Hotline to Murder

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Authors: Alan Cook
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Croyden.”
    “Humor us and tell it again,” Shahla said munching on a chip.
    “No problem. I was at church.”
    “What church is that?” Tony asked, feeling that he should be helping Shahla.
    “The Church of the Risen Lord.”
    “I’ve never heard of it.” And the fact that Nathan didn’t look either of them in the eye made the story sound suspect.
    “It’s northeast of the airport, about ten miles from here.”
    “Is that where you live?” Shahla asked.
    “Near there. They have Thursday evening services that sometimes go until pretty late. Eleven or so.”
    “And you have someone who can vouch for you?”
    “Of course. I have a lot of friends there.”
    “All right, you two can go,” Shahla said still without smiling.
    “Thank you, Your Honor,” Kevin said, with a little bow. “Come on, Nathan, let’s get out of here before they ask us more questions.”
    “Shahla is tenacious, isn’t she?” Nathan said. “I like that in a girl.”
    They went out the door together.
    Tony looked at Shahla and said, “What about you?”
    “What about me?”
    “Didn’t you work the four-to-seven? Aren’t you leaving?”
    “If you’d look at the time sheet, you’d know that I’m working the seven-to-ten.”
    Tony hadn’t signed in on the time sheet yet. He did so now and, sure enough, Shahla was signed in for the seven-to-ten shift. She went into the listening room. He followed her, noticing that she had her dark hair in a ponytail, fastened with an elastic band he had recently learned was called a scrunchy, for reasons unknown. He liked ponytails. He said, “I wasn’t sure you were speaking to me.”
    Shahla sat down at the table by the window, the one Tony liked, and said, “I shouldn’t be, but I need your help.”
    Tony vowed to claim his seat first in the future. He sat down at one of the other tables. “Did Detective Croyden talk to you?”
    “Yes. He came to my house.”
    “How did you like him?”
    “He’s not as bad as I thought he would be. He asked some good questions and he seemed to know what he was doing.”
    “But you’re still conducting your own investigation.”
    “That’s why I need your help.”
    Tony was checking the bulletin board to see if there were any new notices. He spotted one from Gail. He read it aloud to Shahla: “When you take a call from the Chameleon, be sure to record everything he says. We particularly want information about where he lives and where he works. Don’t hang up on him unless his talk gets particularly offensive. Do not under any circumstances give him any information about Joy, the Hotline or yourselves. Do not agree to meet him anywhere. Give your call report to Nancy, Patty, or me, immediately. If none of us is here, place it on my desk.”
    “Detective Croyden has been talking to the ladies in the office,” Tony said.
    “Duh. I’m surprised you didn’t get fired.”
    “How can you get fired from a volunteer job?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “And yet you were willing to go with me. Nay, you insisted on going.”
    “But I wasn’t planning to tell Croyden about it.”
    “Okay, truce.” Tony liked this high-spirited girl too much to want to be at odds with her. “What do you plan to do now?”
    The phone rang before she could say anything. Tony answered it. “Central Hotline. This is Tony.”
    “I’ve got a problem,” a female voice said. “I need to talk to someone.”
    “You can talk to me,” Tony said. “Who’s this?”
    “Gertrude.”
    He would bet a week’s pay that her name wasn’t really Gertrude, but she could be anonymous if she wanted to be. When she didn’t immediately say anything more, he said, “What’s your problem, Gertrude?”
    “I like sex.”
    He was tempted to say, “That’s a problem?” but she sounded quite young, so he waited her out. He put the call on the speaker so that Shahla could hear it.
    After a pause she said, “I’m sixteen, but I like to have sex. What do you think I should

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