Richard Marsten: Vanishing Ladies

Q: Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

A: I do.

Q: What is your name?

A: Philip Colby.

Q: How old are you, Mr Colby?

A: Twenty-four.

Q: Do you live in this state?

A: No, sir. I live in the adjoining state.

Q: What first brought you to this state?

A: I came on vacation, sir.

Q: And when was that?

A: My vacation started on Monday morning, June 3rd.

Q: What sort of work do you do?

A: I’m a detective.

Q: A private detective?

A: No, sir. I work for the city. Right across the river, sir. The 23rd Precinct.

Q: But you were not at Sullivan’s Point on police work, is that right?

A: That’s right. I went to Sullivan’s Point on vacation.

Q: What made you choose it as your vacation spot?

A: I didn’t choose it, sir. Ann did.

Q: Ann?

A: Ann Grafton. My fiancée.

Q: I see. And when you chose Sullivan’s Point, had you any idea at the time that you would become involved in police work?

A: That was the farthest thing from my mind, sir. I was looking forward to a vacation. The 23rd can... can become trying at times.

Q: But you nonetheless did become involved in police work?

A: Yes, sir, I did. That is... well, of a nonofficial nature.

Q: And were there any other policemen involved in this work?

A: Yes, sir. Detective Tony Mitchell. He works at the 23rd, too.

Q: Would you please tell the court exactly what happened?

A: Where do you want me to start, sir? It’s a pretty involved thing, and-

Q: Start with the morning of June 3rd. Start with the day your vacation started.

A: Well...

I picked Ann up at nine o’clock.

Wait a minute, it must have been closer to nine-thirty. She lives with her father. Her mother is dead, you see. Her father was still home when I got there. He’s usually off to work by about eight- thirty, but I think he was worried about Ann going off alone on a vacation with me. Not that he doesn’t trust me or anything, but you know how it is when a girl has no mother, I guess a man worries about her. He didn’t have to worry, actually, because Ann and I are pretty old-fashioned, I guess, for this day and age.

I know everybody is supposed to be living together and all before they’re married, but we don’t. We just don’t. Ann had a very strict upbringing in a very religious family, and she feels... well, I don’t think I ought to go into it much further than that. Let’s just say that everybody thinks we’re crazy for waiting, but that’s what we’re doing — waiting. Which, when you think of what happened at Sullivan’s Point... well, it might not have happened if we were like everybody else is today, I guess. But we’re not.

Anyway, I had a cup of coffee with her father while Ann finished dressing. I think she held off dressing on purpose, so that I’d have a chance to talk to her father before we left. I’ve got no reason to believe that except that she’s usually pretty punctual, and she knew we were supposed to leave at nine. I guess Mr Grafton got convinced over our coffee that I wasn’t going to sell Ann into white slavery or anything. Anyway, we began talking about the chances the baseball teams had, and in a little while Ann came out of her room.

She’s a pretty tall girl, I mean not a giant, but wearing heels she’d give most fellows a little trouble. She was wearing a white sun dress with bare shoulders and she looked pretty, but I’m prejudiced, I’m going to marry her someday.

Incidentally, I have to tell you what she looks like and what she was wearing because it’s pretty important to what happened later on. She’s got very black hair, you see, hair that’s really black — as if it’d been dipped in India ink. And she’s got wide brown eyes, and a good figure even though she’s tall. You meet a lot of tall girls who look like telephone poles. Ann’s not that way. Anyway, she was wearing a white cotton dress, and she carried a straw bag and she wore these straw pumps with lucite heels.

She went over and kissed her father, and he put his arm around her shoulder and then turned to me and said, Take care of her, Phil.’

‘I will,’ I promised. We shook hands then, and all three of us went down to the car together, Mr Grafton carrying one of Ann’s bags, and me carrying the other. The car we used for the vacation wasn’t my own. I drive a Dodge sedan. But one of the fellows on the squad, a detective named Burry O’Hare, drives a Chevy convertible, and he suggested I use that for the trip. As it turned out, the borrowed car wasn’t such a good idea, but Burry of course didn’t know what was going to happen and he was only trying to be nice.

We got under way at about ten that morning, the top down, and a nice breeze rushing through the city. We couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful day to start our vacation if we’d tried. It was one of those days when even the city is comfortable even though the sun is shining to beat the band.

When we pulled away from the curb, Ann said, ‘Did you reassure Dad?’

‘I told him I’m going to rape you as soon as we’re over the bridge,’ I said.

‘I’ll bet you did.’

‘I did.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said it couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow.’

‘I agree with him.’

‘How do you like the car?’

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘It was very nice of O’Hare.’

‘Sam Thompson offered me his car, too.’

‘Why didn’t you take it?’

‘Who wants a beat-up old Cadillac?’

‘Does he really drive a Caddy?’

‘On a cop’s salary?’

‘All cops take graft. I happen to know.’

‘How come you’re so smart?’

‘I’m in love with a cop.’

‘That’s the one thing I’m not going to like about this vacation.’

‘My being in love with a cop?’

‘No. All the graft I’ll miss while I’m gone.’

I better explain here that we were kidding. I better explain, too, that Ann and I do a lot of kidding with each other, and I don’t know if you want to hear all the kidding or not but the only way I can tell you what happened is to tell it to you as it happened. Anyway, it’s that way in my mind, and it’s mixed up enough as it is without trying to cut corners.

We drove crosstown to the bridge. The traffic was pretty light at that time of the morning, and we were in no real hurry, half the fun is getting there, you know. So we took our time crossing the bridge, watching a big liner coming in, billowing smoke all over the place. I guess we didn’t really feel as if we were on our way until we hit your state after we crossed the bridge. With the river behind us, with the road stretching out ahead of us, with the sun beating down, and the wind streaming around the car, we really felt as if we were on our way. Ann reached over to turn on the radio, and then she squeezed my hand on the wheel and said, ‘Oh, Phil, I’m so happy.’

‘Before you get too happy,’ I told her, ‘get the map out of the glove compartment and let’s see where we’re going.’

She fished out the map, and began reading off road numbers to me. I have to confess that I’m unfamiliar with your state. I was here once for a wedding, but I was only thirteen then and my father did the driving. I almost came again when some fellows wanted to see a burlesque, but somehow I caught a cold and couldn’t make it.

Ann knew the state like a native, though. She’d spent a lot of time in the mountains as a kid and had traveled the roads a lot with her father. Which is where she got the idea for Sullivan’s Point in the first place, I suppose.