Psycho
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."
    SEVEN
    The 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 investigator inhaled slowly. "Of course that doesn't prove Mary Crane hasn't been to see _you_. She could have sneaked in some evening after your store closed, just like her sister did, tonight."
    Sam sighed. "But she didn't. Look, you heard what Lila here just told you. I haven't even heard from Mary for weeks. I wrote her a letter last Friday, the very day she's supposed to have disappeared. Why should I do a thing like that if I knew she was going to come here ?"
    "To cover up, of course. Very smart move." Arbogast exhaled savagely.
    Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not that smart. Not that smart at all. I didn't know about the money. The way you've explained it, not even Mr. Lowery knew in advance that somebody was going to bring him forty thousand dollars in cash on Friday afternoon. Certainly Mary didn't know. How could we possibly plan anything together?"
    "She could have phoned you from a pay station _after_ she took the money, on Friday night, and told you to write her."
    "Check with the phone company here," Sam answered wearily. "You'll find I haven't had any long-distance calls for a month."
    Arbogast nodded. "So she didn't phone you. She drove straight up, told you

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