Hotline to Murder by Alan Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

was
hoping we could get together.”
    Tony was disturbed by what Shahla was doing,
but he knew if he cut off the call, she would hate him forever.
    There was silence on the line. Tony and
Shahla looked at each other. Tony found himself holding his
breath.
    “Are you on the level?” The voice was almost
plaintive.
    “What do you think, Fred?”
    Shahla’s answer was brilliant. Let him draw
his own conclusion. The imaginations of the callers didn’t work
like those of “normal” people. He might convince himself that she
was interested in him.
    “Well, I don’t know.”
    Tony suspected that Fred, or whatever his
name was, had problems relating to women in real life.
    “What time do you get off work?” Shahla
asked.
    “Midnight.”
    “And what’s your cell phone number?”
    After a hesitation, Fred reeled off an area
code and seven-digit number. Tony quickly wrote it down and mouthed
to Shahla to have him repeat it. She asked him again, and he gave
the same number a second time.
    Then Shahla said, “Where shall we meet?”
    Another hesitation. Then he gave an
intersection. Tony wrote down the names of the streets while Shahla
verified them with Fred.
    “Shall we say 12:15?” Shahla asked.
    “All right. Listen, I gotta go.”
    The line went dead. Shahla looked jubilant.
“We got him,” she almost sang. She danced around the room.
    “Not so fast, young lady.” Tony was alarmed
at Shahla’s reaction. “First of all, we don’t know whether the
information he gave us is correct. But in any case, we have to pass
it along to Detective Croyden.” He pulled the detective’s card out
of his wallet.
    “No. Croyden is at home with his wife and
kids. We can’t blow this.”
    “Somebody will be on duty. I’ll call
them.”
    Tony lifted a telephone receiver, but Shahla
grabbed it at the same time. They froze, with Tony sitting and
Shahla standing. Each had one hand on the receiver. Their hands
partially overlapped.
    Tony’s first inclination was to jerk the
receiver or yell at Shahla, but with an effort, he brought himself
under control. Then he became conscious of the touch of her hand on
his. He couldn’t let that affect him, either. He said, “What do you
think we should do?”
    “Meet him.”
    “Us? Together?”
    “Sure. If they’re two of us, we’ll be
safe.”
    “It isn’t going to happen. First of all,
you’re not going anywhere except home. You’ve got school tomorrow.
And how would I explain to your parents that I was running around
the back streets of El Segundo at midnight with their underage
daughter? Second, we’re going to turn this over to the police.”
    Shahla kept her grip on the receiver and
Tony’s hand. She said, “Tony, the police will screw this up.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “Because…because. It was…it’s too long a
story, but you can believe me when I say that I don’t trust the
police.”
    He finally heard himself saying, much
against his better judgment, “All right, this is what I’ll do.” He
looked at his watch, which was on his left or unengaged hand, to
gain time. It was almost ten o’clock. “We’ll close up shop, and
you’ll go home. I will meet Fred, the Chameleon, at the designated
time and place.”
    “I’m going with you.”
    “No, Shahla, you’re not.”
    “You’ll get hurt going all alone.”
    “My roommate has a gun. I’ll take it with
me.”
    They stared at each other, neither one
moving. If this is a test of wills, Tony thought, I’ve got to
persevere. I’m responsible for her safety.
    Shahla said, “So you aren’t going to call
the police?”
    “No.”
    Shahla relaxed her grip on the receiver and
his hand. Slowly she pulled her hand away. Slowly he hung up the
receiver.
    Shahla scribbled on a piece of paper and
handed it to him. “This is my cell phone number. Promise you’ll
call me when you get back.”
    “Who knows what time that will be? You’ll be
asleep. And I’ll wake up your parents.”
    “No you won’t.