Hotline to Murder

CHAPTER 10

The guard who walked out with them was a middle-aged nonentity. Tony wondered whether he had been the one on duty the night Joy was killed but decided not to ask him because he didn’t want to get trapped into a long discussion about what had happened to her.

There was one slight deviation to the plan. Tony had Shahla drive her car home, and he followed her. It was a couple of miles out of their way, but he didn’t want to have to return her to the mall in the middle of the night. She ran inside her house and told her mom she was riding to the police station in his car.

“What kind of a car is this?” Shahla asked as she returned and settled into the passenger’s seat.

“It’s a Porsche Boxter.” Tony was proud of his car, the one outward sign that he had accomplished something in his life. Well, there was the townhouse, which he had shoehorned himself into, but he still needed to have Josh live there as a tenant to come up with the payments. He had leased the Porsche-a manageable down payment, and reasonable monthly payments made him look respectable. Of course, when the lease ran out, he would be left with nothing. But he would cross that bridge…

“It’s small. And it sounds as if the engine is behind us.”

“It’s behind our seats. Located for maximum stability.”

Shahla looked nervously over her shoulder. “I hope it stays there.”

Those were not the comments of a car buff. Shahla wasn’t impressed. Maybe he should have settled for a Honda. He made it all the way up to third gear on Pacific Coast Highway and felt a little better as he listened to the purr of the engine. He needed to take a trip to the desert so he could let it run for a while, like a racehorse. It was not built for the stop-and-go driving of a city.

They arrived at the police station within five minutes. Bonita Beach was a compact city. Joy’s murder had reverberated through it like a fire siren and left the residents feeling betrayed and anxious. The full impact to the city and to the Hotline had grown on Tony as his shock had worn off, and now he wanted to find the murderer as much as Shahla did.

They walked into the station together and approached the counter, behind which sat a young female officer doing something with a computer. After a few seconds, she looked up and said, “Can I help you?”

Tony explained that they had some possible evidence for the murder investigation. He expected her to just take the envelope and their names, but she said, “Detective Croyden’s here. I’ll get him. Have a seat in there.”

She pointed to a doorway that led into a conference room. Tony and Shahla went into the room containing a worn wooden table and worn wooden chairs. On the wall were posters relating to drugs, alcohol, and other temptations of the flesh. The posters exhorted the reader against yielding to these temptations.

Shahla said, “‘Can I help you?’ means, ‘Am I able to help you?’ I was tempted to say, ‘I don’t know. Can you?’”

“So what should she have said?” Tony asked. He had never paid much attention in English class.

“‘May I help you?’ That asks for permission.”

“Thank you for the lesson.”

“No charge.”

“Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite people. I might have known I’d see you on Friday the thirteenth.”

Detective Croyden had entered the room while they had their backs to the door, looking at posters. Tony turned around and said, “Working late, aren’t you?” He knew why Croyden might be sarcastic with him, but not Shahla, unless she had let some of her dislike of the police show when he talked to her.

“Crime never sleeps,” Croyden said. “What have you got for me?”

He didn’t ask them to sit down, and he didn’t take a seat himself, so the three of them remained standing. Tony thought he looked tired. There were bags under his eyes, and his facial wrinkles were pronounced, as was his broken nose. Tony pointed to the brown envelope he had set on the table and told Croyden what was inside. He related how he had found and handled the white envelope, mentioning that several of his own fingerprints might be on it.

“But at least you came to your senses before you covered it with your prints,” Croyden said, with what might be faint praise. “Do you know what’s inside it?”

Tony missed a beat while he reconsidered his first answer and then said, “No.” He hoped Croyden hadn’t noticed his involuntary head-fake.

“All right, we’ll take a look at it. You said the Hotline office door was locked. That’s good. Did anybody knock or did you hear any sounds outside the door?”

He directed this question to both of them. They shook their heads.

“All right. Tony, do you have any objection to the desk officer taking your fingerprints so that we can eliminate the ones on the envelope?”

He could probably refuse, at least temporarily, but what would be the point. “No objection.” It appeared that Croyden was dismissing them.

Shahla said, “Detective Croyden, since the person who left the envelope knows where the Hotline is, doesn’t that sound to you as if the…killer might work for the Hotline?”

Croyden looked at her for a while, and Tony began to wonder whether he wasn’t ogling her breasts instead of contemplating his answer. He finally said, “Sha…” and stumbled.

“Shahla.”

“Shahla, first of all, we don’t know whether the envelope was left by the killer. Assuming it was, there is a possibility that he-or she-works for the Hotline. But other people know where it is, too.”

“You mean, like ex-listeners. But we just moved to this building six months ago, so that eliminates most of them.”

“A smart caller could find out. One of your listeners could have slipped and given away your location to a caller. Like the Chameleon. I told Nancy she had a security leak big enough to drive a Hummer through.”

Tony said, “It’s my observation that the listeners are very security conscious. I don’t know how the Chameleon might have found out.”

“But you know and I know that some of these guys can sweet-talk the teenyboppers on the phone, and they’ll lose their heads. Look at all these young girls who are seduced on the Internet.”

“We’re not like them,” Shahla said hotly. “We’ve been through the training and, anyway, we’re a lot smarter than the dippy girls who look for love online.”

“What have you found out about the Chameleon?” Tony asked to try to defuse the situation.

“Still working on it,” Croyden said stiffly. “Did you get any calls from him today?”

“No.” If there had been calls from him during the previous shifts, his name would have been on the board.

“He hasn’t called since you went after him. Looks like you scared him away. And made our job harder.”

Tony was tempted to make a retort about the police not being able to find him, even with subpoenaed call records, but Shahla didn’t know about those.

Croyden said, “Listen, I’d love to chat with you, but I’ve got work to do. Tony, come over to the counter, and we’ll get your prints.”

“What if there are prints on the envelope that aren’t on file somewhere?” Shahla asked.

“We’ll try to match them against any suspects’ prints. Why, did you touch the envelope? Do we need to take your prints?”

“No,” Shahla said hastily. “I…don’t want to get my fingers dirty.”

“I’ll have a piece of cherry pie with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream on top,” Shahla said to the waitress at the Beach House, the local all-night diner.

“Uh…coffee-decaf,” Tony said when she looked at him. He didn’t want to stay awake the rest of the night.

“Well, at least you’re not anorexic,” Tony said to Shahla. “But we can’t eliminate the possibility that you’re a binge eater.” It had been Shahla’s idea to stop here.

“I’m not a binge eater unless you call eating all the time bingeing.”

It was true. She was always munching on something at the Hotline. “So how do you maintain your girlish figure?”

“I’m on the cross-country team.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“A girl doesn’t tell all her secrets.”

“I thought you were going to get a job.”

“With all that’s been happening, I haven’t had time to look for a job. But what about you? I don’t know anything about you except that you own a condo…”

“Town house.”

“…you own a town house and drive a noisy car.”

“I’m one of those poor people who have to work for a living.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m marketing manager for an Internet company that gives people who are dissatisfied with their weight or the appearance of their bodies alternatives as to what to do.”

“You mean like plastic surgery?”

“Yeah, and having their stomachs stapled.”

“Ugh, gross. Who would want to do any of that?”

“Lots of people. When you’re young and have a perfect body, you don’t realize that not everybody else does. Do you know how many teenagers want nose jobs or even boob jobs?”

“I don’t have a perfect body.”

“Okay, the violins are playing, but I don’t want to hear about it and 99.9% of the rest of the world doesn’t want to, either.”

Shahla smiled. “Tony, you’re funny. So what do you do when you aren’t working or driving your noisy car?”

Or going out with women. But his love life was in a tailspin, and he wasn’t about to discuss it. “I like to hike.” Although he hadn’t been hiking for a long time. And his gut showed it.

“Where do you like to hike?”

“Have you ever been up the Palm Springs Tramway?”

“No.”

“Well, from the top of the tram you can hike up Mt. San Jacinto. It’s beautiful up there.”

“I’d like to do that sometime.”

The waitress brought their food, and Shahla dove into her pie and ice cream. Tony sipped on his decaf. After he had allowed her to take several bites, he said, “Tell me about why you think Martha might be a suspect.”

“Jealousy. Joy was the star of the volleyball team, and Martha was riding the bench, mostly. Now she’s replaced Joy in the lineup as an outside hitter. But she’s not as good as Joy and never will be.” Shahla emphasized the last sentence.

“That doesn’t mean she killed Joy. Jealousy? There must be more to it than that.”

“How about insane jealousy? They’ve known each other all their lives, and Joy has always been better at everything. School. Sports. Attracting boys.”

“How do you fit into this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that they’ve known each other all their lives. But Joy was your best friend. Couldn’t you be feeling a little jealousy because of their closeness?”

Shahla glowered at him and took a big bite of pie.

“Well, look who’s here.”

Tony knew who it was even before he raised his eyes. He would know his ex-girlfriend’s voice anywhere. And Carol was with a man-not a bad looking man, a prosperous-looking man. Tony felt a twinge of something inside. And she was looking good, with a skirt and sweater that didn’t hide her curves. Her short brown hair with red highlights set off a smiling and perfectly proportioned face. No need for a nose job there. And she looked happy.

“Hi, Carol,” he said belatedly. “Uh, this is Shahla. Shahla works on the Hotline with me.”

“Working the late shift, eh?” Carol said, pointedly looking at her watch. Tony realized it was almost midnight. “Hi, Shahla. I’m so glad to meet you. This is Horace.”

Tony awkwardly stood up from the booth and shook hands with Horace. He didn’t see a ring through his nose, but maybe it was invisible.

“Well, we won’t keep you,” Carol said. “It must be way past Shahla’s bedtime. But it was great to see you both.” She tucked her hand into Horace’s arm and guided him to a table in the corner.

“Who was that?” Shahla asked, her eyes wide.

“That was my ex-girlfriend,” Tony said, following Carol with his own eyes and wondering how she still had such control over his emotions.

“She’s very pretty. But…”

“Pushy? Sarcastic?”

“I didn’t want to say anything bad about her.”

“You don’t have to. I know all her faults by heart.”

“I love your house.”

Tony had driven Shahla home, and they were sitting in his car in the driveway of a roomy and modern two-story house-the kind Tony would like to be able to afford someday. A house without attached neighbors.

“Fortunately, my father had lots of life insurance. And my mom works.”

“Your father? Your father is…?”

“My father is dead.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” Tony couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a parent. Both of his parents were still alive.

“He was murdered.”

“Ohmygod.”

“It’s been long enough so that I can talk about it. Five years. But the pain never goes away.”

“It must be very hard for you.” Before taking the class he wouldn’t have known what to say. But that didn’t seem strong enough, somehow.

Shahla was silent. And Tony didn’t know what else to say. Should he ask for details? It was time for her to go into the house, but he didn’t want to push her to get out of the car. That would seem heartless. He saw a light on in an upstairs window. Perhaps her mother had heard them drive in. As Shahla had said, his wasn’t the quietest car in the world. At least Mom would know her daughter was safe.

“My father was coming home from a meeting at night,” Shahla said softly. She seemed to be speaking to herself. “He stopped at a place like a 7-Eleven to get a loaf of bread or something. A man came into the store and pulled a gun on the clerk. I don’t think he even saw my father. The clerk gave him the money, and the robber was going to take him to the back of the store, probably to shoot him. My father intervened, and the bastard shot him.”

“Oh.” When Shahla remained silent, Tony said, “And the clerk?”

“The robber lost his cool at that point. He shot at the clerk and then took off. The clerk was wounded, but he survived. That’s how we know what happened.”

“And they didn’t get him?”

“No, they did. But the police screwed it up. They didn’t read him his rights, or something. The man made a confession, but the court threw it out. It was a big mess. He never went to jail.”

“No wonder you don’t like the police.”

Tony had been looking straight ahead out the car window at the house, but Shahla was silent so long that he stole a look at her. In the moonlight he could see tears running down her cheeks. He felt very awkward. He should do something to comfort her, but what?

She laid her head on his shoulder. He didn’t dare move. He felt tense and uncomfortable. He had never felt that way with a girl before. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than five minutes, she lifted her head and said, “I have to go.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and got out of the car. After she entered the house and closed the door, Tony sat for a minute, with conflicting emotions. Then he started the car, revved the engine, and backed out of the driveway.