Hit List

up, and I punched in the code, and when I heard my own message I pressed three and erased it.”
    “How’d you know the code?”
    “When you buy the machine,” she said, “the code is five-five-five, and they tell you how you can change it.”
    “And I did.”
    “To four-four-four, Keller.”
    “Well,” he said.
    “It wasn’t the first one I tried,” she said, “but it didn’t take me long to get to it. I erased the message I’d left, and while I was at it I erased a message from some jerk who wanted to sell you a time-share in the Bahamas.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I got in the habit of invading your privacy. When you were out of town, I checked your messages for you.”
    “One time I checked,” he remembered, “and there was some kind of nuisance message, not a time-share but about as inviting, and I didn’t bother to erase it. And then when I got home it wasn’t there.”
    “It must have been one of the ones I erased. I figured I’d spare you the aggravation.”
    “And there were messages from Maggie?”
    “ ‘Hi, it’s me. I was just thinking of you. Don’t bother to call back.’ If you weren’t supposed to call back, what did you need to hear it for?” She reached for her glass of tea. “That was the first one. And there were one or two others in the same vein over the months. Then when you were in Baltimore she left three or four messages, including one along the lines of ‘I know you’re there and you’re not answering the phone and please don’t pick up now because it would just make it obvious what a neurotic bastard you are.’ Then a long pause, during which I guess you were supposed to pick it up, and then she called you a name and hung up.”
    “What kind of a name?”
    “All I remember is it wasn’t a compliment. Then an apology, and a request that you call. And another saying ignore the preceding message. I figured you’d better ignore them all, and I made them go away.”
    “And this was when I was in Baltimore.”
    “And while you were on jury duty.”
    “You called during the day, while I was on jury duty.”
    “A couple of times.”
    “Just a couple of times?”
    “Well, daily, actually. At this point I was just checking for messages from her, and most of the time there weren’t any, but I didn’t want you hearing from her, or talking to her.”
    “You’d already decided she was a loose end.”
    “Well, it was getting obvious, Keller.”
    “Bait,” he said.
    “We’d have to take her out anyway, you know. I don’t think it’s something you want to do yourself, or am I wrong?”
    “I went to bed with the woman,” he said.
    “And sent her flowers, if I remember correctly.”
    “I liked her, Dot. She had an interesting way of seeing things.”
    “The ones you pick,” she said, “always have an interesting way of seeing things.”
    “The ones I pick?”
    “This one,” she said, “and the dog walker one with all the earrings. Call me judgmental, but I think we’d be safe classing them both as kooks.”
    “Maybe.”
    “ ‘Let’s keep this superficial, so don’t send me any more flowers, and we’ll just meet a couple of times a month and go to bed.’ “
    “ ‘And by the way, you’ve got a murderer’s thumb.’ “
    “Any more superficial, Keller, and she’d have had you stay home altogether and just send her a monthly teaspoon of sperm. I have to say she did you a favor, keeping you at a distance. It might be harder on you otherwise, closing the account.”
    “Bait,” he said.
    “The word seems to bother you. Call it sushi, if you like that better. It amounts to the same thing.”
    “I guess I’ll get used to the idea.”
    “Or look at it this way,” she said. “She’s the lemon fate handed you. And what you’re doing, you’re making lemonade.”
    Back at his apartment, the first thing Keller did was check his answering machine. He pressed the Play button, and the robotic voice said, “You. Have. No. Messages.”
    And what did that mean? That no one had left a message? Or that, while he was on his way home, Dot had called and wiped the machine clean?
    The first thing to do, he thought, was change his number, and to something less obvious than four-four-four. Like what? He ran three-number combinations through his head, trying to find one that was clunkier and less memorable than the others. Three-eight-one? Two-nine-four? Any number, he decided, displayed special qualities if you thought about it long