even went steady before. So far as anybody knows, the girl was perfectly happy with the marriage. Except for the fiancé, his brother, and the druggist, though, nobody seems to have seen her once she left the old ladyâs sight.â
Steinberg took up the tale. âThe fiancé seems to be okay. Nobody knows anything against him, and even if they did, heâs been with some member of his own family all day longâbrother, mother, father. He says she couldnâtâve run off by herself. Crying like a baby, the guy was. At the same time he doesnât want to admit she maybe met with foul play. So he says itâs got to be amnesia.â
Bonn was dark and thin, Steinberg was red-haired and stocky. Captain Foley, who was pale and bald, asked, âWhat about the druggist? And donât give me that line. He sold her vanishing cream.â
Bonn said, âWell, as a matter of fact, Captain, he did. Vanishing cream, face powder, deodorant, hairpinsâand a pack of chewing gum.â
Foley shook his head. âThat donât sound like no suicide to me. I know, I knowâpeople have committed suicide on the eves of their weddings before. But a girl whoâs going to kill herself donât buy deodorants and chewing gum. Even if the river is only five blocks away, Iâm not buying suicide. No, either she made a voluntary disappearanceâin which case she ought to have her butt smacked, not letting the family knowâor else it was foul play. And if she was attacked, sheâs most likely dead by now. Theyâve been through every empty building in the neighborhood?â
âNot only in the neighborhood, but in that whole section of the city,â said Steinberg. âHow could she be the victim of violence in broad daylight, at ten oâclock in the morning, in a place where everybody knew her?â But Captain Foley said the violence neednât have occurred in the neighborhood. A car pulls up to the curb, a guy offers her a ride, she gets inâwhatâs to notice? he asked. And then the car drives off. She wasnât the kind of girl to accept a ride from a stranger? Then maybe it wasnât a stranger.â¦
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
T HE STORY WAS in the morning papers, and the usual crowd had gathered (or rather, was circulating; the police wouldnât let them stop) near the Bennersâ house. Mrs. Benner was in her room, having failed to fight off the effects of a sedative the doctor made her take. Joe Benner and Bob, red-eyed, were sitting together in the kitchen drinking black coffee.
âIt was amnesia,â Bob repeated for the thousandth time. âShe wouldnât run off. Not Sally. Her pictureâs in the papers, somebodyâs bound to see her.â
âSure,â Sallyâs father repeated, his face reflecting no such optimism. âSure.â
Bonn and Steinberg mingled with the crowd. They looked and listened.
âThey ought to call in the FBI.â
âCanât do that unless thereâs evidence of a kidnapping.â
âThey oughta drag the river.â
âEvidenceâwhadayacall evidence?â
âThey must of had a quarrel. Donât tell me. They had a loverâs tiff, and the boy friendâs ashamed to say.â
âThey oughta drag the river.â
âMy cousin he run out on his own wedding once. But a guy, thatâs a different thing. Know what I mean?â
The next day Mrs. Benner went on television and appealed to her daughter to return home, orâif for any reason she was unwilling to do thisâat least to communicate with her family. For the afternoon and evening news she was joined by Bob Mantin. He begged Sallyâs forgiveness if he had offended her in any way. He asked only that she notify them if she was all right. The minister of the Bennersâ church issued a statement.
But no one heard a word from her. The usual flow of evil communications began, by
Learning to Kill: Stories