Sorry,

Wrong Number
(A Radio Play) by Lucille Fletche

(Sound: Number being dialed on phone; busy signal.)

Mrs. Stevenson: (a querulous, self-centered neurotic) Oh-dear! (Slams down receiver.
Dials Operator.)
Operator: Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: Operator? I’ve been dialing Murray Hill 4-0098 now for the last
three-quarters of an hour, and the line is always busy. But I don’t see how it could be
busy that long. Will you try it for me, please?
Operator: Murray Hill 4-0098? One moment, please.
Mrs. Stevenson: I don’t see how it could be busy all the time. It’s my husband’s office.
He’s working late tonight, and I’m all alone here in the house. My health is very poor-
and I’ve been feeling so nervous all day-
Operator: Ringing Murray Hill 4-0098.
(Sound: Phone buzz. It rings three times. Receiver is picked up at the other end.)
Man: Hello.
Mrs. Stevenson: Hello? (a little puzzled) Hello. (louder) Hello.
Man: (into phone, as though he had not heard) Hello. (louder) Hello.
Second Man: (slow, heavy quality, faintly foreign accent) Hello.
First Man: Hello, George?
George: Yes, sir.
Mrs. Stevenson: (louder and more imperious, to phone) Hello. Who’s this? What
number am I calling, please?
First Man: We had heard from our client. He says the coast is clear for tonight.
George: Yes, sir.
First Man: Where are you now?
George: In a phone booth.
First Man: Okay, You know the address. At eleven o’clock the private patrolman goes
around to the bar on Second Avenue for a beer. Be sure that all the lights downstairs
are out. There should be only one light visible for the street. At eleven fifteen a subway
train crosses the bridge. It makes a noise in case her window is open and she should
scream.
Mrs. Stevenson: (shocked) Oh-hello! What number is this, please?
George: Okay, I understand.
First Man: Make it quick. As little blood as possible. Our client does not wish to make
her suffer long.
George: A knife okay, sir?

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First Man: Yes, a knife will be okay. And remember-remove the rings and bracelets,
and the jewelry in the bureau drawer. Our client wishes it to look like a simple
robbery.
George: Okay, I get – (sound: a bland buzzing signal)
Mrs. Stevenson: (clicking phone) Oh! (Bland buzzing signal continues. She hangs up.)
How awful! How unspeakably- (sound of dialing; phone buzz)
Operator: Your call, Please?
Mrs. Stevenson: (unnerved and breathless, into phone) Operator, I-I’ve just been cut
off.
Operator: I’m sorry madam. What number were you calling?
Mrs. Stevenson: Why It was supposed to be Murray Hill 4-0098 but it wasn't. Some
wires must have crossed-I was cut into a wrong number-and-I've just heard the most
dreadful thing--a--a mur-der-and-(imperiously) Operator, you'll simply have to retrace
the call at once.
Operator: I beg your pardon, madam-I don't quite-
Mrs. Stevenson: Oh-I know it was a wrong number, and I had no business listening-
but these two men-they were cold-blooded fiends-some poor innocent woman-who was
all alone-in a house near a bridge. And we've got to stop them--we've got to-
Operator: (patiently) What number were you calling, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: That doesn't matter. This was a wrong number. And you dialed it.
And we've got to find out what it was--immediately!
Operator: But-madam-
Mrs. Stevenson: Oh, why are you so stupid? Look it was obviously a case of some
little slip of the finger. I told you to try Murray Hill 4-0098 for me-you dialed it-but
your finger must have slipped-and I was connected with some other number-and I
could hear them, but they couldn't hear me. Now, I simply fail to see why you couldn't
make that same mistake again-on purpose-why you couldn't try to dial Murray Hill 4-
0098 in the same careless sort of way-
Operator: (quickly) Murray Hill 4-0098? I will try to get it for you, madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: (sarcastically) Thank you. (sound of ringing, busy signal)
Operator: I am sorry. Murray Hill 4-0098 is busy.
Mrs. Stevenson: (frantically clicking receiver) Operator. Operator.
Operator: Yes, madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: (angrily) You didn't try to get that wrong number at all. I asked
explicitly. And all you did was dial correctly.
Operator: I am sorry. What number were you calling?
Mrs. Stevenson: Can't you, for once, forget what number I was calling and do
something specific? Now I want to trace that call. It's my civic duty-it's your civic
duty--to trace that call-and to apprehend those dangerous killers-and if you won't-
Operator: I will connect you with the Chief Operator.
Mrs. Stevenson: Please! (sound of ringing)
Chief Operator: (coolly and professionally) This is the Chief Operator.

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Mrs. Stevenson: Chief Operator? I want you to trace a call. A telephone call.
Immediately. I don't know where it came from, or who was making it, but it's
absolutely necessary that it be tracked down. Because it was about a murder. Yes, a
terrible cold-blooded murder of a poor innocent woman-tonight-at eleven fifteen.
Chief Operator: I see.
Mrs. Stevenson: (high-strung, demanding) Can you trace it for me? Can you track
down those men?
Chief Operator: It depends, madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: Depends on what?
Chief Operator: It depends on whether the call is still going on. If it's a live call, we
can trace it on the equipment. If it's been disconnected, we can't.
Mrs. Stevenson: Disconnected!
Chief Operator: If the parties stopped talking to each other.
Mrs. Stevenson: Oh-but-but of course they must have stopped talking to each other
by now. That was at least five minutes ago-and they didn't sound like the type who
would make a long call.
Chief Operator: Well, I can try tracing it. Now-what is your name. madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: Mrs. Stevenson. Mrs. Elbert Stevenson. But—listen--
Chief Operator: (writing it down) And your telephone number?
Mrs. Stevenson: (more irritated) Plaza 4-2295. But if you go on wasting all this time--
Chief Operator: And what is your reason for wanting this call traced?
Mrs. Stevenson: My reason? Well-for heaven's sake-isn't it obvious? Overheard two
men-they're killers-they're planning to murder this woman-it's a matter for the police.
Chief Operator: Have you told the police?
Mrs. Stevenson: No. How could I?
Chief Operator: You're making this check into a private call purely as a private
individual?
Mrs. Stevenson: Yes. But meanwhile-
Chief Operator: Well, Mrs. Stevenson-I seriously doubt whether we could make this
check for you at this time just on your say-so as private individual. We'd have to have
something more official.
Mrs. Stevenson: Oh, for heaven's sake! You mean to tell me I can't report a murder
without getting tied up in all this red tape? Why, it’s perfectly idiotic. All right, then, I
will call the police. (She slams down receiver) Ridiculous! (sound of dialing)
Second Operator: Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: (very annoyed) The Police Department-please.
Second Operator: Ringing the Police Department.
(Rings twice. Phone is picked up.)
Sergeant Duffy: Police Department. Precinct 43. Duffy speaking.
Mrs. Stevenson: Police Department? Oh. This is Mrs. Stevenson-Mrs. Elbert Smythe
Stevenson of 53 North Sutton Place. I'm calling to report a murder.

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Sergeant Duffy: Eh?
Mrs. Stevenson: I mean-the murder hasn't been committed yet. I just overheard plans
for it over the telephone... over wrong number that the operator gave me. I've been
trying to trace down the call myself, but everybody is so stupid-and I guess in the end
you're the only people who could do anything.
Duffy: And what was that number you were calling?
Mrs. Stevenson: Murray Hill 4-0098. But--that wasn't the number overheard. I mean
Murray Hill 4-0098 is my husband's office. He's working late tonight, and I was trying
to reach him to ask him to come home. I'm an invalid, you know-and it's the maid's
night off-and I hate to be alone- even though he says I'm perfectly safe as long as I
have the telephone right beside my bed.
Duffy: (stolidly) Well, we'll look into it Mrs. Stevenson, and see if we can check it with
the telephone company.
Mrs. Stevenson: (getting impatient) But the telephone company said they couldn't
check the call if the parties had stopped talking. I've taken care of that.
Duffy: Oh, yes?
Mrs. Stevenson: (highhanded) Personally I feel you ought to do something far more
immediate and drastic than just check the call. What good does checking the call do, if
they've stopped talking? By the time you track it down, they'll already have committed
the murder.
Duffy: Well, we'll take care of it, lady. Don't worry.
Mrs. Stevenson: I'd say the whole thing calls for a search-a complete and thorough
search of the whole city. I'm very near a bridge, and I'm not far from Second Avenue.
And I know I'd feel a whole lot better if you sent a radio car to this neighborhood at
once.
Duffy: How do you know it wasn't a long-distance call you overheard? Telephones are
funny things. Look, lady, why don't you look at it this way? Supposing you hadn't
broken in on that telephone call? Supposing you'd got your husband the way you
always do? Would this murder have made any difference to you then?
Mrs. Stevenson: I suppose not. But it's so inhuman-so cold-blooded-
Duffy: A lot of murders are committed in this city every day, ma'am. If we could do
something to stop 'em, we would. But a clue of this kind that's so vague isn't much
more use to us than no clue at all.
Mrs. Stevenson: But surely-
Duffy: Unless, of course, you have some reason for thinking this call is phony-and
that someone may be planning to murder you?
Mrs. Stevenson: Me? Oh, no, I hardly think so. I-I mean-why should anybody? I'm
alone all day and night-I see nobody except my maid Eloise-she's a big two-hundred
pounder-she's too lazy to bring up my breakfast tray-and the only other person is my
husband Elbert-he's crazy about me-adores me-waits on me hand and foot-he's
scarcely left my side since I took sick twelve years ago-
Duffy: Well, then, there's nothing for you to worry about, is there? And now, if you'll
just leave the rest to us--
Mrs. Stevenson: But what will you do? It's so late-it's nearly eleven o'clock.
Duffy: (firmly) We'll take care of it, lady.
(sound of dialing operator)

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Operator: Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: Operator, for heaven's sake, will you ring that Murray Hill 4-0098
again? I can't think what's keeping him so long-
Operator: Ringing Murray Hill 4-0098. (Rings. Busy signal) The line is busy. Shall I-
Mrs. Stevenson: (nastily) I can't hear it. You don't have to tell me. I know it's busy.
(slams down receiver) If I could only get out of this bed for a little while. If I could get a
breath of fresh air-or just lean out the window-and see the street-(The phone rings. She
darts for it instantly,) Hello. Elbert? Hello. Hello. Hello. Oh, what's the matter with this
phone? Hello? Hello? (slams down receiver) (The phone rings again, once. She picks it
up.) Hello? Hello-Oh, for heaven's sake, who is this? Hello. Hello. Hello. (slams down
receiver. Dials operator.)
Third Operator: Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: (very annoyed and imperious) Hello, operator. I don't know what's the
matter with this telephone tonight, but it's positively driving me crazy. I've never seen
such inefficient, miserable service. Now, look. I'm an invalid, and I'm very nervous,
and I'm not supposed to be annoyed. But if this keeps on much longer-
Third Operator: (a young sweet type) What seems to be the trouble, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: Well, everything's wrong. The whole world could be murdered, for all
you people care. And now, my phone keeps ringing-
Operator: Yes, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: Ringing and ringing and ringing every five seconds or so, and when I
pick it up, there's no one there.
Operator: I'm sorry, madam. If you will hang up, I will test it for you.
Mrs. Stevenson: I don't want you to test it for me. I want you to put through that call-
whatever it is -at once.
Operator: (gently) I am afraid that is not possible, madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: (storming) Not possible? And why, may I ask?
Operator: The system is automatic, madam. If someone is trying to dial your number,
there is no way to check whether the call is coming through the system or not-unless
the person who is trying to reach you complains to his particular operator-
Mrs. Stevenson: Well, of all the stupid, complicated--! And meanwhile I've got to sit
here in my bed, suffering every time that phone rings, imagining everything-
Operator: I will try to check it for you, madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: Check it! Check it! That's all anybody can do. Of all the stupid,
idiotic.! (She hangs up) Oh-what's the use..(Instantly Mrs. Stevenson's phone rings
again. She picks up the receiver. Wildly.) Hello, HELLO. Stop ringing, do you hear me?
Answer me? What do you want? Do you realize you're driving me crazy? Stark,
staring-
Man: (dull, flat voice) Hello. Is this Plaza 4-2295?
Mrs. Stevenson: (Catching her breath) Yes. Yes. This is Plaza 4-2295
Man: This is Western Union. I have a telegram here for Mrs. Elbert Stevenson. Is there
anyone there to receive the message?
Mrs. Stevenson: (trying to calm herself) I am Mrs. Stevenson.

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Western Union: (reading flatly) The telegram is as follows: "Mrs. Elbert Stevenson. 53
North Sutton Place, New York, New York. Darling. Terribly sorry. Tried to get you for
last hour, but line busy. Leaving for Boston 11 P.M. tonight on urgent business. Back
tomorrow afternoon. Keep happy. Love. Signed, Elbert.
Mrs. Stevenson: (breathing, aghast to herself) Oh-no-
Western Union: That is all, madam. Do you wish us to deliver a copy of the message?
Mrs. Stevenson: No-no, thank you.
Western Union: Thank you, madam. Good night. (He hangs up phone.)
Mrs. Stevenson: (mechanically, to phone) Good night. (She hangs up slowly, suddenly
bursting into tears.) No-no-it isn't true! He couldn't do it. Not when he knows I'll be all
alone. It's some trick some fiendish-(She dials operator.)
Operator: (coolly) Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: Operator-try that Murray Hill 4-0098 number for me just once more,
please.
Operator: Ringing Murray Hill 4-0098 (Call goes through. We hear ringing at the other
end. Ring after ring.)
Mrs. Stevenson: He's gone. Oh, Elbert, how could you? How could you-? (She hangs
up phone, sobbing pityingly to herself, turning restlessly.) But I can't be alone tonight. I
can't. I'm alone one more second-I don't care what he says-or what the expense is-I'm
a sick woman-I'm entitled-(She dials Information.)
Information: This is Information.
Mrs. Stevenson: I want the telephone number of Henchley Hospital.
Information: Henchley Hospital? Do you have the address, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: No. It's somewhere in the seventies, though. It's a very small, private,
and exclusive hospital where I had my appendix out two years ago. Henchley, H-E-N C
—
Information: One moment, please.
Mrs. Stevenson: Please - hurry. And please-what is the time?
Information: I do not know, madam. You may find out the time by dialing Meridian 7-
1212.
Mrs. Stevenson: (Irritated) Oh, for heaven's sake! Couldn't you-?
Information: The number of Henchley Hospital is Butterfield 7-0105,madam.
Mrs. Stevenson: Butterfield 7-0105. (She hangs up before she finishes speaking, and
immediately dials number as she repeats it.) (Phone rings.)
Woman: (middle-aged, solid, firm, practical) Henchley Hospital, good evening.
Mrs. Stevenson: Nurses' Registry.
Woman: Who was it you wished to speak to, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: (highhanded) I want the Nurses Registry at once. I want a trained
nurse. I want to hire her immediately. For the night.
Woman: I see. And what is the nature of the case, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: Nerves. I'm very nervous. I need soothing--and companionship. My
husband is away--and I'm-

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Woman: Have you been recommended to us by any doctor in particular, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: No. But I really don't see why all this catechizing is necessary. I want
a trained nurse. I was a patient in your hospital two years ago. And after all, I do
expect to pay this person-
Woman: (calmly) I see. Well, I'll speak to Miss Phillips as soon as she comes in. And
what is your name, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: Miss Phillips. And when do you expect her in?
Woman: I really don't know, madam. She went out to supper at eleven o'clock.
Mrs. Stevenson: Eleven o'clock. But it's not eleven yet. (She cries out.) Oh, my clock
has stopped. I thought it was running down. What time is it?
Woman: Just fourteen minutes past eleven.
(Sound of phone receiver being lifted on same line as Mrs. Stevenson's. A click.)
Mrs. Stevenson: (crying out) What's that?
Woman: What was that, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: That-that click just now-in my own telephone? As though someone
had lifted the receiver off the hook of the extension phone downstairs-
Woman: I didn't hear it, madam. Now-about this-
Mrs. Stevenson: (scared) But I did. There's someone in this house. Someone
downstairs in the kitchen. And they're listening to me now. They're-(Hangs up phone.
In a suffocated voice.) I won't pick it up. won't let them hear me. I'll be quiet-and they'll
think-(with growing terror) But if I don't call someone now-while they're still down
there-there'll be no time. (She picks up receiver. Bland buzzing signal. She dials
operator. Ring twice.).
Operator: (fat and lethargic) Your call, please?
Mrs. Stevenson: (a desperate whisper) Operator, I-I'm in desperate trouble-I-
Operator: I cannot hear you, madam. Please speak louder.
Mrs. Stevenson: (Still whispering) I don't dare. I-there's someone listening. Can you
hear me now?
Operator: Your call, please? What number are you calling, madam?
Mrs. Stevenson: (desperately) You've got to hear me. Oh, please. You've got to help
me. There's someone in this house. Someone who's going to murder me. And you've
got to get in touch with the-(Click of receiver being put down in Mrs. Stevenson's line.
Bursting out wildly.) Oh, there it is-he's put it down-he's put down the extension-he's
coming-(She screams.) He's coming up the stairs-(hoarsely) Give me the Police
Department-(screaming) The police!
Operator: Ringing the Police Department.
(Phone is rung. We hear sound of a train beginning to fade in. On second ring, Mrs.
Stevenson screams again, but roaring of train drowns out her voice. For a few seconds
we hear nothing but roaring of train, then dying away, phone at police headquarters
ringing.)
Duffy: Police Department. Precinct 43. Duffy speaking. (pause) Police Department.
Duffy speaking,
George: Sorry, wrong number. (hangs up)