Black Christmas by Lee Hays Read Free Book Online Page A

room he stopped, thought for a moment, then picked it up and walked back to the piano. He took the top off the heavy metal base, put it down and lifted the lid of the grand piano. Then he picked up the base of the music stand, held it aloft for ten seconds or longer and with a malicious look on his face which was still contorted from the tears, he slammed the base as hard as he could into the strings of the piano. Viciously and methodically he slammed it down again and again as the sound boomed through the room.
    Strings were snapping, chips of wood flying and the sound overwhelming. All at once he stopped, set the base down and coolly examined his handiwork.
    He turned coolly and walked across the room and walked out, carefully closing the door behind him.
    Despite the chill in the hockey rink, all of the players were sweating profusely. The lights were bright and the young men were moving swiftly up and down the rink, passing the puck back and forth, crossing the blue line and firing shots at the goalie who was sweating most of all despite the fact that he had to move far less than the other skaters. The heavy padding weighed him down and the plastic mask made it almost impossible for air to reach any part of him. Besides, there was activity in goal-tending, a great deal of it as he dived and kicked and flashed out a hand or stick to deter the puck from its course toward the net behind him.
    Jess came into the rink and looked down, saw the goalie and, although he was masked, was sure it was the man she was looking for. She moved through the empty seats and down behind the plastic that was behind the goal net. Twice she called out but there was too much noise and his concentration was too great for her to be able to attract his attention that way. Finally, uncharacteristically, she put two fingers to her lips and whistled shrilly. All at once all of the action stopped and the goalie turned to her.
    “Can I see you a minute?” she called to Chris Hayden.
    Through the mask he answered what she thought was the word, “sure,” then he signalled to the bench and another player, dressed similarly, skated over to the net while Chris, still wearing his mask, came around behind it and pointed to a spot just beyond the plastic.
    Jess walked over quickly, but he was on skates and made it much faster so that he was waiting, still masked, when she arrived.
    Through a wire screen she asked, “Have you seen Clare today?”
    “No. She went home.”
    “No, she didn’t. No one knows where she is. How about last night?”
    “No. Not after I brought her home.” He pushed the mask back. “What do you mean no one knows where she is?”
    Shouting over the renewed sound of the practice she said, “I thought maybe she was with you, or at least you might have heard from her.”
    “No. Like I said, not since last night. Early. What do you think?”
    “I don’t know what to think. I just was hoping—”
    “Look, maybe it sounds a bit alarmist, but do you think we ought to go to the police, Jess?”
    “Her father is already a bit alarmist. He went to them this afternoon. Unfortunately the local constabulary didn’t take it all too seriously.”
    “They what? Why not?”
    “I think they figured she was shacked up somewhere. It seems, according to the sergeant on duty which I got second hand from Phyl when she called, that that is where young maidens from the college usually are when they turn up missing. Off in the woods somewhere with a romantic hero. As you fit the bill, well, no doubt they’re wrong in this case.” She signed wearily. “Christ, I’m worried, Chris.”
    “So am I. Oh, I doubt if anything has happened to her, but I suppose the fuzz said that to Clare’s father, about being shacked up?”
    “More or less. It’s only hearsay evidence from Phyl, but she’s pretty reliable. Says that Barb gave the man in blue a tongue lashing which sounds pretty typical, and Clare’s father didn’t exactly like the