Jane Doyle was sitting in front of the TV, not watching, with her mind drifting away when the phone rang. She hesitated before answering. It had been two days since the funeral. It would probably be one of her friends feeling the urge to phone to see how she was. If it wasn’t that it would be one of her husband’s old business acquaintances, one who’d just learned about his death. They’d all been phoning up to express condolences. Whatever it was, she really didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted to be left alone. The phone continued to ring. Finally in frustration she answered.  

“Hello?” she said. There was silence for a second or two. Great, she thought, some burglar had seen the funeral announced in the paper, and is calling to see if the house is empty. She was just about to hang up when the recording came on. She started; it was obviously her own voice. 

        “I tell you I wish he was dead. I feel like paying somebody to shoot him or something sometimes. He can be so frustrating.” 

        Then the recording ended but the line was still held. She listened to the quiet, too scared to say anything, listening for the sound of the caller at the other end. Then the line went dead. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she replaced the phone.

       She went and sat on the couch. When had she said that? She tried to think back, how had the caller got hold of the recording? Finally it came to her. That had been when she’d been speaking to her sister Jenny. That must have been at least two months ago. It was one night when she’d had too much to drink. One of the usual rows had started. Jerry had driven off half drunk and she had phoned Jenny, just to have someone to blow off steam to.

        Why had someone taped that? First she thought of Jenny. No, no way would she have done that, surely she realised what the conversation was.  Well then who would have taped it, and then kept it for two months, just on the off chance of using it.

       She suddenly began to feel angry as well as frightened; if they had taped that then what else had they taped. She suddenly realised the house might be bugged too. This must have been going on for months.

       Then the phone rang again. She held her breath, trying to calm herself. Quickly she answered. “Hello,” she said.

       A man’s voice, calm and precise started talking. “It’s time to arrange payment,” he said.

       “What?” said Jane, incredulous. “Who are you?”

       “You were overheard wishing a job could be done.  It was done and now we have to be paid.” The voice was still calm.

       “You’re crazy,” said Jane. “I didn’t want him dead. I was just angry when I said that.”

       “Seemed to a lot of people you did want him dead,” said the voice. “You were kept out of it so you could play the grieving widow as best you could. We chose the car bomb to make it look like a mob hit. Any trouble from you and we call the cops with that tape. Big investigation wouldn’t do you much good, be all over the news.”

       “Who are you, why were you taping my conversations?”

       “There are reasons for everything,” said the voice. “But all we want now is $200,000. You start collecting the money, and we’ll phone you in two days about where to leave it.”

       “I can’t raise that money,” said Jane.

       “You forget,” said the voice. “We are well acquainted with every aspect of your life. Just get the money.”

       “How do I know you did it?” she said. “My husband had plenty of enemies. Anyone of them could have had him killed.”

       “It doesn’t matter to you if we did it or not,” said the voice. “If you want the police kept away from you, get the money.”

       Then the line went dead. Jane was left there in the room with nobody to talk to. What was she going to do she asked herself. This wasn’t the sort of problem she could talk to her sister about. Even if she could, it couldn’t be on the phone, they would probably be listening in. The house would be bugged, maybe her sister’s house was bugged too. The man was right though, she could get hold of $200,000, and would have to.

       The call came in two days. Hastily she answered. “Yes,” she said trying to keep her voice calm.

       “You’ve got the money?” said the voice.

       “Yes,” she replied, trying to remain aloof.

       “Put it in a sports bag. There’s a place on Beaudesert Road, next to Curtain World. It’s a couple of industrial units. Tomorrow at 10 AM drive around to the back, and leave the money by the dumpster. Then get back on the road and keep going. Then you’ll hear no more.”

       “But what if...?” said Jane. It was no use the line went dead.

       Beaudesert Road was good she realised driving there. It was a busy 2-lane highway. They could pick up the money and just disappear into the traffic. Also she couldn’t wait around to see who they were. She couldn’t wait by the side of the road, and the car park was too small.

       Slowly she drove around to the back of the building. Leaving the engine running, she hefted the bag out of the car and walked along to the dumpster. Gingerly she placed it down and walked back to the car. She could feel the eyes upon her. Its nothing, she told herself, they might not even be here yet. Trying not to rush she put the car in gear and drove round to the front, then headed out into the traffic.

       Right now she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the explosion. They knew a lot about her, but they didn’t know everything. She smiled to herself. She was starting to like this.