Free Black Christmas by Lee Hays Page B

home? We got another one of those calls. Hello, up there? Are you home?”
    In the attic on the third floor, Mrs. Mac did not hear her so only empty silence greeted Jess’s call.
    When she got no response from above, Jess finished taking off her coat while she walked back through the kitchen. She hung it up in the dark hall and looked at the telephone, half expecting it to ring again. Very agitated, she went to it and quickly picked it up, dialed a number. Her back was to the stairway as she dialed or she might have fled from the house in terror for a dark form was moving slowly down the stairs in her direction. She finished fingering the number and heard it ringing on the other end. A voice answered and she said in a quavering voice, “Hello? Yes, I’d like to report that I’ve been getting obscene phone calls and I want to know what can be done about it? Yes, all right I’ll hold. I’m sure you’re busy but this is important. Yes, I’ll hold, but only for a minute.”
    Tapping her foot impatiently she looked about the hall, finally turned just as the form reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the half-light.
    Reacting she leaped back and then took a deep breath and relaxed.
    “Peter! My God! You nearly scared the life out of me! Why didn’t you say something? I thought Barbara was the only one in the house.”
    Tossing his coat casually over an idle chair in the hallway, Peter walked into the living room, saying, “Yeah, well you scared the hell out of me, too. What was all the yelling about?” He picked up a nutcracker and a few pecans from a bowl and began to shell them as he talked. “I was taking a nap. I hope you don’t mind but it was cold outside waiting for you. I came in through the kitchen. The front door was locked. I was going to sit here under the tree like a present but it was uncomfortable as hell. Finally I got sleepy so I went up to your room and flaked out on the bed.”
    “I’m sorry I was late, but—”
    “Yeah.”
    He cracked another nut in studied indifference. Firmly she said, “Clare is missing. She hasn’t been seen since last night. There was a search party. I was with them, out looking for her.”
    She had to call from the hall as he had disappeared in the living room. He came back just as a voice on the telephone spoke to her. “Yes,” she said into the receiver. “Hello?”
    “How noble,” Peter said smugly, from the doorway.
    Ignoring his caustic behavior she said into the phone, “Hello? What’s going on down there? I want to report something! No, I don’t want to hold! I’ve been holding.” She shook her head in exasperation and seeing Peter standing there she said, “How did the recital go?”
    “How do you think it went!” he snapped.
    Once more he disappeared into the living room and she could hear the cracking of another nut.
    “What kind of a game are you playing?” she called out. “I thought you wanted to talk? So why don’t you sit down and quit attacking me and we’ll try to have a rational conversation—as soon as I can get these idiots at the police station to take my complaint. Yes? Hello. Stay on the line, goddamn it!”
    The man at whom Jess was yelling had a throng of people milling about his desk as he spoke to her. Sergeant Nash was trying as best he could to cope with an extremely unfamiliar situation and to handle all of the phone calls that were pouring in since news of the discovery of Janice Quaife’s body had leaked out.
    “Okay, lady,” he shouted, anything but calm himself, “calm down now. Let’s have the story. Oh, yes? All right. What’s the address? One-o-six Belmont Street. Uh-huh. How many calls?”
    Across the room from him, Chris, Phyl and Mr. Harrison, bunched together, heard the sergeant mention the familiar address and they moved as a group closer to his desk as he continued to talk to Jess.
    “Yes? How many calls did you say? Well, did you call the phone company? Oh, yeah? Well, miss, we’re very