Lisey's Story(60)

At last a smooth masculine voice she thought she remembered said, "Hello, Mrs. Landon, this is a pleasant surprise."

SOWISA, she thought. SOWISA, babyluv.

"No," Lisey said, "it's not going to be pleasant at all."

There was a pause. Then, cautiously: "I beg pardon? Is this Lisa Landon? Mrs. Scott L - "

Chapter 10

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch. There's a man harassing me. I think he's a dangerous man. Yesterday he threatened to hurt me."

"Mrs. Landon - "

"In places I didn't let the boys touch at the junior high school dances was how he put it, I think. And tonight - "

"Mrs. Landon, I don't - "

"Tonight he left a dead cat in my mailbox and a letter stuck in my door, and the letter had a telephone number on it, this number, so don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about when I know you do! " On the last word, Lisey batted the pack of cigarettes with the side of her hand. Batted it like a badminton birdie. It flew all the way across the room, shedding Salem Lights as it went. She was breathing hard and fast, but with her mouth wide open. She didn't want Woodbody to hear her doing it and mistake her rage for fear.

Woodbody made no reply. Lisey gave him time. When he still didn't talk, she said,

"Are you there? You better be."

She knew it was the same man who replied, but the smooth round lecture-hall tones were gone. This man sounded both younger and somehow older. "I'm going to put you on hold, Mrs. Landon, and take this in my study."

"Where your wife can't hear, is what you mean."

"Hold on, please."

"It better not be long, Woodsmucky, or - "

There was a click, then silence. Lisey wished she had used the cordless phone in the kitchen; she wanted to pace around, maybe snag one of her cigarettes and light it off a stove-burner. But maybe this was better. This way she couldn't blow off any of her rage. This way she had to stay strapped so tight it hurt.

Ten seconds went by. Twenty. Thirty. She was preparing to hang up when there was another click on the line and the King of the Incunks spoke to her again in his new young-old voice. It had picked up a funny little hiccupping tremor. It's his heartbeat, she thought. It was her thought, but it could have been Scott's insight. His heart's beating so hard I can actually hear it. I wanted to scare him? I scared him. Now why should that scare me?

And yes, all of a sudden she was scared. It was like a yellow thread weaving in and out of the bright red overblanket of her rage.

"Mrs. Landon, is he a man named Dooley? James or Jim Dooley? Tall and skinny, with a little bit of a hill accent? Like West Vir - "

"I don't know his name. He called himself Zack McCool on the phone, and that's the name he signed to his - "

"Fuck," Woodbody said. Only he stretched it out -  Fuu-uuuck - and turned it into something almost incantatory. This was followed by a sound that might have been a groan. In Lisey's mind, a second bright yellow thread joined the first.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"That's him," Woodbody said. "It has to be. The e-mail address he gave me was Zack991."

"You told him to scare me into giving you Scott's unpublished papers, didn't you? That was the deal."

"Mrs. Landon, you don't understa - "

"I think I do. I've dealt with some fairly crazy people since Scott died, and the academics put the collectors to shame, but you make the rest of the academics look normal, Woodsmucky. That's probably why you were able to hide it at first. The really crazy people have to be able to do that. It's a survival skill."

"Mrs. Landon, if you'll only let me expl - "

"I'm being threatened and you're responsible, you don't need to explain that. So listen up, and listen up good: call him off right now. I haven't given your name to the authorities yet, but I really think the police getting your name is the least of your worries. If I get one more call, one more letter, or one more dead animal from this Deep Space Cowboy, I'll go to the newspapers." Inspiration struck. "I'll start with the ones in Pittsburgh. They'll love it. CRAZED ACADEMIC THREATENS FAMOUS WRITER'S WIDOW. When that shows up on page one, a few questions from the cops in Maine will be the least of your problems. Goodbye, tenure."

Lisey thought all of this sounded good, and it hid those yellow threads of fear - at least for the moment. Unfortunately, what Woodbody said next brought them back again, brighter than ever.

"You don't understand, Mrs. Landon. I can't call him off."

5

For a moment Lisey was too flabbergasted to speak. Then she said, "What do you mean, you can't?"

"I mean I've already tried."

"You have his e-mail address! Zack999 or whatever it was - "

"Zack991 at Sail-dot-com, for what it's worth. Might as well be triple zero. It doesn't work. It did the first couple of times I used it, but since then my e-mails just bounce back marked CANNOT DELIVER."

He began babbling about trying again, but Lisey hardly paid attention. She was replaying her conversation with "Zack McCool" - or Jim Dooley, if that was his real name. He'd said Woodbody was either going to telephone him or -

"Do you have some special e-mail account?" she asked, interrupting Woodbody in midflow. "He said you were going to e-mail him in some special way and tell him when you'd gotten what you wanted. So where is it? Your University office? An internet cafe?"