"Okay," he muttered. "Decision time."
Was it worth it? That was the question. He was already an hour late. The smart thing would be to turn around and head for home and forget about Christmas parties.
He could see them standing in the windows, drinks in hand, laughing, talking, posing. He didn't belong in there. They were faculty and he was maintenance. And he hadn't been in a social situation for so long he was sure he'd commit some gaffe within the first ten minutes.
But these were all minor excuses. The telephone—that was the obstacle that really counted. What was he going to do about the damn telephone? Telephones. There had to be more than one in Losmara's three-story unit.
And within minutes of entering a room with one it would ring, that long, eerie ring, and then they'd hear that voice, and if Will was close enough he'd hear it too, and even after all these years he couldn't bear to hear that voice again.
But he had a plan. And it was time to act. Time to take a chance.
Will turned off the engine and got out of the car. At the front door to the townhouse he paused, fighting the urge to flee. He could beat this. He could.
Now or never.
Without knocking, he stepped inside and grabbed the arm of the nearest person—a tweed arm with a suede patch over the elbow. A bearded face turned toward him.
"Hi," Will said with all the confidence he could muster. "I've got to check in with my service. Where's the phone?"
"I believe I saw one over on the table next to the sofa in the front room there."
"Thanks."
Immediately Will began to worm his way through the guests, focusing straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with anybody, aiming for the sofa. A white sofa. A white rug. White walls. Everything white. The guests looked out of place, obtrusive. They wore every color but white.
There it was. To the left of the sofa. The phone. White, of course.
Will's plan was simple: He'd locate the phones one at a time, make a beeline for them, and disable them.
The first one was right in front of him. He reached for it but a tubby figure suddenly blocked his way.
"Why, Will Ryerson!" said a familiar voice. "Is that you? Praise the Lord, I almost didn't recognize you in that jacket and tie!"
It was Adele Connors, Lisl's secretary friend from the math department.
"Hello, Adele. Look, I've got to—"
"Oh, Lisl was so hoping you'd show up." She glanced around. "Isn't it strange here? Doesn't it make you feel funny! I mean, look at those paintings," she said, lowering her voice and pointing at the abstracts. "There's something unholy about them. But not to worry. The Lord is with me. And Lisl will be so glad you're here."
"Uh-huh."
He tried to slip around her but there was no room to get by. My God, the phone!
"She wanted you here so bad but didn't think you'd show up. So last night I prayed to the Lord that you'd be here today, and see? Here you are!"
He could feel the sweat breaking out all over his body. Any second now, that phone was going to ring. Any second…
"I've got to make a call, Adele."
"You know," she said, "not enough people at Darnell appreciate the power of prayer. Why, just the other day—"
Will pushed past her and lunged for the phone. He yanked up the receiver.
Safe! At least for the moment. It couldn't ring while it was off the hook.
That had been his original plan: Find a phone, lift the receiver, and leave it off the hook. But then it would begin to howl, or someone would see it off the hook and replace it on its cradle. His new plan was better.
Positioning his body between the phone and the rest of the room, Will reached around to the rear of the base and undipped the jack. This phone was now cut off from the rest of the world. No wire, no calls. Simple but effective.
He hung up the receiver and turned back to Adele. She was looking at him strangely.
"What was so important that you had to almost knock me over to get to the phone?"
"Sorry. Had to check on something. But there's no answer." He looked around the room. "Where's our hostess? I'd like to say hello."
"In the kitchen, I think."
The kitchen. Most likely there'd be a phone there as well.
"Thanks, Adele," he said. "I'll see you later."
Will wove through the living room, went right around a corner, then left toward the back, and there was the kitchen. There was Lisl as well. She was placing canapes on a cookie sheet, spacing them evenly and sliding them into the oven.
Will had to stop and look at her. She wore white, the same white as the rest of the condo, a dress of some soft fabric that clung in all the right places, its whiteness broken only by the red and green splash of holly above her left breast. He had always found her attractive, but she looked beautiful today. Radiant.
Whoever had said white wasn't a good color for blondes obviously had never seen Lisl.
She glanced up and saw him. Her eyes widened.
"Will!" She wiped her hands on a dish towel and hugged him. "You're here! I can't believe it. You said you weren't coming!"
"Your little note changed my mind."
"I'm so glad!" She hugged him again. "This is great!"
As pleasant as the contact was, Will couldn't enjoy it right now.
He glanced left and right over the top of her head, searching the kitchen for the telephone. He spotted it next to the refrigerator—a wall phone.
How was he going to disconnect that?
Gently he pushed Lisl back to arm's length.
"Let me look at you," he said while his mind raced. A wall phone—it hadn't occurred to him. "You look great!"
Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. She looked excited. And happy. So good to see her happy like this. But he had to do something about that phone. And now.
"You don't look so bad yourself," she said. She reached up and straightened his tie. "But I can tell you're not used to one of these."
"Can I use your phone?" he said.
Her brow furrowed. "I thought you didn't like phones."
"I never said that. I said I just don't have one." He reached over and lifted the receiver. "That's why I'd like to use yours."
"Actually it's Rafe's."
"Just a local call."
"I didn't mean that. Go right ahead. He won't mind."
She turned back to the oven. While Lisl inspected the progress of her canapes, Will pressed the heel of his free hand under the base of the wall phone and pushed up. It resisted so he leaned his body into it. If he could get it free he could—
Suddenly the base came loose and popped off the wall with a clatter. He glanced around and found Lisl staring at him.
"What on earth—?"
He smiled sheepishly. He didn't have to fake embarrassment—he wished he could have been a little more subtle about this.
"It's okay. I'm just not used to these things. Don't worry. I'll get it back on its plate."
He saw that the base was connected to the wall by a three-inch coil of jack wire. He quickly unplugged the wall end, then reset the base back onto the wall plate. He listened to the receiver. Dead.
"The line's busy," he told Lisl as he hung up the receiver. "Can I try again feiter?"
"Sure."'
"How many phones does he have?"
"Three. There's one out in the living room and one upstairs in the…" Her voice trailed off. "Did you meet Rafe yet?"
"No. I just got here."
"As soon as these are done I'll introduce you." Her smile was bright with anticipation. "I can't wait for you to meet him."
"Great. Uh, where's the men's room?"
"Right around the comer."
"Be right back."
Will ducked around the corner, spotted the stairs, and ran up to the second story. He glanced in an open door, a bedroom, all in white, the double bed littered with coats, and spotted the phone on a nightstand. Seconds later he was on his way back down to the first floor, light of step, light of heart. All three phones were disabled. Now he could relax a little and try to enjoy himself.