The Wycherly Woman Read Free

Wycherly’ at the top of it, and under the name, ‘mother-Catherine,’ and ‘boy friend-Bobby,’ with a question mark. I listed her clothes.
    “What are you writing?” Wycherly leaned towards me suspiciously. “Why have you written down Catherine’s name?”
    “I’m practicing penmanship.”
    The words slipped out. He was getting on my nerves.
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Nothing in particular.”
    “How dare you speak to me like that?”
    “Sorry, but you’ve been crowding me, Mr. Wycherly. I can’t very well take on a case where whole lines of investigation are blocked off by the whim of my principal. I have to be free to follow the facts where they lead me.”
    “But you’re working for me.”
    “I haven’t taken your money yet.”
    “Here.” He reached inside his coat, grinning at me fiercely, as if he felt a twinge of angina there. He slapped his hand with the alligator wallet. “How much?”
    “It depends on how much of an effort you want. I usually work alone, but there are other people I can call in—men and organizations all over the country.”
    “No. We’ll wait and see if that is indicated.”
    “It’s your money. And your daughter. Have you considered using the police?”
    “I talked it over last night with our local Sheriff. Hooper’s an old personal friend, he used to work for Father. It’s his opinion that we wouldn’t get much cooperation by simply filing a missing report. You have to have a crime, it appears, beforeyou can stir up the animals.” His voice was bleak, and it didn’t change perceptibly when he added: “Sheriff Hooper recommended you.”
    “That was nice of him.”
    “He said you had a reputation for discretion. I hope it’s justified. I don’t want any publicity in this thing, and I’ve had a bad experience with private detectives so-called.”
    “What happened?”
    “We won’t go into it. It has nothing to do with the present matter.” He was holding his wallet like a poultice against his stomach. “How much do you want for a start?”
    “Five hundred,” I said, doubling the usual amount.
    Without any argument, he dealt ten fifties into my hand.
    “This doesn’t buy me, you know. I consider myself free to follow the facts.”
    He managed to smile in a lopsided way. “Within the bounds of discretion, certainly. I simply don’t want Catherine spreading poisonous lies about—well, about me, and Phoebe.”
    “What sort of lies does she tell?”
    “Please.” He raised his hand. “Catherine has taken up enough of our time. It’s Phoebe we’re interested in, after all.”
    “All right, you say she came to the boat to see you off, and that’s the last you know of her whereabouts. What was the date?”
    “The President Jackson sailed November the second. It brought me back to San Francisco yesterday. I tried to telephone Phoebe as soon as we docked. I’d been concerned at having no mail from her, though not so deeply concerned as I should have been. She’s always been a poor correspondent. You can imagine the shock I experienced when her roommate told me on the phone that she hadn’t been there for two months.”
    “Wasn’t the roommate alarmed?”
    “I believe she was. But she’d managed to convince herself, or been convinced, that Phoebe was with me. She thought,or said she thought, that Phoebe had decided at the last minute to go along on the cruise.”
    “Had you discussed that possibility with Phoebe?”
    “Yes, I had. I wanted her to come along. But she was just beginning her senior year at a new school, and she was eager to stay with it. Phoebe is a very serious girl.”
    “And there was the boy friend.”
    “Yes. I’m sure he entered into the picture.”
    “What did Phoebe have to say about him?”
    “Not very much. Presumably she’d known him less than two months. She only started at Boulder Beach in September.”
    “I should be able to find out who he is from the roommate. Can you give me her