B Is for Burglar

I asked.
    "I already sent those this month."
    "Could she have been arrested?"
    That sparked a laugh. "Oh no. Not her. She wasn't anything like that. She didn't drive a car, you know, but she wasn't the type to get so much as a jaywalking ticket."
    "Accident? Illness? Drink? Drugs?" I felt like a doctor interviewing a patient for an annual physical.
    Tillie's expression was skeptical. "She could be in the hospital I suppose, but surely she would have let us know. I find it very peculiar to tell you the truth. If that sister of hers hadn't come along, I might have gotten in touch with the police myself. There's just something not right."
    "But there are lots of explanations for where she might be," I said. "She's an adult. Apparently she's got money and no pressing business. She really doesn't have to notify anybody of her whereabouts if she doesn't want to. She might be on a cruise. Or maybe she's taken a lover and absconded with him. Maybe she and this girl friend of hers took off on a toot. It might never occur to her that anyone was trying to get in touch."
    "That's why I haven't really done anything so far, but it doesn't sit well with me. I don't think she'd leave without a word to anyone."
    "Well, let me look into it. I don't want to hold you up right now, but I'll want to see her apartment at some point," I said. I got up and Tillie rose automatically. I shook her hand and thanked her for her help.
    "Hang on to the mail for the time being, if you would," I said. "I'm going to chase down some other possibilities, but I'll get back to you in a day or two and let you know what I've come up with. I don't think there's any reason to worry."
    "I hope not," Tillie said. "She's a wonderful person.
    I gave Tillie my card before we parted company. I wasn't worried yet myself, but my curiosity had been aroused and I was eager to get on with it.

Chapter 2
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    On the way back to the office, I stopped off at the public library. I went to the reference department and pulled the city directory for Boca Raton, checking the address I had for Elaine Boldt against the addresses listed. Sure enough, she was there with a telephone number that matched the one I'd been given. I noted the names of several other owners of adjacent condominiums, jotting down telephone numbers. There seemed to be a number of buildings in the same complex and I guessed that it was an entire "planned community." There was a general sales office, a telephone number for tennis courts, a health spa, and a recreational facility. I made notes of everything just to save myself a possible trip back.
    When I reached the office, I opened a file on Elaine Boldt, logging the time I'd put in so far and the information I had. I tried the Florida number, letting it ring maybe thirty times without luck, and then I put in a call to the sales office of the Boca Raton condominium. They gave me the name of the resident manager in Elaine Boldt's building, a Roland Makowski, apartment 101, who picked up on the first ring.
    "Makowski here."
    I told him as briefly as possible who I was and why I was trying to get in touch with Elaine Boldt.
    "She didn't come down this year," he said. "She's usually here about this time, but I guess she had a change of plans."
    "Are you sure?"
    "Well, I haven't seen her. I've been up and down and around this building day in and day out and I never laid eyes on her. That's all I know. I guess she could be here if she's always someplace where I'm not," he said. "That friend of hers, Pat, is here, but Mrs. Boldt went off someplace else is what I was told. Maybe she could tell you where. I just bumped into her hanging towels out on the rail which we don't allow. The balcony's not a drying rack and I told her as much. She kinda went off in a huff."
    "Can you tell me her last name?"
    "What?"
    "Can you tell me Pat's last name? Mrs. Boldt's friend."
    "Oh. Yes."
    I waited a moment. "I've got a pencil and paper," I said.
    "Oh. It's Usher. Like in a movie theater. She's sublet, she said. What's your name again?"
    I gave him my name again and my office number in case he wanted to get in touch. It was not a satisfactory conversation. Pat Usher seemed to be the only link to Elaine Boldt's whereabouts and I thought it essential to talk to her as soon as possible.
    I put in another call to Elaine's Florida number, letting it ring until I got annoyed with the sound. Nothing. If Pat Usher was still in the apartment, she was resolutely refusing to answer the