Monument to the Dead by Sheila Connolly Page A

today?”
    “No. Why?”
    “She’s not at the Society. Rich hasn’t seen her. In fact, nobody’s seen her. Shelby
     and I have been calling her all morning on her cell and at home, and she hasn’t picked
     up. We’re at her house now, and there’s no answer. Do you have any idea where she
     might be?”
    James didn’t answer immediately. I assumed he was turning over the possibilities in
     his mind, and probably coming to the same conclusions that Shelby and I had, and it
     wasn’t that Marty was indulging herself in a three-hour bubble-bath.
    “I have her key. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.” He hung up abruptly.
    I turned to Shelby. “The reinforcements are coming.”

CHAPTER 11
    Shelby and I felt conspicuous standing on the doorstep, so we sat down on the top step to wait for James to arrive. It was a delightful neighborhood,
     with plenty of shade trees and little traffic, yet still convenient to both Center
     City and the highways that led out of town. There were few people on the street. I
     kept peering in both directions, not so much watching for James as hoping that Marty
     would miraculously appear, either on foot or by car. She didn’t.
    When James arrived, I was both glad to see him and also a little afraid, because he
     would let us into the house and we would find . . . something. Or maybe nothing. Finding
     nothing would be only slightly more encouraging than finding . . . something worse.
    James looked somber as he approached. “Nell, Shelby.” He nodded. “Still no sign of
     Marty?”
    Shelby and I stood up. “Nope, and no sounds from inside the house,” I said. “Are we
     going in?”
    He climbed the steps to stand beside us. “
I’m
going in. You two wait here.”
    I was both frustrated and relieved by his order. Shelby and I stayed put, sitting
     side by side without talking. Marty didn’t believe in wall-to-wall carpet, so I could
     hear James’s footsteps moving slowly through the building, up the stairs . . . and
     down again. It must have been five minutes before he opened the front door. I turned
     reluctantly, searched his face, and felt a wave of relief: he didn’t look grim.
    “Nothing,” he said. “No one home, and nothing looks disturbed. Have you considered
     the thought that she might have gone somewhere of her own volition? She does have
     a life outside the Society, you know.”
    “Sure, but can you blame us for worrying? Yesterday she was concerned that she could
     be a target of this killer that nobody will acknowledge officially, and today she’s
     nowhere to be found. Do you think she hopped on a plane to a foreign country? Does
     she have a summer place or three where she might be hiding?” I was working up a good
     head of steam, stoked mainly by tension.
    “Nell,” James said carefully, “I’m not questioning your concern. I’m here, aren’t
     I? I’ve checked the place out, and everything looks normal. I don’t know where Marty
     could have gone, but her absence may be completely innocent. Okay, maybe she should
     have let you know that she was going to disappear, but I can’t exactly launch an investigation
     when she’s been gone less than a day.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I had to do something.
     I looked at Shelby. “So I guess we return to work, and to worrying.” Then I turned
     back to James. “I’ll let you know if we hear from her. If we don’t, how soon can you
     actually investigate?”
    “Not before tomorrow. Nell, I’ll do what I can, I promise. Right now, I’d better get
     back to the office.”
    “Go,” I said. Needless to say there was no parting kiss. I knew I had no right to
     be mad at him, but I needed to be mad at somebody. When and if Marty showed up, I
     could get mad at her.
    Shelby and I had covered a few blocks toward the Society before I stopped fuming.
     “Sorry about that,” I said to her. “I was acting like a brat. I know there’s not much