Alan Cook - Hotline to Murder

“I-I went to a movie. Alone. But I kept the ticket stub.” That demanded an explanation. “I keep all my ticket stubs.”

“What time was that?”

“About eight to 10:30.”

“Don’t lose the stub,” Croyden said, making a note. He didn’t even say anything about how Tony could have purchased the ticket to provide himself with an alibi.

When Tony arrived at the Hotline office for his Friday evening shift, he found the door unlocked. He entered the office, wondering about this breach of the rules, and saw that there were two people in the listening room, both males. Apparently, they weren’t worried about outsiders getting in.

As he entered his hours in the book, one of them came out of the listening room. He was a teenager, tall, blond and a little bit gawky, wearing a Bonita Beach High School T-shirt. At the same time, Tony heard a voice behind him say, “Hey, Kevin, we need to talk to you for a minute.”

Tony turned and saw Shahla coming out of the snack room carrying a plate of chips. What was she doing here? He had been convinced that she would never speak to him again. Maybe she had worked the four-to-seven shift with these guys and was just finishing up. And who were “we”?

Shahla continued, “Kevin, this is Tony.”

They said hi and shook hands.

“Kevin is a senior at Bonita Beach,” Shahla said to Tony. “Tony is new here.”

At least she was speaking to him.

“What we need to know,” Shahla said to Kevin, “is what you were doing the night Joy was killed.”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” Kevin asked with mock indignation.

“Your rights just went down the toilet,” Shahla said. “Answer the question.”

Tony had hoped Shahla was off this kick. At least she had waited until he showed up. But she was being awfully blunt about it.

“All right, officer,” Kevin said, “I know when I’m defeated. I was at lacrosse practice.”

“Sure you were,” Shahla said. “At night and before school started? A likely story. What were you really doing?”

“It happens to be true,” Kevin said. “We had preseason practice. And since we have to share the field with the football team and the soccer team and some of our players had summer jobs, we practiced at night. It’s a good thing we got lights on the field last year. The coach and all the other players can vouch for me.”

“What time did practice end?”

“It was almost ten. And then we took showers. We’ve got the same practice schedule tomorrow night. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come into our shower room at ten tomorrow evening. We’re a friendly group. Then you can see for yourself.”

“No thanks.”

“Watch out for these guys,” Kevin said to the man who was just coming out of the listening room. “They’ll try to pin Joy’s murder on you.”

“Maybe they’re trying to cover up for themselves,” the man, who Tony recognized as Nathan, said, with a half-smile.

Nathan was wearing the same sweatshirt he had worn at his last Hotline session on Monday.

“What we want to know,” Shahla said, without smiling, “is what you were doing and where you were the night of Joy’s murder.”

Nathan said, “You don’t want much, do you? But by the way, I’ve already told this story to Detective Croyden.”

“Humor us and tell it again,” Shahla said munching on a chip.

“No problem. I was at church.”

“What church is that?” Tony asked, feeling that he should be helping Shahla.

“The Church of the Risen Lord.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” And the fact that Nathan didn’t look either of them in the eye made the story sound suspect.

“It’s northeast of the airport, about ten miles from here.”

“Is that where you live?” Shahla asked.

“Near there. They have Thursday evening services that sometimes go until pretty late. Eleven or so.”

“And you have someone who can vouch for you?”

“Of course. I have a lot of friends there.”

“All right, you two can go,” Shahla said still without smiling.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Kevin said, with a little bow. “Come on, Nathan, let’s get out of here before they ask us more questions.”

“Shahla is tenacious, isn’t she?” Nathan said. “I like that in a girl.”

They went out the door together.

Tony looked at Shahla and said, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Didn’t you work the four-to-seven? Aren’t you leaving?”

“If you’d look at the time sheet, you’d know that I’m working the seven-to-ten.”

Tony hadn’t signed in on the time sheet yet. He did so now and, sure enough, Shahla was signed in for the seven-to-ten shift. She went into the listening room. He followed her, noticing that she had her dark hair in a ponytail, fastened with an elastic band he had recently learned was called a scrunchy, for reasons unknown. He liked ponytails. He said, “I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”

Shahla sat down at the table by the window, the one Tony liked, and said, “I shouldn’t be, but I need your help.”

Tony vowed to claim his seat first in the future. He sat down at one of the other tables. “Did Detective Croyden talk to you?”

“Yes. He came to my house.”

“How did you like him?”

“He’s not as bad as I thought he would be. He asked some good questions and he seemed to know what he was doing.”

“But you’re still conducting your own investigation.”

“That’s why I need your help.”

Tony was checking the bulletin board to see if there were any new notices. He spotted one from Gail. He read it aloud to Shahla: “When you take a call from the Chameleon, be sure to record everything he says. We particularly want information about where he lives and where he works. Don’t hang up on him unless his talk gets particularly offensive. Do not under any circumstances give him any information about Joy, the Hotline or yourselves. Do not agree to meet him anywhere. Give your call report to Nancy, Patty, or me, immediately. If none of us is here, place it on my desk.”

“Detective Croyden has been talking to the ladies in the office,” Tony said.

“Duh. I’m surprised you didn’t get fired.”

“How can you get fired from a volunteer job?”

“You know what I mean.”

“And yet you were willing to go with me. Nay, you insisted on going.”

“But I wasn’t planning to tell Croyden about it.”

“Okay, truce.” Tony liked this high-spirited girl too much to want to be at odds with her. “What do you plan to do now?”

The phone rang before she could say anything. Tony answered it. “Central Hotline. This is Tony.”

“I’ve got a problem,” a female voice said. “I need to talk to someone.”

“You can talk to me,” Tony said. “Who’s this?”

“Gertrude.”

He would bet a week’s pay that her name wasn’t really Gertrude, but she could be anonymous if she wanted to be. When she didn’t immediately say anything more, he said, “What’s your problem, Gertrude?”

“I like sex.”

He was tempted to say, “That’s a problem?” but she sounded quite young, so he waited her out. He put the call on the speaker so that Shahla could hear it.

After a pause she said, “I’m sixteen, but I like to have sex. What do you think I should do?”

The Hotline rule was to not give advice because the listeners were not trained counselors. Tony asked, “What would you like to do?”

“Should I stop having sex?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No. I like sex. I’m always horny. But other kids are saying bad things about me.”

“So you’re getting a bad reputation? How do you feel about that?”