Vicki Webber...can you please call your sister?

About two months ago we started receiving phone calls from a 'Stephen Dominion' in the 510 area code. My other half took the first call from a sad-sounding, older woman who thought that he was Vicki. He politely explained to her that she must have the wrong number to which she said, 'Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm just trying to reach my sister to tell her my husband died.'
Well, shit. What do you say to that?
He naturally told her he was very sorry about her dead husband, but yes, once again, there's no Vicki here.

Since that call we have probably received 10 calls from Vicki's sister, perhaps more. I think I have had the good fortune of answering them each time since that first. And each time she acts as though she has zero recollection of the last call. I am pretty sure she is drunk, though I'd feel really bad if it was something as awful as Alzheimer's.
Every single call goes pretty much the same way:

Me: (recognizing the phone number on the caller id) "Are you calling for Vicki?"
Her: (sounding very surprised that I know who she is calling, as though I have ESP) "Yes. Yes. Vicki? I'm calling for my sister, Vicki?"
Me: "Yes, I know you are calling for your sister, Vicki. You call us a lot asking for your sister and we keep telling you that we apparently have her old number."
Her: "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey. I was trying to reach my sister."
Me: "YES. I KNOW THAT."
Her: "It's just that I need to tell her my husband died."

And then the continuation from this evening's latest conversation:

Me: "Listen. I am truly sorry about your husband dying. And I am sorry that you are unable to reach your sister to tell her. But you have been calling us for two months now, telling us about your dead husband, and I tell you every single time that you have the wrong number."
Her: "Oh, no, honey. I haven't called for two months."
Me: "Yes, you have."
Her: "No, I haven't talked to my sister in over a year."

Me: (banging my head against a wall)

Her: "I guess I will have to call my aunt to get her new number."
Me: "Yes, I think that would be a very good idea."
Her: "Okay. Thank you, honey."

And I have no doubt in my mind that this will all occur again by next Monday. In fact, I am willing to put money on it.

Damn. It's a bad time to have gone private on this here blog. I mean, Vicki could have been reading and she would have the known to call her crazy-ass sister.

Oi. Vey.

To add to this, Vicki apparently does not want to be found by family or creditors. We also went through a three-week stint where Citibank called us EVERY FREAKING DAY with an automated message that our bank card had been overdrawn. These kinds of calls freak a family who had EVERY SINGLE ONE of their social security cards stolen by their movers (yes, you read that correctly). Especially when you call the phone number and not one single person has a freaking clue what you are talking about or how to stop the annoying calls from coming to your home. After many phone calls, transfers, and promises to fix things, someone finally figured it out and those phone calls have stopped.

But we'll still have Vicki's drunk sister. Thank the stars for that!