by Gin Jones
"You believe the woman's acquaintances over her immediate family?"
"Not really." She wasn't sure what to believe. Ralph and Charlene had both seemed like honest people who cared about Angie, so they had no reason to lie about her whereabouts. Of course, as a veteran of politics Helen knew people were much better at lying than anyone would like to believe. "It's just that Betty and Josie are worried, and that can't be good for their health. If I went to the casino, I might be able to find Angie and talk to her, confirm she's safe. Then everyone would stop fretting. It's not like I've got anything more pressing on my agenda. Early retirement isn't all it's cracked up to be. Or at least it hasn't been for me. You've got your woodworking, and Jack's got his clay avatars, but I haven't found anything I'm good at yet."
"Except for getting into trouble and expecting me to get you out of it."
"That's hardly a full-time occupation for either of us. And I do pay you well," she said, nodding at the shelving behind him. "Consider this wood your retainer on the matter. I need to know what legal trouble I could get into if I go to the casino and start asking around for Angie."
Tate returned to stand on the cushioned mat in front of his lathe. He glanced up at his new wood blocks again before starting to tick off the risks. "There's stalking, for one thing. I'm not licensed to practice law in Connecticut, so I don't know what their statutes say about that specifically or what the exact penalties are, but stalking is a crime in most states. If the police thought you were working as a private investigator, there might be licensing issues too, although that would just get you a fine, not a jail sentence. And then there's fraud, if you let your friends believe you had any special expertise in finding missing persons."
"It wasn't my idea to do this," Helen said, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender.
"It might not have been your idea originally, but it is now." He picked up his safety glasses and fidgeted with the strap. "I assume you're still planning to poke around the casino, looking for Angie despite the risks. Do you have an actual plan?"
"Not yet," she said. "I figured I'd leave a message for Angie at the front desk, see if it gets delivered. If not, I can show people her picture, see if anyone recognizes her."
"That seems safe enough, legally," Tate said. "Although you might get kicked off the premises by security when they see you bothering the players."
"I won't bother anyone," Helen said. "Besides, I'm finally going to get some benefit out of being a woman of a certain age. We're invisible."
"I can see you, and you always bother me." He slipped his safety glasses onto the top of his head. "Like now, when you're interrupting my work."
"I'll leave if you don't have anything else to add."
Tate picked up one of the two dozen table-lamp stems he was making for a local bed and breakfast and slapped it against his palm thoughtfully. "How long did you say Angie's been missing?"
"About three weeks."
"And she's supposedly been at the casino this whole time?" Another thoughtful slap of the stem. "Without doing any gambling?"
Helen nodded.
"Kind of expensive place to stay if you aren't playing any of the games," he said. "Are you sure she isn't hiding some kind of addiction? Gambling or alcohol or drugs? She'd need cash for them. Ralph should know if she's made any credit card charges or ATM withdrawals since she disappeared. Checking the bank records would be a lot easier and safer than going all the way to the casino and hoping to run into her before the security staff kicks you out."
"Easier, but boring," Helen said. "I'll check with Ralph, but if Jack's available to drive I'll go to the casino tomorrow to follow up. If nothing else, it will give me a chance to try out another vehicle while I'm deciding what kind to buy."
"Today's sports car didn't suit you," he said. "You ought to take a look at a compact utility vehicle. Maybe the Subaru Forester."
"Someone else suggested that, but I want to make up my own mind. With Jack's input, of course. I'm relying on his expertise with vehicles."
"That's a first," Tate said, slipping his ear protection into place. "You've never listened to anyone else before."
* * *
Helen arranged for Jack to pick out a different vehicle for a road test all the way to the casino and back and then went inside the cottage to call Ralph.
"Did you find her?" Ralph asked, the desperation evident in his voice. "Is she okay?"
"Charlene says she gave Angie a ride to her favorite casino. She's probably there."
A loud sigh came through the phone. "That's a relief."
"Only…"
"What?" Ralph's voice was tense again.
"Only, everyone would feel better if we knew for sure that she was okay. I was wondering if you'd checked with your credit card companies and banks to see if she's made any charges or withdrawals in the last few weeks."
"She handles all our finances," Ralph said. "I'm not even sure where the statements are. Is it really necessary? She hates it when I touch her papers."
Helen had never let her own husband touch anything in her office either, but if she'd disappeared, she'd have forgiven him that minor trespass faster than she'd have forgiven him for not even trying to find her. "I think she'd be okay with it this once. If she's at the casino, she has to pay for her expenses there somehow. If they show up on her credit card statements, then we'll all feel a lot less worried."
"You're right," Ralph said reluctantly. "I'll go see what I can find, and then I'll call you back."
Helen wanted to see the evidence for herself, not just hear Ralph tell her everything was fine. He'd already shown he had a much different definition of "fine" than most people did. "I've got a better idea. I'll be near your house tomorrow morning for some errands. Why don't I stop by at 9:00, and you can show me what you've found?"
Ralph agreed, and Helen scrambled to clear her Saturday schedule. There was only one thing on it—her weekly lunchtime visit with her nieces. She used her computer to place a video call to both of them simultaneously. As soon as she said she needed to rearrange their visit, Lily demanded, "What are you not telling us?"
"Nothing," Helen said, proving she too could tell little white lies when necessary. "Jack and I have been checking out different vehicles, and I thought it would be nice to take a bit of a longer trip. We'll be back by dinnertime, but we'll be gone in the middle of the day."
"This is awfully sudden," Lily said. "You didn't say anything about it earlier this week, and your nurse didn't mention any trips in your schedule."
"How is Rebecca, anyway?" Laura added. She usually let her older sister do most of the talking, especially when it came to interrogating their aunt, but she seemed distracted tonight and was even quieter than usual.
"Rebecca's fine," Helen said. "I'm not traveling outside the country where I'd need vaccinations or anything. She doesn't need to check me out before I take a nice, leisurely ride through the countryside."
"Are you sure?" Lily said. "She did recommend that you get a medical alert device. I don't suppose you've gotten it yet."
Helen picked up the brochure Rebecca had left for her to read and held it up to the computer's camera. "I'm still working on it. See?"
"We just want you to be safe," Laura said. "Maybe you can wait and take your ride after you get the device."
Lily jumped on the idea. "There's no rush, after all. You've been using Jack's car for months now. You can wait a week or two before you get your own."
"I don't want to wait," Helen said, resisting the childish urge to add, and you can't make me.
Lily always recognized when she was on the verge of pushing her aunt too far, so she regrouped and took a different tack. "Does Tate know about your trip?"
It had been worth every penny of the price of the wood Helen had given him to be able to say, "Yes, he does."
"I'll find out if you're lying," Lily said.
She would—Helen knew. Even before their conference call ended, Lily would be dialing A
dam Bancroft from her cell phone. He was Tate's nephew and had taken over the law office. He was also infatuated with Lily, who claimed they were nothing more than friends who hung out together, sharing mutual interests. Never mind that one or the other of them had to drive more than two hours each way to see each other. In fact, missing out on the chance to see her "just a friend" tomorrow might have something to do with why Lily was so reluctant to accept the rescheduling of tomorrow's lunch visit.
"Go ahead and call Adam," Helen said. "There's nothing for him to tell you about my trip tomorrow. I discussed it with Tate already, and Jack and I are just going to take a nice little ride, stop for lunch, and come right back home. I'm sure you and Laura will be having a much more exciting day than I will."
After that, Lily couldn't wait to end the call, and Laura, surprisingly, didn't want to talk about her husband Howie or their dreams of having a dozen children for Helen to babysit. Helen was left with the unsettling thought that, for once, her nieces were keeping even more secrets than she was.
* * *
The next morning, Helen opened her front door to see Jack waiting beside a big, black car, wearing a formal chauffeur's uniform: black suit with a white shirt and a burgundy tie. He even wore the traditional hat and leather driving gloves. She assumed the outfit was left over from his days working for the local limo company, although he'd never dressed this formally for her before.
"Now this is a car," he said as she neared it. "Next best thing to the Town Car for use as a limo, now that Lincoln stopped making them. Better, in some ways."
Helen didn't know much about cars, but even she recognized the luxury brand of the hood ornament. "More expensive too, I bet."
"Sometimes it's worth paying for quality."
After Jack closed the passenger door behind her, she decided the car had at least one thing in its favor: she could slide into the front seat without either a ladder or a crane. Her hip didn't complain during the process of getting in, there was room for her cane and yarn bag, and the seats were as comfortably leathery as the sports car's had been.
The only thing besides the price that she could see to complain about was the overall size. She might have to arrange for the landscapers to trim back some of the growth along her driveway to avoid scratching the finish, and she had real doubts the vehicle would fit through some of the narrower roads in Boston if she wanted to visit her nieces. The interior was beyond roomy, making her feel like a little kid sitting at the grown-up table. There was enough seating capacity for an entire football team, or, without exaggerating, at least five linebackers. Ten people of Jack's size would fit with room to spare. At least the cavernous trunk wouldn't be entirely wasted space, since she could use it to carry the lumber she might need to pay for Tate's legal advice in the future.
She still wasn't sold on the car. "What about the gas mileage?"
"No one cares about the cost when they're riding in this baby," Jack said. “I’ve always wanted to drive a Cadillac XTS.” "Especially while coasting on the highway like we'll be doing today."
"We need to stop at Ralph's before we go to Connecticut," Helen said. "He may have found Angie by now, and if not, I want to get a picture from him to show around the casino."
"I'll drive this car anywhere you want, Ms. Binney. Did I tell you about the ten standard airbags?"
"Let's try not to need any airbags at all today," Helen said. "I don't want my nieces to be able to say 'I told you so' about my supposed need for a medical alert device."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ralph had apparently put in several more hours of work on the gazebo since Helen had left yesterday. She couldn't see much progress in the shingling, but the path between the patio and the gazebo had collected several more hand tools, empty boxes, and blemished shingles.
Helen watched her steps carefully so as not to trip on anything. Ralph knelt with his back to her, placing the first row of shingles to the right of the steps. He was wearing safety ear muffs that looked considerably more advanced than what Tate wore, so he wouldn't have heard if she called out a greeting.
She continued her slow trek across the grass. Her cane wasn't reliable on lawns, even when they were as smooth and well maintained as this one, and she didn't have Jack to lean on. He'd remained in the car, purportedly to give her privacy for talking with Ralph, but she suspected it was really because he was afraid the expensive car was a magnet for theft or vandalism, even on this quiet little street. What would Jack do if she actually bought it? He couldn't keep an eye on it 24/7, and locking it in her garage wasn't an option, since she'd promised the space to Tate.
Ralph finally glanced over his shoulder and noticed Helen tiptoeing in his direction. He slid the ear muffs down to drape around his neck. "Sorry about the mess. Angie's going to kill me when she gets back." He straightened. "We should go inside. I've got all the information on the bank accounts there."
"Did you find out where she's been?"
"I'm not sure." He dropped his tool belt and left it where it fell while he headed for the patio.
She couldn't help staring at his casual creation of another mess. He turned to see what was keeping her and followed her gaze.
"I know it looks rude," Ralph said, "but Angie would actually be more upset if I didn't leave her anything to do. It makes her feel important, knowing I can't do everything, so she's making a valuable contribution to our household."
Helen hadn't had the most equal relationship during her marriage, so she wasn't going to judge anyone else for it.
Ralph led her in through the kitchen door and into a cozy living room. It was full of faded country decor, perhaps fifteen years out of fashion, and completely unlike Helen's more minimal, open-design cottage, even though they shared the same basic Cape-style exteriors. The overall effect of the Deckers' home was a little frumpy, like the rhinestone-embellished tank top Angie had worn in the picture with Charlene and Ralph.
While the overstuffed, chintz-covered furniture was unimpressive, there was an absolutely gorgeous fisherman knit afghan draped over the sofa, a couple exquisite cross-stitch samplers on the wall, and a basket overflowing with skeins of yarn in a soft sport weight appropriate for preemie caps. Helen wouldn't have wanted to live with all the clutter, but there was a definite charm to the home.
Ralph pointed at some papers spread out on the coffee table. "She took out a couple hundred bucks from an ATM in Connecticut, probably at the casino, the day before I came home from the continuing education program. She paid for a room there too, so that's definitely where she went."
"You must be relieved," Helen said, although, selfishly, she was disappointed the mystery had ended so quickly. Last night's anticipation of the trip to the casino had made her feel like her old self, when she could have organized and gone on a dozen trips in a single week. Now, she felt tired and useless again. She supposed she could still go to the casino and see a show, since she had Jack and the car at her disposal, but it was different now that she didn't have an urgent reason for the trip.
"I knew she was fine," Ralph said. "But it's a little odd, because she prepaid her room for a full week's stay, and then there weren't any more charges. Where could she have gone when the week was up?"
Helen perched on the edge of the overstuffed chintz sofa and peered at the bank and credit card activity statements he'd printed out from his online accounts. They were current through this morning and showed nothing since the date she'd disappeared other than the one ATM withdrawal and hotel charge. No second week of hotel, no meals, no odds and ends.
"She could have received a complimentary room for the second week, if she was gambling," Helen said.
"Angie doesn't gamble." Ralph threw himself into a flowery upholstered chair across from the sofa. "She doesn't even buy scratch tickets."
There was apparently quite a lot Ralph didn't know about his wife, so Helen couldn't assume he was correct about her not gambling. Perhaps Angie had succumbed to temptation during one of her previous disap
pearances, got dragged in deeper than she'd intended, and then had been afraid to tell Ralph about her gambling losses. She could have run away to avoid facing the consequences with him. Ralph had mentioned she'd been keeping a secret for a while, and he hadn't managed to find out what it was. Perhaps it had something to do with gambling.
Ralph didn't seem ready to hear his missing wife might have gambled away their life's savings. It wasn't the only possibility, after all, so Helen didn't push him to consider it. "Maybe she borrowed money for her stay from a friend."
"She doesn't really have many friends," he said sadly. "She's a good woman, but not everyone can see it."
"What about her sister?" Helen said. "Would Charlene have lent her the money or perhaps put the charges on her own credit card?"
"Charlene would do just about anything for her sister, as long as it doesn't require money," Ralph said. "It's not that Charlene wouldn't want to help financially; it's that she couldn't help. According to Angie, her sister always spends much more than she earns, and her credit cards are maxed out. And there really wouldn't be any need to borrow money from anyone. Angie's got plenty of credit available to her. I can’t make any sense out of the statements, but maybe you can, if you think it will help find my wife. Angie always says I’m dysnumeric, as bad with numbers as a severe dyslexic is with words. I can talk about numbers, but looking at them just makes my head spin.”
Helen shuffled through the paperwork on the table. Ralph was right. At least three different cards had in excess of ten thousand dollars each in available credit, with very little in the way of an outstanding balance. The amount of credit didn't surprise her, but the low balances did. According to Charlene, the insurance agency, Ralph's and Angie's only source of income, had been struggling financially the last couple years. The credit cards didn't reflect a household barely making ends meet. Compared to the average American credit card debt, something Helen had studied as part of her role of advisor to her governor-husband, the Deckers' debt was quite low.
