Hitler's Silver Box by Allen Malnak

Author:Allen Malnak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hillcrest Media Group, Inc.

I had buzzing in my ears, or was that motors rumbling in the distance?

Max Bloomberg's journal

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After dropping the cat off at the vet, Bruce decided he had to figure out how to deal with Sari's disappearance. If only Gorman were available. Swain, on the other hand, would probably accuse Bruce of having something to do with it. Yet Bruce couldn't let it go. The circumstances were too odd. He decided to call the non-emergency police number and ask the procedure for reporting a missing person. Perhaps the police would look into it. He couldn't just ignore his uneasy feelings.

The woman who answered at the police told him he needed to visit the nearest police station and fill out a missing person's form. Bruce resigned himself to this and decided to stop back at Sari's condo to pick up a recent photo of her that he'd noted in her living room. A good likeness, it might prove helpful.

When he arrived at the Town Hall police station on Addison and Halsted, he walked up to the desk, manned by a weathered sergeant. Several people were lined up and Bruce impatiently waited his turn. While Bruce couldn't hear much of the conversations, he noticed the officer would listen for a few seconds and then point and yell something like, "You don't belong here. Go home and work this out." Or, "You don't need us. You need to hire a lawyer." Then would come the "Next!" If the person or couple didn't move away quickly enough, the desk sergeant would signal a nearby uniformed officer to move the person aside. The man could surely have used a course in customer relations, although Bruce knew a number of talented physicians whose bedside manners were worse.

After almost fifteen minutes, Bruce was greeted with, "Well? What's your problem, sir?"

"I need to report a missing person."

"Man or woman?"

"It's a woman."

"She'll come back. Always do."

The man started to look for the next person in line.

"Officer, this is no joking matter."

The desk sergeant pointed at the stairs. "Do you think we have time to joke? Go to the receptionist in the hall on the second floor. She'll give you a form."

"Can't I see an officer to go over this in person?"

The man at the desk glared directly at Bruce. "Look, sir, fill out the paperwork and someone will get back to you. That's the way it works." He waved Bruce away. "Next!"

Upstairs, the form was handed to him by a young black woman who hardly glanced at him. "Just fill out the form and drop it off."

"Then may I speak to someone?"

She looked him over and must have seen something that made a human connection. "If you've got time to wait, I'll see if someone's available."

It took almost twenty minutes to fill out the detailed form. There were quite a few questions he couldn't answer. Like her dentist's name. Bruce had gone to him, once, but couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name, let alone the man's address and phone number.

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