Black Christmas by Lee Hays Read Free Book Online Page B

implication.”
    “No doubt. That’s what I’m worried about. I haven’t met him yet. After Christmas I was going to visit—”
    “So that’s why she wouldn’t go skiing with Barb.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Ancient history. What shall we do, Chris?”
    I think . . . I think I’d better go see them. The police. And her father. Damn, damn, damn, damn!”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    In the dim light of the dining room Mr. Harrison sat disconsolately at the table with Mrs. MacHenry and Phyl while off to one side Barbara was slouched in a heavy chair, a drink in her hand.
    Mrs. Mac looked up from her plate where she had been gorging herself and said to him, “Mr. Harrison, really I do wish you’d eat something. Starving yourself isn’t going to help the situation at all. In fact, I always say that you can’t get anything done on an empty stomach. I tell the girls that, too, when they’re worried about,” she hesitated, “an exam or something.”
    “Thank you very much, Mrs. MacHenry. But, no thank you. I just have no appetite. I feel like I should be doing something but frankly I don’t know what to do.”
    “One thing you could do would be to eat to keep your strength up.” When she saw that remark had made no dent she went on, “Well, just stop worrying. The best thing you can do is wait here and I’m sure she’ll call or show up.”
    Mrs. Mac heaved herself up from her chair and went out toward the kitchen as Mr. Harrison said to no one in particular, “I just wish I knew what to do.”
    Phyl nodded sympathetically. She could understand how he felt. She didn’t want to eat, either, but she was forcing herself. Barbara had turned her nose up at the stew and proceeded to pour another drink.
    There was a long silence punctuated by the sound of Mrs. MacHenry in the kitchen banging pots and closing cabinet doors. Both Barbara and Phyl knew that she was looking for her bottle of sherry but neither felt like snickering at the moment.
    Finally Barbara said, “Did you know? And this is a little-known fact . . .” She stopped and took some of her drink while Mr. Harrison eyed her apprehensively and Phyl tried desperately to think of something to say.
    At last Barb continued, “There are some species of turtles . . .” She stood for dramatic emphasis. “Some species of turtles, or is it tortoises? No, it’s turtles. There are some species of turtles that screw for three days without stopping.”
    Mrs. MacHenry entered the room and stood there dumbfounded, trying not to look at Mr. Harrison who was aghast.
    Barbara fell back into her chair and added, “Oh, yes. You may not believe me, but I’m not making it up. They screw for three days. Whoopee!”
    Mrs. Mac came further into the room as though to protect poor Mr. Harrison from Barbara. “Barb, dear . . .” she started to say but she was interrupted.
    “You don’t believe me, do you? Well, it’s true. Three days without stopping! I’m lucky if I can get three minutes. Three days, honest Injun. I know, ’cause after they told us that in some dumb class or other. I went to the zoo to watch them. It’s very boring. I didn’t stay for the whole three days, actually. I took their word for it. So I went over—because I got bored watching the turtles do it—I went over to watch the zebras. They only take about thirty seconds. Reminds me of me. No, it reminds me of a joke about this pony who’s a star and he wants to get fixed up so they send him a zebra up to his hotel room and the next day they ask him how he liked her and he said he didn’t know ’cause he spent all night trying to get her pajamas off.” She started to giggle insanely and then broke into paroxysms of drunken laughter.
    The others stared at the wall, the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but at each other, embarrassed, unsure what to say or do.
    All at once Barbara said, “You think it’s my fault, don’t you?”
    Phyllis said, “Barbara, stop it.”
    “You do. Don’t