Hotline to Murder

Indian.”
    “Sorry. When I went to school they were still Indians.” Tony called the number on the card. He could picture it being answered by the officer on the desk. He asked for Detective Croyden.
    “Croyden.”
    “Hi Detective Croyden, this is Tony Schmidt.”
    “Tony Schmidt. What have you got for me?”
    “A question. Were there any fingerprints on that envelope Shahla and I brought in?”
    “Your fingerprints were on it.”
    “Okay, but were there any other prints?”
    “I suppose you’ll bug me until I tell you. No. There were no other prints on the envelope or on the paper inside. Whoever sent it was probably wearing gloves. They shouldn’t show those damn police shows on TV. They make the perps too smart.”
    “One more question. What was in the envelope?”
    “I don’t have to tell you that. You already know.”
    “How would I know?”
    “You’re going to play dumb, is that it? Okay, no games. It was a poem.”
    “Written by the killer?”
    “Either that or it’s a prank.”
    “May I have a copy of the poem?”
    “Go flog yourself.”
    Croyden hung up. Shahla was on a call. As soon as she saw that Tony was free, she put the call on the speaker. The voice sounded like a woman with a cold.
    “…stare at me when I go out without wearing a bra. I think they can see my nipples. It makes me very uncomfortable.”
    Shahla pressed the Mute button and said, “It’s the Chameleon.”
    The Chameleon? Oh, yes, he sometimes imitated women. “How do you know?”
    “Because I’ve heard him use this voice before.”
    The breathy voice was saying, “What do you think I should do?”
    Tony said, “Try to find out if he wrote the poem.”
    Shahla cancelled the Mute and said, “So, do you wear tops with spaghetti straps?”
    “Spaghetti straps. I love to wear spaghetti straps. Do you like to wear spaghetti straps?”
    “Sometimes. But we have to wear bras in school. Do you know that the assistant principal has the job of bra-snapper?” Shahla winked at Tony. “It’s his job to make sure all the girls are wearing bras. I don’t like it when he checks from the front—and his hand slips. On purpose.”
    “It’s so…when men have their hands all over you.” The Chameleon dragged this out, making it sound as if the hands were at work on him.
    “He’s masturbating,” Shahla mouthed.
    “Hang up,” Tony mouthed back.
    Shahla shook her head.
    “I don’t like to wear a bra,” the Chameleon said in a breathy monotone. “I like my tits to be free of restraint. It makes me feel so…free.”
    “I know a poem about spaghetti straps,” Shahla said.
    “Men shouldn’t be allowed to make us feel uncomfortable. We should be able to wear what we want.”
    “She wears a summer dress, spaghetti straps to hold it up…”
    “I love spaghetti straps. I could wear them every day.”
    “You and I have a lot in common. Let’s get together. What do you think?”
    There was a click.
    “I think you violated just about every Hotline listening rule,” Tony said. “Again.” He was relieved that the Chameleon had hung up.
    “Just following orders, General.”
    “But I didn’t ask you to try to meet him again.”
    “Cold feet? I thought we were in this together.”
    “Anyway, you scared him off. It’s probably just as well. And he didn’t pick up on the poem.”
    “I guess I was a little abrupt. But I don’t think he wrote the poem. He’s about as poetic as a mud fence. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t the killer.”
    “Okay, but let’s let Croyden handle him. Fill out a call report, and we’ll leave it for Nancy to give to him. But don’t mention the poem.”
    “Aye aye, sir.” Shahla gave an imitation of a salute. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I’m not really a bad person. I get good grades. I don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. And if I listen to dirty talk, it’s because it’s part of my job.”
    Tony was taken aback for a moment. She was fishing for a compliment. He was not great at giving compliments. “I-I think you’re doing a super job. Just don’t do anything risky.”
    Shahla held his eyes. “Do you care what happens to me?”
    “Of course I care what happens to you.”
    Shahla seemed satisfied with that. She filled out the report while Tony took a call from somebody who wanted a referral to a therapist. When he hung up, Shahla was on another call. It wasn’t until an hour later that they were both free at the same time. Tony still figured that