The Cry of the Owl by Patricia Highsmith Page B

He had driven by Susie’s at nine to have a look, and also at midnight. Greg’s first thought was that she had gone to New York to see Robert Forester. Or somewhere else to have a rendezvous with him. Or was it possible she’d be spending the night at the Tessers’? Not very likely. She never had, as far as Greg knew. He called Susie at two o’clock. He realized it was a rude hour to call, but he wanted Susie to know he was upset. Susie knew very well how he felt, and she was on his side.
    “No, I haven’t seen her,” Susie said, speaking in a whisper, because her family was asleep, she said, and the telephone was in the hall.
    “I’ve got a feeling she’s with Robert. Who else? Even the movie lets out at eleven-thirty, even in Langley. She’s never out this late on a weekday night.”
    “I thought Robert went back to New York.”
    “New York’s only two hours away, isn’t it?”
    “How about the Tessers?”
    “I don’t feel like calling them to find out.”
    “Want me to?”
    “Mm-m, no, thanks, Susie,” Greg said miserably.
    “Gee, Greg, I wish I could help you. You really love her, don’t you?”
    “I certainly do.”
    Three minutes later, he was talking to the former Mrs. Forester in New York. From her he learned that Robert was still in Langley and still working for Langley Aeronautics.
    “He told me he was leaving town,” Greg said. “Did he tell you he was staying on in Langley?”
    “No, but that’s my guess. He was in New York a few weeks ago to sign the divorce papers, but I didn’t see him. My lawyer didn’t say anything about his moving,” she said languidly. She had said she was in bed, but that she hadn’t minded at all being awakened.
    “You don’t know where he lives in Langley, do you? He changed his phone number and they won’t give it out.”
    “I haven’t the foggiest and I couldn’t care less,” she said, blowing smoke into the telephone. “But the situation interests me. Absolutely typical of something Robert would get himself into. A sloppy, sneaky love affair.”
    “Well, I hope it hasn’t gone that far. I love that girl. If I get my hands on that guy … I know Jenny and she’s got a crazy crush on him and—I don’t know how to put it, but she’s such a romantic kid. When she gets her mind made up about something—”
    “He’s a maniac. She’d better watch out.”
    “So you said. That’s got me worried. And with him in
Langley
—”
    “Listen, Greg, keep me posted, will you? And anything I can do to help I’ll be glad to. O.K.?”
    Greg was much reassured by the conversation. He felt he had an ally in the former Mrs. Forester and the best possible source of information about Robert. The first time he had called her she had asked him to call her Nickie. Nickie Jurgen now. She had married again. Greg had the feeling it might be a long tough fight to get Jenny back, but that he’d win—whether she was with Forester tonight or not. He turned on his radio, lit a cigarette and pushed off his shoes. Did Langley Aeronautics have a night shift? It was worth a try. He looked up the number in his telephone book and called it. There was no answer. Tomorrow morning he’d call them and ask for Forester’s address. If they wouldn’t give it out, there were other ways—dry cleaners’ shops, for instance, dairy companies in Langley who would know where he lived. Greg rubbed his big right fist and got up from the couch. A good sock on the jaw might provide the kind of discouragement Robert Forester needed. It had worked for Greg before—not really worked, he had to admit, with the two girls in Philly, but it had given him a great satisfaction to knock his two rivals out cold.
    Greg tuned the radio station in properly, then started to undress. His closet was too small, and it had annoyed him the whole ten months he had been living here. Lately, he had thought, every time he put a suit on a hanger and squeezed it in, that in another few weeks he’d be