Wrong Number: Thriller Telefónico de Suspense en Nueva York

Wrong Number

A number is being dialled on a phone. Busy signal.

Mrs Stevenson (a querulous, self-centred neurotic): Oh - dear! (Slams down receiver. Dials Operator.)

First Operator: Your call, please?

Mrs Stevenson: Operator? I've been dialling Murray Hill 4-00982 now for the last three-quarters of an hour, and the line is always busy. But I don't see how it could be busy that long. Will you try it for me, please?

First Operator: Murray Hill 4-0098? One moment please.

Mrs Stevenson: I don't see how it could be busy all this time. It's my husband's office. He's working late tonight, and I'm all alone here in the house. My health is very poor - and I've been feeling so nervous all day...

First Operator: Ringing Murray Hill 4-0098...

(Phone buzz. It rings three times. Receiver is picked up at the other end.)

First Man: Hello.

Mrs Stevenson: Hello...? (A little puzzled.) Hello. Is Mr Stevenson there?

First Man (into phone, as though he had not heard): Hello... (Louder) Hello.

Second Man (slow, heavy quality, faintly foreign accent): Hello.

First Man: Hello. George?

Second Man: Yes, sir.

Mrs Stevenson (louder and more imperious, to phone): Hello. Who's this? What number am I calling, please?

First Man: We have heard from our client. He says the coast is clear for tonight.

Second Man: Yes, sir.

First Man: Where are you now?

Second Man: In a phone booth.

First Man: Okay. You know the address. At eleven o'clock the private patrolman goes around to the bar on Second Avenue for a beer. Be sure that all the lights downstairs are out. There should be only one light visible from the street. At eleven-fifteen a subway tram crosses the bridge. It makes a noise - in case her window is open, and she should scream.

Mrs Stevenson (shocked): Oh - HELLO! What number is this, please?

Second Man: Okay, I understand.

First Man: Make it quick. As little blood as possible. Our client does not wish to make her suffer long.

Second Man: A knife, okay, sir?

First Man: Yes. A knife will be okay. And remember - remove the rings and bracelets, and the jewellery in the bureau drawer. Our client wishes it to look like simple robbery.

Second Man: Okay - I get-

(A bland buzzing signal.)

Mrs Stevenson (clicking phone): Oh...! (Bland buzzing signal continues. She hangs up.) How awful! How unspeakably...

(Dialling. Phone buzz.)

First Operator: Your call, please?

Mrs Stevenson (unnerved and breathless, into phone): Operator. I - I've just been cut off.

First Operator: I'm sorry, madam. What number were you calling?

Mrs Stevenson: Why - it was supposed to be Murray Hill 4-0098, but it wasn't. Some wires must have crossed - I was cut into a wrong number - and - I've just heard the most dreadful thing - a-a murder - and - (imperiously) Operator, you'll simply have to retrace that call at once.

First Operator: I beg your pardon, madam - I don't quite -

Mrs Stevenson: Oh - I know it was a wrong number, and I had no business listening - but these two men - they were cold-blooded fiends - and they were going to murder somebody - some poor innocent woman - who was all alone - in a house near a bridge. And we've got to stop them - we've got to -

First Operator (patiently): What number were you calling, madam?

Mrs Stevenson: That doesn't matter. This was a wrong number. And you dialled it. And we've got to find out what it was - immediately!

First Operator: But - madam -

Mrs Stevenson: Oh - why are you so stupid? Look - it was obviously a case of some little slip of the finger. I told you to try Murray Hill 4-0098 for me - you dialled it - but your finger must have slipped - and I was connected with some other number - and I could hear them, but they couldn't hear me. Now, I simply fail to see why you couldn't make the same mistake again - on purpose - why you couldn't try to dial Murray Hill 4-0098 in the same careless sort of way.

First Operator (quickly): Murray Hill 4-0098? I will try to get it for you, madam.

Mrs Stevenson (sarcastically): Thank you. (Sound of ringing. Busy signal.)

First Operator: I am sorry. Murray Hill 4-0098 is busy.

Mrs Stevenson (frantically clicking receiver): Operator, operator.

First Operator: Yes, madam.

Mrs Stevenson (angrily): You didn't try to get that wrong number at all. I asked explicitly. And all you did was dial correctly.

First Operator: I am sorry. What number were you calling?

Mrs Stevenson: Can't you, for once, forget what number I was calling, and do something specific? Now I want to trace that call. It's my civic duty - it's your civic duty - to trace that call... and to apprehend those dangerous killers - and if you don't...

First Operator (glancing around wearily): I will connect you with the Chief Operator.

Mrs Stevenson: PLEASE. (Sound of ringing.)

First Operator: Miss Curtis. Will you pick up on 17, please?

Chief Operator (middle-aged, efficient type): Yes, dear. What's the trouble?

First Operator: Somebody wanting a call traced. I can't make head nor tail of it.

Chief Operator: Sure, dear, 17? (Coolly and professionally.) This is the Chief Operator.

TWO

Mrs Stevenson: Chief Operator? I want you to trace a call. A telephone call. Immediately. I don't know where it came from, or who was making it, but it's absolutely necessary that it be tracked down. Because it was about a murder. Yes, a terrible, cold-blooded murder of a poor innocent woman - tonight at eleven-fifteen.

Chief Operator: I see.

Mrs Stevenson (high-strung, demanding): Can you trace it for me? Can you track down those men?

Chief Operator: It depends, madam.

Mrs Stevenson: Depends on what?

Chief Operator: It depends on whether the call is still going on. If it's a live call, we can trace it on the equipment. If it's been disconnected, we can't.

Mrs Stevenson: Disconnected?

Chief Operator: If the parties have stopped talking to each other.

Mrs Stevenson: Oh - but - but of course they must have stopped talking to each other by now. That was at least five minutes ago - and they didn't sound like the type who would make a long call.

Chief Operator: Well, I can try tracing it. Now - what is your name, madam?

Mrs Stevenson: Mrs Stevenson. Mrs Elbert Stevenson. But - listen -

Chief Operator: And your telephone number?

Mrs Stevenson (more irritably): Plaza 4-2295. But if you go wasting all this time -

Chief Operator: And what is your reason for wanting the call traced?

Mrs Stevenson: My reason? Well - for Heaven's sake - isn't it obvious? I overhear two men - they're killers - they're planning to murder this woman - it's a matter for the police.

Chief Operator: Have you told the police?

Mrs Stevenson: No. How could I?

Chief Operator: You're making this check into a private call purely as a private individual?

Mrs Stevenson: Yes. But meanwhile -

Chief Operator: Well, Mrs Stevenson - I seriously doubt whether we could make this check for you at this time just on your say-so as a private individual. We'd have to have something more official.

Mrs Stevenson: Oh - for Heaven's sake! You mean to tell me I can't report a murder without getting tied up in all this red tape? Why - it's perfectly idiotic. All right, then. I will call the police. (She slams down the receiver.) Ridiculous! (Sound of dialling.)

Second Operator: Your call, please?

Mrs Stevenson (very annoyed): The Police Department - please.

Second Operator: Ringing the Police Department. (Ring twice. The phone is picked up.)

Sergeant Duffy (picks up phone, which has rung twice): Police Department. Precinct 43. Duffy speaking.

Mrs Stevenson: Police Department? Oh. This is Mrs Stevenson - Mrs Elbert Smythe Stevenson of 53 North Sutton Place. I'm calling to report a murder.

Sergeant Duffy: Eh?

Mrs Stevenson: I mean - the murder hasn't been committed yet. I just heard plans for it over the telephone... over a wrong number that the operator gave me. I've been trying to trace down the call myself, but everybody is so stupid - and I guess in the end you're the only people who could do anything.

Sergeant Duffy (not too impressed): Yes, ma'am.

Mrs Stevenson (trying to impress him): It was a perfectly definite murder. I heard their plans distinctly. Two men were talking, and they were going to murder some woman at eleven-fifteen tonight - she lived in a house near a bridge.

Sergeant Duffy: Yes, ma'am.

Mrs Stevenson: And there was a private patrolman on the street. He was going to go round for a beer on Second Avenue. And there was some third man - a client, who was paying to have the poor woman murdered - they were going to take her rings and bracelets - and use a knife - well, it's unnerved me dreadfully - and I'm not well...

Sergeant Duffy: I see. When was all this, ma'am?

Mrs Stevenson: About eight minutes ago. Oh... (relieved) then you can do something? You do understand -

Sergeant Duffy: And what is your name, ma'am?

Mrs Stevenson (impatiently): Mrs Stevenson. Mrs Elbert Stevenson.

Sergeant Duffy: And your address?

Mrs Stevenson: 53 North Sutton Place. That's near a bridge. The Queensboro Bridge, you know - and we have a private patrolman on our street - and Second Avenue -

Sergeant Duffy: And what was that number you were calling?

Mrs Stevenson: Murray Hill 4-0098. But - that wasn't the number I overheard. I mean Murray Hill 4-0098 is my husband's office. He's working late tonight, and I was trying to reach him to ask him to come home. I'm an invalid, you know - and it's the maid's night off - and I hate to be alone - even though he says I'm perfectly safe as long as I have the telephone right beside my bed.

Sergeant Duffy (stolidly): Well - we'll look into it, Mrs Stevenson - and see if we can check it with the telephone company.

Mrs Stevenson (getting impatient): But the telephone company said they couldn't check the call if the parties had stopped talking. I've already taken care of that.

Sergeant Duffy: Oh - yes?

Mrs Stevenson (high-handed): Personally I feel you ought to do something far more immediate and drastic than just check the call. What good does checking the call do, if they've stopped talking? By the time you track it down, they'll already have committed the murder.

Sergeant Duffy: Well - we'll take care of it, lady. Don't worry.

Mrs Stevenson: I'd say the whole thing calls for a search - a complete and thorough search of the whole city. I'm very near a bridge, and I'm not far from Second Avenue. And I know I'd feel a whole lot better if you sent around a radio car to this neighbourhood at once.

Sergeant Duffy: And what makes you think the murder's going to be committed in your neighbourhood, ma'am?

Mrs Stevenson: Oh - I don't know. The coincidence is so horrible. Second Avenue - the patrolman - the bridge...

Sergeant Duffy: Second Avenue is a very long street, ma'am. And do you happen to know how many bridges there are in the City of New York alone? Not to mention Brooklyn, Staten Island, Queens, and the Bronx? And how do you know there isn't some little house out on Staten Island - on some little Second Avenue you've never heard about? How do you know they were even talking about New York at all?

Mrs Stevenson: But I heard the call on the New York dialling system.

Sergeant Duffy: How do you know it wasn't a long-distance call you overheard? Telephones are funny things. Look, lady, why don't you look at it this way? Suppose you hadn't broken in on that telephone call. Suppose you'd got your husband the way you always do? Would this murder have made any difference to you then?

Mrs Stevenson: I suppose not. But it's so inhuman - so cold-blooded...

Sergeant Duffy: A lot of murders are committed in this city every day, ma'am. If we could do something to stop 'em, we would. But a clue of this kind that's so vague isn't much more use to us than no clue at all.

Mrs Stevenson: But, surely -

Sergeant Duffy: Unless, of course, you have some reason for thinking this call is phoney - and that someone may be planning to murder you?

Mrs Stevenson: Me? Oh - no - I hardly think so. I - I mean - why should anybody? I'm alone all day and night - I see nobody except my maid Eloise - she's a big two-hundred-pounder - she's too lazy to bring up my breakfast tray - and the only other person is my husband Elbert - he's crazy about me - adores me - waits on me hand and foot - he's scarcely left my side since I took sick twelve years ago -

Sergeant Duffy: Well - then - there's nothing for you to worry about, is there? And now - if you'll just leave the rest of this to us -

Mrs Stevenson: But what will you do? It's so late - it's nearly eleven o'clock.

Sergeant Duffy (firmly): We'll take care of it, lady.

Mrs Stevenson: Will you broadcast it all over the city? And send out squads. And warn your radio cars to watch out - especially in suspicious neighbourhoods like mine?

Sergeant Duffy (more firmly): Lady, I said we'd take care of it. Just now I've got a couple of other matters here on my desk that require my immediate -

Mrs Stevenson: Oh! (She slams down receiver hard.) Idiot.

Mrs Stevenson (in bed, looking at phone nervously): Now - why did I do that? Now - he'll think I am a fool. Oh - why doesn't Elbert come home? Why doesn't he? (Sound of dialling.)