat, others barely moving at all. Larry barely moved. He had asked the cute dark-haired girl to dance with him and she agreed. They’d spent the past hour standing close to each other on the grass. Bobby wondered if they had fallen asleep, except that every few minutes or so one of them readjusted their grip.

Well, good for Larry, Bobby thought. It’s about time he got himself a girlfriend. Of course, this girl was barely 14. But Larry was just 18, so in 90 years it wouldn’t matter. Still, there was something he was supposed to do, if he could just remember what that was.

Abruptly, the music stopped. One of the fraternity guys opened the sliding glass door from the kitchen and called out. "R-O-A-D T-R-I-P! We’re going to the beach! Y’all want to come, let’s go! The bus leaves in five minutes!"

Bus? Bobby stared at the guy, then lay his head back on the chaise. That was it, he thought to himself. They were supposed to go to the beach. Now if he could only remember why . . .

 

Chapter Three

About four hours after Chapter One
Tampa, Florida

The Wheeler jet touched down at Tampa International Airport at 5:22 p.m. The six adults disembarked, collected their luggage and boarded a tram to the main building. They quickly found the car rental counter, where Trixie picked up the keys to the van she’d ordered. After a 10 minute wait made more tedious by Mart’s incessant droning on about the history of the Tampa Bay area, they were able to pick up the van itself.

They barely managed to stuff everything into the van, get directions to the hotel and negotiate the tight parking lot in just under 15 minutes. They pulled onto Boy Scout Road, made a U-turn at the next light, and headed west toward Clearwater.

The rush hour made negotiating traffic difficult, especially considering most of Trixie’s driving experience took place on unpopulated country roads in the middle of the night. But she managed to get the van safely onto the Courtney Campbell Causeway headed toward Clearwater.

The Causeway began on the edge of Tampa, among several hotels, restaurants and strip clubs.

"Did you know that Tampa is the Strip Club Capital of the US?" Mart asked.

"Mart?" Trixie sighed. "Did we need to know that?"

"Well, we are searching for three 18-year old boys on Spring Break. They could be anywhere."

She shot her brother a look of disgust. "I’m sorry, but I just can’t picture Bobby at a strip club! I had a hard enough time when he took Susie Hoover to the prom." She glanced in the rear view mirror at the other occupants of the car. Brian and Honey, in the middle seat, whispered to each other and smiled, Dan and Jim, in the back seat barely spoke. Instead, they stared out their respective windows at the scenery.

"Hey. What can I tell you, age-deficient female sibling, but that small fry become large fry and large fry beget small fry." Mart slouched casually in his seat.

A picture formed in Trixie’s mind of a little Bobby Belden begetting other little Bobbys, all calling him ‘Dad’. She could see, a few years in the future, a Belden family gathering. Brian and Honey and their beautiful, responsible, well-behaved children, Mart and someone and their bratty-but-smart kids, and Bobby and his wife, some sweet young woman, carrying a baby and presenting it to Moms and Dad, just busting with pride, and herself. With a cat.

She had never felt more depressed.

The Courtney Campbell, four lanes of divided highway bound on either side by an access road and a rocky beach, took them straight across the bay to an almost identical collection of businesses, restaurants and hotels. Signs for golf courses, jet ski rentals and para-sailing vied for prominence with billboards advertising local radio stations, the Clearwater Mall and the Largo Renaissance Festival. Following the directions she’d obtained earlier from the desk clerk at The Sands, Trixie guided the van through downtown Clearwater, past the Scientology Center and City Hall, inexorably westward to the beaches.

Finally, they arrived on Mandalay, which veered into South Gulfview. Everyone kept a lookout for The Sands. It seemed they passed large hotel after large hotel, beach club after beach club, tourist trap after tourist trap, before finally reaching the hotel.

"Wow," Honey breathed. Trixie guided the van under the entrance canopy. A uniformed valet began opening the doors as a bellhop brought up a luggage carrier. As Trixie dealt with the valet, Jim and Dan began helping the bellhop load their things onto the rack. Honey entered the lobby with Brian and Mart close behind.

The Sands Hotel lobby, whether by accident or design, was literally full of sand. Embedded in the carpet, it crunched under their feet. The brass and cherry wood registration desk dominated the left wall. Opposite that lay doors to a game room, a bar, a restaurant and the hotel offices. In front of them Honey could see the elevators, the stairs and a huge wood-framed glass window looking out onto the beach and the setting sun. Doors on either side of the window automatically opened as college students passed through in their bathing suits, towels slung over their shoulders, beach bags dragging on the floor.

Confidently, Honey approached the check-in counter. "Welcome to the Sands Hotel," the clerk began, "where every day is a sunny day. How may I help you?"

"Hi!" Honey began cheerily. "I’m Honey Wheeler of the Belden-Wheeler Agency. I believe you have a reservation for us? A pair of connecting rooms, two double beds, six people." She pulled the confirmation number from her purse and gave that to the clerk as well. The clerk nodded and began paging through her database.

Trixie joined her a moment later. "How’s it going?" she asked her partner.

The clerk spoke then. "I’m afraid, Ms. Wheeler, that we have a slight overbooking problem. All we have available is a suite on the top floor. We will, of course, only charge you the quoted rate, but the room only has one double bed. Otherwise, we’re completely full up."

"Oh." Honey glanced at Trixie. "What do you want to do?"

Trixie shrugged. "What can we do? This is the best place to begin our search and apparently a central location of all this Spring Break action." A passing clutch of young, barely-clothed women caught her eye, as well as the attention of the guys. "We need to stay here at least a couple of days." She turned to the clerk. "What do you have in the way of rollaways or cots?"

The clerk tabbed through a few more screens. "I’m afraid we’ve only got one spare cot."

"We’ll take it. Here’s the credit card." Trixie handed the clerk the plastic card, then turned to face the guys, still staring at the young women. "Guys?" she called to them. "Guys? Listen up. They’ve only got one suite with one double bed, and one cot. We’re going to take it. If any of you want to find another hotel and stay there, I suggest you do that soon. It’s getting late and I’m anxious to get started with the investigation."

Jim shook his head. "No way are we leaving you girls alone here. We’ll take the room. All of us."

Trixie felt herself bristle at his proprietary tone. "Fine. We women will get the room keys while you boys finish checking out the local color." She pivoted on her heel and nodded to the clerk. "While you’ve got that screen up," she began, "Could you tell us what room number our friends are in? It would be under either Terrence or Lawrence Lynch." She spelled the last name and mentally crossed her fingers.

"I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have a guest registered under either name."

The first brick wall, she thought to herself. "Could you check again? It’s important that we find our friends."

"Hmmm. Let me try something." The clerk began hitting keys and tabbing through programs. They waited without speaking for seemingly a century before the clerk finally spoke again. "I’m sorry. They were here, but they checked out this morning."

Trixie thought quickly. "Just out of curiosity, did they stay in room 714?" At the clerk’s quizzical look, she explained. "I’m trying to prove I had a psychic flash."

The clerk’s looked changed to one of tolerance and handed over their room’s key card. "I’m sorry to disappoint you again, ma’am, but they were in room 822. This is your key to your room, 1106."

"Thank you so much!" Trixie accepted the key card while Honey okayed the preliminary credit card receipt. "I guess I’m not the psychic I had hoped."

As they turned away from the counter, the clerk called after them, "If there’s anything more I can help you with, don’t hesitate to ask. My name’s Marcy."

They thanked her and left the lobby, the men and their luggage in tow. As they approached the elevators, they were assaulted with the combined odors of salt, sand, cocoa butter and chlorine as four Spring Breakers, male and female, leaned against the wall and emptied sand from their shoes.

Without hesitation, Trixie approached them. "Hi! I’m looking for some guy friends of mine. A tall blonde with curly hair and a set of twins, black hair and eyes. Real cute. Have you seen them? They’d be staying in this hotel. Room 822?"

The quartet glanced at each other, then shook their heads ‘no’. "Sorry, Ma’am," the older-looking boy replied.

Trixie thanked them. The elevator arrived and she joined her friends in one car while Mart and Jim waited with the luggage for the second one.

"How’d it go?" Honey asked. "Had they seen them?"

"How’d it go?" Trixie repeated. "How’d it go? I’ll tell you how it went. They called me ‘Ma’am’. That’s how it went." She ignored Honey’s suppressed chuckle and waited the rest of the ride up in silence, thankful Jim and her brothers hadn’t been present to hear her complain.

They found their suite with little difficulty. All the rooms above the fifth floor faced west to overlook the beach and were accessed by a single hallway running the length of the hotel. Trixie opened the suite and quickly cased the room.

Decorated in a similar style as the lobby, the room’s main colors were aqua and sand. Along the left wall stood an entertainment center, desk and pair of wing chairs. A standard size couch faced the TV and a driftwood coffee table completed the grouping. Across from the entrance, stretching the length of the room, hung long, heavy aqua drapes. On the right wall, just beyond a small refrigerator and bar area was the door to the bedroom.

Trixie moved to open the heavy curtains and draw back the sheers. A red-orange sun had just sunk beneath the watery horizon, leaving a blue-violet night sky behind. Several stars had already dotted the sky. She opened the glass doors and let in the salty sea air. She breathed deep and smiled.

The balcony contained four wrought iron chairs and a table. Trixie leaned on the railing and stared at the sand, the surf, and all the people walking up and down the beach.

"Look at them all."

Trixie didn’t have to turn around to recognize Dan’s voice. "There are so many of them. How are you planning to find our three kids in a city full of kids on Spring Break?"

She smiled. "I have a plan, don’t worry."

"Care to fill me in?"

She glanced at him, momentarily startled by the sight of him, dark hair blowing in the sea breeze, his eyes lit with the last rays of sunset, his muscular body leaning casually against the railing. She fought a blush. "I’m starving. I’ll tell everyone over some food."

Dan agreed and, twenty minutes later, room service delivered two pizzas, twenty hot chicken wings and six brownies. Brian and Mart took up a quarter collection and they got sodas and ice from the machines down the hall. Since the weather was so balmy, they kept the doors open and ate on the balcony.

"So, what’s the plan, Sis?" Brian asked, handing a plate of pizza to Honey.

Trixie swallowed some cheese, took a sip of soda, and began outlining her strategy for finding the three lost boys. "It’s not so difficult to figure out," she began. "First, I’m going to search their old room. Maybe they weren’t completely checked out. Maybe there’s something left behind. This hotel is completely full. I can’t believe that their maid service is that good that they’d remove all traces of the guys. It’s also possible that the guys, afraid of something, just moved their rooms and checked in under a different name. However, since I can’t think of a different name they might use," she paused to shrug and eat some more pizza.

"How are you going to get into their room, Trixie? The clerk said she didn’t have any more rooms. That means their room has been rented already," Honey pointed out.

"I’ll get in," Trixie averred.

Jim frowned. "How? I mean, are you just going to knock on their door and say, ‘hey, I’m a detective, let me in to search your room for clues to my missing brother and his friends?’ or something?" Mart laughed in agreement and took another chicken wing.

Trixie felt herself bristling once more. "No, of course not. But I’m going to search that room. The rest of you should go downstairs and talk to the other guests, especially the ones here on Break. Maybe they remember seeing the guys, hearing about them, talking to them. After all, we’re talking about a set of good looking, dark haired twins who have already been here since last Saturday. We’re talking about Terry and Larry! Somebody’s seen them. I can’t believe they’ve been anywhere without somebody noticing them. And Bobby. He’s tall with curly blond hair. The three of them together always attract a great deal of attention. Someone at this hotel knows something. We just need to find that person and ask the right questions."

She glanced at each of them in turn, a bit startled to see each one nodding their head. Yet another sign of the impending apocalypse, she thought. Everyone agrees with me!

It was decided that they should split into teams to cover more territory. Brian and Honey would be a team, Jim and Mart, and Dan and Trixie. Actually, Trixie wanted to go alone, but Dan insisted on accompanying her, ‘in case she got into a bad situation’, he told her.

Fifteen minutes later, the teams left the room to begin their search, Trixie and Dan exiting on the eighth floor, the others going all the way to the Lobby. They found room 822 easily enough. With Dan as lookout, Trixie knocked on the door and called out, "Housekeeping!" She waited several moments, her ear pressed to the metal door, but heard nothing. She produced a passkey and swiped it through the card reader.

"Where did you get that?" Dan asked.

"When we ordered the extra towels, I borrowed it from the maid. How did you think we were getting in here?" Trixie pushed open the door and peeked inside.

The room, almost identical to their own, was lit only by a single lamp in the far corner. As quickly as she could, Trixie pocketed the key, stepped through the door, pulled Dan inside and began her search.

They found nothing in the living room, so they started in the bedroom. A pair of suitcases, still packed, lay open on the dresser. The bathroom had barely been touched; only a few towels were out of place. The bedspread barely had a wrinkle. Trixie glanced around, thought a moment, then dropped to her knees and checked under the bed.

Dan just watched as Trixie lay flat on the carpet and wriggled herself as far under the bed frame as she could manage. "You need some help?" he asked lightly.

"No, I got it." She had found a small newspaper underneath the bed. She managed to grab it with her finger tips and pull it out from under the bed to look at it. "The Weekly Planet," she read. She handed the paper to Dan. "We’ll take that back with us. Is there anything in the waste baskets? There’s always something in those."

Dan checked. "No. Nothing."

"Darn it!" Trixie said. "There’s got to be something!" She sat on the edge of the bed and thought hard. "People always leave something behind when the check out of a room. No one remembers everything, especially not Terry and Larry. But it’s starting to look like they didn’t check themselves out of the room. But if they didn’t, who did and why?"

In the middle of Trixie’s rambling, Dan heard a noise from the other room. The people who had rented the room were coming back. Trixie was still talking; she hadn’t heard. Could they hide? No, even Trixie couldn’t fit under the bed. What should they do? An idea occurred. Lacking time to decide if it was a good idea, Dan acted on it.

He grabbed Trixie’s arms and pulled her upright. He scooped her up into his arms, leaned a knee on the bed and dropped her into the middle of it. With a wink at her startled expression, Dan lay down on top of her and began kissing her. Thoroughly.

Trixie didn’t know what to do. All of a sudden, Dan was making a major pass at her, but why? He was kissing her and moaning. It was embarrassing. Sort of. It was also kind of flattering. And interesting. But why here? Why now? Why not?

"What the he--? Who are you and what are you doing in our room?" Angry voices penetrated the fog surrounding Trixie’s brain. Dan rolled off her and she sat up, blinking at the sudden appearance of another couple in the room. She opened her mouth, but nothing came to mind to say.

"Omigosh! Is this your room?" Dan answered. "I thought it was my friend’s room! Oh, man, this bites! He lent us his key so that we could get some time alone, if you know what I mean. I had no idea we weren’t in the right room! I’m so sorry! Come on, honey, let’s find the right room and finish what we started, okay?"

Trixie stared up at Dan. Was he crazy? What was he talking about? Then she looked at the couple, dubious, but obviously willing to believe Dan’s explanation. She smiled, still a bit dazed, and stood up. Dan took hold of her hand and began dragging her out of the bedroom. A moment of coherent thought prompted her to grab the newspaper off the floor. As they exited the room, she turned to the other couple and waved. "Bye!"

It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Trixie’s brain started working again. "So, you heard the people come in, right? That’s why you did what you did?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind, yes." Dan punched the lobby button.

"Good instincts."

He cast a glance at her. "Really?"

"Well, they bought it, right?" Trixie didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to discuss the actual kissing, or her reaction to it, or why that particular action occurred to Dan, until later. When she was alone with Honey, who understood men a bit more, seeing as how she was engaged to one, then she’d discuss it. Maybe.

Dan’s expression didn’t change and he didn’t say a word. He just nodded and waited for the elevator to reach their destination.

Back in the lobby, a small crowd had formed. Dan and Trixie tried to push their way through. "What’s going on?" he asked some people.

"Diana Lynch is coming! She’s staying here!" a girl answered.

Dan and Trixie glanced at each other in surprise, then fought harder to get through the small crowd.. They saw several policemen at the front of the hotel, setting up a perimeter to keep a larger crowd outside. The sudden, mad popping of flashbulbs signaled the arrival. Reporters and fans began outside began shouting, "Miss Lynch! Diana! Over here! Look this way! Is it true--?"

The crowd parted and worried Diana strode through, removing her sunglasses to scan the lobby. She spied Dan easily, as he was taller than most of the crowd. She waved excitedly and called out to him. Dan grinned and moved to greet her. "Dan! It’s so good to see you!" she cried, and hugged him hard. "Trixie! I didn’t think I’d find you guys so quick!" She hugged her, too, and Trixie noticed the relief in her old friend’s voice.

"We’ll fill you in upstairs in our room. I didn’t know you were coming, Di! This is so great!" Trixie hugged her friend again. "The original Bob-Whites are all together again!"

Dan volunteered to take the bags up to their room while Diana signed autographs for the fans in the lobby. After ten minutes of signing, Trixie felt the initial jealousy that always kicked in when she thought about her beautiful, famous, talented friend, dissipate. Who wanted to be treated like meat, anyway? The fans would get their autograph, then abruptly leave without even saying thanks. And everyone seemed to act as if Diana owed them a smile, a signature and a picture, just for coming into the place where they were. No, she wouldn’t trade her problems for Diana’s.

Once the crowd left them alone, Trixie and Diana went toward the bar, where Brian and Honey were supposed to have gone searching for clues. As they opened the door, however, Jim, Mart, Brian and Honey were coming out. The next several minutes were taken up with Diana hugging and kissing Jim, Brian and Honey hello. When she looked at Mart, however, all they seemed able to manage was a brief, non-squeezing hug and an air kiss. They barely even made eye contact. Not for the first time did Trixie wonder what exactly happened between them years ago. Neither had ever said.

They piled into the elevator and returned to their room. "This is so great!" Honey kept saying. "You got Anne’s message and just came? I thought you were filming or something. I didn’t think you’d be able to go!"

"Well, the weather wasn’t cooperating at all, and more storms were forecast for the rest of the week, so filming was going to be postponed anyway. Ken wanted more rehearsals, but when I told him my little brothers were missing, he agreed to let me go. I have to be back Friday night, though," Diana explained.

"How’d you get here so fast?" Brian asked.

"Well, since the Concorde now flies to Miami, it wasn’t that long of a flight. It’s only 50 minutes from Miami to Tampa, so here I am. I hope you got room for me." She smiled impishly.

"Of course we do," said Trixie, "it’ll be just like old times!"

"It’s so great to be around you guys again!" said Diana as she hugged them again.

"What movie are you making now?" Jim wanted to know.

"I’ll be Celia in ‘As You Like It’. I hadn’t thought to do another costume drama so soon after ‘The Mists of Avalon’, but Ken Branagh is a genius at directing Shakespeare, so I couldn’t really refuse, could I? I scheduled a vacation after filming, though, so I’ll definitely be back in Sleepyside for the wedding." She smiled at Honey and Brian, holding hands in the elevator. "I can’t wait!"

Once in the room, each team relayed their findings. Both Brian & Honey and Jim & Mart had found people who remembered the trio, but not since 5 p.m. yesterday afternoon, when they left in suits and ties, presumably to go to Bern’s for dinner. Jim had talked to a man who thought he’s seen one of the twins walking up the street, but since he was alone and at least 20 feet away from the man, he couldn’t be sure. Honey had talked to a girl who remembered seeing one of the twins walking down the street, but she seemed unreliable as well. The newspaper yielded two tiny clues; in the Restaurant Guide, the ad for Bern’s Steakhouse was circled. As they paged further through the paper, a small receipt fell out: a receipt for a rental car.

Trixie summed up the findings. "Okay, so that was their room, and they were planning to go to Bern’s, which is where we know they ended up, and they had access to a car. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Bern’s to find out what I can from there. Everyone else should probably split up into teams again. We should probably search the beach and the streets. It seems possible they split up. We’ve had pretty good luck questioning the college students so far. I’m betting our luck will hold out a bit longer. I’m waiting on a e-mail from Anne at 11 to tell me if she’s found any mention of the kids in any police or hospital database. That’s all I’ve got. Anyone got any other suggestions?"

No one had anything to add. "I’ve got a question, though," Diana asked. "Is there really only one double bed and a cot?"

"Yeah, sorry. They overbooked. But that brings up a question. Where are we sleeping tonight?" Trixie asked.

Brian answered, "Well, I think I speak for us guys when I say you three should take the cot into the other room and sleep on the beds. We’ll flip for the sofa and the chairs, losers get the floor."

"Oh, no. We three can share the bed. If you guys are going to be uncomfortable, we can be uncomfortable. One of you can take the cot, one the sofa, one the chair and only one of you will be on the floor," Honey replied, settling the issue, "If that’s all right with you, Di."

"Why not? It’s been a long time since I was treated like a regular person. I’ve missed you guys so much!" Diana exclaimed.

Everyone else agreed to that plan as well and started getting ready for bed. At lights out, Brian kissed Honey good night, the girls shut the bedroom door, and then Honey demanded, "So tell me, Trix. What’s the deal with you and Dan?"

Startled, Trixie looked up from her laptop computer, reading Anne’s email. "Excuse me? What do you mean?"

Honey smiled and sat next to her on the bed. "I was there. I witnessed that little exchange earlier. I’m not stupid. Heck, I’ve suspected something like this for years now."

Slowly, Trixie forced her attention back on her notes. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You know." Playfully, Honey pushed at Trixie’s shoulder.

"No, I don’t know. What don’t I know?" She glanced up to be sure Diana was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear them.

"How Dan feels about you."

Trixie shot her a look of concern. "Dan? Feels? About me?" What could Honey have guessed?

"Come on, Trixie! You had to have realized it by now."

"Isn’t he dating Anne?"

Honey turned conspiratorial. "Nope. They’re just going out as ‘friends.’ Anne told me she really wants to get back with him, but she’s afraid she burned him so bad after high school he won’t go back to her. I think he thinks he’ll have a better experience with a different Bob-White."

"You don’t mean Diana, do you." It was not a question.

Honey grinned. "No, silly. I mean you."

Trixie sighed and shook her head. "I don’t get it. Dan said something to you?"

"No," Honey answered thoughtfully. "Not exactly. But Brian told me about a conversation he had with Dan about marriage at our engagement party. He told Brian he was getting ready to settle down. And Mart, a long time ago, made a crack about Dan spending more time catching up with you than him whenever anyone was home from college. And, well, sad to say, but Dan told Anne she’s just a friend to him now. He doesn’t even hold her hand when they’re out together, and you know what they were like when they were dating!"

Trixie nodded her head, remembering the formerly affectionate couple. "Yeah, I remember. But so far, he hasn’t said anything specifically about me, though, right?"

Honey closed her eyes. "You are so blind. How can you not notice the way he looks at you? Earlier today, as soon as he knew you were in the back room, he just brushed past Anne, whom he was there to see, and went to talk to you. And he made a point of coming along. A real personal point. And something happened to you when you were searching that room, didn’t it? You didn’t say anything happened, but I can just tell you’re holding out on me."

"Nothing happened," Trixie assured her hastily. "Dan is just concerned about the kids. We all are. I doubt he feels anything special toward me. I’m like a sister to him. Moms often asks him to dinner and I hear he helps Mart and Bobby with lots of things around the farm that Dad can’t get to and Brian has no time for. You can’t jump to conclusions, you know."

Honey turned mischievous. "What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re dating anyone now. Or ever," she added wryly.

Trixie didn’t rise to the bait. "I just don’t think I’ve ever thought about Dan that way."

"Not ever?" Honey repeated, a bit incredulous.

"Of course not!" Trixie repeated, unwilling to examine her feelings now, after the rather scorching kiss he’d planted on her earlier. "And what’s that look for? Don’t tell me you-!"

Honey teased, "Well, to be honest, and I’d never lie to you, I have thought about it. I think it’s the whole ‘bad boy’ thing he’s got going for him."

Trixie nearly choked. "You? Should I warn Brian about anything?"

Honey dismissed the notion with a wave. "Oh, for Heaven’s sake, of course not! You know that for a long time I wasn’t even dating Brian. Not exclusively, anyway. Besides, Brian and I are very honest about that sort of thing. It’s unrealistic to assume that a person will only find their partner attractive for the rest of their lives. Humans just aren’t designed that way. However, it is possible to love just one person for the rest of your life, and be happiest with that one person, and be completely faithful to that one person, despite having occasional thoughts about someone else. Did I just make sense?"

"You mean, look but don’t touch?" This was turning out to be a big day for thinking about her brothers as regular human beings. They had always just been pests before.

Honey kicked off her slippers and picked up her hairbrush. "Sort of. But I kind of enjoy looking at Brian, so . . ." She grinned happily and began brushing her long, honey-blond hair.

Trixie smiled. "He kind of enjoys looking at you, too. When you were away that time in Italy, I swear I heard him saying good night to your picture."

"That is so sweet! I didn’t know that!" She stopped brushing her hair.

Trixie got under the covers and switched off her bedside light. "Don’t go getting gooey on me tomorrow. We’ve got work to do."

Honey smiled, unrepentant. "I can’t help it. Your brother is just the sweetest man! I love him so much. I’m lucky to be marrying him."

"He’s the lucky one, Honey, and don’t you forget it!"

*     *     *

Breakfast the next morning passed in a sticky blur of butter, pancakes and syrup. The septet was ready to begin their search at 8:30 a.m. "Everyone has their cell phones charged and ready? Everyone knows everyone’s number? Watches synchronized? Remember, we check in every hour starting at 9, to share information. Dan calls Mart, Mart calls Brian, Brian calls me, I call Dan. Got it? Honey, you and Brian are going north along this street to check out the information you got from that guy last night. Mart, you and Diana are going south to check on that girl’s story. Dan, you’re checking out the beach and Jim, you’re with me. We’re going to Bern’s. Okay? Jim and I’ve got the van." Trixie looked at each of them to be sure they knew their assignments. Each one nodded in agreement. "Everyone has a picture a recent picture of Bobby and the twins, too, right?"

Diana wailed, "No! I’ve only got a picture of Bobby and Larry!"

Honey touched Diana’s arm gently. "Sweetie, remember they’re identical. You’re the only one here who would know that wasn’t Terry in that photo."

"I guess so," Diana agreed sadly.

Trixie aimed for a positive spin before sending everyone off on their assignment. "Okay! Anne didn’t find any record of the kids at the hospital or the morgue. The police records are constantly being updated, though. She’ll try calling one of us if she finds out anything. We’ll find them soon. I promise!" She smiled at Diana, who attempted a smile in return.

In the lobby, they began to split up. Dan exited on the beach side of the lobby, Brian and Honey, Mart and Diana called ‘good luck!’ to each other as they set off in separate directions, up and down the street. Trixie handed the valet the receipt for the van’s keys and waited outside with Jim.

The sunlight was just peering over the roof of the buildings across the street, but the air had warmed up long ago. "It’s going to be a beautiful day," Jim said.

Trixie nodded. "We’re going to find them, you know."

"I know. I have every confidence that you know what you’re doing."

"Yeah, right. Sure you do," Trixie scoffed.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Jim asked. He glanced at her.

"Forget it. Here comes the van." Trixie pointed as the valet parked the van a few feet away. "I’ll drive." Jim didn’t argue.

Trixie put the van in gear and slowly exited the hotel entranceway, carefully maneuvering around a police car parked at an angle. "I wonder what they were here for."

"It’s Spring Break," Trixie explained. "They’re probably searching out underage drinkers, checking out a noise complaint, or they’re here for breakfast. Could be anything."

Driving back into Tampa took most of their half hour. The cell phone rang just as Trixie got onto I-275 East. Jim answered the phone, listened, asked a few questions, then hung up.

"Okay, that was Brian," he informed Trixie. "He and Honey talked to a hot dog vendor who claims one of the twins knocked over her cart. Mart and Di haven’t turned up anything yet. Dan hasn’t had any luck yet, either."

Trixie nodded. "So they have split up. I wonder why."

She almost drove right past Bern’s Steakhouse. The nondescript warehouse-type building didn’t exactly advertise five-star status. She parked the van in the valet lot, not surprised to discover the valet service missing.

"Trix? Can I ask a question?" Jim said as they got out of the van.

"Sure."

"How are we going to find out anything if the place is closed?"

"Because there’s always somebody working doing something in a restaurant. They have to get deliveries, they have to clean up, they have to train the wait staff, management has to look over the schedule and pay the bills and do all kinds of things. It’s really a 24 hour business." Trixie led them straight to the front door and tried to open it. It was locked. She knocked and waited. "You still got the ad we clipped from the paper?"

Jim fished the Bern’s ad from his pocket and handed it to her. She dialed the number on her cell phone and waited. "Hello! Yes, I hope you can help me. My name is Trixie Belden. I’m a detective searching for three young men who had dinner here Monday night. Is there anyone I could speak to who might remember them? No, they would be pretty memorable. They’re 18 years old. One is tall, with curly blond hair and blue eyes. The other two have dark hair and eyes and are identical twins. They probably came with dates, but I have no description on them. Yes, I’ll hold."

Jim felt himself get nervous. Were the kids really all that memorable? Could it be this easy to find them? What kind of danger would Trixie get into searching for them?

"Thank you so much. I’m right outside the front entrance. Come around the back? Okay. I’ll be right there." Trixie hung up the phone. "The manager said to come in through the kitchen. They’re having a staff meeting and he’ll let us ask the waiters themselves."

As they walked through Bern’s’ kitchen led by a friendly assistant pastry chef, Trixie was struck for the first time in her life with the desire to cook something. Gleaming pots and pans hung from racks in the ceiling; gleaming chrome counters and trays displayed utensils; ovens, stoves and an open-fire grill also caught her eye as well as chrome and glass food storage units. It was all so clean. Moms would love this place!

The employees were sitting in the dining room having their meeting. A tall man walked over to greet them. "You’re Trixie Belden?"

She nodded and shook his hand. "This is my partner, Jim Wheeler." As they shook hands, Trixie glanced around the room. The waiters seemed slightly bored and mostly exhausted. She felt she could empathize with their demeanor, having been a waitress at Wimpy’s back home.

The man introduced them to the staff, then asked if anyone had served the table in question. An older man raised his hand. "Yeah, I remember them. They were here Monday night with three girls. I remember them especially because I didn’t think they could pay for everything, but their card went through fine. And they tipped well." He seemed to hesitate, so Trixie prompted him for any more information.

"Well, yeah. There’s something else. I got off my shift a little after they left. It was a pretty slow night. I was on my way home when I passed three guys walking down Bayshore. They were in what I took to be bathing suits. As I passed them, I remember thinking they looked like the guys I had served earlier. I slowed down and asked if they wanted a ride anywhere, but they just took off running."

Trixie frowned. "But they had a rental car! A BMW, in fact. I found the rental receipt. The car hasn’t been turned in yet. Why would they be walking?"

"Hey! I saw these guys, too!"

Trixie turned. One of the younger guys had spoken. "Now that you mention the bathing suits, I remember I saw the blond guy. He came walking up from the alley and asking me if he could get his car without his ticket. I asked him which car, he told me, but some chick had already turned in the ticket and gotten the car. I told him and he just walked back to the alley. I was busy getting cars for a while after that. I don’t know how they got to Bayshore, though."

"Thank you so much," Trixie told them. "You all have been extremely helpful. If no one remembers anything else, then I’ve taken up enough of your time."

"Actually, I wasn’t quite done. After the guys ran off, I went home and sat in my driveway thinking about it. I decided that maybe I had scared them somehow, so I drove off to find them. I was going up and down the streets, looking for them. I live in a nice neighborhood, but it’s still pretty dangerous to go walking around in the middle of the night. No telling where you’ll end up, you know? So I found them again. They were just under the Crosstown Expressway and looking scared. I asked them if they were sure I couldn’t give them a ride somewhere and they just pointed to a house and said they were going to a party. I followed them. They ran up to the porch, someone let them in, so I left it at that."

Mentally, Trixie groaned. It would be just like those three to run away from someone trying to help them! "Could you give us the address of the house they ran into?"

"I could give you directions."

Trixie handed the man a pen and her small notebook. He sketched out a rough map of the area and put an X on the house in question. "You can’t miss it. It’s just two houses west of the Crosstown."

Jim and Trixie thanked the manager for their time. He thanked them for the opportunity to help them. As they left, Jim smiled. "They were really nice. Maybe we should go back for dinner one night before we leave."

Trixie nodded. "Yeah. I think that would be fun. It looks expensive, though. I’m not sure everyone could afford it."

Jim sighed. "No, Trixie. I meant you and me."

She glanced at him through the windows as she unlocked the van. "Oh. Um. Well, that could be fun, too."

*     *     *

Dan spent the bulk of the morning getting sand in his shoes. He hated the sand in his shoes. The sun quickly grew hot and the breeze only seemed to blow occasionally. The raucous cry of gulls, the rhythmic pound of the surf on the shore, the high-pitched squeals and bawdy jokes of the college students on break – it all left him cold. Disconnected. He passed around Bobby and the twins’ pictures, but got nowhere. A few volleyball players seemed to recognize them as a team they had played against on Sunday, but so far, no one had seen them since.

He wandered up and down the beach, finding nothing to connect anything to anyone. Lost in his thoughts, he passed by a tall condominium, walled-off from the casual beachcomber. He heard an argument between two men, one accusing the other of stealing his shirt and shorts off the wall, where he’d left them to dry. Dan shook his head. Someone probably just stole the clothes. Why get so upset?

His cell phone rang a few minutes later. It was Di this time, checking in. She and Mart had passed the pictures around in several T-shirt shops and drugstores. One of the twins had been identified as a shoplifter. Di also related Trixie & Jim’s information from Bern’s. Dan called Brian and updated him. "I’ve just got some people who say they saw them on Sunday, but nothing more recent. I’m heading back up the other way," he told them, then ended the call and turned around.

*     *     *

Brian called Trixie. "Ready? This is what we got now. Mart and Di found a drugstore clerk who says one of the twins stole from him a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and a pack of that baking soda gum. Dan went about two miles down the beach. He’s heading back the other way now. Honey and I haven’t found anything else since the hot-dog vendor. We’ll keep going if you think it’s a good idea." He listened, then hung up.

"Trixie thinks we should go on, if you agree. She’s got an address the boys were seen at Monday night, so she’s going to check it out. Chances are they made it back to the beach at some point. So. What do you think?" He sat wearily on a bus stop bench.

Honey sank down next to him. "I’m not sure." She stared up and then down the street. "We haven’t found anyone else who remembers seeing one of the twins except for that vendor a mile back. What really worries me is no one has seen Bobby."

Brian took a deep breath. "That worries me, too. I’m halfway ready to strangle that kid when we do find him. I knew we should have told Moms and Dad. They deserve to know what’s going on."

"Do they really deserve to worry about this? We all agreed not to say anything until we knew for sure what happened, or until we felt we needed to bring in the police or the FBI. I know Trixie’s not ready to do that," Honey said, sympathetically squeezing Brian’s hand. Her engagement ring sparkled in the morning light.

Brian sighed. "Do you really think Trixie can find them?"

"I know she can! The two of us have done a lot of maturing since we started solving crimes ten years ago. And even then, we never left a case unsolved. She’ll keep searching and she’ll find them. I promise you. Bobby is going to be at our wedding and we’re all going to laugh about this!" Honey turned sideways to face him. "I promise you!"

"I believe you." He smiled, then kissed her.

Several miles south, Di and Mart stood in the shadow of a faded awning, arguing. "I can’t believe you just said that! My brothers are not stupid! Just because they let your little brother get them in trouble!"

"Exactly my point. They listen to Bobby, never known for having a lick of sense. It’s the idiots allowing the lunatics to decide their fate!" Mart raged at her, oblivious to the stares and giggles of the people around them.

Di fought the urge to drag her nails across his freckled face. How could he be so unfeeling? "My brothers are missing! Both of them! And you just stand there and say it’s all their own fault!"

"Well, you heard Trixie! If they had just accepted the ride from that waiter, they’d be back at the hotel and we wouldn’t even be here!"

She threw up her hands. "Oh, right! Like they’d ever accept a ride from strangers in the middle of the night while lost in a strange city wearing bathing suits! Would you?"

"I wouldn’t have gotten lost in the first place! Or lost the car, for that matter. I simply wouldn’t get myself in that situation to begin with." Mart, sensing they were drawing attention, spoke now in an angry whisper. He grabbed Di’s arm and began dragging her away from the store.

Di clenched her jaw. "Well, I can believe that! The Mart Belden I know ‘and love’ is way too sensible to ever get caught doing something fun, that just might turn out to be stupid. That just might be a little crazy. That just might require thinking of himself as a regular human being instead of some ridiculous encyclopedic computer!"

Mart stopped short, allowing Di to keep walking. His utter fury at this brainless, beautiful, idiotic, talented woman nearly choked him. He forced himself to take a calming breath. He would refuse to say anything more to her. How dare she insult him like that! Where did she get off - - but no! He wasn’t even going to give her the time of day in the privacy of his own thoughts! No, sir, not Martin Belden!

*      *      *

"So you remember seeing them, then?" Trixie repeated for the third time.

"Um, yeah, I think so. It was late and I was kind of wasted." The fifteen year old girl smiled up at Jim. "You sure you weren’t at the party?"

Jim smiled weakly in return. "I’m positive. I didn’t even get into town until yesterday."

"That’s a shame. Cause it was a great party! Someone smashed all the liquor bottles on the floor in the kitchen," she laughed at the memory, "and later on, they all got in cars and headed out to the beach. We had a great time out there until the police came.