By the time we’d made it back, darkness was beginning to fall. I built a fire in the parlor fireplace, warmed my insides with two fingers of Mr MacGowan’s Connecticut calvados and fed Lulu. Dug a container of four-alarm chili from the freezer and dumped it into a saucepan on low heat to thaw.
The unlisted phone rang. It was Pete Tedone. ‘Just checking in,’ he said. ‘Want me to stop by on my way home?’
‘Thanks, Pete, but there’s a teenaged trooper guarding the gate. I’m fine.’
‘Sure you are. And, believe me, Michael Talmadge’s Green Berets know what they’re doing. They’ll reel Austin in before he knows what’s hit him.’
‘I’m sure they will.’
‘Listen, we can be men with each other, can’t we?’
‘I’d like to think so.’
‘If you’d rest easier tonight having an armed bodyguard around I’d be happy to stay over in one of your guest rooms.’
‘I appreciate the offer, Pete. I really do. But I’ll be fine.’
‘Fair enough. Just thought I’d put it out there. Have a good night.’
After we’d hung up I gave the chili a stir as it began to thaw. Lulu had finished her dinner but didn’t curl up contentedly in front of the fire like she usually did. Instead, she paced the house uneasily, going from room to room. She was unsettled. Knew something was wrong. Again, I thought about returning to New York. Again, I decided to stay put. I wasn’t going to let Austin Talmadge chase me away.
The unlisted phone rang again.
‘Hi, Hoagy, it’s Annabeth McKenna. I hope you don’t mind me calling you on this number. Merilee gave it to me when we were on that committee together.’
‘No, not at all. What’s up?’
‘I wanted to let you know that I haven’t heard from Austin. He hasn’t called me.’
‘Were you expecting him to?’
‘I was, actually. When he gets frightened he usually calls me.’
‘I don’t see how he can if he’s camped out on his mountain. Or has he installed a phone booth up there?’
‘He calls me from a pay phone at the gas station on the Boston Post Road. Do you often ask such silly questions?’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty much a full-time thing. Why, does it bother you?’
‘Noo, I just need to recalibrate. You’re such a serious author I didn’t realize you’d be so … so …’
‘Juvenile?’
‘Well, yes. Are you doing OK?’
‘OK as in …?’
‘You’re not worried, are you?’
‘I’m not, but Lulu is. She’s keeps pacing around.’
‘That’s because she senses you aren’t as calm as you think you are. Dogs have very strong instincts about such things.’
‘So you’re a basset hound psychiatrist, too?’
She let out a surprisingly loud honk of laughter. ‘My God, I can’t remember the last time I did that.’
‘Honked?’
‘Giggled.’
‘I’m familiar with giggles. That was no giggle. You honked.’
‘Didn’t.’
‘Did.’
‘OK, you win. I should know better than to spar words with a writer. I’ll let you go. I just wanted to assure you that there’s really no need to worry. Austin gets highly unstable when he’s off his meds but he’s never actually hurt anyone.’
‘Aside from the time he shot Michael in the head with a pellet gun, you mean.’
‘That was a long, long time ago.’
‘Thanks for checking up on me, Annabeth’
‘You’re a neighbor. That’s what we do in Lyme.’
Then Dr Annabeth McKenna said goodnight and hung up, leaving me to wonder whether she was a) more concerned than she’d let on or b) was developing a crush on me. I do have that effect on women, and that’s not just me bragging. In its July, 1983 issue Cosmo came right out and called me attractive ‘in a devil-may-care way that is reminiscent of Hollywood leading men of the 1930s.’ And, being honest, if it weren’t for Merilee I could imagine myself developing a crush on Dr McKenna. She was smart, interesting and very attractive. Although there was absolutely no way I’d ever be interested in a package deal that included three teenaged kids and Austin Talmadge.
I opened a Bass ale and sat on the sofa in front of the fire with my bowl of chili and a couple of those discus-shaped hardtack Nabisco Crown Pilot crackers that Merilee always kept stored in an airtight tin. A venerable Yankee tradition. Lulu joined me on the sofa, grumbling and fussing. I tried to reassure her but she wasn’t buying it. I opened up ‘About Time,’ my well-worn volume of Jack Finney short stories, and re-read ‘The Third Level’ while I ate. After I’d finished it I set it aside, even more convinced than I’d been on my walk that there was still another layer of depth to ‘The Sweet Season of Madness’ that was waiting for me to find it.
‘I sit down to write the book to figure out why the fuck I’m writing the book.’
I washed the dishes and got a fire started in the bedroom fireplace. Before I turned out the lights I locked the doors and latched the windows, which isn’t something Merilee usually bothers to do. Lyme is a place where no one locks their doors or windows. By the time I’d brushed my teeth and willfully neglected to floss them, the fire in the bedroom fireplace was casting the entire room in an inviting orange glow.
