Hotline to Murder

He’s not—a girl.”
    “Is it dangerous, meeting this person Paul?” Rasa asked.
    “Not if Tony’s with me,” Shahla said. “We’re going to meet him in a coffee shop in the middle of Las Vegas.”
    “Do you agree?” Rasa asked Tony.
    “Er, well, no, it shouldn’t be dangerous. As Shahla says, it will be in a public place. But I still don’t think she should go.”
    “I don’t think so either,” Rasa said.
    Shahla started to protest. Rasa held up her hand.
    “Tony, let me tell you little history,” Rasa said. “Five years ago Shahla lost her father. She is my only daughter. I have one younger son who is asleep, that is if Shahla did not wake him by shouting when she came in. Shahla was very shook up by her father’s death. It is taking her long time to recover.”
    Rasa paused and took a sip of coffee. “Tony, don’t let anybody tell you it is easier to raise girls than boys. As a nurse, I see problems every day, not just with my own family. Girls are harder. Just look at clothes they wear.”
    Shahla again looked ready to say something, but Rasa continued, “It is difficult to be single mom. I try my best with children, but it is hard. Shahla misses out by not having father figure. She looks up to you. I know because she told me some things about you, and she doesn’t talk about many of her friends. You are not old enough to be father figure, but you are man, much more mature than crazy teenage boys.”
    Tony wondered where this was going. He glanced at Shahla. She had a look of expectation on her face.
    “I do not want Shahla to go, but I do not want her to hate me, either. And I don’t want her doing things behind my back. It is tough decision. I trust you, Tony, perhaps more than I trust Shahla. I trust you not to hurt her and to keep her safe. If I give permission, will you take Shahla with you?”
    Now he knew why Shahla was willing to leave the decision to her mother. She had her mother where she wanted her. But Rasa had made some good points. And from the trust that she placed in him, he knew that he would never be able to do anything to hurt Shahla.
    He looked at Shahla. She was nodding her head vigorously. Tony swallowed his doubts and said, “All right, you can go. But you have to go to bed right now. Because I’m picking you up at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Sharp.”

    CHAPTER 18
    Tony upshifted smoothly as he merged onto the 105 Freeway eastbound from the 405 northbound. The 105 was a godsend to the commuter who lived near the coast and commuted inland—or vice versa. It was the newest of the L.A. freeways, and Tony drove it constantly for his work. Only infrequently did he think about the hundreds of people who had once lived along here and had been displaced during its protracted period of construction.
    He glanced at Shahla, sacked out on the seat beside him. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had backed out of her driveway. So much for companionship. Remembering his own days as a teenager, he knew that they often didn’t get enough sleep. But he couldn’t play his radio or his CDs, which he would have been doing if he had been alone. Maybe she was more trouble than she was worth.
    She was wearing her hair down, not in a ponytail. Her jeans were cut higher than usual on her hips and her top lower, closing the gap. The changes made her look older, and Tony knew enough about women to realize that this was a calculated look, to impress Paul. He admitted to himself that the more mature Shahla was more appealing. But he must not get carried away. She was still only seventeen.
    ***
    “Where are we?”
    Shahla’s sleepy voice jolted Tony out of his reverie. The Porsche had been humming along on Interstate 15, and he had been humming under his breath, in perfect synch with it. How much better than the stop-and-go driving in town. He was only going a few miles-per-hour over the speed limit. Speed wasn’t the issue. It was—freedom. Besides, he felt responsible for Shahla’s safety, especially after talking to Rasa. He felt very protective of her. Almost like a father. Almost. He would have been going faster if she weren’t with him.
    “We’re approaching Barstow.”
    “I’ve never been to Barstow.”
    “Neither has anybody else who doesn’t drive to Las Vegas from L.A. It’s not exactly the garden spot of California.”
    “I’m hungry.”
    “We’re making good time. We’ll stop and grab a bite to eat. How did you sleep?”
    She gave him a smile.