“May I help you?” a woman behind the counter said and I had to tear my eyes off of Mr. Taylor as he rounded a corner and disappeared.
“Actually, I hope to help you,” I said, and bent to dig out the yearbook in my bag. I plopped it on the counter. The woman, who looked to be in her forties, waited patiently as I flipped open to a page I'd marked with a ripped piece of notebook paper. “I saw this person wearing a clown mask who scared some girls yesterday.”
“Yes. We've had that complaint. You said you saw him too?” she asked.
“I did and I can positively identify him.”
“What do you mean you can identify him?” The woman gave me a perplexed look. The other two women in the office had looked up from their desks. A fourth woman was at the xerox machine, and I definitely had her attention as w
