The Motion of Puppets

“You’re late,” Egon said. “And you needn’t pretend. We have several witnesses who will swear that you were both at a dinner party together and that you followed her home last night.”


Bending at the waist, Reance eased himself down so that he could be face-to-face with the little man. “Who may I ask is asking? Is this a detective?”

“Kay is my wife,” Theo blurted out. “And I’d like to find out just where she is.”

“Good sir, kind sir, I do not know anything at all about Kay’s whereabouts. True, she was with a small party of lovelies that dined with me last night, but I assure you there was nothing improper, not a jot. You may ask Sarant or any of the others. Just a treat for the hardworking and unsung members of the company. And it is true, as well, that our libations extended to the wee hours of the morn, but unfortunately there was never a moment when I was alone with any of the fair sex. After the party broke up, the women hopped in a taxi, and your wife, quite stubbornly and quite against my better judgment, decided to walk home, the night being fair and dry. She departed us, and my upbringing as a gentleman—call me old-fashioned—persuaded me otherwise. That is to say, she should not be unescorted at such a late hour. Sadly, however, I had waited too long to accompany her. She had mentioned a flat on Dalhousie, and so I set off, but could not find her. She had simply disappeared. And I have neither seen nor heard from her from that moment to this.”

The thoroughness of his explanation silenced them. He was very good, this actor.

“And furthermore, I wandered about the Basse-Ville for a long while looking for Kay, until I myself was nearly lost, but then headed home for the night. Alone. My cats will verify. And because I was so worried, I could not sleep a wink till dawn and then woke late and am now tardy for the run-through of changes for tonight’s show; and the director will have my hide. I’m sorry, Mr. Harper, about your wife, and I do hope you’ll tell me what happened, or she will, when she shows up, but I really must be going. And as for you, Egon, my fine friend, we shall discuss your impertinence in private.”

For a fleeting moment, Theo wished that Kay had been with Reance, so that at least she could be situated at a particular place in the world, but now she was adrift again, lost in the night. He checked his phone for the hundredth time that afternoon. He called her mother in Vermont and left a message asking her to call if she should hear from Kay, not to worry, just a miscommunication. He sent a mass text to all their mutual friends back in New York.

“I’ve got to get going,” Egon said. “The show.”

“Do you believe him?”

“He’s an actor.” He shrugged and showed him his palms. “That said, we’re no closer to finding your wife than when you arrived. Perhaps you should think about contacting the police.”

*