way, surely. Thirty-something . . . thirty-seven, wasn’t it? I’d have thought
the odds would be much worse there.”
“So would most people,” Vernon said. “But think back to what Zambendorf said—a
number below fifty with both digits odd but different. If you work it out, there
aren’t really that many possibilities. And do you remember him giving fifteen
and eleven as examples? That narrows it down further because for some reason
hardly anyone will pick them after they’ve been mentioned. Of the numbers that
are left, about thirty-five percent of a crowd will go for thirty-seven every
time. No one knows why. It’s just a predictable behavior pattern among people.
Psychologists call it a ‘population stereotype.’ And it also happens to be a
fact that around twenty-three percent will choose thirty-five. So all that
business about changing his mind at the last moment was baloney to widen his
total catch to over half. And it worked—it looked as if every hand in the place
were up.”
“Mmm . . . interesting,” Whittaker said.
“Do you remember Zambendorf telling the woman about her daughter’s being about
to get married to a navigation officer, in the navy, on submarines?” Massey
asked, turning away from the cabinet and coming back with two refilled glasses.
“Yes,” Whittaker said. “That was impressive. Now how could he have known all
that?”
“He didn’t,” Massey replied simply. Whittaker looked puzzled. Massey handed the
drinks to Whittaker and Conlon, then returned to the cabinet to pour his own and
Vernon’s. “Your memory’s playing tricks, Pat. We’ve got a recording of the whole
show that I’ll replay if you like. Zambendorf only said Alice’s daughter was
about to get married to a sailor. He never said navy, he never said submarines,
and he never mentioned navigation. Alice did—but people don’t remember it that
way. In fact Zambendorf guessed that the guy was in engineering, which was
reasonable but wrong as it happened, and Alice corrected him. But not only
that—she turned the miss into a semihit by manufacturing an excuse for him. Did
you notice? I’d bet that practically everyone who saw it has forgotten that
failure; but if he’d guessed right, they’d all have remembered. People see and
remember what they want to see and remember. The Zambendorfs in the world get a
lot of mileage out of that fact.”
Vernon nodded. “So the only information he actually originated himself was that
the daughter was marrying a sailor.”
“So how could he have known even that much?” Whittaker asked.
Massey shrugged. “There are all kinds of ways he might have done it. For
instance, anyone hanging around the box office before the show could have
overheard plenty of that kind of talk.”
Whittaker looked astonished. “What, seriously? You’re kidding! I mean, it’s
too—too simple. A child could have thought of that.”
“Easily,” Massey agreed. “But most adults wouldn’t. Believe me, Pat, that one’s
been worked for years. The simpler the answer, the less obvious it is to most
people. They always look for the most complicated explanations imaginable.”
Massey handed a glass to Vernon and began moving past Whittaker to return to the
couch.
“Was the wallet planted?” Conlon asked. “Martha says it had to be, but I’m not
so sure. Somehow I don’t think Ed Jackson would have gone out of his way to lie
so brazenly.”
Massey was about to reply when his arm knocked against the side table beside
Whittaker, causing a drop of wine to spill from the glass that Massey was
carrying. “Oh, I’m sorry, Pat! Here, I’ll take care of it,” he exclaimed,
setting down the glass and dabbing lightly at the collar of Whittaker’s jacket.
“Only a spot—it won’t show.” Then Massey picked up his drink again, sat down on
the couch, and looked over at Conlon. “Sorry, Walt. What were you saying?”
“I said I wasn’t convinced the wallet was planted.”
“Oh yes, I think I agree with you,” Massey said. “The Mexican guy looked genuine
enough to me. That part didn’t come across as an act at all.”
Whittaker looked from Massey to Vernon, who was grinning oddly, and back at
Massey. “So . . . how did he know it was a wallet, and how did he know who owned