dropped the bag by accident, thought of something she’d forgotten to buy, and gone back to the mall. But he knew that made no sense. She went back and didn’t call him? Her phone had been on, her voice whispering ‘Rich,’ when he dialed her number. She could have called him. But she hadn’t called him. She hadn’t got into an accident. The car was in the parking lot. Didi wasn’t calling because she couldn’t call, and the proof was in his hands.
A girl stood behind the Freshens Yogurt counter. She smiled. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I hope so,’ said Rich intensely. ‘I hope so. My wife –’ He stammered. ‘My wife was here earlier today.’ He thrust the bag at her. She moved away. ‘My wife was here and bought these two pretzels.’
‘Walt, hold on, hold on, sir,’ said the girl. ‘I just came on. I don’t know anything.’
‘Who worked before you?’
‘Alex. He just left.’ Rich’s face must have implied urgency, because she said, ‘Wait, maybe he’s still in the back changing. Hold on.’
She came back a few minutes later with Alex.
‘It’s your lucky day,’ said Alex.
‘Somehow I doubt it,’ said Rich. ‘Unless you want to redefine the nature of my luck.’ He thrust the bag with the receipt and the pretzels at Alex. ‘My wife was here earlier. She bought these here.’
Glancing at the receipt, Alex said, almost defensively, ‘Is something wrong with them?’
‘No, but something could be wrong with my wife,’ said Rich. ‘She’s disappeared.’
Alex smirked a little. ‘Do you think it had something to do with the pretzels?’
The counter rattled when Rich slammed down his fist. ‘You think that’s funny? Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Let me explain. My wife, nine months pregnant, was here earlier today shopping. At twelve twenty-five she bought these from you. At twelve-thirty she called me and asked if she could meet me for lunch earlier than planned. At one o’clock she didn’t show up, and no one’s heard from her since. So now, tell me what part of that you find funny, so we can laugh together.’
Paling, Alex said, ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything. What did your wife look like?’
‘Pregnant. Extremely, inordinately, unbelievably pregnant. How many pregnant women did you serve today?’
‘Well, one that I remember,’ said Alex grumpily. ‘But you know, the counter is high – I don’t look over and check out my customers’ stomachs.’
Rich reached over and grabbed Alex by the shoulders, shaking him. ‘God, help me. Please,’ he whispered. ‘My wife is missing.’
Immediately he let go; Alex looked noticeably upset. Rubbing his arms, the teenager said, ‘Look, I don’t know anything. I just saw one pregnant woman here, long dark hair, carrying a lot of bags.’
Rich brightened. ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘That sounds like my wife. What was she wearing?’
‘I don’t know – oh, wait. A yellow dress.’
Rich nodded. ‘That’s my wife.’ Did that make him feel better? If it did, it didn’t make him feel better for long.
‘Yeah?’ Alex said. ‘That’s all I can tell you. She bought a couple of pretzels, I think. Paid. Left, carrying all her bags. A guy who was here buying a pretzel for himself caught up to her and asked her if she needed some help with the bags –’
Rich asked in a small, stricken voice, ‘What guy?’
‘I don’t know. Some guy. I’d never seen him before.’
‘No, of course not. Did my wife seem to know him?’
‘No. He seemed nice, though. Kept asking her questions about the pregnancy, you know, when she was due, that sort of thing.’
Rich stepped back from the counter. ‘This guy, what did he look like?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I didn’t pay attention.’
‘Please try to remember.’
‘I really don’t know. Maybe your age.’ Alex looked Rich over. ‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-four.’
‘No. I don’t know. He was older than me, that’s all I know.’
‘Beard? Mustache?’
‘No, clean-cut. Short hair. Taller than me.’
‘Taller than me?‘ asked Rich.
‘How tall are you?’
‘Six feet.’
‘No, I don’t think so. Taller than your wife.’
‘Do you remember what he was wearing?’
‘Listen, he was just a guy. There was nothing special about him. He was just another customer, you know?’
‘You don’t remember what he was wearing?’
Shrugging, Alex said, ‘No, not really.’ He glanced over at the salesgirl, who was listening to the conversation. She shrugged, as if to give him moral support. Alex turned back to Rich. ‘I think jeans, a jacket. But I can’t be sure.’
Rich was quiet. ‘You said he approached my wife and asked her if she needed help with the bags?’
‘I think that’s what he asked her.’
‘And she?’
‘I don’t know. They were, like, too far from me. I didn’t hear her. I assume she said no thanks, because he lagged behind and she walked on by herself.’
‘When you say lagged behind –’
‘What?’
‘“Lagged behind” implies he followed her. Or did he turn around and go the other way?’
Scratching his head, Alex said, ‘No. I think he lagged behind. I think he went the same way she did. I’m not sure. I got another customer, and stopped watching them.’
Rich’s hands were drumming on the counter. ‘Did you get a feeling about him?’
‘No, I got no feeling about him,’ said Alex, for some reason sounding offended.
‘Did you see him again?’
‘No, I got busy. It was lunchtime. I didn’t see anybody.’
‘Didn’t see my wife either?’
‘Uh – come to think of it, I did see him. I saw her too. She was walking back from over there.’ Alex pointed. ‘She had more bags in her hands. She looked
