The Lady Vanishes

A case, in which Jack is missing sleep, Sam is missing simpler times, Martin is missing lunch, Vivian is missing her family, Danny is missing a vacation, and a Society matron is plain missing.

Disclaimer: Mine, all mine! Oh, well, a girl can dream.

As always, heartfelt thanks go out to all the kind people who reviewed. Mariel3, you are absolutely right, it's 'make or break." This is just the kind of a little, but crucial thing that is liable to slip under one's radar when English is one's second language. LOL.

"Let's run the timeline," Jack neared the white board in his usual brisk, purposeful manner.

"Mrs. Stevens-Newberg has an altercation with her daughter-in-law somewhere before 7 p.m. She then leaves the house at 7." He drew the diagonals and filled in the words and times.

"Is that substantiated?" Vivian inquired.

"By Blake, at least. There are several servants in the house at normal times. The housekeeper lives in, but it was her night off. There is a cook, who, unfortunately, doesn't work weekends, so, no help there. We're checking that, of course, in all due diligence, but there's no real reason to suppose that either of them were there at the time. There are two maids who work alternate days, and who sometimes double up. But we weren't that lucky yesterday. The maid on duty was there until 6 p.m. She confirmed letting Mrs. Stevens-Newberg the Elder into the house. She also confirmed seeing Frank Argello, the likewise missing chauffeur, leaning against the limo and smoking a cigarette at about 6:15 p.m." Another diagonal was drawn, while Jack continued" "She stopped and talked to him for a bit. She says he behaved and looked 'normal.'"

"Whatever that means," interjected Sam. Did he mention anything about his employer's travel plans?"

"Nope. According to the maid, they talked about the weather and his family. Your usual small talk." Jack tapped the marker on the board: "Then we have the 7 p.m. departure of Mrs. Stevens-Newberg, presumably home to pack. Camilla declares she saw her mother-in-law enter the car and be driven off by Frank."

"Anything on that car?" Sam, Vivian, and Jack turned to Martin, who consulted a piece of paper in front of her.

"Nothing from Highway patrols yet, nothing from the local PD. We put APB on it. It's a limo, hard to miss. If it's out on the road somewhere, we'll hear something soon. Danny's on the chauffeur, so, hopefully, we'll get the particulars soon."

Jack nodded: "Good. Where are we on the obvious places?"

Vivian shook her head: "So far, nothing in morgues or hospitals. No Mrs. Stevens-Newberg, no Frank Argello, no Jane or John Does matching their descriptions. Also, the last precinct just got back to me, and there are no vehicular accidents reported that involved limos."

Danny walked in with a note pad, the usual skip in his step.

"OK, here's what I got on our Frank. He was hired through the agency called New York Domestics. They supply for the family. The cook and the maids are also come from there. A reliable firm, has been in business for years. All the references and background checks are in order. I talked to my guy on the local force. He says there are very few complaints about the place, which is unusual, because complaints about domestics are dime a dozen. In other words, Frank checks out."

Danny perched himself on the edge of the table and deposited his note pad on one knee.

"Frank Argello - Brooklyn address attached - has been employed by the agency for the past 13 years. He's been working for the Stevens-Newbergs for the last 3 of them. Used to drive the son, but has been moved to driving the mother about 8 months ago. Allie mentioned something about her grandmother's eyesight worsening lately. According to the records, until recently she did not require a driver. Got herself around on her own outside of town, and took cabs in Manhattan. . . . Our Frank works weekdays 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., and alternate weekends. The agency told me they stipulate flexibility in their employees, and Frank, apparently, did not object to working Saturdays, or late hours sometimes. The employers compensate really well, for one thing, and, clearly, driving Miss Daisy was a pretty laid-back job at most times. She went to her charity committees meetings, occasional lunches with friends and business connections. She liked to go to the Central Park, and generally get around Manhattan, but she still preferred to use cabs for that. She apparently didn't like to roll out Frank for every little occasion."

Danny smiled at the idea of a feisty old lady asserting her independence by giving her chauffeur an unauthorized day off.

Jack smiled too, but quickly moved to the next topic: "What have you got on his family?"

Danny's smile faded just as quickly: "I'm afraid I freaked them out. I spoke to his wife. She told me that Frank called last night, at about 7:15 p.m., informing her that he will not be coming home. He said he was to drive Mrs. Stevens-Newberg to the Hamptons and that he'd remain there for some time. He promised to call at some point and tell her when he was coming back."

"Wasn't that irregular?" Vivian raised an eyebrow.

"Apparently, not so much. That is, when Frank worked for Mr. Stevens-Newberg, this used to happen all the time. He'd drive the guy to all sorts of out-of-town places, and the stays would often turn into several days deal. But it hasn't happened with the lady. This was the first time in 8 months."

"And the wife wasn't curious or alarmed?"

"No. Why would she be? It was par for the course for his job. Frank, she said, sounded the way he normally did when these things occurred: resigned, slightly annoyed, but also glad, because those trips usually meant triple overtime. She hasn't given it a second thought until I called." Danny put his pad aside.

The group stood there for a while, absorbing the information.

"Let's talk about motive," Jack broke into everyone's reverie. "If this is a kidnapping, where's the ransom demand? Everyone knows the family's got loads of money. If granny was grabbed for that reason, someone should have contacted them by now."

"May be they have." Sam observed. "It's not like the madam was eager to cooperate with us. She may have gotten the ransom demand, called her husband, and they may have decided to deal with it on their own."

"Well, that would be stupid, but I wouldn't put it past them." Jack sighed, and continued: "I've put in for the warrant to monitor the phones in that house, but I am doubtful we'll get it. However, we will have unobtrusive surveillance set up: see if there's any unusual activity. One good thing about this case coming down to us through the Governor: plenty of man power and resources at our disposal. In the meantime, we will operate under the assumption that there is no ransom, and that this is something other than a kidnapping for gain. Do we have any idea yet if Mrs. Stevens-Newberg had any enemies?"

Vivian consulted her paper again: "There are her charity connections, and her old friends, but nothing pops out. That is, not yet. It's still early. . . . Something tells me, we need to reconstruct her whole day yesterday. At least in order to see where we should start."

"OK," Jack switched to his action mode, "Martin, you are on her connections: charity, personal, old business ones, the ones that have resurfaced recently. Also, take a look at her financials: anything that might seem probative. You know the drill."

Martin nodded and headed toward the hallway.

Jack continued: "Danny, Viv, I want you guys to check her place. I know the youngest daughter said she didn't think her grandmother made it there last night, but we still need to verify that. Anything that indicates packing or lack thereof. Or anything that looks out of the ordinary. Again, I don't have to tell you what to do."

"Right," Danny tucked his note pad under his arm. "We'll talk to the door man, as well. Grab surveillance tapes, see if she did come back, after all."

"Good. Sam you are with me. We have a meeting with the uninvited friend of Mrs. Stevens-Newberg's. The one that the lady ran into yesterday. The one that started all the trouble. Blake unearthed the name for us from some old version of the guest list. And after that we are off to the airport. Mr. Stevens-Newberg's jet is due to land in two hours."

"Rolling out a red carpet, Jack?" Vivian smiled sarcastically.

"Absolutely. With champagne and long-stemmed roses. Harriett's phone records indicate that she called her son's hotel in Paris 3 times yesterday. If this isn't a kidnapping, he just may be our best bet as to finding her whereabouts."

xxxxxx

"Nice digs," observed Danny, his tone only slightly sarcastic. The place was, in a word, nice. Spacious rooms; large windows with see-through curtains, unincumbered by the heavy window treatments customary to such apartments; furniture that looked light and functional, if clearly expensive; very little brick-a-brack; photographs in silver frames - the place's almost only decorations. Knowing what he already learned about the lady, Danny wasn't surprised by the airiness and the simplicity of the her home. It went along with her personality: light, dignified, with a slight hint of fun about it.

They have been let in by the doorman. The same doorman, as it turned out, who was on duty yesterday, when Mrs. Stevens-Newberg was seen at her apartment last. According to the man, she left somewhere after 5 o'clock, slightly agitated. When asked if everything was all right, she answered: "Not by a long shot!" The doorman got the impression that she was angry and upset.

They asked him the customary questions. "The old lady is nice, always classy and polite, always mindful of people's feelings. Never snippy, never treats one like something less than she is. Generous bonuses at Christmas. Well-liked by neighbors. Nice dog, too. Well-behaved. No, no one suspicious approached her recently. No unusual guests. Yes, she sometimes goes out of town, though she does normally inform the doorman on duty of the fact. No, she didn't mention a trip. No she didn't come back at any time last night or today. Yes, the security tapes are available."

The short interview was conducted in the elevator, on the way up to Mrs. Stevens-Newberg's apartment, where they now stood, admiring the scenery.

"I like it," decided Vivian. "I wish I could afford it."

Danny smiled: "May be when Marcus wins his Nobel Prize. . . ."

"Are you kidding? It's only a million. A million bucks wouldn't buy you a limo garage in Manhattan these days. . . . No, I'm afraid I'll have to wait for Reggie to go to College, become a financial wizard, and strike it rich. Or until I win the lottery. Which ever comes first."

Danny moved into the next room, chuckling along the way, and almost jumped in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

Allie, holding a small, hairy dog, shrugged with ill-executed bravado. "I came to take Truman. He can't be left alone here another night." She tried to sound nonchalant, but the voice came out defensive and shaky.

"How did you get in? The doorman didn't tell us someone was here."

Another shrug from Allie: "That doorman? The short, bold guy in green jacket? Looks like the Kibler Elf?" Both Danny and Vivian suppressed a laugh: the description was too accurate. "He didn't see me. He was flirting with a lady cab driver. I just walked in."

Danny shook his head in disbelief.

"You said that the doorman had to let you in this morning. I am assuming it was another doorman. What I would like to know is where you got the key?"

Allie sunk into an easy chair, hugging Truman close to her chest: "Out of a safe box. This morning. Grammy keeps a spare in her bedroom. She always has spares, 'cause she loses things. . . . Not because she's old," the girl hastened to add, lest the agents should think otherwise, "she is sharp as a tack! It's just she is careless of things. Has been all her life. I am like that, too. I lose keys, wallets, umbrellas, hats, gloves, books. . . . I once lost my shoes. I went to the Pier with a bunch of girls from school two years ago, and we took our shoes off to dip our feet in water, and I forgot to put my shoes back on! Mother was furious when I got home that day. They were expensive shoes. She insists on getting me expensive stuff, and I don't want it, precisely because I lose everything. But she says I should at least pretend to be discerning, since I have no taste. Her words. . . . It's good she doesn't have any influence over grammy," a sudden delightful smile lit up her face: "She would have made grammy change her shoes, too, if she could."

"Allie," Danny approached the girl, and ran his hand through the silky hair of the small terrier. "You can't just come and go here as you please. I know your grandmother wouldn't mind, but this is part of the investigation now, and, until we find her, we need everything undisturbed."

"I can show you what I touched and give you my fingerprints, if you need them," the girl offered enthusiastically. And then the implication sank in: "Do you really think someone broke in here and did something to grammy?" Her eyes became big as saucers, tears brimming in them ready to spill.

"No, Allie, no! Don't get upset. At this time we don't know anything. We have no reason to doubt that your grandmother came here at all." Both Vivian and Danny felt suddenly compelled to comfort her. "We are just checking every possible angle. To be absolutely sure."

Allie sighed and got up. "Can I take Truman? You don't need him here, do you?"

"No, we don't." Something occurred to Danny: "Allie, does your mother know you are here?"

"No, why?" the girl seemed surprised.

"Well," Vivan explained, "It's after 8 p.m., and the parents usually like to know where their kids are at that time."

"Oh, I am not a kid," Allie asserted in a tone that betrayed just how much of a kid she really was. "And I am often here at this time. Of course grammy always has Frank drive me home. But it's OK. I'll take a cab."

"You will do no such thing!" Declared Danny. "I will drive you. Right after you call your mother and tell her where you are and that you are safe and coming home."

"Cool." Allie perked up at the idea of a ride with an agent. "Only you are wrong about mom. She never worries about me," and realizing how it sounded, explained: "Not that she never worries about me. She does. She just knows that I can be relied on take care of myself. It's other stuff she worries about: like correct behavior and such."

Danny and Viv exchanged glances and the girl caught the exchange. "I know, you must think that my being here now is pretty stupid, but, honestly, I only came for Truman, and I was going right back home."

"OK, Miss Reliable," Vivian smiled, "can we rely on you to sit here while we look over the place, and not interrupt?"

"Sure," was her cautious reply. "But, I can be very helpful, you know! I know all about grammy's place. I practically live here, 'specially on weekends!"

"You said you were certain your grandmother didn't pack," asked Danny with a resigned air of someone giving up the struggle. "Why are you certain?"

"Because, her luggage is still in that closet, in the hallway. She usually packs lightly, but she does pack. She has an old suitcase - a disgrace, mother calls it - that she loves. It went with grammy to Europe in the 70s, when she traveled a lot, and in the 90s, when she went around on business. And she took it to Boston with her that time when she went to live there for a while. She likes it. It's an old American Tourister from the early 50s. It's that comfortable and really well-made. And it has all those cool stickers on it, the kind they used to put on luggage at airports and hotels. Pity they don't make those nice ones anymore. We went to Europe for the Summer last year, and nothing nearly as interesting ended up on my suitcase."

"Allie, getting back to the question. . . ."

"Right, well, her suitcase is still here. And the other stuff she travels with. That dresser case in her bedroom closet? I checked - still there! And her toothbrush and whatnot. . . . And then, there's Truman! No way would she have left him here alone! There's just no way!" Allie paused, thinking. "I don't care what mom says: grammy could get pissed, but she would have said good-bye to me! Even if she did decide to walk out on Blake and her wedding." The tears were threatening to come back, and Danny quickly jumped in to prevent them.

"Allie, the doorman who let us in was also on duty last night. He told us your grandmother left at around 5:10 p.m. What time did she arrive at your house, do you remember?"

"Ah . . . yeah, about quarter to 6. I remember, because I was watching a video, and she stopped at my room to say 'hi,' and she was kind'a odd. All flushed-like. I asked if she wanted water, but she said she was fine and that she wasn't staying long: just a quick talk with mother. . . . But I definitely think she wasn't right."

"Not right? How do you mean?"

"She was preoccupied. And she was breathing heavily. I even asked if she had ran, and she said 'no.' And then I asked for Truman, and she seemed surprised, like she just realized she left him at home. . . . I didn't interfere, 'cause she was so intent to talk to mom. Do you think I should have?"

"No, dear," Vivan's voice was soothing and kind. "None of this is your fault."