Donald Westlake - Smoke

When the phone rang, he was just about to put his gloves on, however reluctantly, so he could make a lonely sandwich just to keep his strength up. Then the phone rang, and he decided it was probably a wrong number or somebody trying to sell him something, so why answer. Peg wouldn't call in the middle of the day, she'd wait till this evening. In fact, as he remembered it, she planned to spend today probably getting her old job back, so she could look again into the mouths of people who had mouths you could look into.

(I hope I never have to have dentistry, he told himself, while the phone rang. Or surgery, come to think of it. Important life-threatening surgery. "Nurse, we must remove this spleen at once!" "What spleen is that, doctor?")

Four rings, and the answering machine kicked in, Peg's voice saying we're out, leave a message, see what good it does you; no, not the last part, that was implicit. Freddie took cold cuts and mayo and mustard from the refrigerator, noticing again how rapidly his hands got hot in these gloves, even when he was reaching into the refrigerator, and Peg's voice stopped on the answering machine, and then Peg's voice started again, saying, "Freddie, aren't you there? Oh, hell, if he's up at the pool, I don't know what to do. Jesus. Can I leave this number, he could call back?"

By that time, Freddie had the refrigerator door closed, the gloves off, and the phone in his hand, floating in space. "Peg?"

"I mean, he doesn't know where the number is, if I tell him this number."

"Peg?"

"What? Freddie, is that you? Are you there?"

"Hi, Peg," he said, smiling, happy to hear her voice, only faintly snagged by the realization she'd been talking to somebody else for a few seconds there. "I didn't think you'd call so early," he explained, "so I wasn't gonna answer."

"Well, this isn't a regular call," Peg said.

Then he heard the strain in her voice, and paid more attention to that memory of her speaking to somebody else wherever she was — not home, that was for sure — and he let the silence go by for a few seconds, during which time he heard breathing on the line that wasn't Peg — heavier, raspier.

"Freddie? Are you there?"

"Oh, I'm here, Peg. Where are you?"

"I'm at the chief's house."

Chief? What chief? Freddie's invisible brow furrowed; he could feel it. He said, neutrally, "Oh, yeah?"

"You remember. The guy with all the hats."

Then he did; the police chief, in Dudley, the guy they were going to keep clear of from now on. Feeling sudden concern for her, "Peg!" he said. "Did he nab you?"

"No, not him. In fact, he's nabbed, too. Remember that cop, moonlighting, followed me north that time?"

Oh, Freddie thought, so that's it. He said, "Is that him, listening on the line?"

"Yeah." Then, away from the phone, she said, "Why not? Am I supposed to pretend we're all stupid?" Back to Freddie, she said, fatalistically, "Yeah, it's him again."

"He gotcha at the apartment, right?"

"Right."

"Said lead me to Freddie, you led him to the chief instead, right?"

"Yeah, Freddie, right."

"That's pretty funny," Freddie said, grinning.

"Nobody here sees the humor, Freddie," she said.

"Ahhhh, yeah. I guess not."

"What this Barney wanted to do, Freddie, that's his name, he wanted to cut my finger off and mail it to you, with a phone number where you could call him and talk it over."

Barney is listening, Freddie reminded himself. Handle this situation. "Pretty drastic, Peg," he said, wondering was this Barney bluffing or was this Barney a maniac.

"There's other guys with—" Off, she shouted, "I'm telling him the situation, isn't that what you want?"

Freddie said, "Peg? Peg, never mind him, cut to the car crash."

"This is the car crash, Freddie."

"Okay. What do they want?"

"They want to talk to you."

"Then how come you're talking to me?"

A heavy male voice — this must be the maniac moonlighting cop, Barney — said, "We want you to understand, Freddie, what's goin on here."

"You're threatening a woman with a knife," Freddie said. "I think I got it."

"No no no, Freddie," said Barney's croaky wisenheimer voice, "that isn't the topic. You're the topic."

"Uh-huh."

"You're a valuable guy, Freddie, to whoever's got a handle on you. And what we think we got here, with Peg, we think we got the handle."

"They want you to get in the Subaru," Peg said, "and drive over—"

"I'll do the talking now, Peg," Barney said. "Hang up."

Click. Subaru: double-click.

Freddie said, "What do you want, Barney?"

"You, Freddie, workin for me and workin for some friends of mine. Light work, very easy, a little excitement every now and then. Good pay."

"I don't like to be an employee, that's always been a problem I had."

"That's too bad, Freddie, time you got over it. We got the idea you place a certain value on Peg here, and we got Peg, and we're gonna keep Peg, so that makes you an employee. So you'll get used to it."

"And what if I just say the hell with everything, and go someplace else? California, maybe."

"Gimme an address, to send the fingers."

"You can always shove them up your ass."

"Don't be silly, Freddie," Barney said, almost fondly. "You don't talk tough to me. And you don't leave Peg on her own, either, that's one of the nicest qualities about you." Off, he said, "Isn't it, Peg?" Back, he said, "She agrees with me. She's kinda counting on you, Freddie. So you come here, you come now, and you wear something so we can see you, and we give you the details of the situation."

Hogtie me, you mean. Other guys there, Peg said so, Barney didn't like her telling me that. Lean on me because they'll want me to do stuff I really and truly won't want to do. Peg's the hostage, and I'm the patsy, world without end. Don't even get to be visible again someday, so I could retire.

Well, screw that.

Aloud, Freddie said, "I want Peg sitting on the front porch, so I can see she's okay. All by herself."

"You know what'll happen, she decides to run."

"Yeah, we all know. If she's there, and she's okay, I'll come in."

"She'll come in with you."

"Okay, fine. After I see she's okay. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Peg tells me you're ten minutes away."

Oh, hell, Peg, what'd you say that for? Freddie said, "Did you ever know a woman with any sense of time?" Forgive me, Peg. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Fifteen. If you aren't here, she loses a finger."

"Then make it the pinky on her left hand, she never uses that. I'll be there in twenty minutes," Freddie said. "And the first thing I'll do when I get there is count Peg's fingers."

And he hung up and ran.

53

Peg and Barney and one of the thugs had been in the chief's office for the phone call, there being two phones on the same line in that room, one of them cordless. Barney, using that one, had paced back and forth like a fat Napoleon all through the conversation, and when it ended he thumbed the phone off, slapped it onto the desk, and said to Peg, "Up."

She'd been seated at the desk, talking on the other phone there, and now she obediently got to her feet. She'd done what she could to help Freddie, so now it was up to him. If only Barney were less mean, less quick, and less maniacal. But he wasn't, so there you are.

Barney called, "Bring in the chief," and then started opening cabinets and closets, making small sounds in his throat that would have been humming if they weren't all on the same note. By the time Chief Wheedabyx came in, with a second thug, Barney had found a whole cache of handcuffs. They clacked like castanets as he motioned with them at the desk chair, saying, "Take a load off, Chief. Things are gonna slow down and get peaceful now."