Alan Cook - Hotline to Murder

“We’ll have to get a search warrant,” the officer said.

“Nathan has moved out so I suspect all you need is the manager’s permission,” Tony said. He had a thought. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll get you the manager’s phone number.”

He hung up and said to Shahla, “The manager is in the first apartment on the right as we came into the courtyard.” They went to the front door. “Wait. Let’s see if anybody is about.” They peeked through the drapes and saw no sign of life. They went out the door and shut it behind them.

As they walked to the manager’s apartment, Shahla said, “If the manager is a woman you do the talking. If he’s a man, let me talk.”

“Who died and left you boss?” Tony asked. When Shahla looked ready to retort, he raised his arms and said, “Just kidding. We’ll go with that.”

They knocked on the manager’s door. A small, elderly woman opened it. She was bent over, which made her look even shorter than she was. Tony had the nod.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said. “My name is Tony and this is my sister, Sally. “We are friends of Nathan Watson.”

The woman looked at them without speaking for a moment. Then she said, “Friends of Nathan? Then why did you break into his apartment?”

“Break in?” Her drapes were open. She had seen them through the window. “Er…we were trying to find Nathan.”

“Nathan is gone. He moved out two days ago. So I’m sure you didn’t get anything. But I’ve called the police, anyway, in case you caused some damage.”

“ You called the police?” This was a reversal. Tony couldn’t think straight. “What police?”

“LAPD, of course. They’ll be here shortly.”

Shahla was tugging on Tony’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“Do you know what Nathan is going to do?” he asked.

The woman stared at him coldly, without speaking. Considering her small stature, she looked formidable.

Shahla tugged harder. “Let’s go,” she said again.

Tony went with her. They moved swiftly through the outside gate and along the street to his car. He looked back when they reached the car. She wasn’t watching them. He suspected she had stayed within the safety of her apartment. They got into the car.

“Drive,” Shahla said. “If we get detained by the police, we’ll never find Nathan.”

Tony drove. He wound through the largely residential streets for a mile or so and then, figuring they were safe, he parked again.

“It’s a good thing they didn’t respond faster,” he said, “or we would have been trapped like a fox in the henhouse. I’d better call Bonita Beach and give them an update.” He got out his cell phone.

“Don’t tell them we broke into the apartment.”

“I won’t.” He told the desk officer that LAPD was going to the apartment building and suggested that this was a good time to coordinate with them to search Nathan’s apartment.

“How do you know this?” the officer asked.

Tony disconnected.

“I hope it doesn’t get screwed up and the evidence lost,” Shahla said.

“We can’t worry about that,” Tony said. “We’ve got to find Nathan.” His shoulders slumped. “But how do we find him?”

“Give me his cell phone number,” Shahla said.

“Why?”

“I’m going to call him.”

“You’re what?”

“I’m going to call him. What else can we do? We have to keep Nathan from killing Tina.”

Shahla took the cell phone and the piece of paper with Nathan’s address and telephone numbers on it from Tony. Her mind was moving faster than his. And it was going to take speed if they were going to save Tina. But before she tried to call Nathan, she had to call the Bonita Beach Police one more time.

She called, using redial. The desk officer answered after two rings and said, “Bonita Beach Police.”

“This is Shahla.”

“Where are you?”

She wasn’t falling into that trap. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. We believe that Nathan Watson has kidnapped Tina. He belongs to the Church of the Risen Lord. The church is on…” she looked at Tony and he said, “Brora Street.” She repeated, “Brora Street, in LA. The minister is Luther Hodgkins. The members think that they are going to ascend into heaven tonight at midnight. We don’t know the location where they are gathering, but it’s probably a local hilltop. We know it’s somewhere near a bus line. We are hoping that Nathan is going to take Tina there so that she will ascend with them.”

“Spell the name of the minister.”

Shahla spelled it. “Have you got that?”

“Where are you now?”

“Have you got all the information?”

“I want you two to come to the station and stop playing detective. You’re going to mess this whole thing up. Or get yourselves killed.”

Shahla disconnected and said, “He wants us to come to the station.”

“You did that better than I could have,” Tony said.

Shahla was pleased with Tony’s compliment. But the hardest part was yet to come. She punched in Nathan’s cell phone number. As it rang, she wondered if he still had the phone with him. Or whether the number was disconnected. She should at least get some kind of a message. Finally, voice mail came on. It was Nathan’s voice. Shahla felt some relief.

“Nathan, this is Shahla,” she said after the beep. “I-I have changed my mind. I feel in my heart now that you are correct. The website of the church says that the ascent into heaven is going to be tonight. I want to go with you, Nathan. Please. Give me a call.” She recited Tony’s cell phone number.

“Did I put enough passion into my voice?” she asked after she disconnected.

“That will get him if anything can. What should we do while we wait for him to call back?”

“I saw a McDonald’s a couple of blocks from here. Let’s get something to eat.”

Shahla ate her Big Mac with gusto and popped each ketchup-drenched French fry into her mouth, separately, in order to fully savor it. Since her brush with hunger, yesterday, food had risen in her scale of importance. She hoped that this newfound appetite wouldn’t make her fat. Tony was eating a more sensible fish sandwich.

They were sitting in the car, parked outside the McDonald’s. A Porsche wasn’t the most comfortable place to eat lunch, but at least it was temporarily shaded from the September sun by the fronds at the top of a tall palm tree, and the top was down so they benefited from a wisp of a breeze.

Other people, young and old alike, continuously streamed in and out of the restaurant, like bees at a hive. The young ones looked like high school students. Apparently this was a lunch hangout for a local school. Shahla remembered that she should be in school. She felt a pang of conscience. She hated to miss even one day.

When the cell phone rang, it startled her, even though she was hoping it would ring. She had the Big Mac in one hand and a couple of fries in the other. “Let me answer it,” she said, desperately trying to free her hands without spilling food all over herself and the car. She gave a quick swipe to her greasy fingers with a paper napkin and pressed the talk button on the phone.

“Hello, this is Sa…Shahla.” She had almost given her Hotline name of Sally.

“Are you alone?”

Shahla felt a chill as she recognized the voice of the Cackling Crucifier. Or was it Nathan? It was both of them. Tony was right; the Crucifier and Nathan were the same person. She had never heard Nathan’s voice on the phone before.

“Yes,” she lied.” She looked at Tony and put her finger to her lips.

“I hear noises in the background.”

“I’m in the parking lot of a restaurant.” Stay as close to the truth as possible.