Holes for Faces by Ramsey Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

you on?” he said.
    He was hoping to throw her, but she barely hesitated. “Night Owl.”
    The hoaxers must have thought this up in advance. Edgeworth would have asked how he could watch the channel, but he didn’t want to end the game too soon. He’d begun to enjoy pretending to be fooled, and so he said “What have you brought me on for?”
    “Because I don’t know what a film is.”
    He thought this was true of just about all his workmates—a good film, at any rate. He’d imagined a job in a cinema would mean working with people who loved films as much as he did. Had she tried to put a tremble in her voice just now? She’d got that wrong; contestants on quiz shows weren’t supposed to sound like that. “Give me a go, then,” he said.
    “What’s the film where James Dean has a milkshake?”
    Edgeworth waited, but that was all. She ought to be telling him how little time he had, and shouldn’t there be some kind of urgent music? “ East of Eden ,” he said.
    “That’s a twist,” said whoever was calling himself Terry Rice.
    “Mr Rice is saying you’re not right, Eric.”
    It was a funny way of saying so, even by the standards of a prank. Perhaps that was why she sounded nervous. “Then it’ll be Rebel without a Cause ,” Edgeworth said with a grin but no mirth.
    “That’s another.”
    “Mr Rice says that’s not right either.”
    She sounded close to desperation. However far they took the pretence, Edgeworth could go further. “It’s Giant for sure, then,” he said. “They’re the only films he starred in.”
    “That’s one more.”
    Did Edgeworth hear a faint suppressed shriek? Perhaps one of Mary Barton’s accomplices had poked her to prompt her to speak. “That can’t be right, Eric,” she said high enough to irritate his ear.
    “Give up,” the supposed quizmaster said or asked, though Edgeworth wasn’t sure who was being addressed. “Eric can’t have heard of Has Anyone Seen My Gal? ”
    “Of course I have. I’ve seen it. James Dean has a milkshake at the soda fountain.” In case this failed to restore his own reputation Edgeworth added “I knew it was the answer.”
    “Were you fancying a bit of fun? You should play seriously even if you think it’s just a game.” To Edgeworth’s disbelief, this sounded like a rebuke. “I expect your friend has something to say about it,” the man said.
    “She’s not my friend and none of you are.” Edgeworth confined himself to mouthing this, if only to hear what comment she would have to manufacture. He heard her draw an unsteady breath and say “Thanks for coming on, Eric. I wish—”
    “No point in wishing here. You know that isn’t how we play. Thank you for entering into the spirit, Eric,” the man said and, along with Mary and the girl who’d called, was gone.
    Surely his last words contradicted his rebuke, which had to mean he couldn’t even keep the hoax up. Of course the number he’d called from had been withheld. It was too late for Edgeworth to go back to the commentary on the disc, and he returned the film to the shelf before tramping to the bathroom and then to bed.
    With all his films he didn’t need to dream. In the morning he ate off a tray in front of Third Time Sucky , a Stooges short just the right length for breakfast. “I wish I knew what to wish for.” “I wish I had one of your wishes.” “I wish you two would shut up,” Moe retorted, the effects of which made Edgeworth splutter a mouthful of Sticky Rotters over his dressing-gown. He showered and donned his uniform, which said Frugotomovies on the sweater, and headed for the Frugoplex.
    The cinema was an extensive concrete block that resembled the one where he lived. The February sky was just as flat and white. He’d chosen the apartment because he could walk to the cinema, but there were increasingly fewer new films that he wanted to watch; he hardly used his free pass any more. At least he didn’t have to enthuse about them to the public.