“I don’t even know who she is. I don’t know whether they were divorced or not. But they parted years ago. As a matter of fact, I once heard that there was some bitterness there, so I doubt if he’d find a warm reception if he went back.”
“So returning to his family is out?”
“I’m afraid so. What’s your third possibility?”
“He might have gone to a friend.”
Peter considered this carefully. “Maybe,” he said at last. “But Tom seems to be a pretty proud old codger, the kind who wouldn’t accept charity. Besides, Johnny Dwyer was one of his closest friends, and even he doesn’t know where he is. What’s next?”
Peggy lowered her eyes. “I—I don’t like even to think of it,” she murmured. “But maybe....”
“Suicide?” Peter said incredulously. “Never! I’d bet anything on that. Tom wouldn’t go out that way. He’s got too much courage.”
“Well then, where does that leave us?”
Peter leaned back in the booth and signaled the counterman for another order. “I’d rule out two of your possibilities,” he said slowly, “leaving us with two alternatives. Either he’s found a job or he’s gone to live with an old friend.” Peter reached out and made room for the two fresh cups as they were brought to the table. The counterman collected the empties and retreated behind the rows of soda stools.
“Which one do you think it is?” Peggy asked as she stirred her tea.