“I haven’t the least idea.” Jay seemed to have lost all interest in the matter immediately Bartholdi offered his explanation. “She was here when I arrived shortly before six. Where she may have been earlier, I couldn’t say.”
“Well, never mind.” Bartholdi’s interest also seemed to be gone. He diverted his attention to Fanny and Ben. “Can either of you two, thinking back, recall anything Mrs. Miles said that might have been a clue to where she was going on Friday afternoon?”
“Not I,” said Fanny. “I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t remember a thing.”
“I haven’t tried at all,” Ben said, “and there’s no use trying now. She said she had an appointment, as Farley can verify, but she didn’t say where or with whom, and that’s all there is to it.”
“All right. Now I want to ask you a question that calls for an opinion. Do you think,” said Bartholdi, “that kidnapping is a likely explanation?”
It was immediately apparent from their expression that, of all possible questions, this was the least expected.
“Kidnapping!” Fanny said. “Are you serious?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“On the contrary, why should you be?” Ben said. “Terry isn’t famous, and she doesn’t have any money to speak of. What could be gained by kidnapping her?”
“She does have money.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is the heiress to a considerable estate. She isn’t in control of it yet, but there’s no doubt that it could be tapped by a kidnapper.”
“It’s news to me. Is it true, Jay?”
“It’s true, Ben,” Jay said.
“Well, why was no one ever told? I, for one, knew absolutely nothing about it. Did you know anything about it, Fanny?”
“Not before Terry disappeared. Jay mentioned it for the first time yesterday. And that, as I see it, is the point. I didn’t know it, and Ben and Farley didn’t know it, and according to Jay it’s unlikely that anyone around here knew it. Don’t you see? If you’re going to kidnap someone for money, you have to know that the person has it, or that someone else will pay it.”
“I understand that,” Bartholdi said gently. “Miss Moran, I wasn’t accusing anyone here of kidnapping—”
“I should hope not!”
“—but I can’t simply discard the possibility. That’s why I asked your opinion.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Ben said. “But I don’t think it’s probable.”
“As for me,” said Fanny, “my opinion is even less favorable.”
“Well.” Bartholdi’s shrug was noncommittal. “If there is any substance to the theory, we should soon be hearing from the kidnapper. In the meanwhile, we mustn’t let it blind us to other considerations. The Personal, for instance, suggests a closer relationship than kidnapper-victim, though there’s a definite chance the same individual is involved in both. And I would like to know, incidentally, how Mrs. Miles left this building and vanished without, apparently, being seen by anyone.”
“I can’t see that there is any great problem there,” Fanny said. “She just walked out when no one happened to be looking.”
“But the building superintendent was working, I’ve been told, in the front lobby at the time she must have left. He’s positive she didn’t go out that way.”
“Then she must have gone out the back way. Why do you insist on making a mystery of something that can be easily explained, Captain? I should think you’d be trying to find out where she went and where she is, instead of which door she walked out of to get there.”
Bartholdi smiled. He was already beginning to feel an affinity for Fanny, whom he had first categorized as a charming little nut. “We’ll just accept the fact that she’s gone and proceed from there. And speaking of being gone, it’s time, I think, that we were. Mr. Miles is exhausted, and I’m sure your brother has nothing more to tell me at the moment. Do you Jive in the building, Miss Moran?”
“I live upstairs over Farley. Why?”
“I thought we might go there to finish our discussion, if you don’t mind.”
“Can Ben come with us?”
“By all means.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ben said. “I’m like Farley. I have nothing more to tell you.”
“What do you mean, nothing more?” said Fanny. “You haven’t told him anything yet.”
“That’s what I have to tell,” Ben said. “Not anything.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Bartholdi amiably. “If we talk long enough under the right conditions, you may think of something.”
The third degree may or may not have been implied, Ben thought glumly, but the polite official tone was unmistakable. Fanny had him by the hand, damn her, and was leading him toward the door while Bartholdi said good night to Jay and Farley.
15
“I have a little gin,” said Fanny, “if anyone would care for a martini or something.”
“I’d care for one,” Ben said. “But I imagine there is a regulation against it so far as Captain Bartholdi is concerned.”
“So far as I’m concerned,” Captain Bartholdi said, “regulations are flexible.”
“In that case,” Fanny said, “we will all have one. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
Bartholdi, in an easy chair, had no apparent difficulty in doing so, but for Ben it was harder. After all, when it came to feeling comfortable in the company of a police captain on official business, it was much easier said than done. Fanny was creating small musical sounds in the kitchen with glasses and ice and a long spoon. Ben stared at his extended legs, wondering if the wiser course would be to lie or simply clam up.
“You’re a graduate student at the university, Mr. Green?” Bartholdi asked.
“That’s right.”
“Your roommate, I understand, is studying law. Is that your field?”
“No. History.”
“Oh? Do you plan to teach?”
“I’ve had some such notion.”
“I was told that you’ve been away over the weekend.”
“Yes,” Ben said.
“When did you leave?”
“Friday afternoon. Two o’clock or thereabouts. I don’t know exactly.”
“And you got back this afternoon?”
“Yes. Late. After Farley and Jay had left to see you.”
“Do you mind telling me where you’ve been?”
“Yes.”
“You mind?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I just like to keep my business to myself.”
“So do I, when possible. Sometimes, unfortunately, it’s not. I congratulate you, at any rate, on reaching the better of two bad decisions.”
“What decision?”
“To tell me nothing instead of lies. If you had lied, it would have been the worse for you in the end. As it is, it may be bad enough.”
“Cool it, man! You don’t even know there’s anything wrong. Or do you?”
“A woman’s missing. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not to rate a captain.”
“One thing about captains, we’re discreet, if that’s any reassurance to you.”
“It isn’t,” Ben said.
“We’ll find out anyhow. You’d be better off telling me voluntarily.”
“That,” said Fanny, returning with a tray of martinis, “remains uncertain. He might be better off with the police, Captain, but it is by no means established that he would be better off with me.”
“Oh?” Bartholdi glanced curiously from Fanny to Ben, who was looking sourly at Fanny. “Perhaps, Miss Moran, I’d better talk to Ben alone.”