Hotline to Murder (5 page)

Gail ushered the males over to a corner of
the stage, away from the chatter of the others. As they clustered
around her, she said, “I realize we’re putting a lot of pressure on
you guys. In a way, we’re implying that you’re not in any danger,
which you realize is not completely true. So, if any of you have
doubts about this or want to talk about it, now’s your chance.”

Tony looked around at the others. He
estimated that four of them were adults. At least two were older
than he was.

One of the older men said, “I have a license
to carry a gun. I could bring it with me to the Hotline.”

Gail shook her head. “No, Dick, no guns in
the Hotline office. We don’t want an armed camp. Or the risk of a
shootout. Although there’s no evidence that the suspect used a
gun.”

But there was also no evidence that he
hadn’t used a gun. He certainly had a persuasive method of getting
Joy into the park. Tony didn’t necessarily agree with the no gun
policy, but as the new kid on the block, he figured he’d better
keep quiet. But he had another question. “I assume different guards
work the evening shift on different days. Have the police taken a
look at all of them?”

“Nancy and I have talked at length to
Detective Croyden about the guard situation,” Gail said. “And also
to the building management. We would not have reopened the Hotline
if we hadn’t been convinced that the guards were completely
trustworthy.”

Gail had a positive way of talking that made
you believe her. And Nancy did too. If they thought that the guards
were reliable, Tony would take their word for it. There was some
further discussion about safety procedures, which Tony used as an
opportunity to glance around at the other men and boys. Most of
them looked as if they could handle themselves in a fight. One of
the boys was quite small, but he had a determined look in his eye.
None of them talked about quitting the Hotline.

When they finished talking, they went back
to the front of the stage where the signup sheets were located.
Tony noticed that the teens filled most of the weekend slots
quickly, since they didn’t have school those days. At first he
thought he’d sign up for the seven-to-ten shift once a week, but
after some hesitation, he ended up putting his name down for
Mondays and Fridays for the rest of September.

CHAPTER 6

Tony kept a wary eye out for any suspicious
people as he entered the building to work his first shift since
Joy’s murder. There were the usual customers entering the shops in
the mall, but nobody seemed to have any interest in him. Inside, he
took the stairs two at a time to the third floor and was pleasantly
surprised to find that he was not panting quite as hard as he had
in the past. The workouts at the health club he had joined must be
paying off.

The door to the Hotline office was locked,
but it was now standard procedure to keep it locked after the
office staff left for the day. He entered the combination to the
lockbox and extracted the key. Upon entering the office, he saw two
people, one male and one female, in the listening room, both on the
phone. By the time he signed in, the man had ended his call.

The man walked out of the listening room and
said, “We had some callers asking about Joy. Whether she worked for
the Hotline. That’s how some people get their kicks. We told them
we couldn’t give out any information.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Tony said. “I’m
Tony.”

“Nathan.”

They shook hands. Tony noticed that Nathan
didn’t look him in the eye. He remembered that Nathan had been at
the Friday meeting. He guessed that the man was a few years older
than he was, with sandy hair. Nathan was taller, but Tony was
stockier. Nathan was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, in spite of
the summer warmth.

“How long have you been on the Hotline?”
Tony asked. It was a standard question.

“Six months.”

“This is my first shift without a mentor. I
guess I’m about to lose my vir….”

Tony stopped in mid-word and Nathan laughed,
a strange laugh that sounded like the cackle of a hen after laying
an egg. “It’s okay; you can say it.”

The girl came out of the listening room, and
when Tony gave his name, she introduced herself as Cecile. They
shook hands. Most girls shook hands these days. Upon being assured
that Nathan was walking out with Cecile, Tony went into the
listening room and appropriated the table he liked best—the one
facing the window.

He came back out to check the calendar. They were
supposed to be working in pairs. But if nobody else had signed up,
he would work alone. He wasn’t afraid. However, the calendar showed
that S. Lawton was scheduled to work this shift. The name didn’t
register with Tony.

He had just settled down in his chair when
he heard the outside door open behind him. When he swiveled the
chair around, he saw Shahla entering the office. She waved at him.
His heart gave an involuntary leap before he got it under control.
What was she doing here? Perhaps she had just come in to sign up
for future shifts. If so, she should have come in earlier. Now he
would be obligated to walk her out, because of the new rules.

Tony came out of the listening room,
realizing that he looked forward to walking her out of the
building. But instead of looking at the calendar, she was signing
in on the daily time sheet.

“Hi,” he said. “I-I didn’t know you were
working tonight.”

“Maybe if you’d looked at the calendar,
you’d know,” Shahla said with a slight smile, as she also entered
her hours in the logbook.

“But the per…” Tony stopped, realizing that
he was about to make a complete ass of himself. S. Lawton. Of
course. Shahla Lawton. He had pictured Shahla as having an
unpronounceable last name. “One of my new year’s resolutions was to
learn to read. I guess I’m going to have to get going on that.”

“You are,” Shahla said, leading the way into
the listening room and setting a book she had brought with her on
one of the tables.

Tony followed her and went back to his
table. Shahla was wearing a skirt tonight. It wasn’t short—it came
to her knees—but he was glad to see any kind of a skirt on a girl.
It made her look feminine. Skirts seemed to be few and far between
these days. Mona always wore slacks to work at the
Bodyalternatives.net office, as did the other women. And most of
the girls in his Hotline class had worn jeans or shorts.

He sat down trying to think of something
sensible to say. “Uh, I didn’t see you at the meeting.”

“I came in late and sat in the back.” Shahla
wasn’t looking at him. “I almost didn’t come at all.”

“You were close to Joy, weren’t you? This
must be very difficult for you.” He wouldn’t have said that before
he took the Hotline class.

“Joy was my best friend. We double-dated to
the prom last year.”

Shahla still wasn’t looking at him. She was
suffering. Tony could picture it. He remembered the rule about
showing empathy but not sympathy. He said, “You didn’t have to come
back.”

“I came back because I want to make sure
that the guy who killed Joy gets caught.”

“Detective Croyden seems to be competent.
I’m sure he’ll find whoever it was.”

“I’m not so sure. At least as long as we
have a confidentiality policy about our callers.”

“Well, he was given a copy of the Green
Book.” The policy had been bent to that extent. That fact had come
out at the meeting. “Do you think one of our callers is
the…suspect?”

The phone rang before Shahla could answer.
She said quickly, “I’ll get it,” and picked up the receiver.
“Central Hotline. This is Sally.”

She listened for a few seconds and then put
the call on the speaker. Tony heard a male voice say, “…found Joy’s
murderer yet?”

“Who’s this?” Shahla demanded rather than
asked.

“Let’s just say I’m a friend.” The caller
talked softly, with pauses between sentences. “But you’re looking
in the wrong places.”

“Where should we look?”

“If I told you that, it would make it too
easy for you. But you don’t think she’ll be the last one, do you?”
There was a click.

Shahla hung up the phone and said,
excitedly, “I know who that is. That’s the Chameleon. I can tell by
the way he talks. He made scary calls before Joy was killed, too.
He would call at night and say he could see us. That would freak us
out, even though if you look out our window there’s nothing but the
parking lot and the park. How could he see us?”

“Try calling him back with star sixty-nine,”
Tony said.

“We can’t call out from these lines.”

And the phone system didn’t capture the
number that was calling. Tony had never spoken to the Chameleon. He
suspected the Chameleon hung up whenever a man answered the phone.
He had read his profile in the Green Book, however. The Chameleon
was a longtime caller. True to his name, he used many aliases. He
had a gadget that disguised his voice. Sometimes he impersonated
females. He had a different story for every call, but it usually
involved sex at some point. Sometimes he made veiled threats. The
Green Book instructed listeners to hang up on him when he was
recognized since he abused the Hotline.

“Let’s do this,” Tony said. “Mark the call
report to Detective Croyden’s attention, like Gail wants us to do.
The Chameleon is a logical suspect, just because he calls so often.
Although that sounded like a crank call to me. He probably just
didn’t want to be overshadowed by Joy.”

“He’s a really creepy guy. I think Croyden
should talk to him. But how can he? We don’t have his telephone
number, and we don’t know where he lives or anything.”

Tony was looking at the Chameleon’s profile
in the Green Book. “Maybe Croyden can find him. He told somebody he
lives in El Segundo. He’s in his late twenties. He has a job as a
security guard.”

“That really sets him apart, doesn’t it? I’m
sure the police will be able to walk right to his door.”

Tony could understand Shahla’s frustration.
He wanted to help her. He said, “Okay, let’s do this. We’ll start a
file of our own on likely suspects. We’ll make copies of the call
reports of suspicious callers. We might spot something that the
police don’t.”

“We’re not supposed to take information on
callers out of the office. And we’re not supposed to use the copy
machine…”

“This is a state of emergency.” Tony wanted
to assuage Shahla’s fears about violating the Hotline rules.
“Besides, there’s nobody here to see us. I’ll do the copying and
keep the copies so you won’t get into trouble.”

Shahla reluctantly relented. It was obvious
that her parents had instilled a moral code in her. He was glad to
know that. He had met enough young people who had no apparent
values. He, himself, was perhaps one of them. But he was changing,
he kept telling himself. However, as he had said, this was a state
of emergency.

He took the call reports out of the box
where the listeners had placed them. They dated back two days to
Saturday, the day the Hotline had reopened. Fortunately, Gail
didn’t collect them every day. But that also meant Croyden hadn’t
looked at them yet. He must have plenty to keep him busy, however.
Tony and Shahla pulled out the reports marked to Detective
Croyden’s attention and also several identified as calls from the
Chameleon. He often called more than once a day, in defiance of the
rules.

In between taking routine calls, Tony made
copies of these reports on the Xerox copier. Then he sorted the
original call reports back into chronological order and replaced
them in the box, while Shahla was on a call. He did group three
calls from the Chameleon about Joy together so that they would get
the special attention of Gail, and hopefully Croyden.

After Shahla had hung up and completed her
call report, she said, “I have the feeling that we’re not covering
all the possibilities.”

“We don’t have to,” Tony said. “That’s the
job of the police.”

“But the police aren’t, either. Have they
asked you for an alibi for the night Joy was killed?”

“Huh?” Tony looked at Shahla, wondering if
she was kidding.

“Well, what were you doing that night?”

“Uh…” Tony was flabbergasted. “Do you think
I’m the murderer?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. You’ve seen
the cop shows on TV. They question everybody, including their
friends.”

“Well, it’s a relief that you count me as a
friend,” Tony said, trying to lighten the atmosphere, which had
suddenly become very heavy. “Let’s see, what was I doing?” He
hadn’t thought about it before. He hadn’t thought of himself as a
suspect before. He drew a blank. He tried to work backward from the
time he had heard about Joy’s murder. He had been busy all that
day. And the night before? He had done some preparation for his
talk to the women’s club. He had been lonely and restless. Josh was
out somewhere. Carol was out of his life permanently.

“I went to a movie.”

“What movie?”

“Uh…
Lost in Translation
, with Bill
Murray. It’s about this American actor who goes to Japan to make a
Suntory commercial…”

“Whom did you go with?”

For some reason he didn’t want to admit that
he had gone by himself. “I…uh, couldn’t find anybody to go
with.”

“So you went alone. Can anybody vouch for
you?’

“No.” He would be just another faceless
patron to the ticket taker. And he hadn’t seen anybody he knew.

“So you don’t have an alibi.” Shahla looked
at Tony with an unfathomable look in her eyes.

“Ticket stub. I save ticket stubs. I throw
them into a bowl. It shows the date and time of the show. It didn’t
get over until about 10:30.”

“A ticket stub, eh?” Shahla said, imitating
a prosecuting attorney. “That was clever of you. You purchased a
ticket, but didn’t actually see the movie. Or you left in the
middle…”