Hotline to Murder (30 page)

“I don’t want to sleep in there alone,” she
said. “It’s too dark with the light out. I’m afraid.”

“Do you want a nightlight?” Tony asked.

“No, I want to sleep in your bed.”

“You mean, you want to trade beds?”

“No.”

“That’s not a good idea. I’m just down the
hall from you. You can call if you need me.”

“The stairs are between us. He might…come up
the stairs.

“The police are watching the house.” Tony
was getting a little perturbed. He needed a good night’s sleep. He
said, “I guess I could sleep on the couch downstairs.”

“No, I want you nearby. Stay in the bed. I
won’t take up much room.”

Shahla lay down on the bed beside him and
pulled the sheet and light blanket over her. She lay on her side,
facing away from him. He normally slept in his briefs and a
T-shirt. Sometimes he took the briefs off if they were too
constricting. Fortunately, he hadn’t done that tonight. It was an
old-fashioned double bed, not queen or king-size. There was no
extra room. Tony turned his back to her and found himself on the
edge of the bed.

“After my father was killed, I sometimes
slept with my mom, and we would cuddle together like spoons,”
Shahla said.

It was clear what she wanted him to do. He
turned over and carefully arranged his body so that, although they
were touching, it didn’t go beyond that. He tentatively placed his
arm over her. She snuggled against him and then lay still. He felt
tense and wondered how long he could stay like this. He would never
fall asleep. At least not for a long….

CHAPTER 34

When he awoke, Tony was facing his window,
which faced toward the east. And the rising sun. Which had already
risen. There was something wrong with this. Oh yes, it was a
workday, and he hadn’t set the alarm. He was late already. He
carefully got out of bed, trying not to disturb Shahla. It had been
a while since he had slept with a woman. What was the proper
etiquette? Let her wake up at her own speed.

Shahla was curled up in roughly the same
position in which she had gone to sleep. She had let out a muffled
scream several times during the night. Her legs had twitched, as
though she were running. Tony had patted her back and said soothing
words, trying to calm her. She hadn’t woken up, and each time she
had quieted down after a few seconds.

Tony went to the bathroom and attempted to
bring some coherence to his thoughts. Today was Monday. Monday was
a workday. And a school day. But was Shahla in any shape to go to
school? She was probably all right physically, but emotionally? And
was it safe for her to go to school, with the kidnapper on the
loose? He had acted boldly, but in a risky manner. He wanted her
badly. He might try to snatch her again.

Tony put on a pair of shorts and went
downstairs. While he made coffee, he wondered whether he should
take a vacation day in order to stay with Shahla. Or he could just
call in sick. But he didn’t like to lie.

Rasa had gone to her sister’s house for
comfort and support. She had said she was returning to Bonita Beach
today, but she might not be here until noon or later. She
apparently wasn’t going to work, and Shahla’s brother, Kirk, wasn’t
going to school.

Tony was making himself toast when Shahla
appeared, still wearing his T-shirt. Her hair was uncombed, and her
eyes were a little bleary. She looked vulnerable, but sweet. And
although her mood was subdued, she didn’t seem to be depressed or
scared.

“Your clothes are in the dryer,” Tony said.
He went the few steps to the utility room and pulled them out of
that machine. He handed them to Shahla.

“Thank you.” She laid them on a chair, then
took the bikini bottom, stepped into the leg holes, and pulled it
up. She did the same with the shorts.

There was something intimate about watching
a woman get dressed. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’ll be all right. My thigh hurts, my hands
hurt, and a few other places hurt, but I’ll be fine.”

“Would you like some toast? I’ve got
strawberry jam.”

“That would be wonderful. I’m starving.”

Tony poured orange juice for her to go with
the toast. Realizing how hungry she was, he also made eggs and
bacon. She ate everything.

After she had satisfied her appetite, her
mood improved dramatically. She kidded Tony about his cooking
skills, saying that he could get a job as a short-order cook.

Tony was glad to see a spark of the old
Shahla. He said, “What do you think about going to school? I could
drive you to your house to get some clothes and books.”

“The kidnapper probably knows what school I
go to. He knew where I lived.” She hesitated. “I’m not up to school
today. And won’t the kids have found out about me?”

Tony smacked his head with his hand. “We
haven’t looked at the news.” He started toward the living room and
then said, “Oh, I forgot, I don’t have a television set anymore.
But I have a radio.”

The combination radio-CD player was in the living
room. Tony turned on the radio and found a news station. Within a
couple of minutes, one of the news anchors said, “Last night, a
girl showed pluck and daring by escaping a would-be kidnapper in
Bonita Beach.” He told the story, which must have been transmitted
to the reporters by Lieutenant Stone. He didn’t say anything
specific about where Shahla lived or where she was staying. Tony
was referred to only as a friend. His name wasn’t mentioned.

“Good.” Tony was pleased. “Lieutenant Stone
is protecting your privacy. We can take advantage of that. I have
to call my office. Go ahead and finish getting dressed, and then
we’ll put our heads together and try to create a plan of action. We
certainly have more information than we had before.”

The telephone rang. The downstairs extension
was in the kitchen, next to the family room.

“I’ll get it,” Shahla called. She was headed
back toward the family room to pick up the rest of her clothes.

“Let me get it,” Tony said, following her as
fast as he could. Maybe it was Mona, his boss. She often called him
early in the morning with things for him to do. But by the time he
got to the opening into the kitchen, Shahla had already answered
it.

He heard her say, “Hello. Hello.” She looked
at the phone with a puzzled expression. “Hang up. Just like we get
at the Hotline.”

“Hang up?” Tony didn’t normally get hang
ups. “Maybe whoever it was hung up because a girl answered,” he
said as a small joke. Wishful thinking.

“Maybe it’s your girlfriend,” Shahla said.
“The one who likes to put me down.”

“Carol? She’s my ex-girlfriend at this
point. Very ex. And the likelihood of her calling me at this hour
of the morning—or any hour—is about the same as the probability
that we’ll get hit by a meteor today.” Unless she had had a
falling-out with her boyfriend—Horace, or whatever is name was.
More wishful thinking.

“I could hear something in the background
that sounded like traffic noise. Whoever it was must have been
calling from a cell phone.”

“That’s annoying. Makes it hard to hear.
Like that caller I was reading about in the Green Book yesterday
morning when I was trying to figure out what happened to you. It
said he always played a television set in the background during his
calls. Maybe he did it to help disguise his voice.”

“Who was that?”

“Someone called the Cackling Crucifier.”

“I remember him. He never gave the same name
twice. He talked about religion and Jesus. You’re right; he always
had a television playing. And he had a weird laugh. Why were you
reading about him?”

“I’m not sure. I was going through the
inactive pages and for some reason he sounded familiar.”

“He was worried about my immortal soul. He
asked me if I was a Christian. He said he’d like to take me to
church. He got pretty insistent. I was a little afraid of him.”

“Did he ever tell you where he lived?”

“No, he was very evasive. And then he
stopped calling. I was relieved.”

Tony was trying to put some pieces together.
“What if that call just now was actually from him? What if he’s
trying to find out whether you’re here?”

“Huh?” Shahla looked at Tony as though she
thought he had flipped. “I never gave him any personal information.
Besides, he doesn’t even know you. How could he know where you
live?”

“Stay with me. What if the reason he stopped
calling was because he signed up to be a listener on the
Hotline?”

“A listener? But who…?”

“How about Nathan? Didn’t he attend the
training class that started soon after the Crucifier stopped
calling? He certainly fits the religious profile.”

“Nathan? Nathan has some strange ideas, but
I think he’s basically harmless. At least, that’s what I’ve been
telling myself.”

“I’ve heard Nathan laugh. It could be
described as a cackle.”

“I’ve never heard Nathan laugh that I can
remember. And I’ve worked shifts with him. I’d certainly remember
if he had a laugh like the Crucifier. ”

“Here’s my hypothesis. He always had to be
very careful around you and the others he had talked to on the
phone before. And he probably altered his voice somewhat when he
was on the phone, like the Chameleon.”

“The Crucifier had a fairly high-pitched
voice on the phone. Nathan’s voice is lower.”

“I saw a plastic device at the Chameleon’s
apartment that is probably what he uses for voice alteration. I did
a little research on the Internet and found similar devices that
will make you sound younger—that is, they raise the pitch of your
voice. Remember the night that Nathan and you and I were working,
and I got a call from a guy who said he was a former listener and
was badmouthing the other listeners? Talking about orgies and
stuff? Nathan seemed to identify with him a little too well. As if
he were in his shoes, perhaps as both a caller and a listener. Or
is that theory all wet?”

Shahla thought for a moment. Then she said,
“Maybe not. I heard you get up, but I couldn’t drag myself out of
bed. I kept going over and over what happened last night. The more
I thought about it, the more I was sure I noticed something
familiar about the guy.”

“Do you think you’ve seen him before?”

“I didn’t really see his face, and I
couldn’t see his hair. But his size and the way he moved. It’s
funny that we’ve been talking about Nathan.”

“He reminded you of Nathan?”

“I couldn’t come up with a name before, but
maybe it is Nathan. You know how Nathan walks, kind of jerky, like
a puppet being controlled by strings? This guy had the same awkward
movement when he was trying to stop me from getting to the beach.
He wasn’t graceful, like an athlete. If he had been better
coordinated, he might have been able to do it. He was certainly big
enough.”

Shahla paused. “But it wasn’t Nathan’s car,
was it? I seem to remember that he drives a Jeep or something.”

“That’s my memory too,” Tony said. “But
sometime after we attended that church service, it occurred to me
that Nathan’s alibi didn’t hold water. He said he was at a service
until eleven the night of the murder, but the way people came and
went during the service we were at, he could have snuck out and
never been missed.”

“He might even have returned before
eleven.”

“Right. Let’s assume for a minute that it
was Nathan who tried to kidnap you and that he called here just
now. He could have gotten my phone number off the Hotline roster.
He might have been calling to see if you’re still here. And of
course your address is on the roster, too.”

“So he’s going to try again?” Shahla looked
out the living room window at the swimming pool and shuddered.

“Don’t worry; it’s not going to happen.”
Tony chastised himself for scaring her. “Go upstairs and get
dressed. I’m going to call my boss and tell her I won’t be at work
today. Then we’ll get on the computer. I found a website for the
Church of the Risen Lord back when you and I attended the service.
The first thing we’ll do is to check and see whether there’s any
new information there.”

***

“Here it comes,” Tony said.

He was sitting in the swivel chair in front
of his computer. Shahla was leaning over his shoulder, intently
watching the screen. The home page of the Church of the Risen Lord
appeared; it showed people being carried upward in an endless
stream, presumably into heaven, where they acquired wings and
started flitting about.

“It’s wonderful what can be done with
graphics these days,” Tony said, hoping he didn’t sound too
sarcastic. There were a number of hyperlinks on the page. Tony
clicked on the one marked, “Day of Judgment.” A new page appeared
on the screen. It was printed in large, bold text. Tony and Shahla
read it together.

“To the Faithful: Hallelujah! The time we have been
waiting for has arrived. Gather at the appointed place at sunset on
Monday, September 30. Our Ascension will take place at midnight.
You already have a copy of the bus schedules showing you how to get
there by public transportation. Be sure to bring all your money in
cash. Get a maximum cash advance on your credit cards. You must
have divested all your worldly goods. Remember that it is easier
for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man
to get into heaven. As we wait, we will conduct a prayer vigil and
sing the praises of our Lord. Do not be late. Anybody who does not
show up will be cast into the fiery pits and burned to ashes. You
do not want to be among that number.” At the bottom, “Reverend
Luther Hodgkins” was printed in larger, bolder letters.

“That’s tonight,” Shahla said.

“Time is running out,” Tony said. It was
coming together. “That’s why Nathan isn’t driving his own car. He’s
probably sold it and is driving a loaner or a rental. But if he
wants to take another girl to heaven with him, he has to work
fast.”