Fifteen-twenty years ago, I was working self-employed and had a job in Stevenage. This was well pre-AW days (for me anyway), so it was the back pages of the Sport or the local paper. Anyway, I saw an ad for a chinese massage after I'd finished the job, called it, no reply, headed off back down the A1. Five minutes later, the phone goes, it was the chinese massage returning my call. Said no, blah blah blah, hung up, forgot all about it.
A few months later, the local CID phone me asking if they can come and interview me. There'd been a murder at said chinese massage and my number was on a mobile phone found at the scene. They came, interviewed me, I had to blag it, say it was a wrong number etc in front of the wife but then I took them outside and told them the real story. I never heard another word about it, from them or the wife, but scared shitless I certainly was.
That's the only reason I use a punting phone now, because I'm single. This IS a true story.