Hotline to Murder

your worldly possessions, as it were?”
    “Why is this any of your business?”
    Nathan was getting hostile. It was too late for Tony to pretend he wanted to join the church. Besides, if he said he did, he would actually have to go to a service, and he figured if he attended a service, the roof of the church would fall in. Retribution from the Lord. It had been a long time since he had attended an actual church service. And the roof had looked pretty shaky anyway. But he shouldn’t have let his skepticism show.
    Tony said, “Well, if you have a good car, I might want to buy it from you.” That was a flat-out lie. There was no way he was going to trade his Porsche for any other car on the road.
    “I’ll let you know.”
    Tony had a more serious reason for his questioning, but when he brought that up, he was sure it would further upset Nathan. However, he felt it was his duty to at least try to warn him. He said, “Are you…that is, are you expected to give your money or your possessions to the Church, by any chance?”
    Nathan was glaring at him now, but Tony felt he had better finish what he wanted to say. “Have you at least considered the possibility that this is a scam—a way to get all your money? That the people who are running the church are fleecing the members?”
    Nathan’s look was more hostile than ever. Tony figured he had said enough. They finished out the shift in almost complete silence, except when they were on the phones.

    CHAPTER 17
    It wasn’t until Tony had arrived at the Hotline on Friday and saw Shahla that he remembered that they had sent an e-mail to Paul the Poet from Shahla’s address. Other challenges had crowded that out of his mind.
    She was looking as fetching as ever in a skirt and top combination that bared her midriff and a few other things. But he had learned that the girls didn’t dress to look sexy to others. They dressed for themselves.
    Before he had a chance to ask her whether she had received a reply to her e-mail, she said, “Can we go to Las Vegas tomorrow?”
    “We? Do you have a mouse in your pocket?”
    “I have to go. I’m the poet, remember? Or at least I can talk about poetry in a way that he won’t throw me out on my ear.”
    “If you received an e-mail, why didn’t you forward it to me?”
    Shahla looked calculating. “Because I knew what you’d say about me going.”
    “And now I’m saying it.”
    “Yes, but at least I can counter it in person. Give me a chance to explain, Tony. Here, I’ll show you the e-mails.”
    “Plural? How many are there?”
    “Oh, we’ve had quite a conversation.”
    And she had done all this behind his back. Of course, he had been doing a few things behind her back, but that was different. Shahla had printouts of the e-mails. Paul had responded to her first one by saying that he would be glad to meet her. He suggested that they meet at his house, which, Tony recalled, was really his parents’ house.
    Shahla had very sensibly replied that she would like to meet him in a public place. She had suggested a casino. Paul said that the Tortoise Club was a downtown casino with a nice coffee shop, and that they could meet there. Shahla asked how she would know him. Paul said he was six feet, two inches tall and would wear a T-shirt with a limerick on the front.
    Tony finished reading the correspondence and tried to marshal his thoughts. He glanced at Shahla. She was sitting on pins and needles and not looking at him. If he met Paul alone, there was no telling what the man would do. He might bolt. Callers to the Hotline often had very fragile egos and the slightest thing could make them go ballistic. Having Shahla with him would be a big advantage in that respect. No, the whole thing was impossible. He would go by himself. If Paul wouldn’t talk to him, he would do some gambling. He needed a mini-vacation.
“You have to be twenty-one to enter a casino,” Tony said.
    Shahla shrugged. “Even to go in a coffee shop?”
    “No, not a coffee shop. But you can’t go with me. There’s a law against taking a girl across a state line for immoral purposes.”
    “We’re not going for immoral purposes,” Shahla said indignantly. “We’re trying to solve a murder. Remember?”
    “Your mother won’t permit you to do it. And you told me you always communicate with your mother.”
    Shahla considered that. After spinning herself around on her chair a few times, she said, “I’ll make you a deal. After we finish here,