Installation 26: Missing previous
Immediately after Phoebe went missing from the conference room, the general assumption was that she had used the opportunity of the lights going off and the wall of smoke to slip off to the restroom, possibly to get high. And, although rattled by the drama, James made the decision to continue with the meeting. This decision was backed by Fern, who pointed out that the Committee was already behind in planning and could not afford to lose another precious day.
After an hour passed and Phoebe had yet to materialize, Mary Ellen Hightower began to suspect that Phoebe was not, in fact, using the restroom. She raised her hand and asked James to excuse her while she went to search the bathrooms.
“OK,” James said. “But the minutes will reflect that you left the meeting early.”
“James, a woman is missing,” Mary Ellen said.
“She does have a history of passing out in bathrooms,” Sigrid Danforth chimed in. “So it may behoove us to check on her.”
“I’ve made a note,” Fern said in her gravelly voice, “Which states, ‘Mary Ellen Hightower asked to be excused early due to the fact that Phoebe Persons disappeared and failed to reappear after sixty minutes time and Ms. Hightower thought it prudent to ascertain the whereabouts of Ms. Persons.’ Will that be satisfactory?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” James said as he massaged his forehead. “I didn’t know it would be so bloody hard to get anything done around here.”
“James,” Sigrid said. “You’re many things but you’re certainly not British.”
Mary Ellen made a tour of every bathroom in the museum, checking stalls for an unconscious Phoebe. But she came up with nothing except a homeless woman the guards called Typhoid Mary brushing her teeth in the first level bathroom.
“Did you see a young woman with glossy brown hair in here?” Mary Ellen asked. “She’s wearing a skirt and loafers?”
“I’m gonna kill you,” Typhoid Mary said and appeared to be reaching inside her crocheted poncho.
“Don’t get all bent out of shape,” Mary Ellen said. “I’m looking for a missing person.”
“Interrupt me again while I’m doing my tooths and you’ll be a missing person,” Typhoid Mary answered.
Mary Ellen returned to the meeting room.
“Well, she’s not in any of the restrooms, nor has she returned to her desk,” she announced to the Committee.
“Did you have her paged?” James asked.
“You’re the only one allowed to page during public hours,” Lars Auerbach said.
“Oh,” James said. “You are correct.”
James got up and left the room. After a moment’s hesitation, the entire Committee got out of their chairs and followed him down the hall and around the corner to The Director’s office. Everyone pressed into the waiting room, smudging the glass doors and gathering around James’ desk. He picked up his phone, pressed some buttons and soon his voice floated out into all the hallways, offices and galleries in the museum.
“Paging Phoebe Persons, please report to The Director’s office immediately. That’s Phoebe Persons to The Director’s office.”
They waited. The Director drifted from his office eating a scone and dropping crumbs all over the carpet.
“Who are you trying to locate? That wonderful woman who wrote me the birthday message?”
James nodded.
“Where is she?” The Director asked.
“We don’t know,” James admitted. “We don’t even know if she’s in the building. There was an event…”
“What happened?”
Fern stepped forward and read from her notes.
“The lights went off in the conference room but not from the action of any human hand of any Committee member. The room was dark. Hands could not be seen even when held directly in front of faces. Suddenly there was a noise like that which would come from a basket filled with a hundred hissing snakes. Shortly, this sound was accompanied by acrid smoke and a voice saying, ‘James Trehorn, you will pay for your assignations against the young maiden, Phoebe Persons.’ This was followed by a flash of light, not unlike that from a Polaroid camera. Some seconds later, light was restored. A headcount revealed that Phoebe Persons, age unknown, was missing from the room.”
The Director stared at Fern. “Are you joking?”
“No, sir," Fern said. "I am not a funny person.”
“This is strange,” The Director said. “But what is truly strange is that you haven’t organized a search party.”
“I was just about to,” James said. “As soon as I learned that Ms. Persons was not in one of the restrooms dealing with personal demons.”
“That’s not fair,” Lars said.
“Once bitten, twice shy,” James countered.
“I will head the search party myself,” The Director said, dispensing with the butt of his scone. “Let’s get organized. We need flashlights. Hot water. Blankets. Rope.”
“Why do we need those things?” Lars asked.
The Director looked flummoxed. “Perhaps I have my emergencies mixed up. In any case, I’ll take along a flask of brandy and smelling salts.”
The Director broke everyone into smaller groups and assigned them a section of the building. He called down to the guard post to alert all museum guards to be on the look-out for Phoebe or anyone looking suspicious. When it came time for the search parties to depart, James sat down at his desk.
“What are you doing?” The Director asked.
“Clearly, my life is in danger,” James said. “I can’t be creeping about in shadowy galleries.”
“I am shocked and saddened by this attitude,” The Director said. “And I have to tell you this will not look good at your annual review.”
“Be that as it may,” James said. “I feel it would be a detriment to The Museum if I were harmed and could not perform my duties.”
The Director took a long look at James, as if seeing him in a new light. Then he took a swig of brandy, tucked the flask in his belt and went off into the depths of the basement to search for Phoebe.