Evan Hunter: Romance

“Are you married?” he asked. “Single? Divorced?”

“Single.”

“Are you employed, Miss Cassidy?”

“I’m an actress.”

“Have I seen you in anything?” he asked.

“Well… I played the lead in Annie, “ she said. “And I’ve been doing a lot of dinner theater work in recent years.”

“I saw the movie,” he said. “ Annie. ”

“I wasn’t in the movie,” she said.

“Good movie, though,” he said. “Are you in anything right now?”

“I’m rehearsing a play.”

“Would it be a play I know?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a new play, it’s called Romance. We’re opening it uptown here, but we hope to move down-town later. If it’s a hit.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, that’s the funny part of it.”

“What is?”

“It’s about an actress getting phone calls from somebody who says he’s going to kill her.”

“What’s funny about that?”

“Well… that’s why I’m here, you see.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Cassidy, I’m not foll…”

“I’ve been getting the same kind of calls.”

“Threatening calls, do you mean?”

“Yes. A man who says he’s going to kill me. Just like in the play. Well, not the same language.”

“What does he say? Exactly?”

“That he’s going to kill me with a knife.”

“With a knife.”

“Yes.”

“He specifies the weapon.”

“Yes. A knife.”

“These are the real calls we’re talking about, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Not the ones in the play.”

“No. These are the calls I’ve been getting for the past week now.”

“A man saying he’s going to kill you with a knife.”

“Yes.”

“Which of these numbers does he call?”

“My home number. The other one is the backstage phone. At the theater.”

“He hasn’t called you there?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. I’m very frightened, Detective Kling.”

“I can imagine. When did these calls start?”

“Last Sunday night.”

“That would’ve been… “He looked at his desk calendar. “March twenty-ninth,” he said.

“Whenever.”

“Does he seem to know you?”

“He calls me Miss Cassidy.”

“What does he…?”

“Sort of sarcastically. Miss Cassidy. Like that. With a sort of sneer in his voice.”

“Tell me again exactly what he…”

“He says, `I’m going to kill you, Miss Cassidy. With a knife.’ ”

“Have there been any threatening letters?”

“No.”

“Have you seen any strangers lurking about your building…’’

“No.”

‘’… or the theater?’’

“No.”

“Which theater is it, by the way?”

“The Susan Granger. On North Eleventh.”

“No one hanging around the stage door…”

“No.’’

“… or following you…?”

“No.”

“… or watching you? For example, has anyone in a restaurant or any other public place…?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Just the phone calls.”

“Yes.”

“Do you owe money to anyone?”

“No.”

“Have you had any recent arguments or altercations with…”

“No.”

“I don’t suppose you fired anyone in recent…”

“No.”

“Any boyfriends in your past who might…”

“No. I’ve been living with the same man for seven years now.”

“Get along okay with him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I have to ask.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re doing your job. We have the same thing in the play.”

“Sorry?” Kling said.

“There’s a scene where she goes to the police, and they ask her all these questions.”

“I see. What’s his name, by the way? The man you’ve been living with.”

“John Milton.”

“Like the poet.”

“Yes. Well, actually, he’s an agent.”

“Would anyone have reason to be jealous of him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Or want to get back at him for something? Through you?”

“Gee, I don’t think so.”

“Do you get along with all the people involved in this play?”

“Oh, sure. Well, you know, there are little…”

“Sure.”

“… tiffs and such. But for the most part, we get along fine.”

“How many people are there?”

“In the cast? Just four of us, really. Speaking roles, any-way. The rest of the people are sort of extras. Four actors do all the other parts.”

“So that’s eight altogether.”

“Plus all the technical people. I mean, this is a play. It takes lots of people to put on a play.”

“And you say you get along with all of them.”

“Yes.”

“This man who calls you… do you recognize his voice, by any chance?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t sound at all familiar, him?”

“No.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it would. But sometimes…”

“Well, he doesn’t sound like anyone I know, if that’s what you mean. Personally, I mean. If that’s what you mean.”

“Yes, that’s what I…”

“But he does sound familiar.”

“Oh ?“

“He sounds like Jack Nicholson.”

“Jack…?”

“The actor.”

“Oh .“

“That same sort of voice.”

“I see. But you don’t know Jack Nicholson personally, is what you’re…”

“I wish I knew him,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

“But you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

“The caller just sounds like Jack Nicholson.”

“Or somebody trying to imitate Jack Nicholson.”

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who does Jack Nicholson imitations, do you?

“Yes, I do,” she said.

“You do?” he said, and leaned across the desk toward her. “Who?”

“Everybody.”

“I meant personally. Anyone in your circle of friends or…?”

“No.”

“Can you think of anyone at all who might want to harm you, Miss Cassidy?”

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t suppose you have caller ID, do you?”

“I sure don’t,” she said.

“Well,” he said, “let me talk this over with some of the other detectives, get their opinion, run it by the lieutenant, see if he thinks we can get a court order for a trap-and-trace. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“I wish you would,” she said. “I think he’s serious.”

There were three deputy chiefs working under the police department’s chief surgeon. One of these was an elderly shrink, another was an administrative executive, and the third was Sharyn herself. Sharyn was a board-certified surgeon with four years of medical school behind her, plus five years of residency as a surgeon, plus four years as chief resident at the hospital. The shingle on the door to her office read:

She had worked here at 24 Rankin Plaza for the past five years, competing for the job against a hundred applicants, some of whom now served elsewhere in the police department’s medical system; there were twenty-five district surgeons employed in five police clinics throughout the city. Each of them earned $62,500 a year. As one of the deputy chief surgeons, Sharyn earned $68,000 a year, for which she had to put in some fifteen to eighteen hours a week here in the Majesta office. During the rest of the week, she maintained her own private practice in an office not far from Mount Pleasant Hospital in Diamondback. In a good year, Deputy Chief Cooke earned about five times what Detective/Third Grade Kling earned.