Detective

Victor Millsap in Woodmere,” I told him. “I just had one of my men call in that my phone was out of order.”
    “Yeah. I got it. Just came in. Don’t worry. We’ll be right out.”
    “You don’t have to,” I told him. “The phone’s working again.”
    “What’s that you say?”
    “Cancel the order. The phone’s working.”
    “That’s not what your man said.”
    “I sent him to a pay phone. In the meantime, the phone’s working again. I’m calling from it now.”
    “Then what the hell’s with the repair call?”
    “The phone was dead. Now it’s working. Cancel the order.”
    “Oh, hey, that’s gonna be a bitch. I wrote it up. You better let the guys come out there and check it out.”
    “And then you’re gonna charge me for it. No way.”
    “We don’t charge for repair service.”
    “I don’t care. Listen, I’ve got important people over for a business conference. I don’t want phone repairmen crawling all over the place. Just cancel the order, will you.”
    “O.K., O.K., I’ll cancel it,” he said.
    The way he said it, I wasn’t convinced. I had to be sure.
    “What’s your name?” I asked him.
    “What?”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Frank Parker. Why?”
    “Because if your boys show up and interrupt my conference, I want to know who to blame when I call your boss.”
    “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he said. “Listen. I got it in my hand. I’m tearing it up now. You satisfied?”
    I was. This time I believed him. I hung up the phone, got in the car, and drove to McDonald’s. They ought to be getting to know me by now, I thought as I walked in. Nobody seemed to, though. I went in the men’s room and changed my clothes again. This time I even remembered to take a piss.

22.
    T ALL , D ARK , A ND U GLY O PENED the front door.
    “Telephone repair,” I said, and pushed by him into the house.
    He looked at me as if I were an ill-mannered clod, but he closed the front door, which was all I cared about. I didn’t want him to notice there was no truck parked in the driveway.
    “How many phones you got?” I asked him. I was using my ill-mannered slob voice, in keeping with the image, all my years in the acting profession not being entirely wasted.
    “Three,” he told me.
    “They all out?”
    “Yeah. They’re all out.”
    “O.K. Let’s take a look at ’em.”
    The first one was in the kitchen. I didn’t want that one. I took it apart, inspected it, put it back together again. He watched me the whole time. I hoped his constant scrutiny wasn’t going to cramp my style.
    “Nothing wrong here,” I said. “Let’s see the others.”
    He led me into the living room, which was the size of a small basketball court. A better bet, but the decor, rich but starkly modern and impersonal, told me probably not prime ground. Still, it was worth doing. When I got the phone apart, my buddy was still watching me. I turned to him in my best poor slob manner and said, “Hey, buddy, you got a soda or something? I been dying out there.”
    He gave me a look that could have fried eggs, then turned and headed for the kitchen. His attitude said it all: repairmen may be schmucks, but everyone needs phones.
    The moment he was out of the room, I unscrewed the receiver of the phone and inserted the bug. Fred Lazar had given me a crash course in illegal wiretaps and I’d practiced on my office phone, so I was pretty good at it, and I had the phone all neatly back together by the time my friend returned with a glass of Coke.
    “Thanks, buddy,” I told him, and took a huge swallow. I followed with what I imagined to be an artistic belch. “No problem here. Where’s the other one?”
    “Through here,” he said.
    He led me through an arched hallway into a large den. Bingo! Television. Pool table. Walk-in bar. Casual clutter. Comfortable couches and chairs. Yup. This was where I’d make my dope deals.
    I started taking the phone apart. My buddy was watching. I wondered how I was going to get rid of him now. Chug down the Coke and ask for another? Not great. Shit. I should have passed on the living room and saved it for here. What was I going to do now?
    I was saved by the front doorbell. Tall, Dark, and Ugly reacted to the chime like a trained dog. His head went up and he looked toward the sound, although, of course, there was nothing to see. He turned back, gave me a look, then turned and walked out of the room.
    I had the receiver off and the bug in in seconds. I left the phone itself apart