No answer. And then he heard the click. Returning the receiver to the cradle, he felt an icy sweat bead on his neck, then creep down his back. He tried to tell himself it was a wrong number but he wasn't buying. Somehow he knew exactly who his caller was; he just didn't know his name.
LOOKING BACK-50 YEARS AGO
In keeping with its policy of giving its patrons the very best in sound motion pictures, the Seaville Theatre has installed and has now in operation the revolutionary new "High Fidelity" sound reproducing system manufactured by the RCA Victor Co. About $5000 was spent in equipping the Seaville Theatre with this latest development in sound reproduction.
TWENTY-SIX
She had given a terrible sermon, stumbling over words and phrases, having a coughing fit, losing her place, and all the time Steve Cornwell-who would give anything to see her replaced-was sitting there in the first row, grinning. The more he grinned, the more mistakes Annie made. It had infuriated her, anger tripping her up further. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time on this sermon, rewriting and rewriting, and because of her date with Colin, for once she'd had it finished by two on Saturday afternoon.
And then she'd blown it. The topic was Commitment and Fidelity in all their ramifications. Was it some unconscious nonsense on her part that had made her louse it up? Some feeling of infidelity toward Bob? Or maybe it was seeing Russ Cooper in the third pew, tears on his cheeks. Or perhaps it was Burton Kelly, pouting in the fifth row, center. All those things might have added to her poor performance, but the main reason was her own fault: She had been preoccupied with Colin, going over the night before, waiting for him to enter the church. She'd been so sure he'd come.
Once again she'd made herself vulnerable to another person and she'd been disappointed, hurt. On top of it all she was embarrassed about the phone call she'd made to him the night before. She truly wished she hadn't done that. Well, it was all too late, the service was almost over, the final hymn just ending.
Nervously, Annie gave her closing remarks, then took her place to greet the parishioners as they went into the parish hall. When they'd all gone by her she started to follow, then noticed a surly-looking Steve Cornwell standing near the back. She waited. He said nothing but continued to stare at her, hands in his trouser pockets.
Annie considered asking him what he wanted, rejected the idea, and started for the hall. As she reached the door Steve's laughter stopped her. Angry, she whirled back to face him but he was gone. For a moment she looked out into the empty church, trying to regain her calm, telling herself to forget Cornwell.
Inside, Peg Moffat, coffee in one hand, cookies in the other, was by Annie's side at once. "What's wrong, kid? You look terrible."
"Steve Cornwell," she managed to get out.
"Uh-oh. What did he say?"
"He didn't say anything. He just stared at me, then he laughed." She shuddered, running her hands over her arms as if she were cold.
"What do you suppose it meant?" Peg bit into a chocolate chip cookie.
"I don't know."
"You didn't do anything dumb last night, did you? You want one of these? They're dynamite."
"No, thanks. If you mean did Colin spend the night, no."
"I don't know whether to be glad or not. How'd the evening go?"
Annie smiled.
"That good, huh?"
She shrugged, not wanting to commit herself, even to Peg.
"When are you going to see him again?" She finished the cookie, started a new one. "You have to try one of these."
Annie held out her hand. "We said we'd talk today. But I won't be able to see him tonight. I have the Death and Dying group."
"Did he stay late?"
"Not too." She thought of telling Peg about calling him but couldn't. Absently, she took a bite of the cookie.
"Good, huh?"
"Who?"
"Not who. What. The cookie, sweetie, the cookie."
"Oh, the cookie."
"You're a goner, kid. Say, do you think Steve Cornwell saw you together?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Listen, I have to talk to some of the others. Can you stay for awhile today?"
"Sure. I'll make my way over to your house in a bit. And I expect every last detail."
Smiling, Annie watched Peg join Madge Johnson and Tug Wilson. When she turned away she saw Burton Kelly coming toward her. She didn't need this today. Fortunately, Karen Ludwig cut him off, immediately began talking about the sermon, said she liked it, and had some questions. Annie was grateful and tried to absorb herself in the conversation, but her thoughts kept sliding back to Steve Cornwell, wondering about his laughter, feeling threatened.
By the time she was able to absent herself from the crowd of parishioners she felt edgy and restless. Every encounter she'd had seemed to fizzle and die, or else they'd ended with someone miffed. Whatever she'd tried had gone wrong. She hadn't even managed to avoid a confrontation with Burton. He'd been sulky and irritating, challenging everything she said. The morning had been a mess. She was a mess. Was all this because she was taken with Colin? Had she been so starved for affection that a few kisses had turned her mind to mush? That possibility disturbed her. As she climbed the back stairs to her house she thought, Thank God for Peg, she'll put me straight.
"Peg," she called from the kitchen, "I'm here."
There was no reply.
And then she saw the note.
Dear Annie,
Had to leave, didn't want to come back to the Hall. Tim called,
told me Beth is running a temperature. I'll catch you later.
Why don't you drop by this afternoon? Sorry I couldn't stay
but I still expect the gory details.
Love, Peg
Timing, she thought, is everything. If ever she wanted to talk, it was now. The phone rang and she grabbed for it, hoping it was Colin. It was only a wrong number. She thought about calling him but decided against it. The last thing she wanted to do was to appear pushy, smothering. Instead she decided to relax, have her glass of sherry before she went to the Townsends' for dinner. In the dining room she poured herself the drink, then turned toward the living room.
When she saw him she sucked in her breath, dropping the glass. "What are you doing here?" she managed to ask.
He said nothing, just smiled.
– -
The first thing Hallock said to Colin was, "You look kind of bleary-eyed, Maguire. Didn't you get any sleep?"
"Not much. You?"
"Haven't slept yet. I tried but I couldn't. There was a paperback somebody left in the motel, read the whole damn thing."
"What was it?"
Hallock cleared his throat. "Oh, it was just some damn thing called Ballerina."
Colin smiled.
"Listen," Hallock said defensively, "it got me through the night and it wasn't half bad, either."
"I didn't say anything, Chief."
"Better stop calling me Chief."
"Sorry. Want some coffee?"
"You got some made?"
"Yup."
"I wouldn't mind a cup."
Colin poured them each a mug of coffee, put a carton of milk on the table, and pushed the sugar bowl toward Hallock.
He took three teaspoons. "So what do you have?"
Colin got out his sheets of lined yellow paper and laid them on the kitchen table. Across the top of the first one he'd written the names of the victims and down the left side, fifteen categories: age, sex, color eyes, color hair, height, weight, marital status, date of birth, where born, siblings, parents, children, job, address, and financial status.
Hallock took a similar piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded and smoothed it, then placed it next to Colin's. He had an additional four categories: hobbies, friends, habits, enemies. "Two minds that work as one, huh?"