They got home by eight-forty-five, and spent several minutes trying to decide where Mick could conceal one of the phones so that Celeste wouldn’t know he was carrying it. At first they considered taping it into his crotch, in case she had the gall to pat him down. When they tested it, they quickly discovered that wouldn’t work because anything they said was so muffled it was barely intelligible.
“Won’t that be the case no matter where you carry it?” Shorty asked.
It turned out it was, to one degree or another, until they hit on the idea of putting it in the lining of his jacket’s sleeve. That meant calling Richard’s phone, and leaving them on, before stitching the slit closed. As Mick pointed out when Shorty worried about them dying, “They’ve got brand new batteries. That shouldn’t happen in the next couple of hours.”