The girls stopped their jumping to stare at me. “You know Morrell, miss?” “Take my picture too, miss?” “Put me in the book too, miss. Morrell talk to me, not to her.”

They began posing and shoving each other out of the way.

“Who’s Morrell?” I asked, wondering if a cop had come around pretending to be writing a book.

“Morrell, he’s a man, he’s writing a book about people who ran away from jail.”

I stared at the speaker, a girl of about nine with a braid that reached to the top of her shorts. “Ran away from jail? Does that mean—did he come here today?”

“No, not today, but most days. Now will you take my picture?”

I took shots of the little girls alone and together and tried to get them to tell me about Morrell. They spread their hands. He came around, he talked to some of the parents, especially Aisha’s father. They didn’t know who he was or where to find him. I gave it up and went back to inspecting the street, getting down on my hands and knees with the glass while Mr. Contreras stood over me to make sure no one hit me.

“You lose something, miss?” “You trying to find your ring?” “Is there a reward? We can help.”

I sat back on my heels. “You know a woman was hit here in the road last night? I’m a detective. I’m looking for any clues about her accident.”

“You really a detective? Where’s your gun?” one demanded, while another said, “Women can’t be detectives, don’t be a fool, Sarina.”

“Women can be detectives, and I am one,” I announced.

The girls started inspecting the area around the curb for clues. I found something like dried blood on the asphalt where I thought Nicola Aguinaldo had lain and photographed the spot from several different angles, then scraped a bit onto a tissue. It wouldn’t be very convincing if I had to talk to a judge or jury, but it was the best I could come up with.

The girls decided this meant Sarina was right—I must be a detective, they’d seen someone do the very same thing on television. After that they offered me a variety of items, from an empty Annie Greensleeves bottle to a Converse high–top. I solemnly inspected their findings. In the midst of the detritus, a piece of metal caught my eye as it had theirs: “This is gold, isn’t it, miss, is it valuable? Do we get a reward?”