Disappearing Act, Part VIII

Monday night

I called the Stanley Club while Mary had gone downstairs to look for coffee cups.

I said to the receptionist, like every time:

- I would like to speak to Miss Lane, please.

- Hold on a second.

Silence. The waiting made me impatient, then a click.

- What name?

- Miss Lane. I called her I don’t know how many times.

- I’ll look at the list again.

Another silence. And:

- There’s no one by that name here, sir.

- But I tell you that I’ve called her ….

- Are you sure that this is the right number?

- Yes? This is the Stanley Club?

- Yes sir.

- Well, that’s who I’m trying to reach.

- What do you want me to tell you? In any case, no Miss Lane lives here.

- But I called her yesterday evening! You told me that she was out.

- I’m sorry, I don’t remember that.

- That’s impossible!

- I’ll look one more time, but I assure you that it’s useless.

- And no one by that name has moved in the last couple of days?

- There hasn’t been a vacant room for a year. You know, in New York, with the housing crisis…

- I know.

I hung up.

I went back to my office. Mary came back from the drugstore. She told me that my coffee was getting cold. I pretended that I had called Jim about that position that he had offered me. The lie barely showed. Now she’ll have an occasion to bring that back up.

I drank my coffee than I tried to work. But my mind was elsewhere.

She has to be somewhere. I didn’t dream her. Not any more than Mike dreamt Sally.

Sally! She also lives there!

I pretended like I had a migraine and had to go out to buy some pills. We had some at the house. I said that I couldn’t handle that brand. What futile lies!

I ran to the drugstore. The same receptionist answered me.

- Is Miss Sally Norton there?

- Hold on a second.

I felt my stomach in knots. First, she knew the names of the inhabitants by heart. Jane and Sally had lived at the Club for two years.

And then:

- Sorry, mister. There’s no one by that name here.

I stifled a moan.

- Is something wrong, sir?

- No Jane Lane and no Sally Norton?

- Are you the guy who called here a little while ago?

- Yes.

- Listen, if this is a joke…

- A joke! Yesterday evening I called and you told me that Miss Lane had gone out, asked me if I had a message. I told you that I didn’t. And now it’s you who’s fooling with me…

- I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t remember anything about yesterday night. If you would like the director…

- No, it’s useless.

I hung up, then I called Mike. He wasn’t home. His wife Gaby told me that he was dining out.

I was a little nervous, I babbled:

- With men friends?

She seemed shocked.

- I hope so!

I started to be afraid.