This humble reporter has risked life and limb, but returns with some very interesting information!
On October the 19th, 1910, Robert Fabian (late of Utah) married Miss Chapman. His burial location is unknown.
Three years ago, in the middle of the night, Mr. Alfred Inglestockton threw open his windows, belted out the first three lines of Bizet's popular Toreador song, and disappeared from view. He failed to show up to work the next day. Police, after careful review of evidence, have reopened the case and are bringing his cat, Mr. R. Fluffles, in for questioning. Mr. Fluffles declined to comment before being escorted into the vehicle.
The very private Director of the Mutual Ordered Life Endowment (M.O.L.E) recently issued a quiet notice that there would be a substantial reward (to the tune of $500 million) for the return of his daughter. This reporter finds it doubtful that the full amount will be paid, but perhaps it would be worthwhile to pass out from oxygen deprivation for such an amount as could be produced. The educated reader will remember that the MOLE is the largest and most financially stable insurance company to have survived the Event. It is highly possible that there is enough petty cash for such a reward, especially when one considers (as this reporter has discovered for the reader at painful cost to the humble unmentionables and opposable thumbs) that the Director's wife is the daughter of a property tycoon.
Mrs. Sealy of 12 W Ardive recalls giving a flower from her stall to a pair of nice gentlemen. She states that their suits were rather smarmy, if bland, and that pressurized gas canister must have been heavy, because there were three of them. She supposed them to be EMTs at the time, a fact further supported when they emerged from a run-down tenement some few minutes later, carrying a very subdued young lady. She did not bother to take down any details of the unmarked, tinted van, although she assured this reporter that she watched it depart "with some concern." "I always liked that girl," Mrs. Sealy recalled for this humble reported over a bucket of begonias, "she was always trying to be cheerful, up until the last few months. It's more than most of this useless lot ever try." This last was directed at her son, Fred, busy hauling fresh produce ($1.15 a pound for fresh apples-a fair bargain) to the stall.
Fred Sealy recalls the young lady in question as being "too sassy and rather beaten down. But nice enough in the face, if that's what you go for." When shown a photograph of the supposed invalid, Mr. Sealy grimaced and agreed that the subject was the same as the one discussed. "Never really fit here, did she. Always something a bit odd about her. Tom once fancied her, when she first showed up, but didn't have the guts to do anything, which is probably for the best. She was down, got better, then got worse. She even made the landlord cry once, before she left. Mr. Harrisson will deny it, but he was sobbing behind the Emerald Isle after closing time. Annie saw it, she'd tell you."
Annie did indeed provide a corroborating report, but declined to provide a non-work number for any followup calls or meetings.