From time to time even the most ardent disciple needs an offer of proof. Chris’s need came when Bill Bradfield told him about the “double-screen contact system” he and Jay Smith had devised to eliminate unwanted calls and to protect themselves from each other in the event that one of them was cooperating with authorities. It appeared that the dog distrusted the pony, and vice versa.
The double-screen phone system was designed so that if the calling party wanted to phone the other he’d let it ring three times, then hang up and call again. He’d let it ring once, then hang up and call again and let it ring three times.
If the other party was at home, he’d then take the phone off the hook so that when the caller tried to call a fourth time he’d get a busy signal and know that it was okay to put phase two into operation.
Phase two went like this: each man had a list of fifteen pay phones, with a numerical designation beside each number. The phones were all located within twenty minutes from home. They had each selected their own fifteen public phones and then exchanged lists. The caller would wait twenty minutes and start with the first phone number on his list. He’d continue calling until a phone was answered by his partner.
There was a third phase that might be used in the event of a perceived threat. It went like this: Bill Bradfield might reach Jay Smith on phone number five. But Dr. Jay might decide that he didn’t like the looks of a lady in a red bandana loitering nearby, so he’d pick up phone number five and quickly say, “Go to number seven.”
Then Bill Bradfield would wait ten minutes and call number seven on his list.
Bill Bradfield explained that Jay Smith admitted to having a favorite phone. It was one of the public phones in the Sheraton Hotel in King of Prussia. The phone booths were surrounded by mirrors so that Dr. Jay could sit in the booth and watch for dolls in red bandanas or guys with green carnations, or whatever.
While they were relaxing with a cold snack from the kitchen Chris made the mistake of asking if there might be a simpler way to accomplish their phone calls, because these two had done everything but square the telephone digits. Bill Bradfield looked at Chris like he’d found a strange pubic hair in his face soap.
He reluctantly decided to demonstrate to Chris how brilliantly it worked. Bill Bradfield looked as though he was doing one of his methodically devised seating charts at school, as though he enjoyed the control he was exercising over Dr. Jay by sending him scurrying around his neighborhood.
By and by, Bill Bradfield said, “Hello,” and beckoned Chris to the phone.
Bill Bradfield held the phone to Chris’s ear and there was no mistaking his former principals carefully enunciated speech. But before Chris could make much sense of the conversation Bill Bradfield took the receiver and by gesture indicated that he would conduct the rest of the conversation in private.
Nevertheless, just witnessing the double-screen telephone system in action, and hearing Dr. Jay Smiths own voice after all this time, brought on a huge power surge. Chris was never more convinced. He now believed every word that Bill Bradfield had ever uttered.
One night in April, Bill Bradfield took Vince Valaitis to the movies to see The Deer Hunter. But after leaving the cinema he didn’t want to talk about the movie. He wanted to talk about his troubles.
“Susan Reinert’s named me in her will as executor for her children,” Bill Bradfield said calmly.
“She what?”
“I know,” he said. “I know. The woman’ll do anything to entrap me.”
“It’s hard to believe.”
“Now what’s going to happen to me if she gets killed by Doctor Smith? Or by one of those weird guys she’s dating? Do you know, Vince, I’ve been in her home maybe two times in my life, and one of those was to help install an air conditioner.”
“The whole thing is just so bizarre!” Vince said.
“When I was installing that air conditioner I made the mistake of lying down on the sofa to rest a minute. Do you know what happened?”
“I can’t imagine,” said Vince, but he could imagine.
“She tried to make advances. The woman’s sex-starved. I had to practically insult her. I’ve done about all I can do.”
“All anyone can do,” Vince agreed.
“I’ve even managed to get my hands on Jay Smiths guns. I’m going to make them unworkable and then give them back to him.”
“Susan Reinert’s volunteered to be transferred to the junior high, from what I hear,” Vince said. He didn’t like talking about guns.
“You have to pity her,” Bill Bradfield said. “She’s a rotten teacher.”
“I pity her,” his young pal agreed.
“By the way, you’ve worked so hard at the store for us, I’d like to give you five hundred dollars.”
Vince thought he was joking. “Five hundred dollars? Where’d you get five hundred dollars?”
“Not from the store, of course,” Bill Bradfield said. “From my personal fortune, which has diminished considerably. Still, I’d like you to have it.”
“You’re too generous, Bill,” Vince Valaitis said. “Too generous with all your friends. Thanks, but I won’t be needing any more than my salary, for as long as it lasts.”
“Well, keep it in mind.”
“You’re too generous.”
Bill Bradfield didn’t disagree.
Vince had paid a lot of money in his life to get scared, that was one way to look at it. Nowadays, Bill Bradfield provided more fright than a dozen horror films, but Vince didn’t like it a bit.
One night, Bill Bradfield, who seldom drank and had never been known to use any kind of drug, came puffing into Vince’s apartment. He was overwrought and exhausted. He looked more crazed than the Ancient Mariner.
He sat down and said, “I don’t know how much longer I can go on. Jay Smith just put a gun to my head! I dared to doubt one of his stories about killing for hire, and he whipped out a roll of reinforcing tape and before I could move he’d taped my wrists and put a gun to my head!”
“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” Vince Valaitis said. “Oh my.”
“I’m afraid I’m losing my health,” Bill Bradfield said. “I need your help, Vince. I need it tonight.”
“Sure, Bill. Anything,” Vince said.
“I need you to come with me to Jay Smith’s house.”
“Oh my.”
An hour later, still unable to believe he was wide awake on a cold spring night in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., and not in some galazy far away, Vince Valaitis found himself driving his Camaro to a house on Valley Forge Road. A house with a basement apartment where unspeakable things occurred. A house that maybe looked like Anthony Perkins’s horrible house right next to the Bates Motel where he …
“Pull over and park!” Bill Bradfield told him suddenly.
Vince parked and cut his engine.
“Take the bulb out of the dome light!” Bill Bradfield ordered, and Vince’s hands were so sweaty he could hardly manage.
“Now continue driving. We’re almost there!” Bill Bradfield whispered, while Vince tried not to hyperventilate.
The house on Valley Forge Road was quiet. There was a light burning, perhaps two lights. Vince parked and cut his headlights. Bill Bradfield got out quietly and left the door open.
It was a secluded street with an orchard across the road. There obviously wasn’t much traffic here at any time. The garage that led to the mysterious basement apartment could not be seen from the street.
Vince could see Bill Bradfield blowing steam in the moonlight as he crept up the driveway toward the back of the house in a tangle of shadows.
A blood-freezing scream would not have surprised the young teacher, but after a moment Bill Bradfield came skulking back to the Camaro, jumped in, and said, “I’ve got it!”