‘In every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it.” — Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities.”

Ever wonder what salacious secrets are contained within those around you, friends and strangers alike?

Of course you do.

So did Charles Dickens, which is why he’s quoted in playwright Sarah Ruhl’s opus “Dead Man’s Cell Phone,” now playing through Feb. 18 at Waterfront Playhouse. Dickens, however, never anticipated the mobile telephone, which is perhaps why Ruhl has taken it upon herself to give the Victorian writer’s notion an intriguing, techno-savvy update. It’s dialed up here with an able cast of accomplished actors from across the country; direction is by Stefani Sertich of New York City.

A somewhat generic, middle-aged female named “Jean” (played by the multitalented Lela Elam) sits alone in a restaurant, minding her own business as she samples the lobster bisque.

A couple of tables over, a cellphone begins to ring. Its owner, “Gordon,” a mysterious man in an expensive suit (portrayed with verve by Brandon Beach) sits unmoving. A few minutes later the phone again signals a call; still Gordon refuses to answer.

Irritated now, Jean strolls over to investigate. To her horror, she discovers that Gordon is as dead as AT&T’s reputation for providing quality coverage.

Rather than alerting the management, however, the stunned Jean makes a fateful decision: She answers Gordon’s phone. Before long, Jean has taken possession of the device and is using it to take business- related messages for Gordon, discuss Gordon’s funeral arrangements and make plans to meet up with Gordon’s family; the deceased’s irascible mother “Mrs. Gottlieb” (brought to life by righteous Robin Deck), his opportunist wife “Hermia” (Stephanie Yosen) and brother “Dwight,” (also played by Brandon Beach), who are — for the most part— devastated by their loss.

The web grows yet more tangled as Jean finds love with the dweeby Dwight and makes a terrible discovery regarding the true nature of Gordon’s business dealings — which, according to Gordon, involve trading on “compassionate obfuscation” and contraband of dubious moral standing.

Along the way Gordon’s phone grows to become a virtual appendage of Jean’s own body. The heroine begins telling sweet white lies to Gordon’s loved ones, fibs designed to protect them from painful truths but that ultimately serve only to further muddy the situation.

In the background, ubiquitously, lurks the mysterious “Other Woman” (vampishly played by sultry Shakti Assouline). She may be Gordon’s lover, business partner — or both. She’s certainly not to be trifled with either way  as Jean discovers during a bloody confrontation at the Johannesburg airport.

In the end we’re treated to a surreal confluence of the characters’ lives, an explanation for the death of Gordon and how it involved Jean’s presence in the restaurant. For anyone who’s ever wondered what could possibly be so damned important that their annoying fellow theatergoers refuse to turn off their cell phones during a performance, here is cathartic sweet revenge.

This dead man’s cell is still ringing in my ears