Alan Cook - Hotline to Murder

“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…”