she recognized the voice. She would, of course; she’d heard it when he’d come to her shop to buy the bronze paper knife.
I picked up the phone. I said, “Hello,” and wondered why I was saying anything.
“I’ve been trying to reach my sponsor,” he said. “I was hoping for the benefit of his strength, hope, and experience. But he’s not answering his phone, so I thought I’d call you instead.”
“Really.”
“Maybe you could tell me not to drink, and to go to a meeting. That might be helpful in keeping me on the straight and narrow.”
“What do you want?”
“Why, I just wanted to talk. And you’ll probably want to keep me on the line so you can trace the call.”
We hadn’t set up for that. It’s not that hard to do nowadays, but in this case there hadn’t seemed to be much point to it. We knew he’d called Bill several times, and a check of the LUDS on Bill’s phone had established that all the calls from Abie had been made on an untrace-258
Lawrence Block
able cell phone. If he called me he’d use the same phone, so why bother setting up a trace?
“I’ll save you the trouble,” he said. “I’m on a pay phone at Penn Station, and in approximately seven minutes I’ll be on a train. I’ve decided it’s time to disappear.”
“I wish you’d stick around.”
“Oh? Be careful what you pray for, my friend.”
“Because I might get it?”
“So they say. Or did you want to tell me that I can be helped, and that you’ll see to it that they help me if only I turn myself in?”
“No,” I said, “I don’t want to tell you that.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t want you to be helped. I want you to be killed.”
“Now that’s refreshing,” he said. “All the more reason for me to leave the stage, wouldn’t you say? I’m enjoying this conversation, but it’s time to catch my train. One thing, though. Will you give my sponsor a call? It’s Bill, the older fellow they call William the Silent. He’s even more silent than usual lately, and I’d feel better if you’d check on him.” He broke the connection. I put the phone down and looked at Elaine.
She said, “I feel like throwing out the answering machine and getting a new one. Or at least spraying this one with Lysol.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Maybe I should spray the whole apartment. It needs disinfecting, after that voice has had a chance to bounce off the walls.”
“The whole city needs disinfecting.”
“The whole planet. Who are you calling?”
“Bill,” I said. The phone rang and rang. I broke the connection and redialed and the same thing happened.
“Oh, Jesus,” I said.
They found Bill in his apartment, dead of multiple stab wounds to the chest. There were defensive wounds on his hands and forearms, suggesting he’d tried to fight off his killer.
Sussman checked the phone records, and it turned out the call we’d All the Flowers Are Dying
259
received had in fact come from a pay phone in Penn Station. I didn’t know what to make of that.
“One of the things we found on Fifty-third Street,” he said, “was a cell phone charger. I had to guess, I’d say his battery ran down. If he wanted to give you a call, he had to spend a quarter.”
“He called from Penn Station,” I said, “and he said he was calling from Penn Station.”
“So?”
“So he wanted to make sure I knew it. Not only does he tell me, but he knows the LUDS will back him up.”
“He wants us to think he’s leaving town.”
“Maybe. Or he really is leaving town, and he wants us to think he’s not.”
“By telling us he is.”
“Right.”
Elaine said, “ ‘How Could You Believe Me When I Said I Loved You When You Know I’ve Been A Liar All My Life?’ ”
“They don’t write songs like that anymore,” Sussman said. “So let’s sum this up, okay? What we now know for sure is that either he’s leaving town or he’s not. Is that about it?” I wound up going to the meeting at St. Paul’s. I didn’t want to go anywhere, but someone had to tell them about Bill, and I decided it really ought to be me. I got there a little late, after the qualification but in time for the general discussion, and I got to be the bearer of bad tidings.
