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  “Her one granddaughter; she was with a friend.”

  “Yes, the one who lives around here. But then the other one came in and out. I let her up.”

  “By herself?”

  Frida could see that Ken was getting a little annoyed with her, but when something was as important as this, she couldn’t help herself.

  “Yep. She had some big boxes of cakes or something with her.”

  Frida couldn’t hear any more. “Thank you, Ken. Well, Ellie’s daughter is coming any minute, so I’ll wait for her here.”

  “Mrs. Sustamorn is coming?” Ken said and pouted slightly.

  “She is.” Frida grimaced.

  She took a seat on the lobby couch. It was so strange not to have anything to hold on to; Frida always had her bag in her lap. She took a deep breath and tried to relax.

  She had never sat in the lobby before. Though she had been on the building’s decoration committee for years, she couldn’t think of a time when she had sat on the couch she’d helped pick out ten years before. The decoration committee was planning to get together again to discuss a new couch, and Frida was glad that at least she could now go back and report that she’d sat on it. There was no need for a new couch, in her opinion, though she did notice some wear and tear on the cushions.

  Since she had nothing else to do, she watched Ken as he opened the door for people walking in, signed for packages, and petted a couple of dogs as they walked by. He was kind to let her sit there. Maybe she’d give him fifty cents the next time he brought up her groceries. She felt it wasn’t right to always have to tip him since he got a salary, but Frida’s husband had always said it was good to tip the help so they would feel bad if they wanted to steal something later.

  None of the people walking in and out of the building was Ellie. However, when Hershel Neal walked into the building, Frida was happy to see a familiar face.

  “Well, Frida, fancy seeing you here.” He smiled as he saw her. He was always such a gentleman.

  “Hello, Hershel. Good to see you, too.” She smiled back.

  “You look so sporty today. What a pretty color,” he said, admiring Frida’s pink sweat suit.

  “Thank you.” She smiled, feeling flattered.

  “So what brings you to the lobby today?” he asked.

  “Well, I’ve had a bit of unfortunate circumstances this morning.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “Oh, no,” Frida lied, not wanting to upset him. “I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment, and I’m waiting for Ellie’s daughter to come downtown.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Isn’t Ellie around?”

  Frida tried not to make too much of where Ellie might be. Ellie never liked Hershel—though why, Frida could never understand, because he always seemed to have eyes for Ellie. She was even a little jealous and wished someone as handsome as Hershel might have eyes for her.

  “Have you by any chance seen Ellie today?” Frida asked him.

  “No,” he replied. “I did run into her granddaughters just a short while ago. The one in from Chicago, and of course Lucy.”

  Lucy was going to have a lot of explaining to do, but Frida didn’t want to confuse Hershel any more by telling him that the other woman was no cousin.

  “You know, Frida, as long as I’ve got you alone for a second, I wanted to talk to you about something, you know, since you’re Ellie’s closest friend.”

  Frida gasped inwardly. Did he know something she didn’t? “Sure. What is it, Hershel?” Frida asked calmly.

  “Well, I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve had a little crush on Ellie for some time now. I’d love to take her to a concert sometime. You know I’ve got tickets to the Kimmel Center. They’ve got some wonderful concerts coming up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I should be the one you talk about this with,” Frida said, shying away. How could she tell him that Ellie wasn’t interested?

  “If she needed a chaperone, I wouldn’t mind getting another ticket, if you’d like to come along.”

  It was a marvelous idea. Frida always loved the Kimmel Center. Still, Ellie wouldn’t have liked Frida sticking her nose in this kind of business.

  “Well, I’ll see if I can persuade Ellie, and I’ll get back to you.”

  He placed his hand on Frida’s arm and smiled warmly. “That would be wonderful. Thank you Frida.” He continued to smile as he walked toward the elevators.

  What was Ellie’s problem?

  Frida went back to watching Ken, who was standing at the door contentedly watching the day go by. Suddenly his expression tensed. Frida knew exactly what he had just seen.

  She got up and walked toward the door. The woman was more than a block away, but with that hard stomp, stomp, stomp in her step, it was impossible not to know who she was. As she got closer, Frida noticed she wasn’t wearing the usual large black bug-eyed glasses that practically covered her entire face. She was squinting into the sun. It must have been eighty degrees outside, and she was wearing black clothing from head to toe, long heavy gold chains around her neck, and big diamond rings on her fingers. Her hair, as usual, was held back tightly by a big black bow.

  “Hi, Mrs. Sustamorn,” Ken called out to Barbara.

  Frida got a hot flash. How would she explain what she was doing in the lobby? Frida watched as Ken put a fake smile on his face.

  “Ken!” Barbara’s called out in her loud, nasal accent. Ken clenched his smile a notch tighter. “I’m looking for my mother. Have you seen her?”

  “I haven’t, ma’am, but Mrs. Freedberg is right inside,” he told her as he stood at the open door.

  A shadow darkened the room as Barbara stopped through the doorway. Spotting Frida standing in the middle of the lobby, Barbara breathed in heavily.

  “Didn’t I say—” Barbara threw down her large Louis Vuitton tote and put her hands on her hips.

  “Now, Barbara, don’t get excited.” Frida held up her hands like a boxer expecting a right hook.

  “What are you doing down here in the lobby?”

  “Well, I had a slight mishap this morning. I accidentally left my handbag in my apartment.”

  “You must have taken your keys.”

  “They were in the handbag.”

  “And Mom’s keys?”

  Frida had no more strength to answer.

  “Oh, Frida,” Barbara tsked. “I don’t know how you survive. What would we have done if I didn’t have the keys to Mom’s apartment?” Barbara said, taking Ellie’s keys from her purse.

  “I don’t even want to think about it. You’re always thinking one step ahead, Barbara, always prepared, thank goodness.” Frida sighed.

  Barbara smiled lightly. Always butter up Barbara.

  “Now, Ken,” Barbara said, turning to him as Frida’s smile faded. “We have a serious situation on our hands here. I’m sure Mrs. Freedberg must have asked you by now if you’ve seen Mrs. Jerome this morning.”

  “I haven’t,” Ken answered, running over to the door and opening it for a couple walking in. “Like I told Mrs. Freedberg here, she might have come in before I started my shift.”

  “And what time was that?” Barbara inquired like a true detective.

  “Six a.m.”

  Barbara breathed heavily again. Frida felt faint again.

  Barbara walked closer to Ken and looked accusingly in his eyes. “Are you sure you haven’t seen Mrs. Jerome?”

  “I saw her granddaughter, if that helps,” Ken replied, taking a step back.

  “And did Lucy mention anything about my mother?” Barbara questioned.

  “Oh, you mean Lucy. I saw Lucy, but I’m talking about the other granddaughter. The one staying in her apartment.”

  “The one from Chicago,” Frida clarified to Barbara.

  “Yes, thank you, Frida,” Barbara said tartly.

  “Yes, that’s the one. She came in and out earlier today. She came back with some cakes, and I let her up.”

  “You let a
total stranger up to my mother’s apartment?” Barbara bellowed.

  “Look, the young girl had already been in your mother’s apartment,” Ken began calmly. “I saw her leave. She looked just like your daughter. When she came back a while later, she had all these boxes in her hand. It was obvious to me that the girl wasn’t up to any trouble. I have a sixth sense about people.”

  “Well, maybe your sixth sense should have told you that the young woman you saw today was of no relation to either me or my mother! She was an imposter who just might have something to do with my mother’s now very apparent disappearance!”

  Frida sat down and put her head between her legs, or at least tried to. She was able to get only halfway down.

  “Look, I am very sorry that this has happened to Mrs. Jerome. I like Mrs. Jerome very much. I could only have assumed that this young woman was a relative since she told me she was, in addition to the fact that she left the building with your daughter.”

  Barbara looked at her watch and sighed. “Well,” she said, “I suppose there’s nothing I can do about this right now, but don’t think for a second that I will forget this, Ken. Now, look, this is very important: What time did you see this woman leave with Lucy?”

  “It was, oh, about an hour ago . . . no . . . maybe two.”

  “They could be anywhere by now,” Frida said, her head still halfway to her knees.

  “Frida, let’s you and I inspect Mom’s apartment to see if anything was taken.” Barbara looked at Ken. “Ken, the keys, please.”

  “Well, technically, Mrs. Sustamorn, I’m not allowed to give keys—”

  “KEN!”

  Ken jumped and went to the key closet to grab Mrs. Jerome’s keys and handed them over.

  “Frida, let’s go,” Barbara said and stomped her feet toward the elevator with Frida trailing behind.

  As the elevator doors shut, Frida tuned to Barbara.

  “I thought you had the keys to your mother’s apartment.”

  “Of course I have the keys to my mother’s apartment! You think I’m going to trust them downstairs with that degenerate doorman anymore?”

  “Oh, okay,” Frida said and nodded.

  Barbara straightened her oversized black sweater and slicked back her hair. For the first time that day, she noticed Frida’s pink sweat suit.

  “Frida, what the hell are you wearing?”

  “I don’t know. What I was thinking?” Frida said, wondering if that was the right thing to say.

  Barbara said nothing and looked up at the numbers changing as they rode from floor to floor.

  Once inside the apartment, the first thing Barbara noticed beyond her mother’s Paris mirror in front of the door were those cakes.

  “Disgusting.” Barbara grimaced, grabbing the cakes off the table and taking them over to the trash can. She looked up to see if Frida was watching, which she was. Darn. The Swiss Pastry Shop cakes were her favorites. A little swipe of frosting might have tasted good right about now. She’d been planning to eat the leftover cake she’d taken home from the party before Frida had called. Maybe she really would start her diet today, like she was always planning to.

  “Frida, take a look around and see if anything’s been taken,” Barbara instructed.

  Frida walked into the living room.

  “Oh, no!” Frida shouted, causing Barbara to run in with icing on her lips.

  “What?”

  “Ellie’s prized vase from Tuscany. It’s moved! It’s on Ellie’s good chair! Maybe she tried to use it to fend off the intruder. You know, when I came down here before, what if they had Ellie tied up in the bedroom?”

  “Or maybe Mom moved it to clean it.” Barbara balked at Frida’s theory. Then, “My grandmother’s pearls!” Barbara suddenly remembered and rushed into her mother’s room.

  Frida moved over to Ellie’s baby grand piano. The piano was rarely played, but Frida always admired it just the same. On top of the piano sat dozens of photos in silver frames. It was her best friend’s life laid out for everyone to see. In one, a young Ellie was at the beach with chubby Barbara. Barbara hadn’t changed much, Frida noted, and Ellie had always had the best figure. And there was Ellie, holding baby Lucy, with the most joyous smile on her face; Frida and Ellie laughing at Frida’s fiftieth birthday party; Howard dressed in one of his suits, God rest his soul.

  Frida started to get weepy. What would she do if something had happened to her friend?

  “Barbara,” Frida called out.

  “It doesn’t seem like anything has been taken here,” Barbara called back. “There are those jeans here from that time you all went to the dude ranch.”

  Barbara entered the living room with the empty Plage Tahiti bag and pulled out the receipt. “Looks like the imposter must have done a little shopping on Mother’s card,” she said, then noticed Frida’s worried face. “What’s the matter?” Barbara asked.

  “Barbara, we have to find Ellie.” Frida was starting to get upset.

  “We will,” Barbara said, permitting herself to be slightly comforting.

  “Your mother is the only person in the world who cares about me. Next to my children, she’s the most important person in my life.”

  Although it was completely out of character, Barbara put her arm around Frida.

  “There, there, Frida. We’ll find Mom. Don’t you worry.”

  “I am very worried.” Frida dug inside her sweatshirt arm cuff, took out a ragged tissue, blew her nose with it, and then tucked it back where it came from.

  “Frida,” Barbara said with a little more intensity. She put her hands on Frida’s shoulders. “Frida, we will find Mom. I promise you we will find my mother today, but you’ve got to be strong. Can you be strong?”

  “Can I be strong?”

  “You can be strong.”

  “Okay, Barbara.”

  “Now, the first thing we’re going to do is head over to the Swiss Pastry Shop. Maybe they can give us some clues. Then we’ll go over to the Plage Tahiti clothing shop and find out who used Mom’s credit card and what they bought.”

  “I think we have a pretty good idea who used this credit card,” Frida said and nodded.

  “Maybe she’ll head back there. Maybe what she bought was too big or too small.”

  “Good thinking,” Frida agreed. “Only . . .”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I’m feeling a little ravenous right now . . .”

  “Oh, Frida, how could you think of food at a time like this?”

  “Well, my blood sugar gets low and—”

  “I did notice you wrapped up your steak last night.”

  “I was so full from the wonderful salad and crab cakes,” Frida lied.

  “Fine. I’ll call over to Lucy’s boyfriend’s restaurant. He’ll wrap something up for us on our way to the Swiss Pastry Shop. That’s actually a good idea—maybe he knows where my daughter is. I’ll try Lucy’s phone again and tell her we’re headed over there.”

  Barbara went to her bag, got out her phone, and dialed Lucy. Again.

  “Hi, Lucy, it’s Mom. I haven’t heard from you today and, like I said, Aunt Frida is very worried about Grandma. When you get a chance, please call us back. Also, we’re headed over to your friend Johnny’s restaurant for some takeout. Love, Mom.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Frida said.

  “Though I really do think we should retrace the steps first,” Barbara said. “Johnny probably hasn’t seen Lucy today. She’s always on the move, and of course she hasn’t called me back. Maybe Mom has something in the kitchen we could snack on until then.”

  Frida walked over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was a broiled chicken inside. Ellie always made wonderful chicken; she was always able to make it so moist on the inside and crisp on the outside. All Frida could ever do was burn things. Ellie. How could Frida be eating anything at a time like this? She suddenly became upset again and shut the refrigerator door.

  “No, Barbara, let’
s go find Ellie.”

  “But what about your blood sugar?”

  “Forget my blood sugar.”

  “Well, okay,” Barbara said. “Maybe Mom has some cheese and crackers I can grab. She always has a stash.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Frida walked over to the Paris mirror to fix her hair. What did Barbara know about style, always in her black outfits? The pink sweat suit was cute. And it was comfortable.

  “Barbara, are you ready?” Frida called.

  “I’m ready.” Barbara’s answer sounded garbled. “Here are the cheese and crackers.” She handed a pack to Frida and put the rest in her handbag.

  “Barbara?”

  “What is it? Let’s go!” Barbara rushed her.

  “Nothing, it’s just . . . I thought you threw out the cakes.”

  “I did. Come on, let’s go.”

  “Oh. It’s just that you have some icing on your lip.”

  “It’s flour from the pantry. You know Mom is a slob! It must have gotten on my face when I opened the door,” Barbara blustered as she wiped away the buttercream.

  Don’t get Barbara mad. Don’t get on Barbara’s bad side.

  Sometimes, though, it was fun to rile her up just a little.

  “Okay,” Barbara said, grabbing the keys to the apartment. “Let’s go.”

  They walked out of the apartment and into the hallway. Barbara shut the door and made sure the safety lock was on by jostling the door. Then she locked the three locks on the door and jostled it again for a few more seconds to make sure it was locked. She turned around and saw Frida looking at her sheepishly.

  “What is it now, Frida?” Barbara moaned.

  “Maybe I should use Ellie’s powder room before we leave. What if we’re never near a clean bathroom?”

  Barbara grunted in disgust as she looked through her vast Louis Vuitton bag for the keys she’d just thrown in. “I can’t find the keys. I’m too agitated. You find them.” She threw the bag at Frida.

  Frida looked into the bag and found the keys immediately.

  “Do you have to go, too?” Frida asked.