Twisted

swiveled but couldn’t see anything.
    “There’s a garland there?” he asked Sellitto.
    “Yeah, you didn’t know? And a red ribbon.”
    “That must have been courtesy of my aide,” Rhyme grumbled. “Soon to be ex, he tries that again.”
    Carly said, “I wouldn’t’ve bothered Mr. Sellitto or you. . . . I wouldn’t have bothered anyone but it’s just so weird, Mom disappearing like this. She’s never done that before.”
    Rhyme said, “Ninety-nine percent of the time there’s just been a mix-up of some kind. No crime at all . . . And only four hours?” Another glance at Sellitto. “That’s nothing.”
    “Except, with Mom, whatever else, she’s dependable.”
    “When did you talk to her last?”
    “It was about eight last night, I guess. She’s having this party tomorrow and we were making plans for it. I was going to come over this morning and she was going to give me a shopping list and some money and Jake—that’s my boyfriend—and I were going to go shopping and hang out.”
    “Maybe she couldn’t get through on your cell,” Rhyme suggested. “Where was your friend? Could she have left a message at his place?”
    “Jake’s? No, I just talked to him on my wayhere.” Carly gave a rueful smile. “She likes Jake okay, you know.” She played nervously with her long hair, twining it around her fingers. “But they’re not the best of friends. He’s . . .” The girl decided not to go into the details of the disapproval. “Anyway, she wouldn’t call his house. His dad’s . . . difficult.”
    “And she took today off from work?”
    “That’s right.”
    The door opened and Rhyme heard Amelia Sachs and Thom enter, the crinkle of paper from the shopping bags.
    The tall woman, dressed in jeans and a bomber jacket, stepped into the doorway. Her red hair and shoulders were dusted with snow. She smiled at Rhyme and Sellitto. “Merry Christmas and all that.”
    Thom headed down the hall with the bags.
    “Ah, Sachs, come on in here. It seems Detective Sellitto has volunteered our services. Amelia Sachs, Carly Thompson.”
    The women shook hands.
    Sellitto asked, “You want a cookie?”
    Carly demurred. Sachs too shook her head. “I decorated ’em, Lon—yeah, Santa looks like Boris Karloff, I know. If I never see another cookie again it’ll be too soon.”
    Thom appeared in the door, introduced himself to Carly and then walked toward the kitchen, from which Rhyme knew refreshments were about to appear. Unlike Rhyme, his aide loved the holidays, largely because they gave him the chance to play host nearly every day.
    As Sachs pulled off her jacket and hung it up, Rhyme explained the situation and what the girl had told them so far.
    The policewoman nodded, taking it in. She reiterated that a person’s missing for such a short time was no cause for alarm. But they’d be happy to help a friend of Lon’s and Rachel’s.
    “Indeed we will,” Rhyme said with an irony that everyone except Sachs missed.
    No good deed goes unpunished. . . .
    Carly continued. “I got there about eight-thirty this morning. She wasn’t home. The car was in the garage. I checked all the neighbors’. She wasn’t there and nobody’s seen her.”
    “Could she have left the night before?” Sellitto asked.
    “No. She’d made coffee this morning. The pot was still warm.”
    Rhyme said, “Maybe something came up at work and she didn’t want to drive to the station, so she took a cab.”
    Carly shrugged. “Could be. I didn’t think about that. She’s in public relations and’s been working real hard lately. For one of those big Internet companies that went bankrupt. It’s been totally tense. . . . But I don’t know. We didn’t talk very much about her job.”
    Sellitto had a young detective downtown call all the cab companies in and around Glen Hollow; no taxis had been dispatched to the house that morning. They also called Susan’s company to see if she’d come in, but no one had seen her and her office was locked.
    Just then, as Rhyme had predicted, his slim aide, wearing a white shirt and a Jerry Garcia Christmas tie, carted in a large tray of coffee and tea and a huge plate of pastries and cookies. He poured drinks for everyone.
    “No figgy pudding?” Rhyme asked acerbically.
    Sachs asked Carly, “Has your mom been sad or moody?”
    Thinking for a minute, she said, “Well, my grandfather—her dad—died last February. Grandpa was a great guy and she was totally