living room, watched a Beckett play on Channel 13, had a few drinks.
Mrs Dark came in about 10.30 to say goodnight and went to her room at the far end of the apartment.
They did not begin to become concerned about the Professor's whereabouts until 11.00 p.m. They called the deskman in the lobby, who could only report that Stonehouse had left the building at 8.45 and hadn't returned.
They awoke Mrs Dark to ask if the Professor had men-57
tioned anything to her about where he was going. She said he hadn't, but she shared their concern and joined them in the living room, wearing a robe over her nightgown. They then called some of the Professor's professional associates, apologizing for the lateness of the hour. No one had seen him or heard from him. He had no friends other than professional associates.
By 11.30 they all were worried and uncertain what they should do. They were hesitant about calling the police. If they called and he walked in a few minutes later, he'd be furious.
'He had a violent temper,' Glynis said.
Glynis returned from the theatre a little after midnight and was told of her father's absence. She suggested they call the garage to see if Stonehouse had taken out his car.
Powell called and was informed that the car was still parked there.
The four of them waited until 2.00 a.m. and then called the local precinct. The officer they spoke to told them that it would not be a matter for the Missing Persons Bureau until the Professor was absent for 24 hours, but meanwhile he would check accident reports and hospital emergency rooms. He said he'd call them back.
They waited, awake and drinking coffee, until 3.20
when the police officer called and told them there were no reports of accidents involving Professor Stonehouse or anyone answering his description.
There seemed to be nothing more they could do. The next day they made more phone calls, and Powell rang the bells of neighbours and even walked around the neighbourhood streets, asking at newsstands and all-night restaurants. No one had seen his father or anyone like him.
After twenty-four hours had passed, they reported the Professor as a missing person to the New York Police Department, and that was that.
I took a deep breath.
58
'I don't like to take so much of your time on this first meeting,' I said. 'I hope you'll allow me to come back again, or call as questions occur to me.'
'Of course,' Glynis Stonehouse said. 'And take as much time as you like. We're anxious to do anything we can to help.'
'Just a few questions then,' I said, looking at her. 'Did your father have any enemies? Anyone who might harbour sufficient ill-will t o . . . '
I let that trail off, but she didn't flinch. Then again, she didn't look like the flinching type.
Glynis Stonehouse was taller than her mother. A compact body, curved with brio. Tawny hair hung sleekly to her shoulders. She had a triangular face with dark eyes of denim blue. Wide, sculpted lips with a minimum of rouge.
She was wearing a simple shift, thin stuff that touched breast, hip, thigh. No jewellery.
I had the impression of a lot of passion there, kept under disciplined control. The dark eyes gave nothing away, and she rarely smiled or frowned. She had the habit of pausing, very briefly, before answering a question. Just a half-beat, but enough to convince me she was giving her replies extra thought.
'No, Mr Bigg,' she said evenly. 'I don't believe my father had enemies who hated him enough to do him harm.'
'But he did have enemies?' I persisted.
'There are a lot of people who disliked him. He was not an easy man to like.'
'Oh, Glynis,' her mother said sorrowfully.
'Mr Bigg might as well know the truth, Mother; it may help his investigation. My father was — is a tyrant, Mr Bigg. Opinionated, stubborn, dictatorial, with a very low boiling point. Constantly suing people for the most ridiculous reasons. Of course he had enemies, at the University and everywhere else he went. But I know of no one
Mrs Dark came in about 10.30 to say goodnight and went to her room at the far end of the apartment.
They did not begin to become concerned about the Professor's whereabouts until 11.00 p.m. They called the deskman in the lobby, who could only report that Stonehouse had left the building at 8.45 and hadn't returned.
They awoke Mrs Dark to ask if the Professor had men-57
tioned anything to her about where he was going. She said he hadn't, but she shared their concern and joined them in the living room, wearing a robe over her nightgown. They then called some of the Professor's professional associates, apologizing for the lateness of the hour. No one had seen him or heard from him. He had no friends other than professional associates.
By 11.30 they all were worried and uncertain what they should do. They were hesitant about calling the police. If they called and he walked in a few minutes later, he'd be furious.
'He had a violent temper,' Glynis said.
Glynis returned from the theatre a little after midnight and was told of her father's absence. She suggested they call the garage to see if Stonehouse had taken out his car.
Powell called and was informed that the car was still parked there.
The four of them waited until 2.00 a.m. and then called the local precinct. The officer they spoke to told them that it would not be a matter for the Missing Persons Bureau until the Professor was absent for 24 hours, but meanwhile he would check accident reports and hospital emergency rooms. He said he'd call them back.
They waited, awake and drinking coffee, until 3.20
when the police officer called and told them there were no reports of accidents involving Professor Stonehouse or anyone answering his description.
There seemed to be nothing more they could do. The next day they made more phone calls, and Powell rang the bells of neighbours and even walked around the neighbourhood streets, asking at newsstands and all-night restaurants. No one had seen his father or anyone like him.
After twenty-four hours had passed, they reported the Professor as a missing person to the New York Police Department, and that was that.
I took a deep breath.
58
'I don't like to take so much of your time on this first meeting,' I said. 'I hope you'll allow me to come back again, or call as questions occur to me.'
'Of course,' Glynis Stonehouse said. 'And take as much time as you like. We're anxious to do anything we can to help.'
'Just a few questions then,' I said, looking at her. 'Did your father have any enemies? Anyone who might harbour sufficient ill-will t o . . . '
I let that trail off, but she didn't flinch. Then again, she didn't look like the flinching type.
Glynis Stonehouse was taller than her mother. A compact body, curved with brio. Tawny hair hung sleekly to her shoulders. She had a triangular face with dark eyes of denim blue. Wide, sculpted lips with a minimum of rouge.
She was wearing a simple shift, thin stuff that touched breast, hip, thigh. No jewellery.
I had the impression of a lot of passion there, kept under disciplined control. The dark eyes gave nothing away, and she rarely smiled or frowned. She had the habit of pausing, very briefly, before answering a question. Just a half-beat, but enough to convince me she was giving her replies extra thought.
'No, Mr Bigg,' she said evenly. 'I don't believe my father had enemies who hated him enough to do him harm.'
'But he did have enemies?' I persisted.
'There are a lot of people who disliked him. He was not an easy man to like.'
'Oh, Glynis,' her mother said sorrowfully.
'Mr Bigg might as well know the truth, Mother; it may help his investigation. My father was — is a tyrant, Mr Bigg. Opinionated, stubborn, dictatorial, with a very low boiling point. Constantly suing people for the most ridiculous reasons. Of course he had enemies, at the University and everywhere else he went. But I know of no one
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