He probably isn’t home, anyway.
She tried again. As the phone started to ring, she took a deep breath that made her feel sick.
Please don’t let him be home.
It rang seven times. Then she hung up.
She breathed deeply again and the sickness was gone, replaced by a weariness as if picking up the phone and dialing it had used up all her strength.
She went into the living room. Sitting on the couch, she felt her shirt’s fringe and the couch’s rough upholstery through the seat of her panties.
This shirt is awfully short, she thought. I’d better wear jeans.
If I go.
I really should go.
But what’ll Dave do?
He won’t do anything, she thought, because I’ll be at the party and he won’t know where to find me. And he won’t do anything to Meg because I’ll warn her and she can go to a movie or something.
Janet suddenly heard footsteps outside. A key slid into the lock and the knob turned. The door swung open.
“Hey there, hon! Whatcha up to?”
“Not much.”
Meg pulled her key out of the lock and elbowed the door shut. “Guess what I’m…” Her voice stopped. She gaped at Janet and a big smile spread across her face. “Let me guess. It’s either a pow-wow, Let’s Make a Deal, or an orgy.”
“That bad?”
“Hell, that good. You look great. What’re you dressed up for? Trick or tr eats was yesterday.”
“Long story.”
“Give me the brief version.”
“I subbed at the high school today…”
“They called you already?”
“Yep. And while I was there, I got invited to the faculty Halloween party. Which is tonight. Since I’ll be subbing at the school all next week, I figured I’d better go to the party. So I needed a costume. So this is it, unless you can come up with something better.”
Meg slung her purse onto the rocker. “Stand up and let’s have a look.”
Janet stood up. “Charming, huh? Do you think it’s too…revealing?”
“It is a bit skimpy, hon. But if I had your figure, you’d never get a stitch on me.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m…”
“A brazen hussy?”
“Something like that.”
“Shit, you look as cute as a butterfly’s butt. You’ll charm their pants off.”
“Hmm. Don’t wanta do that.” She started for the hallway.
“What’re you doing?”
“Going for my jeans.”
“Don’t!”
“Yep. You convinced me.”
“Hey, I was kidding. You look great. For heaven’s sake, don’t hide your assets.”
In the bedroom, Janet put on her faded blue jeans. Then she checked herself in a mirror. Much better. She felt relieved as if she’d just backed out of a bet she couldn’t afford to lose.
Meg came into the room, pressed her thick lips together and shook her head in exaggerated despair. “You’ve blown the entire effect.”
“I feel better now.”
“Well, just remember, you can always shuck the jeans if the mood strikes.”
“Thanks for the tip. Have you got a feather?” She touched her headband. “I could really use a feather.”
“Sorry. Haven’t got one of those. But how about war paint? We used to use lipstick when I was a kid.”
“Did the Indian women go in for war paint?”
“Only when they were fighting off men. You’ll probably be doing a lot of that tonight. With or without the jeans.”
“I’d be doing more of that if I stayed home.”
“Me no sabe.”
“I’m breaking a date with Dave.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Wednesday night when I phoned him, he…we decided to see each other once more. Tonight.”
“You agreed to it?”
“I thought it’d be a chance to finish things.”
“It’d finish things, all right. He’d probably rape you and…God only knows. You saw what he did to Mosby. The guy isn’t stable.”
“Oh, I think he’s stable. He’s just an asshole.”
Meg shook her head. “He could hurt you, Janet. He really could.”
“Well, anyway, I’m not seeing him tonight.”
“Thank God for that.”
“But I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. I don’t know how he’ll take it and I’m afraid he might come over here looking for me. If I’m not here, he might take it out on you.”
Meg’s sallow complexion flushed. Then she forced out a husky laugh. “So happens, hon, I’ll be at a party myself tonight. At Mosby’s place. Just the two of us. Candlelight and fondue.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Wow! You and Mose?”
“Righto. We sort of hit it off the other night while you were out chasing Dave.”
“That’s great! Is it serious?”
“With me, it’s always serious.”
“I’m speechless.”
“Nothing to be speechless about—we aren’t married yet.” But the corners of Meg’s eyes were crinkled with happiness. “Anyway, I won’t be coming back tonight, so you don’t have to worry about Dave messing with me…plus, you’ll have the place all to yourself in case you meet someone fabulous at the party.”
“I don’t work as fast as you.”
“Hell, you don’t need to work. Let’s put on that war paint, okay? It’ll give you back some of the zip you lost by putting on the jeans.”
“Ah, I don’t think so. Let’s forget the war paint. I don’t want them thinking I’m wacko.”
FORTY-EIGHT
COWBOY LESTER
Lester shut the door of Emily Jean’s bedroom and stepped in front of her full-length mirror. He tilted his Stetson forward, buttoned the collar of his white shirt, and adjusted the slide of his bolo tie.
Helen had always hated the bolo tie. “Makes you look like a hick,” she’d told him when he bought it in Phoenix. But he liked the casual way it looked and he liked the polished umber of the petrified wood on its slide, so he’d bought it in spite of Helen’s protests. “It’ll be a cold day in hell,” she’d said, “before I’ll be seen with you when you’ve got that monstrosity on.”
In the mirror, Lester saw himself sneer at her. “A cold night in hell,” he muttered, and laughed once.
Then he walked slowly backward, hunched over just a bit, arms poised near his sides the way gunfighters always held them in the movies. He inspected his stance in the mirror, then straightened slightly.
Better.
Suddenly, he went for his revolver.
As it cleared his holster, his left hand cut through the air, palm slamming the hammer back to full cock. He squeezed the trigger.
The hammer clacked down.
His thumb drew back the hammer again as he extended his arm and aimed carefully at the face in the mirror.
He squeezed the trigger again.
Then he cocked the pistol again and squeezed the trigger again.
Cocked again, squeezed again.
Cocked, squeezed.
FORTY-NINE
IAN THE MISANTHROPE
Too early to leave. If Ian left now, he would probably be the first to arrive at the party. He used to have a reputation for arriving first and being among the last to leave, but that was several years ago when he still enjoyed the faculty parties.
He leaned back on the chair and folded his hands behind his head.
Either the parties had changed, or he had. Somehow, he’d stopped looking forward to them, stopped enjoying the company of the other faculty members.
That’s it right there. He’d stopped enjoying the teachers. Some of them, he disliked. Some, he pitied. Others meant nothing to him at all. He tried to think of a teacher he really liked.
Emily Jean Bonner. But she was really no more than a casual acquaintance. She wasn’t really
a friend.
He remembered quoting Thoreau to Laura once, saying, “I’ve found few companions so companionable as solitude.”
“That’s because you’re a misanthrope,” she’d explained.
“Nope. Because I’m particular.”
“I’m honored that you count me worthy,” she’d said, grinning.
He looked at his wristwatch. He could probably leave now, and not be first to arrive at Dale and Ronald’s house.
Why go at all? he wondered.
Because you don’t want to turn into a complete recluse.
And because sometimes you get good material.
He smiled, remembering how he’d turned Harrison’s geek performance into a short story that he’d sold to Playboy for a tidy $2,700.
Apparently, none of the teachers ever did read the story; his cover remained intact.
He picked up his mask and headed for the garage.
FIFTY
PARTY TIME
Cars lined both sides of the street.
“Somebody must be having a party,” Janet muttered. “Hope we can find a place to park.”
If I can’t, she thought, maybe I’d better go on to Dave’s place.
Oh, sure. Like this?
Forget it, she told herself.
She slowed down, darted her eyes to a lighted porch and read the big numbers of the address. This was the house.
At the end of the block, she turned right and soon found a parking place. She killed the engine, the lights.
“Here goes nothing,” she said.
Gripping the top of the sack that held her wine bottle, she pushed open her door. She dragged the sack across the front seat, stood up and swung the sack out of the car and into her arms.
As she walked, her ankles were cold.
Good thing I wore the jeans, she thought, or I’d be freezing my butt.
And maybe some guys at the party would end up grabbing it.
She felt crawly with fear.
Calm down, she told herself. This might be a rowdy bunch, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. Nobody’s going to attack me, for Pete’s sake. It’s a party full of teachers.
And Dale did say there’ll be some available men.
Maybe some assholes, but maybe some decent guys.
Anyway, she thought, I can always leave if things get too hairy.
And go to Dave’s?
Thanks, but no thanks.
She headed up the walkway to the front porch. Ahead of her, an older couple stood waiting to be let in. The man was dressed in white coveralls and a cap like a house painter. The woman was encased in a cardboard box covered with contact paper. Paper made to look like red bricks. Maybe she was supposed to be a fireplace chimney.
Janet was wondering about their costumes when Dale opened the door and began to greet the couple.
Her Ophelia costume consisted of a purple velvet gown with puffy shoulders and a plunging neckline. She must’ve spent an hour attaching foliage to the gown so she would appear to be tangled in water lillies. Her mussed hair was littered with stems and leaves.
Who would want to put that in their hair? Janet wondered. Maybe the stuff’s fake.
Spotting Janet, Dale called, “You made it!” and beckoned her forward. “Janet, I’d like you to meet Phil and Susan Parsons. Susan is our media specialist.” To the Parsonses, she said, “Janet subbed for Emily Jean today and I thought she might enjoy seeing teachers at play.”
“Well,” Phil said, “this is a good place for it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”
Chuckling, Susan added, “Sometimes we enjoy ourselves too much.”
“Hardly possible,” Dale said. “One can’t enjoy oneself too much.”
“Don’t know if that’s true,” Phil said.
“There are pipers to pay,” added Susan, smiling pleasantly at Janet.
“People are bound to be ralphing before the night is out,” Phil said. The chubby, bespectacled man demonstrated by hunching over slightly, throwing open his mouth and yelling “Rallllph, ralllllph!” at the porch floor.
Susan gave his arm a playful slap. “Stop that, dear. You’re embarrassing.”
Janet laughed.
This isn’t gonna be so bad, she thought.
“Why don’t we all come in out of the cold,” Dale suggested.
Janet followed them into the house. “I was curious about your costumes,” she told Susan.
“Phil! Janet is curious about our costumes.”
Phil, beaming with delight, pulled a trowel out of his coveralls pocket.
“I’m bricks,” Susan explained.
“And I’m…?” Phil raised his thick gray eyebrows, grinning and waving his trowel.
“Oh, no!” Janet started laughing. “You’re the bricklayer!” “At your service.” Phil bowed.
Susan punched him softly on the arm. “Not at her service, at mine. Never forget that, old man.”
“You never let me forget it.”
Susan took hold of his sleeve and started pulling him away. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Janet. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you around.”
“See you later.”
As they worked their way into the crowd, Dale stepped close to Janet.
“They seem really nice,” Janet said.
“Oh, they’re dears, they truly are. If you’d like to shed your purse, you can put it in the bedroom.” She pointed in the general direction.
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll drop it off later.”
“The bar is out on the patio. And so are a fair number of men.” She winked, said, “Enjoy,” then hurried away to answer the ringing doorbell.
Janet walked through the crowded living room, smiling briefly at unfamiliar faces that turned her way. Most of the people seemed to be in costume. She spotted a vampire, a clown, a pirate…
“Janet!”
She turned her head and met the lively, mischievous eyes of the principal.
“Hi, Mr. Harrison.”
“Welcome to the party.”
“Thanks.”
He looked her over.
She looked him over.
He held a drink in one hand and wore an old leather flying cap with the ear flaps up, goggles across his forehead. He also wore a long white scarf around his neck. That seemed to be the extent of his costume. Below the neck, he was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, slacks and loafers.
“Snoopy?” Janet asked him.
He let out a joyous laugh. “Bite your tongue, squaw girl! I’m Charles Lindbergh!”
“Ah.”
He brought his other hand out from behind his back. A plastic doll, naked and smeared with blood, dangled by one tiny foot. “And here’s the baby.”
“That’s horrible!”
Harrison beamed. “I know, I know. Halloween, you know. Gotta be horrible on Halloween. Anyway, I’m glad you could make it to the party. Dale told me that she’d in
vited you. Janet, I want you to meet Steve and Cathie Lindstrom.”
They’d come as a matching set of hobos, in bowler hats, old checkered shirts with patches, and ragged jeans.
“I love your outfit,” Cathie said.
“Thanks. How’re things on the freights?”
“Windy,” Steve said, grinning.
“Steve,” Harrison said, “is one of our ace science teachers and Cathie is his ace wife.” To the Lindstroms, he said, “Janet was Emily Jean Bonner today. I hear she did a fine job. In fact, she’ll be with us all next week. Maybe longer.”
“Welcome aboard,” Steve told her.
“Thank you.”
Cathie looked concerned. “I hope it’s nothing terribly serious about Emily Jean.”
Frowning, Harrison shook his head. “She’s fine. Her daughter was seriously injured yesterday, so Emily Jean went to be with her.”
“A car accident?” Cathie asked.
“She was assaulted. Out in Denver.”
“How awful!” Cathie said.
“Apparent
ly, she barely escaped with her life.”
“Good God,” Cathie said.
Harrison nodded, happened to glance down at the bloody infant doll in his hand, then grimaced and put it behind his back.
“Is she going to be all right?” Cathie asked.
Harrison nodded. “I talked to Emily Jean on the phone today. The girl should be fine.”
“Thank God for that,” Cathie said.
“We’re all grateful,” Harrison said. “Emily Jean thinks the world of her.” He suddenly seemed to cheer up. “But every cloud has its silver lining, and we get the pleasure of having Janet in our midst for the next week or so.” He raised his glass as if toasting her, and took a drink.
“Thanks,” Janet said. “Well, I’d better put some of this stuff down. Nice to meet you both.”
“Our pleasure,” Steve said.
“See you later,” said Cathie.
She smiled at Harrison, then turned away.
She made it into the cool, fresh air of the patio before meeting anyone else.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” The young man’s smile was too friendly, the front of his shirt too open, his chest adorned with too many heavy gold chains. “I’m Brian Baker, and you are?”
“Janet.”
“Hello, Janet.” He warmly shook her hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” Keeping her hand, he eyed the open neck of her doeskin shirt. “Or should I call you Pocahontas?”
“Janet’s fine.”
“I chose not to come in costume,” he said, still holding her hand. “I don’t believe in such silliness.”
Silliness? Thanks a bunch, fella.
“Open shirt, gold chains,” Janet said, “I thought you were dressed up as a sleazy movie producer.”
He let out a harsh laugh.
Janet pulled her hand away from him and took her wine bottle out of the sack. “Are you a teacher?” she asked.
“I’ve often thought I might have a fling at teaching someday. It might be amusing to shape those young minds. May I help you with that?”
“Thanks, but I opened it at home.”
“You look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“May I call you Stunning Fox?”
A real charmer.
She pulled a plastic glass out of a stack. “How about Janet?” she suggested. As she poured her Burgundy, she asked, “Are you here with a teacher?”