he were looking for something. And when we first met—”
“When was that?”
“This spring. In Italy. In Naples, to be exact. We were attracted to each other from the start, partly because of a mutual interest in music and art, and partly because we both loved the country. He had lived in Italy for several years when he was a child, and later, after college, and of course he spoke the language fluently. He showed me a lot of the country I probably wouldn’t have seen or understood alone, and the night before he was supposed to sail for the States he asked me to marry him. I didn’t give him any definite answer, because it had been such a short time, but I did try to get him to delay his sailing and fly back from Paris with me a couple of weeks later. He had passage booked on some small freight-and-passenger ship sailing from Genoa for the Gulf Coast.”
Reno glanced up quickly. “Waynesport?”
She nodded.
“And he wouldn’t change his mind?”
“No. That’s the reason I’m telling you this. I’m trying to explain that feeling. I pointed out that he would get back just as soon if he waited and flew, as it was a slow ship, but he insisted he had to go. At the time I thought perhaps he didn’t have much money, and couldn’t afford it. But, as it turned out, he must have had some other reason, for when he came on out to San Francisco and we continued seeing each other and later were married, in May, he apparently had no money worries.”
“And you don’t know anything about his business at all?”
“No. He never talked about money. I gathered from a few things he let drop that his mother had left him some property in the South, and I had the impression it was in Waynesport. But, Mr. Reno, nobody down here had ever heard of him!”
“Well,” Reno said soothingly, “as you said, it’s a large place. But tell me—and this may be a little personal, but I wish you’d answer it anyway—when he left, you hadn’t had a quarrel?”
She shook her head emphatically. “Heavens, no. In fact, I begged him to let me go too. But he said he’d be busy all the time, and that it was awfully hot down here in summer. We had never quarreled. He was a little moody and preoccupied that day, after he read the paper, but he was always very kind and considerate.”
“You mean the Waynesport paper?”
“Yes. The Express. He—”
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt so much, Mrs. Conway. But it was after he read the paper that he told you he was coming down here?”
“Yes. He had just come in from the street with it and was reading it in the living room. I was in another room and thought I heard him say something and went to the door to see if he had spoken to me. But he was so deeply engrossed in what he was reading he didn’t notice me. All the rest of the day he was very absent-minded, and that night he said he’d have to go to Waynesport.”
“Do you still have the paper?”
“No. I’m sorry. Mr. McHugh also asked for it, but it had been thrown away.”
“Do you remember the date of it?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. But it must have been July twelfth. As you say, it was always two or three days old when he got it, and he left San Francisco the next morning, which was the sixteenth.”
“And the last letter you received from him was mailed in Waynesport four or five days later?”
“Yes. On the twentieth.”
A little over a month ago, Reno thought. And for nearly all that time his car was in a police garage. Something either happened to him, or he was doing a deliberate runout on her. But why did he keep writing until he got here if he intended to fade? It didn’t make sense. He got up and prowled around restlessly.
“All right, Mrs. Conway,” he said. “Can you tell me what you heard from McHugh from the time he got here?”
“Just a minute, please.” She went out into the bedroom. In a minute she came back carrying two thick envelopes and a telegram. “This is all of it,” she said, “except one long-distance telephone call. The phone call was last, and the strangest of all, and it made me think that maybe he had found something.” She was quiet for a moment as she