Free Take Me for a Ride by Karen Kendall

frightened it out of its literary endeavors. Natalie shuddered and confirmed that the cats were fat and useless.
    A check of the basement yielded nothing but old furniture, boxes, and knickknacks gathering dust.
    “Nonnie’s not here.” Natalie looked half relieved, since they hadn’t discovered a body, and half mystified and concerned. “Where can she be?”
    “I didn’t see a purse anywhere,” he reflected. “What about suitcases? Are there any missing?”
    He and Natalie went back upstairs to check the master bedroom closet.
    “Her old Samsonite is gone,” she said. “She’s taken a trip.” Her voice reflected shock. “But . . . with whom? She can’t see! She doesn’t leave the house, I tell you. God, Eric, what if those people have her?”
    “Deep breath,” he said. “Take a deep breath. Then tell me exactly who you mean by ‘those people.’ The ones who beat up your boss?”
    She nodded.
    “Who are they?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Come on, Natalie. You must have some idea. What’s your boss been up to?”
    She hesitated.
    “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”
    “Who are you really? I didn’t know you carried a gun.”
    “I told you,” Eric said. “I’m a security consultant. I’d be a damn poor one if I couldn’t protect myself.”
    Still, she stared at him suspiciously.
    He fished out his wallet, pulled a fake business card from it, and slapped it into her palm. Then he gazed right back with his most open, relaxed expression.
    She read it and nodded. Seeming somewhat reassured, she tugged reflexively at her scarf again. “Okay. I think that these guys are Russian. About six months ago, Luc’s fiancée introduced him to some people who could supposedly help expand his business. They weren’t like his usual clients at all. We deal with curators, wealthy individuals, corporate collectors . . . people who have at least a veneer of polish. These other guys aren’t like that at all. They’re rough. Rude. A little scary. They make Luc nervous. Lately he seems to be making a lot more money, but he’s on edge and not really himself. Something weird is going on.”
    You got that right, sweetheart . “Why do you think they’re Russian?”
    “I’ve seen two different guys bring things to Luc for restoration. Both of them had accents, and they sounded just like Nonnie when she gets angry. She doesn’t have much of one, since she came to the U.S. as a child, but it’s more pronounced when she’s emotional.”
    McDougal nodded. “Do you know the names of these men?”
    “No. When items they bring get logged in, it’s always under Ben or Bob Ruski, which is patently false.”
    You think? “What address is in the log?”
    “I’d have to check, but I doubt it’s real, either.”
    “Phone?”
    “Maybe a cell, but again, I’d have to look in the log.”
    “Okay. We’ll put that on the back burner for now. In the meantime, who could have taken your grandmother on a trip, and where?”
    Natalie gripped her scarf with both hands, twisting the ends. “You don’t think the Russian guys have her?”
    “I doubt they’d sit around waiting for her to pack a suitcase, Natalie,” he said, trying to keep the dryness out of his voice.
    “True.”
    “And where are the cats?”
    She lifted her hands, palms up.
    “The neighbor’s not feeding them?”
    She shook her head.
    “Didn’t you mention to me that your grandmother refused to open the door until you brought her tickets to Russia?”
    Natalie’s face drained of color. “Oh, my God. That’s where she’s gone. She said the necklace was the key to something. But who would take her to another country?”
    “Someone without a regular job; that’s for sure. Which leaves students, housewives, or retirees. Who does she know in those categories? Or could she have paid someone to accompany her?”
    Natalie shook her head. “She doesn’t really have the funds to do that. Whoever went with her would have to have paid