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out. But she still has to come back for her things. That’s why I said you might get to say goodbye.” She took out the sherry bottle and took a quick drink, saying to it, “I knew you were in there.” She replaced the bottle and headed for the kitchen. At the doorway she said to Jess whose back was turned, “Have you seen Claude?” She cleared her throat from the bite of the sherry and added, “That cat, that damned cat is missing again. I haven’t seen him for twenty-four hours. God only knows what he’s doing, but I can guess. I should have had him fixed.”
    She didn’t notice Jess wince for she had turned away and was starting through the house calling out sweetly, “Here, kitty. Here, Claude. Claude, kitty, here baby, where are you?”

CHAPTER SIX
    The local police station was festooned with Christmas decorations which somehow added not a drop of cheer to its rather austere interior. They made it look even more forlorn and cheerless. Mr. Harrison was trying not to think of the decorations, though, as he attempted to explain to the sergeant on duty about his missing daughter. Phyllis and Barbara were with him but, he noted bitterly, Barbara was less than any help and should have been, in his opinion, arrested and confined to the drunk tank that he had been told all small-town police stations had in readiness for the inevitable Saturday night.
    “What are you going to do about this?” he was saying, trying to keep his voice from becoming high-pitched, yet wanting to be heard over the two girls, especially Barbara, who was becoming, along with everything else, obstreperous. If she were my daughter, he told himself . . . Well, some other time.
    “We called there,” Phyllis was saying in answer to a question. “All I know for certain is that she is not at the sorority house and never showed up at the fraternity house.”
    “Nobody’s seen her since last night,” Barbara said, leering as she spoke.
    “Please,” Mr. Harrison said, “just a minute, girls. Now, what’s the procedure?”
    Ignoring him Barbara said, “Yeah, what’s the procedure, General.”
    Irritated and getting nothing accomplished the sergeant shouted, “Quiet!” When they all suddenly stopped talking he lowered his voice and added, “Could you just give it to me one at a time?”
    Rudely Barbara said, “Well, what the hell good would it do? What we want to know is what you’re going to do about it?”
    “Nothing, until you shut up,” he answered in kind, pointing at her.
    “For a public servant, your attitude stinks. I think you should—”
    Eyeing her sternly he said, “Shut up!”
    When his words finally had the desired effect of getting her to be still he turned to Mr. Harrison. “Now, sir, uh, Mr. Harrison? If you’re convinced your daughter’s missing, you can fill out one of these forms.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a file folder containing a sheaf of papers. Leafing through it he found the one he wanted and put it on the counter. Then he said, “I don’t know if it’ll be any consolation but ninety percent of the time girls are missing from college, or have been reported missing, they’ve been off somewhere at a cabin or something like that with their boyfriends.” His voice trailed off when Mr. Harrison shot him a withering glance.
    “Thanks, but that’s not much consolation.”
    Pugnaciously Barbara leaned over the desk. “Yeah. Just what are you insinuating, buster? Huh? Just what are you insinuating?”
    Exasperated, he tried to control his temper. “Look, why don’t you just go to the counter over there and help him fill out the form?”
    “No! I want to know what you mean by that. Just what do you think we are? What kind of person do you take me for?” He just looked up at her from beneath his heavy eyelids and she backed off, turning to Phyl and saying, “Well, I think he should take it back! He’s not talking to me like that.”
    “I wasn’t talking to you, young lady. But if