Longarm 245: Longarm and the Vanishing Virgin Read Free Page A

couple of days after Nora had disappeared. I feel certain that she took it with her for protection.”
    â€œProtection from what?”
    â€œWell ... whatever she might encounter, wherever she might have gone.”
    For a tycoon, Canady was a vague son of a bitch, mused Longarm. But as he had thought a moment earlier, this was probably unfamiliar territory for a man such as Canady.
    â€œCan she shoot a gun?” Longarm asked.
    The question brought an emphatic nod from Canady. “Yes, she can. I saw to it that she knows how to handle a weapon.”
    â€œShe’s an excellent shot,” added Palmer. “We’ve gone hunting together before.”
    That was a nice romantic thing to do for a couple of folks who were engaged, thought Longarm. He kept that comment to himself and said instead, “There was no note or anything like that left behind?”
    Canady shook his head. “Nothing. She was just... gone.”
    â€œAnd this was ... ?”
    â€œThree days ago. The wedding was supposed to be on Sunday afternoon, and the last time anyone saw Nora was on Saturday night.”
    Longarm nodded. This situation was mighty puzzling, all right—why would a gal run away from home when she was about to get married to a handsome, influential gent like Jonas Palmer?—but Longarm still didn’t see that it had anything to do with him.
    â€œI’m mighty sorry about everything that’s happened,” he said, “but it seems to me that this is a matter for the Denver police.”
    Canady and Palmer were both shaking their heads before the words were finished coming from Longarm’s mouth. “We can’t risk going to the police,” Palmer said. “It’s vitally important that the newspapers not get wind of what’s happened.”
    â€œI’m sure the police would mean to be discreet,” added Canady, “but there’s simply too much chance that the news could get out.”
    Longarm had to think about what that meant, but only for a moment. Like all politicians, Palmer was loved by some of the papers and hated by others. As a railroad baron, the same was true of Bryce Canady. If it became common knowledge that Canady’s daughter had run away from home rather than marry Palmer, some of the papers would play up the story for all it was worth—and more—just to hurt Canady’s business and damage Palmer’s political career. The two men might be genuinely concerned about Nora’s welfare, but at the same time, they were pragmatic enough to worry about how the story would look in the papers.
    Longarm mentally pawed through those ruminations for a minute, then said, “I recall seeing stories in the papers about how the wedding was coming up. How did you explain that it didn’t happen when it was supposed to?”
    â€œWe’ve told the press that the wedding was postponed due to an unexpected illness,” Canady said.
    â€œYou told the reporters Miss Nora was sick?”
    â€œNo. We said that my wife was ill.” Canady’s fingers tightened on the head of the walking stick again. “As a point of fact, that happens to be true. My wife is so distraught over Nora’s disappearance that she has taken to her bed.”
    Longarm tossed the report Billy Vail had written onto the chief marshal’s desk, then leaned back in his chair and cocked his right ankle on his left knee. He wanted another cheroot, but he wasn’t sure how Billy would feel about him lighting up right now.
    â€œSo Miss Nora’s gone, the papers don’t know it, the police don’t know it, and you want me to find her,” he said.
    Both visitors nodded. “Can you help us, Marshal Long?” asked Palmer.
    Longarm looked across the desk at Vail. “What do you think, Billy?”
    Vail shrugged his shoulders and said, “I reckon I can’t help you on this one, Custis. It’s up to you. I can’t order