Эд Макбейн - Privileged Conversation

“She probably will.”

“Why?” Stanley asks at once. “She doesn’t suspect anything, does she?”

“No, no.”

“You didn’t tell her about me and Cindy, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why would she want to know where you’re going to be? Gerry never asks where I’m going to be.”

“It’s the sort of information we normally exchange,” David says.

“Why? Doesn’t she trust you?”

“Yes, she trusts me.”

“Well, Gerry certainly trusts me . Which is why she never asks.”

“Then why’d you work out such a complicated schedule?”

“In case she asks. Besides, it isn’t complicated.”

“You said panels, meetings, lectures...”

“Yes, but scattered throughout the day, hmm? It isn’t complicated. Besides, I didn’t leave her a copy of it. But in case she asks what’s happening tonight, for example, I can tell her I’ll... where the hell is it? Here. Dr. Gianfranco Donato from Milan will be giving a talk on Learning and Motor Skill Disorders.”

“Okay.”

“At the Lotos Club.”

“Okay.”

“Five East Sixty-sixth.”

“Got it.”

“You don’t have to write this down, I’ll be dropping the schedule off. Are you at the office now?”

“No.”

“Where are you?”

“In a coffee shop. A phone booth in a coffee shop.”

“Shall I bring it to you there?”

“No, just drop it at the office. I’ll pick it up later.”

“Are you sure? Suppose Helen calls you ten minutes from now?”

“Stanley...”

“All right, all right. But you can’t blame me for wanting to be careful, Dave. You have nothing to lose here. I realize the favor you’re doing, but even so, please try to understand my caution, hmm?”

“I understand completely.”

“When will you be at the office?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m just afraid you’ll talk to Helen before you get the schedule, and you won’t know where the hell we’re supposed to be all day.”

“I won’t be talking to Helen until later tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s what we arranged.”

“Doesn’t she trust you?”

“Stanley, we’ve been over that.”

“I mean, calling on schedule , that sounds like a woman who doesn’t trust you.” His voice lowers. “Cindy’s with me now,” he says. “You should see her.”

“Stanley, I have to go now.”

“No, wait. Wait! Let me read this to you. At least, this afternoon’s meetings and tonight’s schedule. In case you talk to her.”

“I won’t be...”

“In case , okay? In fact, you’d better write it down, after all. Have you got a pencil?”

David sighs.

“All the lectures are at the Lotos Club,” Stanley says, “but I’ve put the panels and meetings at different places, in case anyone tries to get to us. By the way, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give all of this to Helen. I mean, if she asks , you can tell her where you’ll be at any given point in time, but I wouldn’t volunteer the entire schedule.”

“I wouldn’t do that, anyway.”

“That’s in case she talks to Gerry. Though I can’t see why they’d be talking in the next few days, can you?”

“No, I can’t imagine that happening.”

“Neither can I. But just in case. Okay, this afternoon at two, there’ll be a panel discussion on Mood Disorders, chaired by Dr. Phyllis Cagney who’ll also be doing the one on Eating Disorders tomorrow afternoon. She doesn’t exist, either. I’ve got those at a meeting room at the Brewster, that’s a small hotel on Eighty-sixth off Fifth, this isn’t supposed to be a huge convention or anything, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I’ve already given you Dr. Donato at the Lotos Club tonight...”

“Yes, what time?”

“Eight. I told Gerry you and I would be having dinner together first, hmm?”

“Where?”

“Bertinelli’s. On Madison and Sixty-fifth. Actually, I’ll be taking Cindy there,” he says, his voice lowering again on her name. “I’ll put it on my credit card, and say it was you.”

“Fine. I’ll do the same.”

“I didn’t tell her where. That’s just in case she asks later. I didn’t think we have to give them any restaurant names in advance. Unless they ask.”

“Okay.”

“Will Helen ask?”

“I’m sure she will.”

“So where do you want to say?”

“Well, not Bertinelli’s. If you’ll be there with her.”

“Cindy.”

“Yes.”

“You should see her. So where will you say?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, pick something, just in case Gerry...”

“You can tell Gerry it was Bertinelli’s, I’m sure Helen won’t be calling her. I’ll tell Helen whatever. Wherever I finally end up tonight. I’ll let you know in the morning where it was.”

“But not too early, hmm?” Stanley says.

He has never before used the call-forwarding feature on the telephone in their apartment, but when he goes there late that morning he first calls the Vineyard to tell Helen he’s arrived safely, and then he consults the manual. The manual says:

• Call Forwarding Works Like This

TO USE CALL FORWARDING, DIAL: 7 4 #

LISTEN FOR A DIAL TONE. THEN DIAL THE TELEPHONE NUMBER YOU WANT YOUR CALLS TO BE FORWARDED TO. LISTEN FOR TONE(S) FOLLOWED BY RINGING. CALL FORWARDING WILL BE ESTABLISHED WHEN SOMEONE ANSWERS. TELL THE PERSON WHO ANSWERS TO EXPECT YOUR CALLS.

He reads the instructions yet another time. He keeps the manual open before him as he punches out 7, 4, #. He listens for the dial tone. He dials Kate’s number. He hears a beep and then her phone begins ringing.

“Hello?” she says.

“It’s me,” he says.

He feels like a spy.

Later that afternoon, he records an outgoing message on Kate’s answering machine, and then, from a pay phone on the corner, he dials his own number. There is a single ring, and then an almost imperceptible click, and then another ring, and another, and another, and Kate’s machine kicks in, not with her familiar, “Hi, at the beep, please,” but instead with David’s recorded voice: “Hello, no one can answer your call just now, but if you leave a message at the beep, someone will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Aside from that tiny click — which could, after all, have been the answering machine switching modes — there is no way that anyone on earth can know that the call is not being answered in the Chapman apartment. If Helen calls from the Vineyard, she will have no way of knowing his voice is coming from Kate’s machine rather than their own. She will have no way of knowing that her husband is a lying cheat.

“Does it work?” Kate asks.

“Yes,” he says.

Smiling, she takes his arm.

After dinner that night, they go back to her apartment.

He feels relatively safe.

Sort of.

“Your boyfriend’s on the phone,” Mistoffelees says.

Already in costume for the Wednesday matinee performance, he comes bouncing down the hall as part of his warm-up exercises, a virtual jack-in-the-box in black, springing up and down and up again as he gestures toward the wall phone and leaps away out of sight.

The receiver is hanging from its cord.

She picks it up.

“Hi, darling,” she says.

“Well,” he says approvingly, “that’s better.”

A chill races up her back.

“Who is this?” she asks at once.

“Who do you think it is, Puss?”

“Go away,” she says.

“Don’t hang up,” he warns.