Next morning, after breakfast, I set to work. Somehow I wasn’t surprised when I learned from the switchboard girl that EXposition 2171 had been disconnected. I asked her how long ago, but she didn’t know.
There needn’t be anything suspicious about that—Grabhorn could just have moved. Nor was it odd that he wasn’t listed in the current Los Angeles white or yellow pages: Vance told me he hadn’t been listed even when Katharine had been going to see him. His referrals came strictly by word of mouth.
“Vance, are you up for a drive to Wilshire Boulevard?” I said.
He almost leaped up from his chair in eagerness. “Let’s go!”
Jackson didn’t like it, but I wanted to be alone for this bit of work, so I had Vance do the driving.
The building labeled 1633 proved to be a compact, three-story office building. We quickly learned from the building management that Grabhorn—who had occupied the entire second story of the place—had left just about a year ago. No forwarding address.
That was a little odd.
Vance jumped on it. “There’s something funny here, Scintilla! What’s going on? Where did he vanish to? And why?”
“Vance, calm down. It could mean anything.”
“But it was just after Katharine’s...you know, her....”
“Well, not exactly. It was a good six months after. If he was wanting for some reason to bolt right afterward, surely he wouldn’t have hung around another half-year. By the way, I presume he did in fact know what Katharine was going to do?”
“Oh, yes.” That bitter sneer again. “She called him just before we left for New York last September. He knew.”
“How did he react to it? Do you know?”
“No, I don’t. According to Katharine, he just wanted her to do what she felt in her heart she had to do. He didn’t try to talk her into it, didn’t try to talk her out of it. I guess it didn’t please him that he was going to lose a rich patient...unless”—the idea seized Vance with a sudden fury—“unless, by God, that vile Sanderson fellow was giving him some sort of fee for his referrals...!”
“Vance, you don’t know that. You have no business saying that.”
“But it stands to reason, Scintilla! God, why didn’t I think of it before? Maybe they had this kind of...of suicide channel going on...Jesus, what fiends!” Vance was fuming with rage.
“Arthur, just quiet down. It needn’t be like that. We still don’t know that there’s anything funny anywhere.”
“But where’s Grabhorn, then? Where is he?” He was shouting now.
“We’ll find him.” I turned away and walked out of the building and back to the car. “We’ll find him, by God.”
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