That cluster of lilac blossoms depicted in the photograph was oddly like Arlene’s corsage!
Eyes narrowing, a flush sweeping his pale face, Phil swung toward the phone booth. Another oddity impressed him now; he couldn’t see Arlene through the glass of the closed door. There were times when Phil Harley could become impulsive and this was one of them.
Striding to the phone booth, Phil thrust the door open on its inward hinges, intending to interrupt Arlene and ask her what the lilac was all about.
That was simply the beginning of a real surprise. Arlene Forster wasn’t in the phone booth. It was entirely empty!
This was something that just couldn’t happen - or could it? If Phil’s senses were right, and he prided himself on their accuracy, he certainly should have been aware of Arlene sneaking past him, if she’d chosen that course. Phil glared accusingly at the newsstand man, who stared back blankly.
“You saw the girl, didn’t you?” demanded Phil. “Where did she go?”
The man seemed to remember the girl vaguely; then, piecing events, he took the obvious that Phil rejected.
“Guess she went out to the lobby.” The newsstand man gestured in that direction. “I was getting cigarettes; when I turned around, you were reading the paper. No wonder neither of us saw her leave.”
The logic of it made Phil smile.
“I was reading about banshees,” he acknowledged. “I suppose I was in a mood to think somebody vanished.”