Free Psycho by Robert Bloch Page B

police, do the whole Missing Persons routine. Okay?
    Sam glanced at Lila. "What do you think?" he asked.
    "I don't know. I'm so worried now, I _can't_ think." She sighed. "Sam, you decide."
    He nodded at Arbogast. "All right. It's a deal. But I'm warning you right now. If nothing happens tomorrow, and you don't notify the police, I will."
    Arbogast put on his jacket. "Guess I'll get a room over at the hotel. How about you, Miss Crane?"
    Lila looked at Sam. "I'll take her over in a little while," Sam said. "First I thought we'd go and eat. But I'll see that she's checked in. And we'll both be here tomorrow. Waiting."
    For the first time that evening, Arbogast smiled. It wasn't the kind of a smile that would ever offer any competition to Mona Lisa, but it was a smile.
    "I believe you," he said. "Sorry about the pressure act, but I had to make sure." He nodded at Lila. "We're going to find your sister for you. Don't you worry."
    Then he went out. Long before the front door closed behind him, Lisa was sobbing against Sam's shoulder. Her voice was a muffled moan. "Sam, I'm scared--something's happened to Mary, I know it!"
    "It's all right," he said, wondering at the same time why there were no better words, why there never are any better words to answer fear and grief and loneliness. "It's all right, believe me."
    Suddenly she stepped away from him, stepped back, and her tear-stained eyes went wide. Her voice, when it. came, was low but firm.
    "Why should I believe you, Sam?" she asked softly. "Is there a reason? A reason you didn't tell that inspector? Sam--was Mary here to see you? Did you know about this, about the money?"
    He shook his head. "No, I didn't know. You'll have to take my word for that. The way I have to take yours."
    She turned away, facing the wall. "I guess you're right," she told him. "Mary _could_ have come to either one of us during the week, couldn't she? But she didn't. I trust you, Sam. Only it's just that it's so hard to believe anything any more, when your own sister turns out to be a --"
    "Take it easy," Sam cut in. "What you need right now is a little food, and a lot of rest. Things won't look so black tomorrow."
    "Do you _really_ think so, Sam?"
    "Yes, I do."
    It was the first time he'd ever lied to a woman.
    EIGHT
    Tomorrow became today, Saturday, and for Sam it was a time of waiting.
    He phoned Lila from the store around ten, and she was already up, had already eaten breakfast. Arbogast wasn't in--apparently he'd gotten an early start. But he had left a note for Lila downstairs, saying that he would call in sometime during the day.
    Why don't you come over here and keep me company?" Sam suggested, over the phone. "No sense sitting around in your room. We can have lunch together and check back at the hotel to see if Arbogast calls. Better still, I'll ask the operator to transfer any calls over here to the store.
    Lila agreed, and Sam felt better. He didn't want her to be alone today. Too easy for her to start brooding about Mary. God knows, he'd done enough of it himself, all night.
    He'd done his best to resist the idea, but he had to admit that Arbogast's theory made sense. Mary must have planned to come here after she took the money. If she had taken it, that is.
    That was the worst part: accepting Mary in the role of a thief. Mary wasn't that kind of a person; everything he knew about her contradicted the possibility.
    And yet, just how much did he know about Mary, really? Just last night he'd acknowledged to himself how little he actually understood his fiance. Why, he knew so little that he'd even mistaken another girl for her, in a dim light.
    Funny, Sam told himself, how we take it for granted that we know all there is to know about another person, just because we see them frequently or because of some strong emotional tie. Why, right here in Fairvale there were plenty of examples of what he meant. Like old Tomkins, superintendent of schools for years and a big wheel in Rotary, running away