Free Psycho - Three Complete Novels by Robert Bloch

the sofa bed. “What’s the matter, Lila? What’s this all about?”
    “I wish I knew.”
    She avoided his gaze, lowering her lashes and staring at her hands. They twisted in her lap, twisted like serpents. In the bright light, Sam noticed that her hair was almost blond. She didn’t resemble Mary at all, now. She was quite another girl. A nervous, unhappy girl.
    “Please,” he said. “Tell me.”
    Lila looked up suddenly, her wide hazel eyes searching his. “You weren’t lying when you said Mary hasn’t been here?”
    “No, it’s the truth. I haven’t even heard from her these last few weeks. I was beginning to get worried. Then you come bursting in here and—” His voice broke off. “Tell me!”
    “All right. I believe you. But there isn’t much to tell.” She took a deep breath and started to speak again, her hands roaming restlessly across the front of her skirt. “I haven’t seen Mary since a week ago last night, at the apartment. That’s the night I left for Dallas, to see some wholesale suppliers down there—I do the buying for the shop. Anyway, I spent the weekend and took a train back up late Sunday night. I got in early Monday morning. Mary wasn’t at the apartment. At first I wasn’t concerned; maybe she’d left early for work. But she usually called me sometime during the day, and when she didn’t phone by noon, I decided to call her at the office. Mr. Lowery answered the phone. He said he was just getting ready to call me and see what was wrong. Mary hadn’t come in that morning. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since the middle of Friday afternoon.”
    “Wait a minute,” Sam said, slowly. “Let me get this straight. Are you trying to tell me that Mary has been missing for an entire week?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “Then why wasn’t I notified before this?” He stood up, feeling the renewed tension in his neck muscles, feeling it in his throat and his voice. “Why didn’t you get in touch with me, phone me? What about the police?”
    “Sam. I—”
    “Instead, you waited all this time and then came up here to ask if I’d seen her. It doesn’t make sense!”
    “Nothing makes sense. You see, the police don’t know about this. And Mr. Lowery doesn’t know about you. After what he told me, I agreed not to call them. But I was so worried, so frightened, and I had to know. That’s why, today, I decided to drive up here and find out for myself. I thought maybe the two of you might have planned it together.”
    “Planned what?” Sam shouted.
    “That’s what I’d like to know.” The answer was soft, but there was nothing soft about the face of the man who stood in the doorway. He was tall, thin, and deeply tanned; a gray Stetson shadowed his forehead but not his eyes. The eyes were ice-blue and ice-hard.
    “Who are you?” Sam muttered. “How did you get in here?”
    “Front door was unlocked, so I just stepped inside. I came here to get a little information, but I see Miss Crane already beat me to the question. Maybe you’d like to give us both an answer now.”
    “Answer?”
    “That’s right.” The tall man moved forward, one hand dipping into the pocket of his gray jacket. Sam lifted his arm, then dropped it, as the hand came forth, extending a wallet. The tall man flipped it open. “The name’s Arbogast. Milton Arbogast. Licensed investigator, representing Parity Mutual. We carry a bonding policy on the Lowery Agency your girl-friend worked for. That’s why I’m here now. I want to find out what you two did with the forty thousand dollars.”

— 7 —
    T he gray Stetson was on the table now, and the gray jacket was draped over the back of one of Sam’s chairs. Arbogast snubbed his third cigarette in the ashtray and immediately lighted another.
    “All right,” he said. “You didn’t leave Fairvale any time during the past week. I’ll buy that, Loomis. You’d know better than to lie. Too easy for me to check your story around town here.” The