“Because today’s Sunday, that’s why.”
“What does its being Sunday have to do with it?”
“Things are closed on Sunday. Everyone knows that.”
“Police headquarters? Don’t be absurd, Fanny.”
“At least they’ll be operating with a skeleton crew. It will probably be impossible—”
“Fanny,” said Farley, “you’ve gone too far. Even you have better sense than to believe that. You’re up to something, and I want to know what it is.”
“What you want is of no consequence. I am the only one who has been attaching proper importance to all this, and I don’t propose to be criticized now for a difference of opinion.” Fanny, having disposed of Farley, turned her attention to Jay. “Jay, are you actually determined to go?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, Farley will go with you.”
“Who says so?” Farley said.
“I say so. I can tell you right now that you’ll gain nothing by hanging around here, for you aren’t getting any of my dinner. Not a bite.”
“Come along with me, Farley,” Jay said. “I’d appreciate it if you would.”
“What for?”
“Call it moral support. We probably won’t be there long. When we’re through, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Since you put it that way,” Farley said, rising with a show of interest, “I’ll come.”
He went out in Jay’s wake; and Fanny, still hooked on the arm of the chair, began to consider the new development. She was not opposed in principle to bringing in the police, for she had been convinced for some time that it was the only sensible thing to do. But her uneasiness about Ben and his possible connection with Terry Miles’s disappearance had increased with speculation; she was not, where Ben was concerned, nearly so sensible as in the case of others. It would be a great relief if only he would get back and explain things, damn him. In the meanwhile, time would pass more quickly if it were filled with events.
Fan went into the kitchen and looked into the oven. The tenderloin had acquired a nice crust and would soon be done. She mixed batter for potato pancakes, using a prepared mix and letting the batter stand for ten minutes, according to the directions on the box. This interval Fan utilized in stirring up a couple of martinis. One she drank in what was left of the ten minutes, the other she saved to drink just before eating.
Having eaten, she cleaned up and went back into the living room and turned on the table lamp. Night had come early, as nights did in November; it seemed much later than it probably was. It was actually six-thirty; and it was unlikely that Jay and Farley, who had left approximately two hours ago, had had time to go to police headquarters, stop somewhere for dinner, and return. It was even less likely, when they did return, that they would come up and report to her as, in all decency, they should. They would go to Jay’s apartment, or to Farley’s or each to his own; and she, Fanny, would be left in exasperating ignorance for the whole night. This was not to be borne, of course. She decided to wait in Farley’s apartment, assuming that Farley had left the door unlocked. (She could hardly take the liberty of waiting in Jay’s without his permission, but Farley’s was something else.)
Taking cigarettes and matches with her, she went downstairs, tried Farley’s door, and found it unlocked. Farley was notoriously careless about doors, one of his few habits that could sometimes be useful. His living room was dark, but the darkness was cut by a swath of light from the bedroom, Fanny crossed the room, peeped cautiously in — and there, lying on the bed, on his back, his shoes off and his arms folded under his head, was Ben Green.
Fan stepped into full view.
“Hello, Fan,” Ben Green said in his melodious baritone. “Come in and lie down.”
“Like hell,” Fanny said.
His grin expanded. “I naturally assumed that you had slipped in for a bit of sport.”
“Your error.”
“Which brings us to the point. What are you doing here?”
“More to the point, where have you been?”
“That’s no secret. I’ve been away.”
“Where away?”
“Out of town.”
“With whom?”
“Do you think I’d tell you? However, I was lone-wolfing it.”
“Where’s Terry?”
“Terry? Is she gone?”
“Yes. So have you been. Doesn’t that seem a coincidence?”
“You’re on the wrong track, honeyball. I’m saving myself for you.”
“Well, you can be as clever and secretive as you choose. But you had better think up a convincing lie if you don’t care to tell the truth.”
Impressed by her gravity, Ben sat up on the edge of the bed, prepared as a tentative measure to take her seriously. Now that he had assumed a position less conducive to the free exercise of his libido, Fan ventured to come closer. She even sat down beside him. He helped himself to her near hand, examined it, patted it, and continued to hold it.
“Something’s up,” he said. “Tell old Ben.”
“I told you. Terry’s gone. No one knows where she is.”
“So what? Terry has always been given to a moderate amount of moonlighting. She’ll be back after a while, breathing sighs and telling lies.”
“If she’s coming back, she’s taking her own sweet time about it. She disappeared shortly after you left on Friday afternoon.”
“So that’s it. Old Ben wanders away, and Terry goes up in smoke. Natural conclusion: assignation. Sweet nitwit, it won’t wash. I don’t even come close to fitting Terry’s prescription. Wrong ingredients entirely. I’m too poor, too runty, too ugly. And incidentally, if I may say so, too smart.”
“How about Otis? What kind of prescription did he fit?”
“Otis was a joke. Otis was a comedian. All he gave was laughs, and what he got was nothing. Everybody knew the score except Otis. That’s the trouble with these scientific types. They leave their brains in the laboratory. They’d be better off if they were born without glands.”
“Well, you mustn’t call yourself unpleasant names. I won’t have it. No one can deny that you are poor, but you are not runty and ugly.”
“As another runt, you’re prejudiced. Not that you’re ugly, I hasten to add. On the contrary, you’re lovely and sexy. Would you like to recline?”
“What I would like and what I would do are two different things. Behave yourself, Ben. In my opinion, you are just as brainy and glandular as Otis ever was.”
“True. My brains, however, are Machiavellian.”
“Damn it, Ben, you have a positive talent for leading me off the point. The point is, Terry’s been gone since Friday, everyone’s worried, and what are you going to do about it?”
“I?” His eyes widened, then narrowed. “Me? Nothing. Why should I? What could I?”
“You could explain where you’ve been, to start with. Besides, what do you mean by running off without a word to me about it? You know very well I’ve decided to marry you as soon as you get your doctorate and show signs of amounting to something. I won’t have you running all over the place without restraint. Tell me at once where you have been.”
“I respectfully decline to answer on the grounds that anything I say you’ll use to incriminate me.”
“You mean you won’t tell me?”
“That’s it.”
“Very well. It’s plain that I can’t help you if you won’t let me. You can explain to the police.”
“The police!” His voice had sharpened, and his grip tightened on her hand. “What do the police have to do with it?”
“Jay and Farley have gone down to headquarters to report Terry missing, and some sort of investigation is bound to be made.”
“Why did they want to do such an idiotic thing? Well, I have nothing to say to the police. They can damn well let me alone.”