“Sure.” He studied her. “Is there something else?”
“Not really.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “It’ll keep.”
34
“The area code’s five-one-five,” Dot said, squinting at the slip of paper. “That’s Des Moines? And you’ve been carrying this around for months and never dialed it?”
“Why would I dial it?”
“I see your point. If it’s the number they gave you, it’s not going to lead anywhere. Dial it anyway.”
“Why?”
“So we can rule it out, and you’ll have more room in your wallet for all the money you’ve got in the Caymans.”
He took out his cell phone, opened it, closed it again. “If it’s a live number, and I call it—”
“Is that the phone you called me on in Sedona? The one where not even you can say what the number is?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Dial the number,” she said, “and if the guy with the hair in his ears picks up, we’ll throw the phone out the window.”
Coo-wheeeet!
“That’s what I thought,” she said, “but now we know for sure. What else do we know? I talked to Al a couple of times on the phone. Not for very long, and he didn’t say much, but I might recognize his voice. Enough to pick him out of an auditory lineup, if there was such a thing.”
“I just wish we had a place to start.”
“So do I. He called me out of the clear blue sky, you know. Never a word about how he heard of me, who gave him the number. But he had to have heard from somewhere, and he didn’t just dial numbers at random. He knew my number and he knew my address. The first FedEx envelope full of money, he didn’t have to ask me where to send it. He just sent it.”
“So somebody who knows you also knows him.”
“We don’t know that, Keller. Somebody who knows me talked to somebody who knows him, and we don’t know how many extra somebodies may have gotten into the act. And the old man was running that show a long time, and never changed his phone number once in all those years.”
“So there are a lot of people out there who could have had the number.”
“And there could be a long chain between the first one and Al, and all you’d need is one broken link along the way and you wouldn’t get anywhere.” She frowned. “Still, if I ask enough people, somebody might know something. You think it’s a different name every time he picks up the phone? Call me Al, call me Bill, call me Carlos?”
“Or he’s a creature of habit and never got past Al.”
“That would make it easier for him to remember who he was supposed to be. One of the few things I brought along from White Plains was my phone book, and there are a lot of numbers I could call. The more people I talk to, the better the chance that one of them will know what I’m talking about. Of course that’s only the half of it.”
“The more people you talk to, the more likely it is he’ll know somebody’s looking for him.”
“That’s the other half, all right. And I’ll have to talk to these people without letting them know who I am, because I died in a fire in White Plains, as you may recall.”
“Now that you mention it, it seems to me I heard something along those lines.”
“I don’t know who else did. It would have been a pretty small story outside of the New York area. But I can’t be alive with one person and dead with another. It’s too small a world for that.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll use one of those gizmos you clamp on the phone and it changes your voice. If there was anyplace else to start…”
“Well, there might be.”
“Oh?”
“They gave me a phone,” he said. “The guy with the ears gave it to me when he took me to the motel they picked out for me.”
“The Laurel Inn, or something like that.”
“That was it. The Laurel Inn. Gave me this phone, told me to use it to call in. Well, I wasn’t going to use that phone any more than I was going to stay in that room.”
“You were suspicious from the jump.”
“There are certain precautions that are automatic, and yes, it felt a little hinky, but it was my last job and it was going to feel that way no matter what. I wasn’t going to stay at the Laurel Inn, and I wasn’t going to make any calls on that phone, and I wasn’t even going to carry it around with me, because I figured they could locate it whether or not it was turned on.”
“They can do that?”
“My rule of thumb is anybody can do anything. So if they tried to locate the phone, all it would do was lead them to the Laurel Inn, because that’s where I left it.”
“In your room.”
“Room two-oh-four.”
“You remember the number. I’m impressed, Keller. It’s almost as impressive as your trick with the presidents. Who was our fourteenth president, do you happen to remember?”
“Franklin Pierce.”
“That’s my boy. Now for the bonus round, what color stamp was he on?”
“Blue.”
“Blue, Franklin Pierce, and room two-oh-four. That’s some memory, but—”
“But so what? Dot, it’s possible that they bought that phone the same way I bought this one, and never made a call with it before Hairy Ears handed it to me.”
She was right on it. “But if not,” she said, “you could press a button and get a list of the last eight or ten numbers called.”
“Right.”
“And you might even be able to trace it, find out who bought it and when.”
“It’s possible.”
“Same question, Keller. So what? I never stayed at the Laurel Inn, and maybe the maids there aren’t in the same league with your average Dutch housewife, but do you really think the phone’s going to be there after all this time?”
“It might be.”
“Seriously?”
“They gave me a room with a king-size bed,” he said.
“Which is nice, I suppose, but since you were never going to sleep in it—”
“And when I left the phone, I didn’t want anybody using it. So I lifted up the mattress and stuck the thing all the way in the middle of the bed.”
“Can you imagine the way the cops must have tossed that room?”
“After a high-profile political assassination? Yes, I think I can.”
“All they had to do was take the mattress completely off the bed.”
“They might have done that.”
“But maybe not?”
“Maybe not.”
“Assuming it’s still there, would it even work? Wouldn’t the battery be dead by now?”
“Most likely.”
“But I suppose they sell batteries.”
“Even in the middle of Iowa,” he said.
“The Laurel Inn. You wouldn’t happen to remember their phone number, do you? No, of course not. They never put it on a stamp.”
He went over to the window and looked out at the city while she used the phone and spoke first to an information operator, then to the reservations person at the Laurel Inn. She hung up and said, “Well, there’s a woman who’s convinced I’m completely out of my mind.”
“But it worked.”
“‘We have to be on the second floor, because my husband can’t bear to have footsteps overhead. And I don’t want traffic noise, and I’m sensitive to light, and we both need to be near the stairs, but not right on top of the stairs, and I looked at a diagram on the Web and you know what room would suit us perfectly?’”
“It sounds nuts,” he agreed, “but when you were talking to the clerk, you sounded perfectly reasonable.”
“We’ve got two-oh-four for three nights starting tomorrow. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That seems like a long time to share a room.”