Free The Drazen World: The California Limited (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Catherine C. Heywood

determination and despair, fear and frustration.  One part of him wanted to go back to the bungalow and curl up in bed with a bottle of gin and all those limes.  Another part wanted to be out, eyes and ears open, looking for her himself.  She had said she was Hollywood-bound, so he told his driver to bring him to Hollywood, some place he might get a cheap sandwich and an audition.
    No sign of her after a grilled cheese and soda at Schwab’s, his head jerking to the door every time the bell rang, he decided that he felt though not good, at least not as bad when he was actively looking for her. 
    He was already getting tired of being driven around like a sultan; and he would never get to know the city with his head in his hands in a back seat.  So he went to the nearest car lot and purchased a sleek, teal Packard convertible coupe with a buff fabric top, cream rims, and cherry red leather seats.  It seemed an LA kind of car.  He should have been over-the-moon about it.  It was sweet.  The finest thing he had ever owned.  But he wasn’t.  And he was angry because of why.  Had she left him?  A bottle of gin was sounding very good.
    On Thursday and Friday he despised her and holed up in his bungalow drinking gin and eating fruit.  At some point his soaked anger dissolved into fear and Saturday and Sunday he spent inquiring in hospitals and the county coroner.  Monday and Tuesday he spent looking around the neighborhoods of Hollywood, stopping to prowl around cheap apartment complexes.  Then he realized that he might be taken for a kidnapper, his usual polished appearance fallen to disarray.
     
    Missing 1 Week, 1 Day
    First thing on Wednesday morning he was back in front of officer Magnus.
    The officer looked him up and down, his red eyes, unshaven face, and less than pressed clothes, and had the good grace to look concerned.  “She hasn’t turned up?” Magnus asked.
    “No,” said Jack.
    The officer nodded and pulled out the previous week’s report.  “I’ll be sure to put her description out for ya.  Say she might be missing.”
    Jack blinked slowly.  “She is missing.  I may not be clear of the circumstances, but she is not where she is supposed to be.  If there is even the slightest possibility that she could be hurt or in danger, I’m going to keep looking for her.  And I expect you to do the same.”
     
    The next day, his heart in his throat, he tried to call the Lucky Lounge but was told by the operator that there was no such place in Racine.
    “Are you certain?” he asked.
    “As certain as I can read,” the operator replied.
    “Maybe I got the name wrong,” said Jack, though he was nearly certain he hadn’t.  She had spoken the name many times and with ease.  “Are there any clubs with similar names?”
    “I don’t know, pal.  I don’t go into clubs ,” the operator said with some derision.  “Maybe you got the wrong town.  Milwaukee’s not far.”
    Had she ever actually said the Lucky Lounge was in Racine?  Soon enough he was connected to a club in Milwaukee.
    “This is your lucky day.  Artie speaking,” said a man on the other end of the line.
    Just connecting with the real club that Minnie had mentioned made him feel closer to her.  She had loved singing at the Lucky.  That was real, he was certain.   He wanted to crawl through the line and be there, see the stage where she sang.
    “Artie.  I’m looking for one of your singers,” said Jack.
    “What’s Ruby done now?”
    “Not Ruby.”  He paused, suddenly afraid.  “Minnie.”
    “Minnie?  You got the wrong club, pal.  There’s no singer here by the name of Minnie.”
    His heart fell.  “Piano player?  Waitress?  Hostess?  Coat check girl?”
    “No.  No.  No.  And no.  Nobody in the club by that name.  Sorry.”
     
    That evening Jack destroyed himself one sip at a time.  He sat examining the cold glass of vodka in his hand as if it could reveal itself.  It looked so bland, so