Find a Victim

Chapter 7

I backed out past the stalled, rusting cavalcade in the vacant lot and turned east toward the center of the city. Hilda let out a sigh that sounded as if she had been holding it in for some time.

“It’s really too bad. I come to visit him with the best intentions, but we always manage to quarrel. Tonight it was Anne. There always seems to be something.”

“He’s fairly difficult, isn’t he?”

“Yes, especially with us. Anne can’t get along with him at all. I don’t blame her, either. She has good reason–” She caught herself up short and changed the subject: “We live on the far side of town, Mr. Archer, in the foothills. I’m afraid it’s a long drive.”

“I don’t mind. I wanted to talk to you anyway, in private.”

“About my sister?”

“Yes. Has she gone away like this before, for a week at a time?”

“Once or twice she has. But not without telling me.”

“You two are pretty close, aren’t you?”

“We always have been. We’re not like some sisters I know, fighting all the time. Even if she is better-looking than I am–”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to be gallant. I know. Anne’s a beauty, and I’m not. But it never seemed to matter much. She’s so much younger, really, I never needed to compete with her. I was more like an aunt than a sister when she was growing up. Mother died when she was born, you see. She was my responsibility.”

“Was she hard to handle?”

“Of course not. Don’t listen to Father. He’s always been prejudiced, willing to believe anything against her. That stinking gossip he told you about Anne and Mr. Kerrigan – there’s nothing in it at all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Perfectly sure. I’d know if it was true. It isn’t true,” she said vehemently. “Anne worked for Mr. Kerrigan, and that’s all.”

I pulled up behind a line of cars that was waiting for the light to change at the main street intersection. Single men and couples, boys in threes and fours, roved on the lighted pavements, their faces bored and hungry for excitement. No unescorted women were to be seen.

“Keep going on this street,” she said. “I’ll tell you where to turn.”

The light winked green, and we rolled forward across the pitted asphalt.

“Where does your sister live when she’s at home?”

“She has her own apartment, in Bougainvillea Court, number three. It’s not far from here, on Los Bagnos Street.”

“I may go over there later. I don’t suppose you have a key?”

“No, I don’t. Why do you want a key?”

“I’d like to have a look at her possessions. They might give some indication of where she’s gone, and why.”

“I see. No doubt the superintendent can let you in.”

“Do I have your permission?”

“Certainly.” She was silent for a while, as we passed through sparsely lighted streets toward the edge of the city. “Where do you think Anne has gone, Mr. Archer?”

“I was going to ask you. I have no idea, unless you’re mistaken about her and Kerrigan.”

“I couldn’t be mistaken,” she said bluntly. “Why keep harping on that?”

“When a woman disappears, you look for the men in her life. What about the men in her life?”

“Anne goes out with dozens of men. I don’t keep track of them.” Her voice was sharp, and I wondered if there was some jealousy after all.

“Could she have eloped with one of them?”

“I doubt it. Anne’s quite – distrustful of men. That’s natural enough, if you know Father. She’s a confirmed bachelor girl, and very independent.”

“Your father said she left home at fifteen. That means she’s been on her own for ten years or so.”

“Not exactly. She left him when she was fifteen, after – they had some trouble. Brand and I gave her a home until she finished high school. Then she found a job and went on her own. We tried to keep her with us, but she’s very independent-minded, as I said.”

“What kind of trouble did she have with your father? You said something about his corrupting her.”

“Did I? I didn’t mean to. He did a terrible thing to her. Don’t ask me what it was.” Emotion rose in her throat, thickening her voice and almost choking her, like blood from an internal hemorrhage. “Most of the men in this city are barbarians where women are concerned. It’s a wretched place for a girl to try and grow up. It’s like living among savages.”

“As bad as that?”

“Yes. As bad as that.” She cried out suddenly: “I hate this city. I know it’s a dreadful thing to say, but I sometimes wish the earthquake had wiped it out entirely.”

“Because your sister had trouble with your father?”

“I’m not thinking of her,” she said, “or him.”

I glanced at her. She was sitting rigid in the seat, her eyes almost black in the white glimmer of her face. She roused herself and leaned to touch my arm: “You turn off here to the left. I’m sorry. I’m afraid Father upset me more than I realized.”

The road spiraled off among low hills whose flanks were dotted with houses. It was a good residential suburb, where people turned their backs on small beginnings and looked to larger futures. Most of the houses were new, so new that they hadn’t been assimilated to the landscape, and very modern. They had flat jutting roofs, and walls of concrete and glass skeletonized by light.

I turned up a blacktop drive at her direction and stopped the car. The house was similar to the other houses, except that there were no lights behind the expansive windows. She sat motionless, looking out at the dark low building as if it was a dangerous maze that she had to find her way through.

“This is where you live?”

“Yes. This is where I live.” Her voice surrounded the words with tragic overtones. “I’m sorry. I keep saying that, don’t I? But I’m afraid to go in.”

“Afraid of what?”

“What are people afraid of? Death. Other people. The dark. I’m terrified of the dark. A doctor would call it nyctophobia, but knowing the name of it doesn’t seem to help.”

“I’ll go in with you if you like.”

“I would like. Very much.”

I gave her my arm as we mounted the flagstone path. She held it awkwardly, pulling away, as if it embarrassed her to lean on a man. But her hip and bosom bumped me in the doorway. She took my hands in both of hers and drew me into the dark hall.

“Don’t leave me now.”

“I have to.”

“Please don’t leave me alone. I’m terribly afraid. Feel my heartbeat.”

She pressed my hand to her side, so hard that my fingertips sank through the soft flesh and felt the rib cage, hammered from within by fear or something wilder. Her voice was a whisper close to my ear, so close I could feel her breath: “You see? I am afraid. I’ve had to spend so many nights alone.”

I kissed her lightly and disengaged myself. “You could always turn on the light.”

I fumbled along the wall for the switch.

“No.” She pushed my arm down. “I don’t want you to see my face. I’m crying, and I’m not pretty.”

“You’re pretty enough for all practical purposes.”

“No. Anne is the pretty one.”

“I wouldn’t know about Anne. I’ve never met her. Good night, Mrs. Church.”

She answered after a pause: “Good night. I won’t say I’m sorry again, but I lost my head for a minute. Brandon has to work late so often. I’ll be all right when he comes home. Thank you for driving me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“If you do see Anne, you’ll let me know right away?”

I promised her that I would, and drove back into the city.