Where Is Bianca? Read Free Page A

help, but if this concerns Bianca—my darling Bianca—I’ll do anything I can.”
    He’s a lousy actor to boot, Corrigan thought.
    Chuck Baer said smoothly, “Mr. Lessard’s been under a considerable strain, Captain. You know how it is when a loved one turns up missing and suddenly a call comes from the police.”
    â€œYou’re right, Mr. Baer!” Lessard said. “That’s exactly it. It began in such an innocent way.… If only I’d stopped her from leaving that night.… Captain, please! Tell me if my wife is—”
    â€œHow long have you and Mrs. Lessard been married?” asked Corrigan.
    â€œCaptain, I insist you tell me—”
    â€œWhere did you meet her, Mr. Lessard?”
    The man’s knuckles whitened on the arms of the chair. A sort of ferocity had sprung into the eyes staring at Corrigan, the mask slipping for a moment; but then he went back into his act. There was nothing in the pleasant face confronting him across the desk that promised a performance of any kind except by Corrigan’s own script.
    Lessard’s hands went to his lap, limply; so helpless. “I met Bianca in the Adirondacks,” he said. “At a resort hotel, the Nulan Inn.”
    â€œWhere you were both staying?”
    â€œWell, no. As a matter of fact, Bianca was staying at Adirondacks Hall.”
    Corrigan said, “Adirondacks Hall. That’s a sanitarium, I believe.” Chuck Baer was sitting up a little. “Isn’t it?”
    â€œIf you’re implying that my wife was a mental case,” Lessard said stiffishly, “I can assure you she wasn’t .”
    â€œI wasn’t implying anything, Mr. Lessard. I’m simply trying to get some information. Adirondacks Hall is widely known as a hideaway for people with emotional problems—and lots of money to pamper them.”
    â€œShe wasn’t pampering them, Captain! She’d been through a terrible ordeal. Her parents and her aunt had been killed. Bianca flew back from Europe, managed to take hold of things and only collapsed after the triple funeral. Anyone might have, especially a sensitive girl like Bianca. She needed rest, and she needed a little therapeutic help, to get her over the hump.”
    â€œFrom what I’ve heard, Adirondacks Hall was just the place for Mrs. Lessard to get both,” Corrigan said agreeably. “How did she happen to be at Nulan Inn?”
    Vincent Lessard looked uncomfortable. “Well.…”
    â€œWere you a guest there, Mr. Lessard?”
    Lessard’s classic chin came up. “I was employed there.”
    â€œIn what capacity?”
    â€œSee here—”
    â€œJust asking,” Corrigan said.
    â€œI was the social director, if you must know. The Hall is close by. Once in a while patients who were ready to leave the sanitorium would drop over to our Saturday night dances or Sunday lawn brunches.”
    Corrigan could visualize Lessard, in French flannels and blazer, leading a community sing, profile to the sun. He must have had a high old time with the ladies.
    â€œAnd you met Bianca Fielding at one of these things?”
    â€œI did!”
    â€œLonely girl, I suppose,” Corrigan murmured.
    The details of Lessard’s façade shifted. Deep in his beautiful eyes appeared a sparkle of caution.
    â€œOf course she was lonely, Captain. Poor little girl. Bianca was born in the United States, but she was a stranger here. Her parents took her to Europe when she was very young, and she did most of her growing up there. Losing those nearest and dearest to her so suddenly.… Yes, she was lonely. What’s the point of all this, Captain?”
    The point, Corrigan thought, is that a poor little rich girl, an overnight orphan, probably unhappy to begin with, straight out of a sanitorium (under other circumstances it could have been a convent), was sucker bait for any slick operator in the immediate