Excerpt of Vanished in the Crowd by Rhys Bowen, Clare Broyles

As I turned into Patchin Place a man was walking up the alley to Sid and Gus’ door. I hurried forward, hoping it was our friend Ryan, a playwright and charmer who made any occasion more lively. But it wasn’t Ryan. The man standing at their front door wore a black wool suit with a soft fedora. I looked at him with some curiosity, I confess, as he rang the bell, but decided to mind my own business as I walked up my own front steps. I had just put my shopping bags down in the kitchen and gone back to properly close the door when I heard shouting. 

“I know she’s in there. Open the door.” The man pounded on Sid and Gus’s front door so violently I thought he might make a dent. I waited, peering out of my door, wondering if anyone would appear from their house. Then, as he pounded again, I decided to take the matter in hand. 

“Excuse me,” I said, crossing the little place. “I am a friend of this house. Could I ask who you are looking for?”  

“I’m looking for my wife,” the man turned and fixed me with an unpleasant stare. “She told me she was coming to stay with her friend Mrs. Walcott.” 

“Miss,” I corrected. “You must be Mr. Parker.” 

“Dr. Parker,” he corrected me automatically. 

“Dr. Parker,” I went on, “I spoke to Miss Walcott last night and she was very concerned that your wife hadn’t arrived yet. In fact,” the thought came to me as I spoke. “Miss Walcott was planning on calling on some friends this morning to ask if anyone in their group had seen your wife. If you come back this afternoon she may have some news for you.” 

“I had never heard of this lady until weeks ago,” he said accusingly, stepping back to get a view of the upper windows. “How do I know my wife isn’t here? Look, there is someone in the window upstairs.” It was true the curtain had moved. Someone must be home. The thought occurred to me that I would not put it past Sid and Gus to hide a wife from a belligerent husband. But they had seem worried as to her whereabouts as well. He resumed his pounding on the door. “Willa!  Willa, come down here this instant. I order you!” 

Just then the door flew open and Gus’ cousin Prudence stepped out. “What on earth is the meaning of this racket?” She fixed us both with a frosty stare.  

“I’m looking for my wife,” the man took a step backwards. Aunt Prudence was a commanding presence. “And she was supposed to be staying with the Walcott person here.” 

Prudence stepped forward again, causing the man to step back onto the pavement. She pulled herself up to her full height and looked down at him. “If you have been so careless as to lose your wife,” she said, “it is not the concern of this respectable household led by Miss Augusta Walcott, of the Boston Walcotts,” she said in ringing tones.  “Miss Walcott,” she continued, “ is not at home presently. She has presently gone out. I am the only person present,” The man was shocked into silence and stood, his mouth gaping slightly. Prudence was not ready to give up the battle yet.  “Would you like to search me,” she continued, “to see if I have hidden your wife somewhere on my person?” And she held her impressive arms wide. All of the bluster went out of the man. He took his hat off and gave a small bow.  

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m just very worried about my wife. We have a little boy at home and he is missing his mother. What do I tell him?” 

“I’m sure Miss Walcott will do everything she can to help,” I said, softening at the mention of a child. “She is not a kidnapper, I can assure you. Are you sure that your wife came to New York?” I asked. 

“I took her to the train station, myself,” he said, clearly making an effort to be calm. “She was supposed to telephone when she arrived.” 

“I promise you, I will inform my cousin of your visit as soon as she arrives,” Prudence said stiffly, still holding her arms out as if blocking Dr. Parker physically from the door. “She will be in touch with you with any information that she has obtained.” 

“Will you be staying on in the city, Dr. Parker?” I asked, “Or returning to Philadelphia?” 

“Staying on, of course, until I locate my wife.” He snapped out the words. 

“Where are you staying then?” I asked.  “How shall we know where to locate you with a message?” 

“I don’t know yet,” the man wiped his eyes tiredly. “It seems that every hotel in the city is full. I have some acquaintances among the professors at NYU. I’ll see if one of them can put me up.” That explained his appearance. The ill‑fitting thick suit and soft hat were the mark of an academic of some sort. I remembered that we had been told he was a scientist.  “I will come back this afternoon to see if Miss Walcott has any news for me.” He raised his hat, gave a stiff little bow in Prudence’s direction and walked off down Patchin Place toward the Jefferson Market building.