Hotline to Murder Read online

  “He was going to push you off the cliff,” he told the girl.

  “You idiot. He wasn’t going to push me off the cliff.”

  “How do you know? You just met him.”

  “I’ve known him all my life. He’s my brother.”

  “Your brother?” He looked from the girl to the still horizontal Paul. There was definitely a family resemblance. This was terribly wrong. Tony couldn’t sort it out, but he knew he had to get out of here. Right now. Before Paul got up. And Paul was stirring.

  Tony started running toward the path. Where was Shahla? Then he saw her running ahead of him. He came to the downhill portion. He was going too fast in the dark. He tripped over a root and went flying. He landed hard. He couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him. He lay there for several seconds, wondering if he was going to die. He gasped for breath and then realized that since he could gasp, he could breathe.

  He climbed slowly to his feet. He hurt all over. He continued down the hill, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Paul coming after him. But there was nobody in sight. Tony limped down to the street, waited for a car to pass, and then crossed to the other side. Shahla was standing beside the car.

  “Are you all right?” Shahla asked anxiously. “I was about to go back and look for you.”

  “No.” But he had to get them out of there before Paul identified them. He belatedly fumbled for the keys in his pocket—found them. His hands were shaking as he tried to press the remote that unlocked the car. He finally heard the click and then managed to open the door. He fell into the car. Shahla was already in her seat. He started the engine and ground the gearshift into first. The car jolted forward.

  ***

  “You look terrible,” Shahla said as Tony stiffly got out of the car.

  “Thank you.”

  They had stopped at a diner outside of Las Vegas. Shahla had insisted on it. They hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. And Tony’s hands, elbows, and now he realized, his knees were ground up like raw hamburger from his fall. He admitted he couldn’t drive home until he ate and got cleaned up, but he refused to go to an emergency room, thinking that if Paul reported the attack he would be linked to it.

  “They won’t let me in there looking like this,” Tony said, surveying his wounds.

  “I’m going to get some paper towels to clean you up.”

  Shahla went into the diner. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Tony wondered how he would be able to hold the steering wheel for 300 miles with his mangled hands. And his pants were ruined, torn at the knees. He sat back down on the car seat as he became conscious of increasing pain.

  Shahla returned a few minutes later with damp paper towels and a knife.

  “I borrowed this from the kitchen,” she said, referring to the knife.

  “Are you going to put me out of my misery?”

  “I’m going to cut off your pants above the knee so we can get at your knees.”

  In order for her to do that he had to stand up. He was afraid she’d cut his legs off, but she was careful. And skillful. She fashioned him a new pair of shorts. Together they cleaned up the worst of his injuries. By the time he walked into the diner, he was confident he wouldn’t attract too many stares.

  “Go into the restroom and finish cleaning yourself off,” Shahla ordered.

  “While I’m doing that, call your mother and tell her you’re all right.” It wouldn’t be a complete lie.

  Tony emerged from the restroom a few minutes later, feeling almost human. They ordered dinner, and he realized how starved he was.

  “What do you think was going on between those two?” Shahla asked, after the waitress took their order.

  “Well, I think that’s what you call an incestuous relationship. When I tackled Paul, he was starting to take his shirt off.”

  “Incest? I’ve heard callers talk about incest, but I thought they were fantasizing.”

  “That didn’t look like a fantasy to me.”

  ***

  “I can’t stay awake. If I try to keep driving, I’m going to kill us.” Tony took the off-ramp into a rest area and parked the car. It was past midnight, and he hadn’t had any sleep since 5:30 that morning. Even the pain from his injuries couldn’t keep him awake. He had been driving all over the road. His left knee was stiffening up, too, making it difficult for him to shift, although not much shifting was required on the Interstate. It was the sleep factor he couldn’t overcome.

  “I’ll drive,” Shahla said.

  “Have you ever driven a stick shift?”

  “No, but I can learn.”

  “Not in my Porsche. Besides, you must be as tired as I am.”

  “I got an extra couple of hours sleep. Remember? And I’m younger.”

  “Call your mother again and tell her you’re still all right.”

  The car was not designed for sleeping. The seats didn’t tilt back. Tony slid down in his seat to try and get comfortable, but his left knee hurt when he bent it. He closed his eyes. At some point Shahla bridged the gap between the seats and placed her head on his shoulder.

  Tony spent a restless night, but every time he woke up he fell asleep again and had dreams with violent but undefined movement. Finally, he opened his eyes and saw that dawn was breaking.

  CHAPTER 21

  Tony didn’t feel up to working on the Hotline Monday evening. His body ached, his wounds had not healed, and his left knee was still stiff, making it difficult for him to shift his Porsche. He had been evasive in telling Josh what had happened to him, admitting that he had gone to Las Vegas, but not that anybody had accompanied him. His injuries had occurred when he tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.

  He told essentially the same story to Mona. She was sympathetic, even offering to make him dinner at her place. He declined, feeling that it wasn’t a good precedent to set, and told her that he was working on the Hotline that evening, knowing that she would respond positively. Rather than turn himself into a liar, he went.

  Tony left his office late and picked up a pizza he had ordered by phone on his way to the Hotline. The door was unlocked when he arrived, which immediately made him feel irritated at Shahla. He would chew her out, especially if she were there alone. She wasn’t. As he walked in the door, he could see Shahla and Nathan in the listening room.

  Nathan was on a call, but Shahla came out when she saw him and asked, in a stage whisper, “How are you feeling?”

  “Like sh… Like I’ve just spent an hour in a clothes dryer with spikes on the tumbler.”

  “I’m sorry. I feel responsible for what happened. I wasn’t sure you were coming tonight.”

  “Were you going to work alone?” He was still looking for a reason to be mad at her.

  “I called Gail, and she said Nathan was signed up to work. I thought it would be a good chance for me to ask him about this church he belongs to.”

  “I don’t want you doing any detective work by yourself.”

  She turned her back on him.

  He was being rather snarly. There was no reason to take his pain out on Shahla. He admitted to himself that he had enjoyed having her along on the trip. If only the climax had been different. And that hadn’t been her fault. He had bought into the idea that Paul was going to push the girl off the cliff. Paul had lied to them about his girlfriend. Or at least not told them the truth. But when you’re committing incest with your sister, what story are you going to tell people?

  Tony said, “I asked Nathan some questions about his church, but he wasn’t very forthcoming. In fact, I made him mad. I’m surprised he’ll even work a shift with me on it.”

  “Let me try.”

  As long as Tony was there, he was willing to let Shahla ask questions. He signed in while Nathan was ending his call and then limped into the listening room.

  Nathan looked up and said, “My God, Tony, what happened to you?”

  In addition to his limp, he had wrapped his hands in white gauze to cover the ugliest scrape
s. “I got caught in a cement mixer.”

  “Ha ha. Listen, if you’d like to take the night off, Shahla and I can handle the phones.”

  That was exactly what was not going to happen. Tony sank into the remaining chair and vowed to stay there until the shift ended. He opened the pizza box, selected a piece, and took a big bite out of it. “Have a piece,” he said with his mouth full, including Shahla and Nathan with a gesture.

  Nathan declined; Shahla took a piece. Within a minute, the phone rang. Tony picked it up, figuring that talking to a caller might improve his mood. A repeat caller was on the line who liked to talk sports. Tony could handle this call with half a brain. And eat his pizza at the same time. He pressed the mute button when his chewing was loudest. And he could keep an eye on Nathan and Shahla.

  He wished Shahla weren’t wearing such a short skirt—the shortest one he had seen her wear. Nathan wasn’t just another high school boy. He was older, and older men could be lecherous. Josh was a good example. And, if he was honest, Tony couldn’t exempt himself.

  Tony listened in on the conversation between Nathan and Shahla with one ear, while the other ear listened to the caller.

  “May I ask what religion you are?” Nathan asked Shahla without looking at her.

  “My dad was Protestant, my mom originally was Muslim, and I have Quaker ancestors. What does that make me?”

  “A mess. Let me tell you a little about my church.”

  Tony frowned. Was he proselytizing her? Shahla looked at Nathan attentively. With his usual shiftiness, Nathan didn’t look directly at her.

  “Our church is based on Christianity,” Nathan said, “but we differ from other Christian sects in one important respect.”

  “What’s that?” Shahla asked.

  “We know when Jesus is returning to earth to take the believers with him into heaven.”

  “Oh, when is that?” Shahla asked, as if she were asking what time the next bus left.

  Tony had to answer a comment made by his caller at this point. He missed the next few sentences of their conversation.

  When he tuned in again, Shahla was saying, “You can tell me, Nathan. I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Would you like to attend one of our services? Since you’re not strongly committed to any religion, that means you have an open mind. You would get a chance to learn the truth. And you would get into heaven with us. I would hate for a pretty girl like you to be left behind. Our services are on Thursdays at seven.”

  So, Nathan wanted Shahla to go to heaven with him. Tony had an almost overwhelming urge to grab Shahla by the scruff of her neck and yank her away from him. He gave a head-fake and quickly and quietly told his caller that he had to take another call. He told him he could call back tomorrow. Tony hung up, surreptitiously, so that Nathan wouldn’t be aware that he was listening to their conversation.

  Shahla was mumbling something, apparently looking at her appointment book. Tony knew she carried one. She was one of the most organized teenagers he had ever known.

  “Thursday. Why Thursday?”

  “You mean, as opposed to Sunday? Because on the weekends we’re too busy getting ready for the big day. Some of us still have jobs, you know, and can’t do that during the week.”

  “How long do the services last?”

  “Often several hours. But you wouldn’t have to stay for the whole thing. People come in and out. Would you like me to pick you up?”

  “No, I think I can get the car. Where is this church?”

  Tony wanted to scream. From the comments he heard them making behind him, he knew that Nathan was writing down the address and drawing a map for her. But Shahla was never going to make it to the church service because Tony was going to strangle her first.

  Two calls came in simultaneously. Shahla took one and Nathan the other. Tony sat and fumed and finished eating his pizza. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Shahla. Then the phone rang again, and he answered it. It was a man. When Tony routinely asked his name, the man wouldn’t tell him.

  The man said, “I used to work on the Hotline as a listener. I know all about you people.”

  Tony was instantly alert. He asked, “How long ago was that?”

  “I left about a year ago. Because I couldn’t stand it anymore. The listeners on the Hotline are all stuck-up jerks. Especially the girls.” He rambled on for several minutes about how mean everybody had been to him.

  “What did you say your name was?” Tony asked.

  “You people pretend that you’re performing a great service, but you’re really ripping off the callers. You don’t help them. You laugh at them. The kids would put the calls on the speaker and everybody in the room would make fun of the callers.”

  “The calls are confidential. And only three listeners at a time are allowed in the listening room.”

  “Bullshit. I was there. On the weekends, at night, it was party time. Beer and orgies.”

  “Alcoholic beverages are not allowed in the office. Listen, if you have a legitimate complaint, I’d like to follow up on it, but I need to know your name.”

  A click told Tony that he was not going to learn the caller’s name. Shahla and Nathan were still on the phone so he couldn’t talk to them about it. He wrote a detailed call report, mentioning that the caller had a slight accent and sounded older than a teenager. He painfully got up, walked into the administration office, and placed the report on Gail’s desk. She had been volunteer coordinator with the Hotline for years and knew all the listeners. Maybe she could figure out who it was.

  It wasn’t until an hour later that all three of them were off the phones at the same time. Tony didn’t want to hear any more talk about Nathan’s church, so he told them about the call from the former listener.

  “You were here a year ago,” Tony said to Shahla. “Does my description ring any bells with you?”

  “No. But of course we don’t know all the other listeners. Gail is the best bet because she knows them all.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “From what you said about him, I sense hostility,” Nathan said, looking out the window rather than at them. “He’s one of those people who never quite fit in. He’s a little bit different, a little bit odd. He doesn’t get the girls. Of course, he blames them for his problems. And you have to admit that some of the girls here are stuck up.”

  “Does that make him a candidate for murder?” Tony asked.

  “It might. It depends on how bad it gets and how long it lasts. The feelings of anger and alienation build up inside him until they reach a flash point. And then…pow.”

  “Pow,” Shahla said, “meaning…?”

  “Anything can happen. But he’ll feel justified in whatever he does. Because he was wronged.”

  Tony winced. “So people like this stockpile guns and ammunition and then one fine day they walk into the place where they experienced humiliation and shoot everybody there.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Shahla said, looking at the outside door apprehensively. “Is the door locked? We don’t want that guy to come busting in here.”

  Tony couldn’t remember whether he had locked it. He started to get up, but Shahla said, “No, I’ll go. I can get there in less than half an hour.”

  “That was a cruel thing to say,” Nathan said when Shahla returned and confirmed that the door was locked. “You sound like the girls the caller was talking about.”

  “I’m sorry,” Shahla said sounding sincere. She put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, you know I would never humiliate you.”

  “I know,” Tony said, feeling better than he had all evening. It was amazing the power a girl could have over a man. “I just have one question. Nobody told me about the weekend orgies.”

  “You’ll only find them in your dreams,” Shahla said.

  CHAPTER 22

  Tony was feeling a little better by Tuesday evening. Some of the stiffness had left his body. His wounds were beginning to heal. He felt good enough
to whip himself up a mess of spaghetti for his dinner. His Italian mother had taught him how to do it. Of course, she made her own tomato sauce, whereas Tony got his out of a bottle. He also used store-bought hamburger and spaghetti, but he added basil, oregano, and garlic, just as his mother had showed him.

  As he sipped a beer and spun the spaghetti worms (as they had seemed to him in his youth) on his fork, he remembered that he had been going to check Josh’s drawers for women’s underwear. Except that no opportunity had presented itself. Until now. This morning, Josh had said he would be home late tonight. He had some function he was going to attend, related to his job.

  Tony decided he had enough time to eat his dinner before he conducted a search. His body still complained when he tried to rush into anything. He ate all the spaghetti he could manage, saved the rest, and rinsed his dishes. Then he went upstairs to Josh’s bedroom. He opened the door and turned on the light. He remembered that if Josh came home while the light was on, he would see it as he drove into the carport, but Josh wouldn’t be home for a while. Searching with a flashlight was difficult and time consuming. Tony wanted to get this over with.

  Where should he start, amid this mess that constituted Josh’s possessions? The dresser drawers presented an obvious location to check. He would search the easy places first; he might get lucky. He quickly went through the drawers. He found socks, T-shirts, handkerchiefs, boxer shorts (one difference between him and Josh—he wore briefs), a bathing suit, a jockstrap, baggy shorts for outerwear, but nothing that a girl would consider wearing. Well, he remembered when girls had worn boxer shorts for a season, but not this size.

  The closet was next. Sweaters and sweatshirts were stacked on two shelves at the top. He checked between them and underneath them. Nothing. Dress shirts, sport shirts, sport coats were hung on hangers. Nothing unusual here. Josh had a lot of clothes. More than Tony did. And yet he always looked as if he wasn’t quite put together.

  A pile of dirty clothes lay on the floor. Tony went through this pile, one piece at a time, carefully, restacking the pile in another spot in reverse sequence. When he was through, he flipped the pile over and reset it in the original location—just in case Josh was more observant than he gave him credit for.