by Parnell Hall
At any rate, he was the cop I always applied to in any matters involving the police. And despite his grousing, MacAullif and I actually worked quite well together. In the past, with his help, I had even sent people to jail.
“I’m talking about Caller ID. You know, the system that tells you who your incoming calls are coming from. You familiar with that?”
“Is there a point to this?”
“There was a question on Jeopardy!, and my wife and I had this argument—”
“Fuck you. I got a full plate today, I got no time for this shit. You got a point to make, make it. Otherwise, take a walk.”
“I got a point to make. It’s just hard with you evading the question.”
MacAullif nearly gagged. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Then he took out a cigar, unwrapped it, and drummed it on the desk. His doctor had made him give up cigars, but he always played with them in moments of stress. Or when trying to think something out. Or when restraining himself from slugging someone.
“I’m going to try to be calm,” MacAullif said. “I’m not going to get exasperated, or upset, or anything of the kind. I’m just going to ask you nicely to tell me what you’re getting at with the Caller ID shit.”
“So you don’t know if it’s legal, is that right? I’m talking about Manhattan, the borough where you work.”
“Hey, schmuck. I’m a homicide cop. I’m not a lawyer or an ADA.”
“So you don’t know,” I said. “Well, in that case, I happen to have good news for you. Caller ID is legal, and you can get it. Provided your area is wired to handle it. And I was just on the phone with NYNEX, and they tell me Park Avenue is. Isn’t that great?”
“It’s made my day,” MacAullif said. “You got ten seconds to connect this up with the real world, or you’re goin’ out of here on your ear.”
“You ever hear of Kenneth P. Winnington?”
“No. Who the hell is that?”
“He’s an author. His books are on the best-seller list.”
“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t know. I’m just an illiterate cop.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t read him either, but apparently other people have. The guy’s got a floor-through duplex on Park Avenue.”
“Would, this have anything to do with Caller ID?”
“Yeah. Guy’s wife’s been getting anonymous threatening phone calls. Hired me to handle it.”
“That’s your solution? Caller ID?”
“Why not? Creep’s been calling regularly. I hook up Caller ID, next time he calls, I nab him, end of case.”
“That’s pretty smart,” MacAullif said. “And they pay you a big bonus?”
My face fell.
“What’s the matter,” MacAullif said. “You didn’t negotiate that? You don’t get a lump sum for wrappin’ it up?”
“I’m getting paid by the day.”
MacAullif s grin was enormous. “You’re getting paid, by the day? Hold on, hold on. Let me be sure I understand this. You get no bonus for completin’ the job, you’re gettin’ paid by the day—that’s for starters. You come up with this bright idea on how to solve the case really fast. That’s number two. Number three—and this is the part I love—you’re here in my office—now correct me if I’m wrong—you’re here to ask me to help you with some aspect of this in order to make it go faster still?”
“I was hoping you could trace the phone number.”
“Of course,” said MacAullif. “You wouldn’t want to ruin your perfect record of never bein’ able to solve anything by yourself without help.”
“I don’t happen to own a reverse phone number directory.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” said MacAullif. “It’s called a Cole’s, by the way, just in case you want to impress your next client. Though how impressed they’re gonna be when you don’t happen to have one is hard to say.”
“So, you won’t help me with this?”
“Let me ask you something.”
“What’s that?”
“When’d you start this job?”
“This morning.”
“You started today?”
“That’s right.”
“Any phone calls yet?”
“There was one.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What time?”
“Nine fifteen.”
“Was that unusual?”
“No. They’ve been getting a lot of calls around then.”
“That’s what you meant by regularly?”
“Yeah. Nine fifteen, he usually calls.”
“So you’re expecting another call tomorrow morning?”
“That’s right.”
“This Caller ID shit—is that all installed?”
“Actually, I’m on my way to pick it up now.”
“From the phone company?”
“No. They offered me an appointment next Thursday. I found an electronics store on Canal I can get it this afternoon.”
“They have the equipment?”
“So they say.”
“So, you’re gonna go buy the stuff, hook it up to your client’s phone, nine fifteen tomorrow morning when the creep calls in you’ll get his phone number, know who he is—you’ll call me with the number, I’ll give you the name of the guy, and you’ll have worked yourself out of the job?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“I’m sure you hadn’t. You’ve thought of it now.”
“Yeah.”
“How much they payin’?”
“Five hundred a day.”
“At least you’ll get two. Good goin’. You’re such a schmuck, I’m surprised you didn’t suggest they just change their phone number, so they wouldn’t have to pay you at all.”
“Oh. Well ...”
“Well what?”
“Actually, I did. Turns out they had. They changed the number, but the calls keep coming. That’s why they hired me.”
“I hope this is an unlisted phone,” MacAullif said. “This whole thing’s dumb enough without their phone bein’ listed.”
“No, it’s unlisted.”
“Well, that’s wonderful,” MacAullif said. “Couldn’t be better.” He was grinning from ear to ear, “So, if this pays off, not only will you have worked yourself out of a job in two days, but it turns out you had another way to go. If the guy’s changin' his phone number and someone’s gettin a hold of the new one—well, I’m just a dumb cop, but it would seem to me, that would tend to indicate the desirability of questioning anyone who had access to the new number. That would certainly be a reasonable and logical way to go about it, and sure would be a nice way to justify a couple of weeks investigation at five hundred bucks a day.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
“But you, oh master of the no cash bonus, will need only my cooperation to wrap this up before lunch tomorrow.” MacAullif spread his arms. “What can I say? How can I refuse? Call me with the number, and I will be happy to supply you with the name of the perpetrator.”
He held up his finger. “And, just because it’s you, there will be no extra charge for this invaluable lesson on how to bill for your services.”
MacAullif shook his head. Rolled his eyes. Chuckled.
“Wait’ll the boys hear about this.”
7.
I INSPECTED THE CONNECTIONS, SET the box on the desk next to the phone, and stood up.
“Are you sure you hooked it up right?” Kenneth P. Winnington said.
“I followed the directions. If they’re right, it’s right.”
“Yeah, but are you sure you got them right?”
I was in no mood for this. Not after my talk with MacAullif. Because, in point of fact, everything was coming off without a hitch. I’d picked up the Caller ID box from the electronics store, no problem, a bargain at sixty-nine ninety-five, and the guy told me hooking it up was a snap, any moron could do it, which I must admit had made me uneasy. But it turned out he was right, any moro
n could do it, and I was just the moron to prove it. There had been no problem whatsoever hooking up the apparatus that was destined to dork me out of a job.
“I’m sure I got it right,” I said. As I did, it occurred to me, maybe I hadn’t gotten it right. Which, the way things were, might actually be to my benefit. Though, I must admit, I wouldn’t have enjoyed failing in front of Kenneth P. Winnington. Or in front of his wife, Maxine, or his secretary, David Pryne, who were also on hand to witness the installation of the miracle invention.”
“We should test it,” Maxine said. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Hastings? Shouldn’t we test it?”
“Sure,” I said. “You have another line?”
“Huh?”
“Another phone line. Is there another phone in the apartment? I mean, with a different number.”
“No. Just the one.”
“Then we’ll have to call from someplace else. That’s the only way to test it.”
“Of course,” Kenneth P. Winnington said. “David, go call us.”
“I beg your pardon?” David said.
“Go out in the street and call us on the phone. We need to test the Caller ID, see if it’s gonna work.”
“Yes, sir,” David said. He turned and went out.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Maxine said.
Her husband frowned. “What?”
“You didn’t have to send him out.”
“I want to test the machine.”
“You could call someone, ask them to call you back.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. Your editor. How about your editor.”
“Good idea,” Winnington said. “I’ll call her now.” He started for the phone.
His wife stepped in front of him. “Honey,” she said. “Don’t bother. David’s on his way to call.”
“Maybe this would be faster.”
“Not really. And then David will get a busy signal.”
“So?”
“That would be inconsiderate.”
I thought so too, until Winnington said, “How can you talk inconsiderate when some creep is threatening your life? I just want to know if this works.”
At that moment the phone rang. David. Pryne had reached the pay phone, ending the argument.
The three of us crowded around the desk to watch the caller ID. It worked. By the second ring, the digital readout on the little box displayed the numbers 212-555-4968.
I don’t know what it is about new electronic gadgets, but it must be something.
All three of us pointed.
All three of us said, “Look.”
And all three of us grinned.
The phone rang a third time.
I said, “Okay, it works. Answer it and tell him to come back.”
Kenneth P. Winnington nodded, pressed the button on the speaker phone.
A voice said, “Die, bitch, die.”
There came a click of the phone being hung up.
Then the dial tone.
The three of us stood there, frozen in shock and horror.
I recovered first, pressed the button, hanging up the phone.
“Look at that,” Winnington said. “That ...that was him. Then that’s his number. That’s his number, right there.”
The thought had occurred to me. I was already on the phone.
MacAullif answered on the second ring. “MacAullif.”
“It’s me. Stanley Hastings. I got the number.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. It just came in.”
“Are you telling me you got Caller ID, hooked it up, and the guy called already?”
“Yeah. I got the number. Can you trace it?”
“Of course I can. This gets better and better. You’re now a candidate for Moron of the Month. You’re not even gonna get paid for tomorrow. You’re solvin' the case for five hundred flat.”
It occurred to me I was damn glad I hadn’t punched on the speaker phone. “Yeah,” I said. “Let me give you the number. It’s 212-555-4968.”
“Great,” MacAullif said. “What’s the number there? I’ll call you back in a few minutes, let you know you’re off the case.”
I gave him Kenneth P. Winnington’s phone number and got off the line before MacAullif could make any more jokes at my expense,
“Okay,” I said. “He’s gonna call me back. When he gives me the information, we have to plan how to proceed.”
“I know how to proceed,” Winnington said. “We’re gonna go over there and slap the motherfucker silly.”
“That might not be advisable,” I said.
“I don’t care what’s advisable,” Winnington said. “This man is threatening my wife.”
Maxine put her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, honey,” she said. “And I know you’re upset about it. But violence isn’t going to help.”
He looked at her. Relented. “Maybe not,” he said, “but the man has to pay. We’ll have him arrested, put in jail.”
“If I could step in here,” I said. “It’s very important at this juncture not to go off half cocked. That’s why I said we need a plan. Now you, Mr. Winnington, are a rich and powerful man. The creep who’s making these calls is probably not. If you were to accuse him of something, harassment, threats of bodily harm, extortion, what have you, believe it or not, that would put him in the position to sue you. In the event you were not able to make your charges stick, since you are a wealthy man, he would be in the position to take you for a sizable chunk of change. You see what I’m saying here?”
Kenneth P. Winnington looked at me in disbelief. “You mean I have to just sit there and take it? You mean this man can threaten my wife, and I can’t say boo?”
“Not at all. I’m just saying we need to proceed with caution. Before we make any accusations you might later regret. I would strongly advise you to consult an attorney. I would assume you have one.”
“Huh?”
“An attorney. Do you have an attorney?”
“Of course I do. He handles my contracts.”
“Uh-huh. An entertainment attorney might or might not be comfortable with this sort of situation. In the event yours isn’t, I could put you in touch with a lawyer who would. At any rate, the only point I’m making is you should protect yourself. At the moment, we don’t know why this person is making these calls. It might turn out the reason for the calls is exactly that—to goad you into making an accusation so the caller could sue.”
The phone rang.
“That was fast,” I said,
I snatched up the receiver before anyone could put it on speaker phone. MacAullif on speaker phone I didn’t need.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello. Who is this? Do I have the right number?”
It wasn’t MacAullif. And, I realized, the number now displayed on the digital readout wasn’t MacAullif s number.
It took me a second to realize who it was. “David Pryne?” I said.
“Good, I got through,” he said. “I’ve been trying to call, but the line’s been busy. Anyway, does it work?”
“Yeah, it works,” I said. “Come on back.”
I hung up the phone. “David Pryne’s been getting a busy signal. I take it you don’t have Call Waiting?”
“No.”
“Then let’s keep the phone free for MacAullif. As I was saying, once we know who our man is, it’s important we analyze the information before we go ahead. The name will tell us a lot. It may be a name you know. In which case, you’d have something to consider. If you know who the person is, you may be able to figure out why they’re doing what they’re doing. If you know that, there may be a simple solution, maybe one that doesn’t involve the law.
“On the other hand, if you don’t know the name, then we need to put a face to it. Because, without knowing the name, you still might know the face. A crazed fan, perhaps, someone who goes through your signing line, who thinks they know you very well, though you don’t know them from Adam.”
/>
He frowned. “Perhaps.”
“At any rate, the important thing isn’t to go rushing out and confront somebody before we know the situation. It would be better for you to get a look at them first. I mean both of you, of course. Now, if waiting in parked cars on stakeout isn’t really your speed, I suggest you have me take some pictures for you to look at. So you can study the suspect’s face without a chance of them ever seeing you.”
I hoped that sounded reasonable and logical, and not like me desperately trying to talk my way back into a job.
The phone rang again. I figured it would be MacAullif, and this time I figured right.
“I got it,” he said. “And let me be the first to congratulate you, because it happens to be a piece of good news.”
“Oh, yeah? So, who’s our guy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Huh? Why not? Don’t tell me it’s an unlisted number.”
“Oh no, not at all. It’s listed just fine.”
“Well, what is it?” I said, well aware that my client and her husband were looking at me with ill-concealed impatience. “Come on, MacAullif, what’s the scoop?”
“You get to keep your job. 212-555-4968 happens to be a pay phone on Thirty-fourth Street.”
8.
NINE O’CLOCK NEXT MORNING FOUND me on the northeast corner of 34th Street and Seventh Avenue, checking out the phone booth across the way. I say booth. I shouldn’t. Phone booths in New York City have gone the way of the dinosaur. In fact, I believe in the first Superman movie there’s a scene where Clark Kent’s looking to change and, instead of a booth, he finds one of these pay phone stands they have now.
My god, was that a long time ago.
Anyway, that was the type of phone I was staking out now. A pay phone on a stick on the southeast corner, facing uptown. Anyone using it would also be facing uptown. And since this phone didn’t have a wind screen or sound baffle, or whatever the hell they call those things around the pay phones now, I would have a good shot at the guy’s face from my vantage point across the street.