Almost Too Far (Almost Bad Boys #3) (6 page)

“A joke purse?” I ask.

Libby turns to look at us and explains, “Helga has these few designer purses, but sometimes she just carries her cheap plastic purse from Target. She calls it a ‘joke purse’, since it’s far from what she normally likes.”

“Okay, a bit eclectic, I can understand that.” I nod. “So is there significance to that plastic Target purse? Meaning, any particular place or occasion where she would carry it instead of taking one of these beauties?” I point to the bag collection.
 

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out to see who’s texting me. It’s Svetlana. I decide to ignore the message. I’ll have to wait.
 

“No idea.” Libby shakes her head. “Helga rarely takes it anywhere. Last time she carried it was when she insisted on going to the auto repair shop with me two days ago. She said it was too dirty in there for her other bags.”

“So you think she decided not to take an expensive purse because of the place she disappeared to?” Colin asks.

“I don’t know. Or maybe she just grabbed the purse that already had everything in it, since she just carried it two days ago? If she was in a hurry, she wouldn’t want to waste time on transferring her wallet and stuff into another purse,” I conclude.
 

We are like the Sherlock Holmes society. I snort inwardly at the absurdity of the situation. But a clue is a clue, so I keep questioning Libby, “You said her raincoat was missing. Did she have any other rain jackets?”

“No, she gave her old one to Goodwill when Colin purchased that red one for Christmas,” Libby says.
 

I scratch my chin and look at Colin. He raises his brows in a silent “where are you going with this?” question. I’m not really sure myself, but I’m grasping at anything that could possibly provide a hint.
 

“Maybe she’s planning to be outside, at least for a while? It might start raining at any moment. That’s what tonight’s weather forecast was when I last checked.” I shrug.
 

My cell phone announces the arrival of another text message. This one is from Caroline: “Hope you can join us at the Black Horned Beast tonite. Jena, Ali, and S r here.” I assume S stands for Svetlana and not a Shane or a Sam.

“I’m calling Stella again.” Libby picks up the phone from a small desk in the corner and dials the number.
 

“What do you think? Where would she go?” I ask Colin quietly.
 

He inhales deeply, his jaw working. “No fucking clue. This is such a puzzle.”

“Okay, so she never goes anywhere on her own. And whenever she’s going with her friends, she tells Libby, right?”

“Always. She calls me every day too.”

I fold my arms over my chest and tap my foot on the plush rug.
 

Libby hangs up and says, “Stella’s not picking up. I left her a message to call immediately.”

“Do you think they went somewhere together?” Colin asks.

I nod in agreement. “That’s what I’m wondering too.”
 

“This is very unlikely, but, at this point… I don’t know… maybe. I just don’t understand why they would leave the party and not tell anyone.” Libby sits in a chair and absentmindedly rolls the braid ending with the raven’s feather between her long slim fingers. Her skin is much darker than Colin’s, but they have the same hands and similar facial features, especially the shape of their eyes.
 

Colin squats down in front of her and takes her hands in his, “Libby… Grandma, listen. If she left with Stella, where would they go? Where do they normally go?”
 

Libby shrugs. “They like the Alki Cafe and Julio’s Bakery down the street. Oh, and the Senior Center on California Avenue. There’s bingo twice a week, and sometimes they have dances there.”

“Let’s call all these places,” I suggest.
 

“I already called the Senior Center. They didn’t see them there. Layla, who works at the front desk, promised to call me if they stop by.” Libby sighs. “Marge Wilson, our next-door-neighbor, sent her boys already to the Alki Café and to Julio’s. Although I doubt Julio’s stays open past six o’clock.”
 

“Where else can we check?” I insist.
 

SIX

 
“Youth would be an ideal state if it came a little later in life.”
 

Herbert Asquith

Libby is silent for a moment, and then she says, “There is a possibility that Helga went to see Franklin.”

“He didn’t stop by?” Colin sounds surprised.
 

I have no idea who the hell Franklin is, but I’m sure they aren’t talking about Franklin D. Roosevelt.

“Who’s Roose—I mean, Franklin?” I ask.
Jeez, Natalie, get your head straight.
 

“Helga’s third husband. You know, the fourth. He’s the only one still alive. They’re good friends.” Colin nods at me.
 

“Ah, okay.” I nod back.

“Fourth?” Libby looks at him funny, but Colin only waves his hand.
 

“I didn’t realize he wasn’t at the party,” Colin says.
 

“He’s sick. Has a nurse coming to check on him, but Helga’s been there almost every day, making sure he’s well cared for,” Libby explains. “I drove her a few times, and Stella took her too.”

“And you didn’t check with him?” Colin stands up, getting his phone out of his pocket.
 

“I was about to.”

After a few moments, he says, “Frank, this is Colin. Hey, how are you feeling today?” He listens, nods, and then asks, “Is Helga there by any chance? Really? When?” Colin looks sharply at me and then at Libby and mouths to us:
she was there, but she left already.

Libby perks up at that. I’m getting impatient, waiting for Colin to finish up his conversation and relate more details to us.
 

He finally hangs up and says, “She stopped by but only for about five minutes. Frank says she seemed rushed and really giddy. He had a birthday gift for her, and she took it without opening it. It’s not like Helga at all. She’s like a kid—always opens her gifts right away. But this time she told him that she’ll open it later because she needed to run. He couldn’t get anything else out of her.”

“That’s bizarre!” Libby throws her hands up. “She went to see Franklin without saying anything? Maybe she’s on her way back. Let me call her.” Libby dials and presses the phone to her ear but only gets the voicemail.
 

“Who drove her?” I ask.
 

“Franklin asked her that very question, because it’s usually either Libby or Stella driving her and they always go in with her. Right, Libby? You never wait outside?” Colin said.

Libby says, “Of course not. That would be rude.”

“But whoever was there tonight didn’t come inside with Helga,” Colin concludes.

Libby shakes her head, exasperated. “This makes less and less sense.”

“I’m calling the cops. At least we might get some help.” Colin picks up the phone.
 

“Don’t we need to wait twenty-four-hours or something?” Libby asks.

“Actually, no. That’s only on TV. In real life, there is no waiting period. Although, if the police find her, they don’t need to disclose where she is without her permission,” I say. “I still think we should file the missing persons report, but not through 911. We need to find the number to the missing persons unit.” I take my cell phone out and tap the Google icon. A few moments later, I have the phone number to report Helga’s disappearance.

Colin dials it from the home phone, and soon he’s talking with someone on the other line. I hear him ask Libby about Helga’s medicines, and then he passes the phone to her.
 

He walks to the window and stands in front of it, pushing the lacy curtain away to look outside. There are still joggers and dog walkers on the Alki Trail, despite the drizzle. It’s after eight p.m. The street lights are on, bathing the pavement and the sidewalk in a soft glow.
 

“I’m gonna go look for her.” In four long strides, Colin’s at the bedroom door, heading toward the stairs. “Stay with Libby, Nat. I don’t want you to get in any trouble again.”

“Colin! Wait!” I call and run after him, ignoring his comment for now. We’ll have to have a chat about him not trusting me with my decisions. “Where are you going?”
 

“Everyone’s searching already in the area. Libby’s getting the police to help. So I thought I would go see Franklin. There must be something else I can find out from him.” Colin kisses me on the lips and says in that no-nonsense voice I want to disobey every freakin’ time I hear it, “Stay here. I don’t want you to go anywhere by yourself, do you understand?”

Jeez, yes,
master
. Whatever. But I promise him I will stay with Libby so he won’t argue with me. He’s out the door, and a few seconds later I see him backing his car out onto the Alki Avenue.
 

The party guests are in and out of the house, as if it’s the Grand Central Terminal in New York. A few groups already formed to look for Helga in the neighborhood, while many other people are on their phones, calling friends and relatives, hoping to get some information that would lead to Helga’s whereabouts.
 

Libby’s walking down the stairs, wiping her eyes with a pink handkerchief.
 

I hug her. “Try not to worry. She might be back at any moment. Or maybe she’s somewhere, having a cocktail with Stella.”

“That’s not like her. She never leaves without saying where she’s going. Never.” Libby weeps.
 

I help her to a chair in the kitchen and pour her some water from a metal pitcher on the table. She accepts and takes a small sip, shaking her head, deep in thought.
 

I text Svetlana back, adding Ali, Caroline, and Jena to the conversation. I tell them what happened. I imagine the four of them, sitting at the bar or around a table in the Black Horned Beast, chatting and laughing, each with a cell phone in hand. Involuntarily, I smile at that thought.
 

A text from Ali arrives first: “Nobody knows where she went?”
 

Followed by Caroline’s: “I hope she’s ok!”

A: “Holy crap!” from Jena, and Svetlana’s: “Maybe she has secrets!”

I roll my eyes at the last text, but something in it makes me stop and think. Maybe there is an important piece of puzzle that none of us here knows about Helga, despite her always being an open book. By now I’m convinced Stella and Helga went together on some kind of a crazy-ass old lady mission or, more likely, on an adventure. Where would they go? It’s obvious they didn’t want anyone to know, since they snuck out without saying a word. That means they wouldn’t head out to any of their regular hangout spots. So where then?

I start pacing around the kitchen, clutching my phone in my hand. “Libby, has Helga ever mentioned some dream place she wanted to visit? Or something out of ordinary she would like to do?”

Libby looks at me, startled. “Like some fantasy escapade?”
 

“Yes, like that.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, concentrating on some spot on the table. After a moment she looks up at me. “She mentioned Niagara Falls recently… and Vegas. She really wants to go to Vegas.”