the two muscular men.
And the voice… No woman, no matter
how disguised, sounded that harsh or scratchy.
The police were watching the phone
booths around her apartment. Apparently, the caller knew it, because Dave said
the last call came from a pay phone several blocks away.
She went into her apartment, half
afraid to look at the answering machine, knowing the message light would be
blinking. Bella rubbed against her legs,
welcoming her home. She picked up the cat and cuddled her, enjoying the comfort
of her soft fur and purring sounds. Holding her close, she hit the play button
on the machine. Her aunt’s voice, soft and gentle, invited her to dinner on
Sunday.
Clare’s voice came on next.
“Susan, I need to talk to you, please call me back.” Susan laughed. The
ever-mysterious Clare.
Susan breathed a sigh of relief,
grabbed the phone to call Clare, sank down into her favorite chair, and turned
on the television. She usually liked the quiet, but not today. Today, she
needed noise, needed to hear sounds other than her creaky apartment noises.
While Clare’s phone rang, Susan caught her name on the TV. She hung up without
leaving a message, grabbed the remote, and turned up the sound.
“Newspaper journalist, Susan
Weston, who first broke the story of the nursery rhyme murders, has received
several phone calls from the killer.” The newscaster, Jennifer Dunsmore, said,
“Is Miss Weston withholding information from her public?”
Sitting forward in her chair,
Susan listened to the report. How...? Where had Jennifer gotten that
information? Had Dave or someone at the police department leaked it? Of course, Jennifer didn’t reveal her source
for the story. Susan picked up the phone and called Dave. He wouldn’t have
leaked that information.
Would he?
The only other person that knew
about it was Jim Dahl.
“Dave, how did Jennifer Dunsmore
get the information that I’m getting phone calls from the killer? Would Jim
Dahl tell anyone?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just now on the news, Jennifer
Dunsmore announced to the world I’m getting phone calls from the killer.”
“Shit!”
“So, obviously it wasn’t you. How
about Jim?”
“Jim? No, he knows better than
that. Besides, he’s on the inside. Reporters don’t even have access to him.”
“Reporters have access to
everyone.” Susan knew she sounded annoyed, but she didn’t care. Someone had leaked
that story. Who was Jennifer’s source? Shoot. Well, it was out, now. Ernie was
going to have a fit that she hadn’t told him.
“Darn! Who else knew about the
phone calls?” Susan paced her apartment, walked to the window, and looked out.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The shades. She forgot to pull them again.
She yanked the shades with such force, it surprised her they didn’t come off
the rollers.
“Calm down, Susan. I’ll check into
it and see you later.”
“You darn well better check into
it. And you darn well better find out who it was.” Susan hung up without saying
goodbye.
Ernie would expect more
information now. She had to go public. Her mother was going to hear this story.
She picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. Better to get it out of
the way. Explain it, and hope her mom hadn’t heard it already.
Of course, she had.
Surprisingly, her mother took the
news far better than Susan imagined.
“Susan, I just heard the news. Why
didn’t you tell me the killer was calling you?”
“I didn’t want you to worry, Mom.
Besides, we weren’t sure if it was him. It could have been a crank caller.”
“I think you should come home for
a while.”
“You know I can’t do that.
Besides, it’s a forty-five-minute ride every day. I hate that drive.”
It only took her thirty minutes
worth of argument, instead of the usual hour-and-a-half, to convince her mother
she was safe.
“Besides, there’s no reason for
the killer to come after me”
“Just be careful, Susan,” her
mother said
And the voice… No woman, no matter
how disguised, sounded that harsh or scratchy.
The police were watching the phone
booths around her apartment. Apparently, the caller knew it, because Dave said
the last call came from a pay phone several blocks away.
She went into her apartment, half
afraid to look at the answering machine, knowing the message light would be
blinking. Bella rubbed against her legs,
welcoming her home. She picked up the cat and cuddled her, enjoying the comfort
of her soft fur and purring sounds. Holding her close, she hit the play button
on the machine. Her aunt’s voice, soft and gentle, invited her to dinner on
Sunday.
Clare’s voice came on next.
“Susan, I need to talk to you, please call me back.” Susan laughed. The
ever-mysterious Clare.
Susan breathed a sigh of relief,
grabbed the phone to call Clare, sank down into her favorite chair, and turned
on the television. She usually liked the quiet, but not today. Today, she
needed noise, needed to hear sounds other than her creaky apartment noises.
While Clare’s phone rang, Susan caught her name on the TV. She hung up without
leaving a message, grabbed the remote, and turned up the sound.
“Newspaper journalist, Susan
Weston, who first broke the story of the nursery rhyme murders, has received
several phone calls from the killer.” The newscaster, Jennifer Dunsmore, said,
“Is Miss Weston withholding information from her public?”
Sitting forward in her chair,
Susan listened to the report. How...? Where had Jennifer gotten that
information? Had Dave or someone at the police department leaked it? Of course, Jennifer didn’t reveal her source
for the story. Susan picked up the phone and called Dave. He wouldn’t have
leaked that information.
Would he?
The only other person that knew
about it was Jim Dahl.
“Dave, how did Jennifer Dunsmore
get the information that I’m getting phone calls from the killer? Would Jim
Dahl tell anyone?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just now on the news, Jennifer
Dunsmore announced to the world I’m getting phone calls from the killer.”
“Shit!”
“So, obviously it wasn’t you. How
about Jim?”
“Jim? No, he knows better than
that. Besides, he’s on the inside. Reporters don’t even have access to him.”
“Reporters have access to
everyone.” Susan knew she sounded annoyed, but she didn’t care. Someone had leaked
that story. Who was Jennifer’s source? Shoot. Well, it was out, now. Ernie was
going to have a fit that she hadn’t told him.
“Darn! Who else knew about the
phone calls?” Susan paced her apartment, walked to the window, and looked out.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The shades. She forgot to pull them again.
She yanked the shades with such force, it surprised her they didn’t come off
the rollers.
“Calm down, Susan. I’ll check into
it and see you later.”
“You darn well better check into
it. And you darn well better find out who it was.” Susan hung up without saying
goodbye.
Ernie would expect more
information now. She had to go public. Her mother was going to hear this story.
She picked up the phone and dialed her mother’s number. Better to get it out of
the way. Explain it, and hope her mom hadn’t heard it already.
Of course, she had.
Surprisingly, her mother took the
news far better than Susan imagined.
“Susan, I just heard the news. Why
didn’t you tell me the killer was calling you?”
“I didn’t want you to worry, Mom.
Besides, we weren’t sure if it was him. It could have been a crank caller.”
“I think you should come home for
a while.”
“You know I can’t do that.
Besides, it’s a forty-five-minute ride every day. I hate that drive.”
It only took her thirty minutes
worth of argument, instead of the usual hour-and-a-half, to convince her mother
she was safe.
“Besides, there’s no reason for
the killer to come after me”
“Just be careful, Susan,” her
mother said
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