"And you don't recognize the voice?"
"No. He always whispers as though he's deliberately trying to disguise it."
"You think you might know him?"
"I have no idea. He might just want to make his voice sound scarier."
"When did this start?"
She raised her pale hand to her temples and massaged them. "Several months ago, I think."
"Before we were married," Chase said.
"Hmm. Does he always say the same thing?"
"No." The question made her curious. She raised her head. "Why?"
"Could be we're not dealing with an individual, but a group of kids. They try to see who can say the nastiest stuff, get the best response, that kind of thing."
With a small shake of her head Marcie said,
"I don't think so."
"Neither do I." Chase leaned forward. "When
Marcie first told me about this, she passed it off as a prankster who got his jollies by talking dirty. She figured he would eventually grow tired of her and move on to someone else. But he hasn't, Pat. He scares her spitless every time he calls. I think it's more than your average heavy breather."
Pat picked a fresh wooden match from a box on his desk and put it in his mouth. He'd traded cigarettes for match-sticks years ago.
He maneuvered it from one side of his mouth to the other.
"What do you do when he calls, Marcie?"
"At first I just hung up as soon as I realized what it was. But he began calling repeatedly, sometimes several times a night. It got to be such a nuisance, I started listening, hoping I'd recognize his voice. I thought it might be someone I run into frequently—the man who sacks my groceries, the man who pumps my gas, the teller at the bank who always flirts. I wanted to embarrass him by calling him by name, you see. But I never could identify him."
"Any heartbroken lovers in your past?"
"No."
"What about the fiance in Houston?"
She looked at Chase with incredulity. "He wouldn't do anything like this!"
"How do you know?"
"There's an ex-lover?" Pat asked, showing interest.
"I assure you, Sheriff Bush, it's not him."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because he doesn't have the sexual imagination for one thing. I'd suspect Chase before I would suspect him."
When she realized the conclusion that could be drawn from what she had said, her eyes collided with Chase's. His were full of expression.
Pat coughed behind his hand. Marcie wet her lips and tried to cover the blunder.
"It's not my ex-fiance," she said staunchly.
"Besides, they sound like local calls. Not long distance."
"Better give me his name anyway."
"Is it really necessary?"
"We'll check his long-distance bill through the phone company. Unless he's our man, he'll never even know about it."
"But the thought of invading his privacy—"
"Do you want to find this creep or not?"
Chase asked impatiently.
Marcie glared at her husband defiantly, then reluctantly provided the sheriff with her former fiance's name. "I promise we'll be discreet."
Pat told her. He leaned back in his chair. "Why didn't y'all come tell me about this before now?"
"I wanted to," Chase said. "Marcie insisted that we wait."
"Why?" Pat wanted to know.
"I thought he would eventually stop calling."
"But when he didn't, why didn't you tell me about it?"
She wrung her hands. "I'm not sure. I guess
I wanted to solve the problem on my own. In the scheme of things it seemed like such a piddling problem. It really didn't get so bad until this week. He called more frequently, and his voice was different."
"Different? How?"
"It wasn't just sleazy. It was sinister. He kept saying he was coming to fulfill my…
my…" Again she rested her forehead in her hand.
"I know this isn't easy, Marcie," Pat said kindly.
"No, I assure you it's not." In a manner that Chase admired, she pulled herself together.
In one long breath she told them, "He said he was prepared to fulfill my sexual appetites while my husband was away. Not in those exact words. But that was the gist of it."
Chase growled, "If I ever get my hands on the slimy sonofabitch—"
Pat pointed a stern finger at him as he interrupted. "You'll stay out of it, is what you'll do. I mean it, Chase. You just had to finance a new set of false teeth for that feller you bashed out at The Place. Don't you boys ever learn?"
"Nobody talks smut to my wife and gets by with it."
"If we catch him, he won't get by with it.
This is a police matter."
Chase muttered a blue opinion. Pat ignored his muttering. "Which one of you is going to tell me about that?" He pointed at the pistol.
"I bought it for protection," Marcie told him, her cheeks turning slightly pink with embarrassment.
"Foolish thing to do," Pat said bluntly.
"Oh, I wouldn't actually shoot it at anybody.
You didn't think that, did you?"
He looked at her for a moment, then dryly replied, "When somebody packs a .357 magnum, that's the conclusion I have to draw, yes, ma'am."
"She almost shot me." Chase told Pat about his hapless homecoming.
"Well, that kind of craziness is gonna stop," Pat said, coming to his feet.
"These callers rarely do anything. They're cowards. Don't get me wrong, Marcie. You should exercise caution. Keep all your doors and windows locked and your alarm set even when you're there. But let's not get paranoid over this thing."
"What are you going to do?"
"Put a tap on your phone first thing tomorrow morning. And a tracer. Probably won't do much good. He probably calls from pay phones and knows just how long to talk before hanging up."
Pat opened the office door and called for a female deputy. "In the meantime, I want Marcie to go with Deputy Davis here and give her some quotes of things he says. Key words are important. Try to remember words that he repeats. We'll send the report to Dallas and have them run it through their computer.
If he's got a prior, we'll find him that way."
Chase assisted Marcie to her feet, placing his arm around her waist. He moved with her to the door, passed her off to the buxom woman in uniform, and was about to follow them across the squad room when Pat detained him.
"She might be less self-conscious talking about it if you're not there."
"I'm her husband, for crissake."
"Indulge me. Besides, I want to talk to you."
Chase reentered Pat's office. The sheriff closed the door again and returned to his chair behind the desk.
"How'd it go in Houston?"
"The Rockets lost and I came home without a contract."
"Sorry, Chase. But don't worry. You'll eventually pull out of this slump."
"I'm beginning to wonder." He stared into near space for a moment. "Met an interesting guy while I was there, though. Named Harlan
Boyd. He works as a troubleshooter in oil-related businesses. Or maybe he's just a con artist with a string of b.s. that sounds convincing.
Anyway, he said he might have some ideas for us. Hell, I'd be open to anything."
"Chase?"
"Yeah?" Chase raised his head. The older man's tone of voice had changed. It was hesitant.
He got the distinct impression that Pat had something except the suffering oil business on his mind.
"Have you ever answered the phone to this obscene caller?"
"He would hang up, wouldn't he?"
"That ever happen?"
"No. Why?"
Sidestepping that question, Pat posed another.
"When did Marcie first tell you about him?"
"Let's see." He thought back. "I believe it was the night I went to her place to repay her for bailing me out of the hospital."
"How soon after that did y'all talk about getting married?"
"What the hell difference does that make?"
Chase's eyes sharpened. "What are you leading up to, Pat? These aren't random questions, are they?
What are you getting at?"
"How are you and Marcie getting along?"
"None of your damn business."
"When you walked through that door and
laid a loaded pistol on my desk, you made it my business."
"Okay, then, get to your point," Chase said crisply. "What does our marital situation have to do with an obscene phone caller?"
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything." Pat leaned forward and placed his forearms on the edge of his desk. "Doesn't it strike you funny that he's never called when you're there?"
Suddenly, Chase had the complete picture, as though Pat had colored in the last numbered space.
Angrily, he threw himself out of his chair and made several pacing tours of the office before glaring down at the sheriff.
"You think she's making him up?"
"Is it possible?"
"No! Hell, no! That's laughable."
"But possible?"
"Wait!" Chase exclaimed. "I was there once when he called."
"You heard him?"
"No. He hung up before I could get to the phone."