Sorry, Wrong Number

Fletcher describes her play as a “simple tale of horror, depending for its merits to a great extent on the device of the telephone” (3). The plot unfolds in real-time, with the concluding murder occurring exactly as described at the beginning of the play. The telephone, indeed, works in multiple ways throughout the play to further the plot, provide conflict, and reveal character. The telephone is the only source of communication between Mrs. Stevenson and anyone outside her home. Without the telephone, she could not overhear the murder plot, but her only tool for solving the murder becomes an obstacle as well, as she faces the indifference of the police, hospital, and operators. The mechanics of the telephone in the 1940s (the need to dial an operator, the crossed wires, etc.) provides excellent conflict for a suspense play, as most of these operations are outside the control of the caller (Mrs. Stevenson). Control and consolation are the two things Mrs. Stevenson seeks most in the play, and the telephone directly bars her from both. Unable to leave the apartment and physically remove herself from danger, Mrs. Stevenson’s rescue depends upon the same tool that enables the other characters to dismiss her: The removal of face-to-face contact acts as a barrier to human empathy. Mrs. Stevenson’s selfish nature is revealed as she grows increasingly more frustrated with the operators and police. The operators are revealed to be apathetic, and Duffy is distracted, and the characters become quicker to hang up on one another even as the reader or audience becomes increasingly convinced that Mrs. Stevenson is in real peril.

Sorry Wrong Number utilizes classic suspense techniques to delve into themes of Communication in Relationships, Isolation and Apathy, and Selfishness Versus Civic Duty. By portraying her protagonist as a nervous and self-centered woman, and ending the play with her murder, Fletcher follows trademarks of the Noir Thriller genre that was rising in popularity at the time this radio play was written. Mrs. Stevenson is an unlikely heroine, but her frantic energy and unrelenting drive to stop the murderers raise the dramatic stakes of the play, and elevates these themes. Mrs. Stevenson’s self-centeredness stands in the way of her communication skills, both with those she talks to on the phone and (so it is implied) with Eloise and Elbert, whom she assumes could never mean her harm. Whenever she discusses another person, she either concentrates solely on how that person relates to herself, or she is saying something demeaning about them. As the play progresses, this becomes more and more evident, as does her loneliness.

Mrs. Stevenson is dependent on her husband, and it is this need for the comfort and safety of company that is the inciting incident of the story. Her worst fear is something happening to her while she is alone, and she hates the idea of anyone having to be isolated and in danger. This is, at least at first, why the murder plot upsets her so much. When she dials the operator after overhearing the phone call between the 1st Man and George, she frantically tries to explain the urgency of the situation to the operator. She tells her “these two men—they were cold-blooded fiends—and they were going to murder somebody—some innocent woman—who was all alone” (9). The situation is difficult for Mrs. Stevenson to handle because it is, in all senses, her worst nightmare come true. The irony of her early identification with the victim is that she is ultimately revealed to be identifying with herself; the circular logic is both darkly comedic and emphasizes that the person she is most capable of having empathy for is herself. When the operators, Sergeant Duffy, and the hospital receptionist don’t seem to care the way that she does, Mrs. Stevenson feels that it’s their “civic duty” (10) to “apprehend those dangerous killers” (10); no one else seems to agree. Even when she is able to connect with others, she is isolated in her attempt to solve the mystery.

Sergeant Duffy reveals Mrs. Stevenson’s selfishness, which ultimately adds to her isolation and informs the apathetic response she receives when she reports the murder. Duffy prods at Mrs. Stevenson’s motives for calling, and she is forced to admit she normally wouldn’t care if she had been able to get in touch with her husband after all; her reaction is more motivated by fear than by genuine concern for another, and if her husband came home, her anxiety would be alleviated. Part of Mrs. Stevenson’s isolation is a result of her own selfish worldview, and it is also likely that this selfishness leads Elbert Stevenson to plan his wife’s murder. Though the play never explicitly states that Elbert is responsible, there are several clues that lead readers or audience members to deduce it for themselves. The motive begins to emerge with the discovery that Elbert has “scarcely left [Mrs. Stevenson’s] side since [she] took sick twelve years ago” (15); this devotion provides the perfect cover for his real motives, an example of misdirection in the thriller genre. More evidence is found in the conversation about the client who hired the killers: He wants to make sure Mrs. Stevenson doesn’t suffer long during the murder, which implies he has some sort of feelings for her. Lastly, the telegram from Western Union lists the exact time and date of the murder as when Elbert is leaving for unexpected business, giving him a suspiciously convenient alibi.  

Sorry, Wrong Number utilizes a common dramatic literary device called “a ticking clock”. The ticking clock is most commonly seen in the thriller and suspense genres but is also present in narratives that fall into other categories. This device provides the characters with a sense of tangible urgency, or a feeling that time is counting down (sometimes literally) until their doom. This creates higher stakes for the characters, but also for the audience, who knows their protagonist has a limited amount of time to solve a problem. The author will often use dialogue to remind the audience that time is running out, which increases suspense even further.

In the play, Fletcher introduces a ticking clock for Mrs. Stevenson at the start of the play. Mrs. Stevenson overhears the plot for the murder, which is set to begin at eleven that night, with the stabbing itself occurring at 11:15, when “a subway train crosses the bridge” (8). From that moment on, Mrs. Stevenson is under pressure to prevent the murder before the clock strikes eleven. The ticking clock is most effective when the audience is reminded of the time of impending doom. Mrs. Stevenson repeats herself several times, telling the operators and the police about the cold-blooded murder of an innocent woman-“[happening] tonight at eleven-fifteen” (11). Each time, she is dismissed, until finally she calls the receptionist at Henchley Hospital, and realizes with horror that her clock has stopped. By then, the nurse tells her it is past eleven, and Mrs. Stevenson’s fate cannot be stopped. The ticking clock has run out, and both Mrs. Stevenson and the audience know what must happen next.

The ending of the play builds to the ultimate moment of suspense, and it is this ending that made Fletcher believe the original radio version is best. She writes that “The murder itself, heard only as chaotic sound over a telephone wire, is more effective” (4) when it is merely heard, and not seen. The soundscape is important throughout, but this final scene is iconic for its simplicity, and the playwright’s willingness for the audience to take the sound and fill in the rest with their imaginations, as guided by the opening moments of the play.