P Is for Peril

here; the next, he was gone. He came back a few weeks later without a murmur of explanation or apology. Naturally, I've assumed this recent disappearance was a repeat performance."
    "What prompted his departure on those earlier occasions?"
    Her gesture was vague, smoke trailing from the tip of her cigarette. "I suppose we were having problems. We usually were. At any rate, Dow kept saying he needed time to clear his head-whatever that means. One day soon after that he simply didn't come home. He'd canceled his appointments, including social engagements, all without a word to me or to anyone else. The first I became aware was when he failed to arrive for dinner. The second time was the same except I didn't go out of my mind with worry."
    "So in both of those instances, he behaved much as he did this time?"
    "Exactly. The first time, it took hours before I realized he was gone. The man's a doctor and, naturally, he was often delayed. By midnight, I was wild-close to hysterical. I thought I'd go mad."
    "You called the police?"
    "I called everyone I could think of. Then first thing the next morning, a note arrived in the mail. He said he'd come home eventually, which is exactly what he did. I was furious, of course, but he seemed totally unconcerned. Fool that I am, I forgave him and we went on as before. The marriage was good, or good enough from my perspective. I thought he was happy-until this business with Crystal. For all I know, he'd been fooling around with her for years."
    "What made you stay?"
    "I thought he was a good husband. That's how innocent I was. He tended to be distant, but I didn't fault him-at least, on a conscious level. I might have harbored resentments, but I wasn't aware of them. Looking back, I realize there are many ways a man can disappear."
    "Such as?"
    She shrugged, stubbing out her cigarette. "Television, sleep, alcohol, books, uppers, downers. I'm speaking in general terms, but you get my drift."
    "And in his case?"
    "Dow buried himself in his work. Went in early, stayed at the office until all hours of the night. What you have to understand about him is, he's someone who avoids disagreements. That's why he loves the elderly-because they make no real demands on him. Being a physician gives him status, which has always been better, in his mind, than having to be accountable like any ordinary mortal."
    "How long were you married?"
    "Close to forty years. We met at Syracuse. I was majoring in art history and he was pre-med. We married shortly after graduation. Dow went on to medical school at Penn State and did his internship and residency out here. By then, we had the girls. I stayed home with them until they were both in school and then I went back and got my master's in interior design. I designed the house we built soon afterward in Horton Ravine. Of course, we hired an architect to handle all the nuts and bolts."
    "He still owns that house?"
    "Yes, though Crystal doesn't care for it from what I've heard."
    "You didn't ask for the house in the settlement?"
    "I couldn't afford the mortgage and upkeep. To hear him tell it, he was fleeced. Strictly his point of view. Believe me, he got the better deal. He probably paid someone off-the judge, my lawyer. You know how men stick together when it comes to the almighty buck."
    I noticed she was busy shading my perception, scoring points for her team. Divorced folk always seem to angle for your sympathy, casting themselves in the best possible light. It seemed odd, in this case, when the reason for my visit was to see if I could be of help in the search for him. Was she still in love with the man? "It must have been difficult when the marriage broke up," I murmured.
    "Humiliating. Devastating. It was such a cliché Doctor goes through a midlife crisis, leaves his middle-aged wife to take up with some whore."
    The papers had had a field day with the fact that Crystal had been a stripper. Still, I questioned Fiona's use of the word "whore." Stripping, as a way of earning money, doesn't necessarily translate into hookerdom. For all we knew, Crystal might have earned her master's in psychiatric social work. "How did he meet her?"
    "You'd have to ask her that. The truth is, Dow developed an appetite for… mmm… unusual sexual practices. His hormones were off or his anxiety levels began to climb as he aged. Possibly his problems harked back to his mother. Everything else connects to his relationship with her. Whatever the reason, once Dowan turned