Sorry, Wrong Number Page #2

Okay, I won't keep you, but

I just wanted to check up as usual.

- You'll call me tomorrow?

- I'll call you tomorrow night.

And pet, tell Henry to call me

at the office tomorrow morning.

I'll have a talk with him.

Number 99. 99.

Number 17. 1-7.

There's a telephone call

for Miss Elizabeth Jennings.

There's a telephone call

for Miss Elizabeth Jennings.

Number 46.

Miss Elizabeth Jennings

is wanted on the phone.

Number 23. 23.

Twenty-three!

That makes two fours.

All I need now is 14 or 65.

- Miss Jennings?

- Just a second, please.

We're getting pretty close now,

ladies...

to that super-duper

electric blanket...

donated by Bollcomb's Drug Store.

- And the next number is...

- You're wanted on the phone.

- A Mrs. Stevenson.

- Number 59.

- Bingo!

- Oh, baloney. What's the matter?

A Mrs. Stevenson wants

to speak to you on the phone.

- She said it's very important.

- Mrs. Stevenson?

Well, why, for heaven's sakes,

didn't you say so?

Hello? I beg your pardon.

I had no idea.

You're the last person on earth,

naturally, I'd ever keep waiting.

- Mr. Stevenson isn't home.

- Mr. Stevenson not home yet?

- Do you know where he is?

- Why, no, I don't.

He was supposed to

come home hours ago.

That is odd, isn't it?

Last time I saw him, he was

leaving to keep an appointment.

- Where?

- No, I don't know where.

But I do know he had a lunch date

with a young lady.

Oh, yes, rather good-looking.

She came into the office

this morning.

Said her name was Lord.

Mrs. Frederick Lord.

Seemed very anxious to see him.

Waited for him at least two hours.

Mr. Stevenson.

Someone to see you.

Some other time.

I told you, I'm busy today.

Hello, Henry.

- Don't you remember me?

- Why...

Why, sure, sure.

Well, now, what do you know?

Come in, won't you?

Yes, that's just the way

he greeted her, Mrs. Stevenson.

He didn't seem to be expecting her.

But I'm sure she was somebody

of importance to him.

Unfortunately, I couldn't hear much

of what they said.

But the conversation

wasn't very long...

and I do know Mr. Stevenson

made a date to meet her later.

I'll be there in about an hour.

Ask for Maurice.

Thank you.

I'll be there.

I don't know why,

but he didn't leave with her.

I'll be back later this afternoon.

If anyone calls, take the message.

- I'll be in touch with you.

- Yes, Mr. Stevenson.

I don't know where he went

after that, Mrs. Stevenson.

All I know is, I never saw

or heard from him again all day.

It was 6:
30 when I went home.

I was practically the last to leave

except for Jimmy, the porter.

No, he didn't even come back

to get his messages.

There was only one.

Some man on Staten Island...

who keeps calling him every week.

A Mr. Evans.

A regular pest he is too.

But on the other hand,

it's not at all unusual...

for Mr. Stevenson

to stay away all day.

And I'm sure it's nothing

to worry about.

Now, I do hope I haven't let

any cat out of the bag.

But I'm sure

it was all quite harmless.

Mr. Stevenson seems so devoted...

speaks so beautifully of you.

Did you like the flowers this week?

I had the feeling...

I mean, I thought...

camellias might be sweet

just for a change, you know.

- Mr. Stevenson, please.

- He's not in. Who's calling?

- Mr. Evans. When do you expect him?

- I don't know.

- He should be here any minute.

- You know where I could reach him?

I'm sure I don't know where

Mr. Stevenson is. Call back later.

Would 15 minutes be all right?

I haven't much time.

- I'm leaving before midnight.

- All right. Fifteen minutes.

Thank you. And you'll tell him

I called in case he does come in?

The name is Evans.

It's very important.

Yes, all right.

Hello, this is

the Lord residence.

I'd like to speak

to Mrs. Lord, please.

Mrs. Lord?

One moment, please.

- That for me, Pete?

- No. A lady for Mommy.

I don't know why you're not asleep.

Will you do something

about Peter still being up?

Now, where was I?

Oh, yes.

"...that the said

Henry Stevenson did..."

- Is that Bayonne or Cicero there?

- Bayonne.

The Bayonne Plant

of the Cotterell Corporation.

Headquarters on Staten Island?

20 Dunstan Terrace,

Staten Island.

- Hello?

- Hello, Mrs. Lord?

- This is she.

- This is Mrs. Henry Stevenson.

I don't believe we've met,

but I understand...

you saw my husband this afternoon.

- Yes, yes.

- As it so happens, Mrs. Lord...

my husband hasn't

come home this evening.

I can't locate him. I thought

perhaps you might give me some idea.

- Oh, yes.

- I can't hear you, Mrs. Lord.

- Will you please speak up a little?

- Oh, certainly.

Is there anything wrong? You're not

keeping something from me, I hope.

Oh, no, no.

Could I call you back, please?

- Call me back? Why?

- Because I...

- It's my bridge day, you know.

- What's that?

What has bridge got to do with it?

Excuse me...

but I don't understand you

at all, Mrs. Lord.

I'm sorry. And then...

there's that excursion

to Roton Point.

- Who is it?

- Look, Mrs. Lord...

are you trying

to make fun of me?

Just in case you don't happen

to know it, I'm a hopeless invalid.

- I'll give you the recipe.

- What are you talking about?

Is my husband there with you?

Is he? Tell me the truth!

It's three eggs separated,

two measuring cups of milk...

a third of a cup of shortening.

Cream the shortening with sugar,

then add a tablespoon of flour.

Leona, just a minute.

This is Sally.

Sally Hunt, Leona.

Sally? Sally Hunt?

I'm sorry to be so ridiculous,

but I can't talk now.

Mommy, you want me to ask Daddy to

stop typing so you can talk better?

- Darling, please go to sleep.

- All right, Mom.

It's impossible to explain now.

I'll call you back as soon as I can.

- Now, where's she gone?

- Yes, dear?

I thought you'd gone out again.

Joe'd like a bottle of beer.

Got any on ice?

No, Fred, I don't believe so.

But I'll go down to the store.

- Okay, honey.

- Thanks, Sally.

- Let's see. Where were we?

- Better start a new paragraph.

Sally Hunt.

May I cut in?

You don't mind, do you, Sally?

It's an old Spanish custom...

the hag line.

I'm Leona Cotterell.

What's your name?

- This is Mr. Henry Stevenson.

- Hello, Henry. Shall we dance?

If you don't mind, miss,

it's the man who does the picking.

All right, go ahead.

Why don't you get somebody

your own speed? That is...

I'm sure there are

better dancers around.

You'll do all right. Leona

knows her way around the floor.

Did you say

your name was Cotterell?

That's right.

There's a big drug company

named Cotterell. Any connection?

I'm afraid there is.

My father owns it.

You mean J.B. Cotterell?

- Anything wrong with that?

- No, it's just that...

I've always pictured J.B. Cotterell

as a walking tube of toothpaste.

What do they call you...

the Aspirin Heiress?

I believe it's

the Cough Drop Queen.

You know, there's nothing wrong

with your dancing.

- Do you do a lot of it?

- Not at places like this.

Oh. You're from out of town?

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