couple of hours. She was gone, bag and baggage, when I got back. The desk clerktold me she had this visitor before she left, a man with a short gray beard whostayed in the room about an hour."

"No name?"

"He didn't mention his name."

"Did he and your wife leave together?"

"The desk clerk said they didn't. Theman left first. Then Dolly took a taxi to the bus station, but so far as Icould find out she didn't buy a ticket. She didn't buy a railroad ticket or anairline ticket, either. She had no car. So I've been going on the assumptionthat she's still here in Pacific Point. She couldn't walk down thefreeway."

"She could hitchhike."

"Not Dolly."

"Where did she live before you were married?"

"In Westwood, in a furnishedapartment. She gave it up and we moved her typewriter and things into myapartment on Saturday morning just before the ceremony. All the stuff is stillthere, and it's one of the things that worry me. I've been over it with afine-toothed comb for clues, but she didn't leave any behind—nothing reallypersonal at all."

"Do you think she planned to marry you and leaveyou?"

"No, I don't. What would be the point?"

"I can think of several possibilities. Do youcarry much insurance, for example?"

"A fair amount. Dad insured me when I was born.But he's still the beneficiary."

"Does your family have money?"

"Not that much. Dad makes a goodliving, but he works for it. Anyway, what you're hinting at is out of thequestion. Dolly's completely honest, and she doesn't even care aboutmoney."

"What does she care about?"

"I thought she cared about me,"he said with his head down. "I still believe she does. Something must havehappened to her. She may have gone out of her mind."

"Is she mentally unstable?"

He considered the question, and his answerto it. "I don't think so. She had her black spells. I guess most peopledo. I was talking loosely."

"Keep on talking loosely. You can'ttell what may be important. You've been making a search for her, ofcourse?"

"As much of a search as I could. ButI can't do it all by myself, without any cooperation from the police. Theywrite down what I say on little pieces of paper and put them away in a drawerand give me pitying looks. They seem to think Dolly found out somethingshameful about me on our wedding night."

"Could there be any truth inthat?"

"No! We're crazy about each other. Itried to tell that to the Sheriff this morning. He gave me one of those knowingleers and said he couldn't act unless there was some indication of a breach ofthe peace. I asked him if a missing woman wasn't some indication, and he saidno. She was free and twenty-one and she left under her own power and I had nolegal right to force her to come back. He advised me to get an annulment. Itold him what he could do with his advice, and he ordered two of his men tothrow me out of his office. I found out where the deputy D.A. was, in court,and I was waiting to put in a complaint when I saw you on the stand."

"Nobody sent you to me, then?"

"No, but I can give you references. Myfather—"

"You told me about your father. He thinks youshould get an annulment, too."

Alex nodded dolefully. "Dad thinks I'm wasting mytime, on a girl who isn't worth it."

"He could be right."

"He couldn't be more wrong. Dolly isthe only one I've ever loved and the only one I ever will love. If you won'thelp me, I'll find somebody who will!"

I liked his insistence. "My rates arehigh. A hundred a day and expenses."

"I've got enough to pay you for at leasta week." He reached for his billfold and slammed it down on the bar, sohard that the bartender looked at him suspiciously. "Do you want a cashadvance?"

"There's no hurry," I said."Do you have a picture of Dolly?"

He removed a folded piece of newspaperfrom the billfold and handed it to me with a certain reluctance, as if it wasmore valuable than money. It was a reproduction of a photograph which had beenunfolded and refolded many times.

"Among happy honeymooners at the SurfHouse," the caption said, "are Mr. and Mrs. Alex Kincaid of LongBeach." Alex and his bride smiled up at me through the murky light. Herface was oval and lovely in a way of its own, with a kind of hoodedintelligence in the eyes and humor like a bittersweet taste on the mouth.

"When was this taken?"

"Three weeks ago Saturday, when wearrived at the Surf House. They do it for everybody. They printed it in theSunday morning paper, and I clipped it. I'm glad I did. It's the only picture Ihave of her."

"You could get copies."

"Where?"

"From whoever took it."

"I never thought of that. I'll see

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009