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there were still a few details to think out.
And his nerves. But they'd be all right; they were probably all right now. He
lifted his hand from the bar and reached for his drink. It still trembled a
little, but not so badly. In a few more minutes he'd be completely okay.
If he could keep himself from thinking about Ruth.
11:34 P.M.
RUTH FLECK had not yet left the restaurant. George had told her to go at
eleven thirty, but the last customer, at the counter, had obviously been
within a minute or two of finishing and she'd decided to wait. It had paid
off, too, with a two-bit tip that he probably wouldn't have left if he'd seen
her leave; he wouldn't have known that George would hold the tip for her and
give it to her tomorrow evening.
She'd carried his dishes back and was putting on the light summer coat over
her uniform dress when she heard the phone ring up front. She didn't hurry
because George was up there starting to check the cash register, and anyway
the call was unlikely to be for her. Nobody she knew would be calling her at
this hour except possibly Ray--and if he looked at his watch before calling
he'd think that she'd already left.
But George's voice called out "Ruth. For you." And she called back "Coming"
and hurried a bit.
George was back at the register when she came through the swinging doors, and
the wall phone was off the hook, dangling on its cord. She went to it and
said, "Hello." But no voice answered and after a second she realized that the
faint buzz she heard was a dial tone.
She hung up the phone and looked toward George. "That's funny," she said.
"Nobody on the line. It must have been Ray, but he must have been cut off.
Maybe I should wait around a few more minutes to see if he tries again."
There was suddenly a peculiar expression on George Mikos' face. He left the
register and came around the counter.
"That wasn't your husband," he said. "He's called often enough for me to know
his voice. This voice was deeper. But I think you better wait a minute anyway.
Sit down."
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Ruth was puzzled but she pulled a chair out from under the nearest table and
sat. George sat on one of the counter stools and stared at her. "Ruth, outside
of Ray, do you know anyone at all who might have any reason at all for calling
you at this time?"
Ruth thought, and shook her head slowly. "No," she admitted. "No man, anyway.
Just what did he say? Could he have got the wrong number and you misunderstood
the name he asked for?"
"No. And the conversation was so short I can give it to you verbatim. He said,
"Is Ruth Fleck there?" Incidentally, that's proof, besides the voice, that it
wasn't your husband. The several times he's called when I've answered he's
always said, 'Hi, George. Can I talk to Ruth?" Knows my voice and calls me by
name, and never bothers adding the Fleck to yours.
"But back to this call. I said. 'She's just about to leave, but she's still
here. Just a minute.' And then I called out to you, and went back to the
register. And that's all."
"He couldn't have misunderstood you and thought you said I'd just left?"
"Pretty unlikely, Ruth. My diction is at least passable, and it was a good
connection. Besides, although my mouth was away from the mouthpiece when I
called you I called loudly enough and was still close enough that he'd surely
have heard that."
He frowned. "Have you had any other mysterious phone calls recently? Such as
answering the phone and having someone hang up when he hears your voice?" Ruth
shook her head. "Or such as wrong numbers? Or a call from a stranger who could
be a phony for all you know, asking what television program you're watching,
or anything like that?"
Ruth shook her head more slowly this time. "No, George. Oh, wrong numbers once
in a while, things like that. But not recently. Not that I remember right now,
anyway. Most calls we get are for Ray, and the caller always leaves a name or
a number or both. Or if they're for me, they're from someone I
know."
"And you've never been followed that you know of? Never had anything happen to
indicate that someone has been checking up on you or asking questions about
you?"
"No. George, you're taking this awfully seriously. I can guess what you're
thinking--but why would the psychopath pick on me?"
"For the same reason," George said, "that he picked on those other women.
Doubled in spades, because you're prettier than they were. And you've got a
husband who-- What time does Ray usually come home at night?"
"Usually about ten or fifteen minutes after the taverns close at one o'clock.
I always stay up that long to wait for him. If he isn't home by--oh, about one
twenty--I figure he probably got into a poker game or something and go to
sleep. Then he has to knock loud enough to wake me--but that's not too hard;
I'm a light sleeper."
"That would give the psycho a full hour, from midnight till one, most nights.
Some nights longer, if he's been casing your husband too and happens to know
he's going to be later. Ruth, I don't like that phone call at all. To be
honest about it, it worries the bejesus out of me."
"You're scaring me too, George. I guess you want to, so I'll be careful. And I
will. I told you about the special knock Ray uses when he gets home late. I
wouldn't open the door except to that knock. But isn't it enough of a
precaution?"
"I suppose so, unless Ray's told someone about it. Suppose he got talking to a
friend in a tavern--but with the psycho in hearing distance--and told him
about it. There's plenty of talk about the psycho, including in taverns. If
the subject came up naturally, mightn't he tell what precaution you and he are
using, if he knew and thought he could trust whoever he was talking to."
"Well--he might mention that we use a code knock. But he surely wouldn't tell
just what the code knock is.
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There'd be no reason for him to tell that--unless he deliberately wanted to
get me murdered.
And he's not that bad, George."
George Mikos sighed. "I suppose you're right there. But don't you see that,
code knock or no, you can be in danger? That you are in danger if friend
psycho is checking up on you and has you on his little list, even as a
possibility?"
"I realize that--but still, if I don't open the door--"
"Wait, I hadn't finished. If he's even intelligent enough to read the
newspapers he knows by now that women alone just aren't opening doors these
days, not unless they have chain bolts on them anyway.
He knows he's going to have to vary his procedure if he's going to succeed
again. And what simpler variation would there be than for him to find a woman
who went home alone, late, and be waiting for her inside her house or flat
when she gets there?
"Let me make a hypothetical case to show you that could be. Let's say he
picked you out a week ago. Maybe he eats here; maybe you've talked to him and
he got to know your name. Let's say the first night he followed you home and
knows where you live.
"Let's say he's been checking up on you ever since. It wouldn't be hard for
him to learn that you're married, but only you and your husband live in that
flat." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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