Act of God

call on Monday—yesterday—from the furniture store. I guess they had a line on their application form about ‘next of kin,’ and when Darbra didn’t show up for work after her vacation, the other owner called me.”
    “Would that have been Joel Bernstein?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did he say?”
    “Oh, not much. Just that Darbra was due back from vacation that morning but hadn’t shown up for work, and did I know where she was.”
    “Did you?”
    “No. In fact, I called a woman who lives in Darbra’s apartment building and sort of looks after things if she’s gone for a while. This woman—she’s actually a girlfriend of Darbra’s. You’ll want her name, I suppose?”
    “Please.”
    “Traci Wickmire. That’s T-R-A-C with an ‘I,’ last name W-I-C-K-M-I-R-E.”
    “And what did Wickmire tell you?”
    “Just that Darbra returned from vacation sometime Saturday, but never got in touch with her.”
    “Address?”
    He gave it to me, a building near Boston College .
    “Have you been to the police?”
    “Called them, actually. Started with headquarters, then got shunted around. The official message was that I’d have to wait awhile before I could file a missing-persons report. The unofficial message was that the matter would not be given a particularly high priority.”
    His choice of words was precise, the way you might expect a lawyer to talk. I know pharmacists have to be precise, too, but Proft’s demeanor suggested he’d rehearsed this, not for fear of being too nervous to present it accurately, but rather because he wanted to be sure I had all he thought I needed. “And so you decided to come to me.”
    “Well, Mrs. Rivkind and I decided together, as we said.”
    “Whose idea was it?”
    Proft looked at me and blinked, as though he were trying to figure whether I would have asked Pearl Rivkind the same question. “Well, I suppose it was my idea that we go to a private investigator, and her idea, through her husband’s lawyer, that we come to you.”
    Cute. “Tell me, Mr. Proft, did you ever study law?”
    The lip finally uncurled. “Briefly. I found it too... uncertain for my taste, except for tax, which I found uninspired. There is a certainty in my current profession that is rather satisfying. Measuring the proper dosage for a prescription and knowing that you’re right.”
    “Quantity over quality.”
    The lip recurled. “If you like.”
    A hard man to bait. “How long have you known Mrs. Rivkind?”
    “Oh, a few years. Her old pharmacy closed, and mine in Sharon got most of the business from it.”
    “You own the pharmacy?”
    “No. I work there.”
    “How well did you know Abraham Rivkind?”
    “I didn’t. Never met the man. Mrs. Rivkind did all their business at my... the pharmacy.”
    “Mr. Proft, now that we’re alone, I’ll ask you again. Do you have any reason to believe your sister’s disappearance is related to Abe Rivkind’s death?”
    “Let’s say I have no real evidence, Mr. Cuddy. Traci did mention that Darbra was upset about his death and therefore really looking forward to her vacation.”
    Traci mentioned. “You didn’t talk to your sister directly about Rivkind’s being killed?”
    “No.”
    “Are you and your sister close, Mr. Proft?”
    “Evidently not, by your definition. But I am her brother, and I am concerned about her.”
    Nice deflection. “Aside from Traci Wickmire, do you know any of the people in your sister’s life?”
    “Not really.” A glint came into his eyes. “Darbra does fool around a bit, even in these plague-ridden times.”
    “Might Wickmire be able to help me there?”
    “Probably. And, of course, the people at the furniture store.”
    Proft seemed to anticipate the question I didn’t want to ask him. “One thing, Mr. Cuddy. I didn’t know Mr. Rivkind, but I do know my sister. It would not be impossible for her to have some... beyond-business relationship with an older man. If so, so be it. If you wish to tell Mrs. Rivkind what you find out, that’s fine with me. I just want to know what may have happened to my sister.”
    Very thorough, relieving me of any conflict I might be feeling. “Maybe you should have stuck with the law, Mr. Proft.”
    “Perhaps. I would have been good at it, if not particularly happy doing it.”
    “Any other relatives your sister might have contacted?”
    “Contacted? No.”
    “Any other relatives, period?”
    “Our father... well, ‘ran out’ would be a polite expression for