“Hm…Elizabeth Walton, age 12. Goes by ‘Eliza’. Blonde hair, usually in pigtails. Blue eyes, pale skin, brown birthmark on her left arm. Her parents: Helen and Doug Walton, ages thirty four and forty one respectively. Lives over on South 4th Street, Complex Fourteen B. She was enrolled at St. Baldur’s School for Girls. She loves art class, but she really doesn’t enjoy geometry or history of Gaia..Her favorite color is green, and she loves anime about cute boys…”

Delahoy sighed, reading the Word file his daughter Sam had made. It was a little difficult to read, mostly because half of it was relevant, and the rest was simply likes and dislikes. But he had to admit, the young girl had made some very nice deductions. The memo stated that after being pulled from school early on the 22nd of November, Eliza hasn’t been heard from. Her locker wasn’t cleaned out, and her apartment had no answer, even after several attempts.

Sam peeked over her father’s shoulder, watching him as he absorbed the information. “Well, what do you think, Pop?” she asked, a little impatient. “WE got ourselves a real hardbaked case, right?”

“First off, it’s hardboiled,” Delahoy replied. “And second, I think I’m savvy with this one, Sam: You’re little friend must’ve moved away, simple as that. That would explain why she isn’t in school, and why her apartment is now empty.”

“Nuh uh!” Sam objected. “If she had moved away, she would’ve told me about it, Pop! We’re the bestest of friends ever! Just look at that information sheet; it’s running on all seven!” Delahoy didn’t correct his daughter this time; he was looking into something else he noticed from the notes.

“Hold up; right here, you say her parents work a lot; they’re rarely home when Eliza gets off from school. What exactly do they do?”

Sam rubbed her chin, then said, “Her mom’s a lawyer, and her dad’s a…um, what do you call those guys who work in hotels to make your stay really nice?”

“You mean a ‘concierge?” Delahoy asked, trying to put things together.

“Yeah, that’s it, a concierge! Her dad’s always working late, over at the Gambino Deluxe over on the island! And her mom works here in Durem. She’s really busy a lot, too.” Sam left for a moment to grab a small notebook from her backpack. She flipped a few pages, and handed it to her dad.

“Here, it’s the address for Ms. Walton’s law firm, as well as the front desk number for the hotel.” Delahoy smiled, looking at the numbers. “Real jake work, kiddo…but how come you didn’t put the ol’ Broderick on those guys yourself?”

Sam shrugged. “I’m twelve, Dad. You think they’d let me go interrogate some lady at a law firm?”

Delahoy stood up then, and shook his head. “No, I suppose not,” he said with a laugh. “I’m going to go see what I can find out. If there’s nothing there, I think a friend of mine can help me find your pal.” Sam smiled, and hugged the detective.

“Thanks a million, Pop!...But, who’s this friend of yours?”

“Let’s just say it’s his business to find people,” Delahoy replied. “Even if they don’t want to be found.”