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“Excellent idea!” Lucy exclaimed. “Let’s meet before dinner at our usual place, on Fifteenth Street. I’ve been wanting to take Ellie there.”

“I’m in,” Johnny confirmed.

“Me, too,” Zach said and smiled, a hint of flirtation about him.

When the pizzas came and I took a moment between my second and third pieces, I put my hands under the table and pinched myself, like I had earlier that morning, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

I was sitting in this restaurant talking about bands I’d never heard of. Zach spoke about his Web site, but I had no idea what he was talking about or how it made so much money. If no one paid to look at the site, how could it make money? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. No one else seemed to wonder, so I didn’t pursue it.

What
did
matter was that I was one of them. I was young and free and life could not have been more exciting.

So I pinched myself again and reached for another piece of pizza.

Zach, however, stopped me mid-grab and took the piece off the platter himself and put it on my plate for me.

“Thanks, Blue Eyes.” I smiled.

He smiled back.

I heard a ringing sound and Lucy looked into her bag and took out her phone.

It’s Mom, again
, she mouthed as she threw her phone back in her bag and we listened to it ring on.

mrs. barbara sustamorn

Frida Freedberg was a wreck . . . and all before noon, too.

After she watched the elevator doors close, sans keys to her apartment and Ellie’s apartment, money, and identification, which she was never without, she continued to stand in the hallway, unable to think of what to do next. Frida felt like she was going to faint. She needed smelling salts. It had been years since she’d used smelling salts, but she always kept some in her purse. For a worrier like Frida Freedberg, this was as bad as bad could get.

Frida knew she had no choice but to go downstairs and wait in the lobby for Barbara to arrive. Barbara had told her explicitly to go to Ellie’s apartment and wait for Ellie to come home. Maybe she’d catch Ellie coming in and the whole crisis of the day would be averted, anyway.

“Hello, Ken,” Frida greeted Ken the doorman as she got off the elevator.

“Hi, Mrs. Freedberg,” Ken said and smiled. “You’re looking pretty today.”

Frida liked Ken, but in the back of her head, she always
thought that maybe he didn’t like her. Ken was always happy to help with her groceries, but she always noticed that he seemed a little more outgoing when Ellie came in with packages. Ellie suggested once that maybe it was because Frida tipped only a dime when he brought up five bags of heavy groceries, but Frida was sure that couldn’t have been it.

“Ken,” Frida said, “I seemed to have locked myself out of my apartment.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Ken said, turning around to grab her extra keys out of the spare key closet.

“No, you see, I leave them with my friend, Mrs. Jerome.”

“That’s right,” Ken said. Was that a smirk she saw flash across his face? Frida decided that the next time she came in with groceries she’d up the tip to a quarter to test the waters.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d seen Mrs. Jerome this morning? Maybe as she was leaving the building?” She paused hopefully. “Maybe she’s come in the building in the last few minutes?”

“Nope,” he said, thinking about it. “I can’t say I remember seeing her today. She could have left before I got here, but I haven’t seen her since my shift started. I
did
see her granddaughters, though.”

“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.