Ghost of a Chance

“Not yet,” Leslie said in a quiet voice. That usually meant there was a client in the outer office. “There’s a Mrs. Hannah Cunningham outside who says her husband is missing.”

“What does she look like?” Alex asked. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but husbands with plain wives had an annoying tendency to look for greener pastures. Alex hated those cases because they always ended badly. Still, he was in no position to be picky.

“Young,” Leslie said. “And she’s a looker. Seems pretty upset.”

Alex pulled out his red rune book and checked to make sure he had a finding rune prepared. He had two.

“Send her in,” he said.

Mrs. Hannah Cunningham looked like she was still in her teens, but something about the way she carried herself made Alex peg her age at twenty-one or twenty-two. Leslie had been right; she was quite pretty, with delicate features, deep blue eyes, and hair a shade or two darker than strawberry blonde. Alex decided it was more the color of ripe wheat. Hannah wore sensible, working class clothes, a cream-colored blouse and a black skirt with navy flats. It was clear she wasn’t wealthy, but she had a beauty that made her appearance rich. The only detraction to her look were the tracks of tears that traced down her cheeks.

Alex rose as she came in and offered her the comfy chair in front of his desk.

“How can I help you, Mrs. Cunningham?” he asked once he’d taken his own seat.

“Didn’t your secretary tell you?” she asked. Her voice was pulled tight with worry.

“She did,” Alex admitted. “But I find it’s always good to hear a client’s problems from her own mouth. Saves misunderstandings.”

“Oh,” she said, more quietly. She wrung her hands together, nearly tearing the handkerchief she clutched in half. “I don’t know what to do, Mr. Lockerby,” she began. “My husband Leroy has been missing for three days.”

“Have you been to the police?”

She nodded.

“They say there’s nothing they can do beyond telling their officers to keep a lookout for him.” She leaned forward in the chair and clutched the edge of Alex’s desk. “I know something’s happened to him,” she said. “He would never just leave and not tell me where he was going.”

Her face had a desperate, anxious look, as if the next words out of Alex’s mouth had the power to save her or destroy her. He reached into his desk and pulled out a pair of shot glasses followed by his nearly empty bottle of bourbon.

“Here,” he said, pouring two-fingers’ worth into a glass and passing it to her. “This will calm your nerves.”

She took the glass and downed it in one gulp. Alex refilled it, then poured one for himself.

“What does Leroy do for work?” he asked.

“He’s a draftsman for Milton and White,” she said. “They’re an architectural firm on the west side. He also goes to school at night to become an architect himself.”

“Have you called his office and the school?”

She nodded.

“I called every day, but neither one of them have seen him.”

“How long have you and Leroy been married?” Alex asked.

“Three years,” Hannah said. “We met right after he moved to the city to go to school.”

“Where did he move from?”

“Coaldale,” she said. “It’s in West Virginia. Leroy grew up there.”

“Do you know if your husband had any enemies?” Alex asked, scribbling the details in his notebook. “Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?”

“No,” she gasped. “Everybody loved Leroy.”

“Does he gamble, or have debts?”

She shook her head.

“You’re not rich, are you?” Alex asked.

She shook her hand again, tears blooming afresh in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, setting the glass back on Alex’s desk. “I guess I made a mistake. I though you could just find Leroy with magic.”

“I can, Mrs. Cunningham,” he said, offering to fill her glass again before he realized the bottle was empty. “But the magic works better the more I know about the person I’m looking for, and why he might have disappeared.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m not being much help.”

“You’ve been a big help,” Alex lied to her. “Do you happen to have anything that belonged to your husband, or something he was attached to?”

Hannah started to shake her head, but stopped. She pulled a small silver ring off her finger and passed it over.

“This belonged to Leroy’s mother,” she said. “He gave it to me when we got married. It’s kind of a family heirloom.”

The ring was a simple band of silver, dented and scraped from years of wear, but it was clean and lovingly cared for.

“This will do,” Alex said. “I charge fifteen dollars to cast a finding rune.”

Hannah nodded and took a wad of faded and rumpled bills from her bag. Alex guessed she had raided the coffee tin or wherever they kept their emergency money. She counted out a five and ten ones, most of her stack, then returned what little remained to her handbag.

Alex pocketed the money, then removed the glasses and the empty bourbon bottle from his desk, stowing them back in the drawer where he’d gotten them. He then rose and moved to the filing cabinet in the corner. Opening the top drawer, Alex took out a rolled map of New York and a cigar box.