Hotline to Murder

“I had a good sleep. This is closer to the time I usually get up on Saturday.”
    Tony downshifted as he cruised along an off-ramp. The desert community had plenty of fast-food restaurants and gas stations. It was designed for the traveler passing through. But, surprisingly, quite a few people lived here, also. It was a bustling place. What did the residents do? Besides cater to tourists. He pulled into the parking lot of the first restaurant they came to, in a space with campers on either side.
    “It’s hot,” Shahla announced after getting out of the car.
    “No cooling ocean breezes in the desert, like we get at the beach.”
    However, the air-conditioning was cranking away inside. They found a booth amid the weekend visitors, with their hats and loud shirts. A waitress, who had been waitressing for a long time and would continue more or less forever, took their orders. Shahla ordered orange juice and an English muffin. Tony ordered coffee and thought the muffin sounded good, so he also asked for one.
    After a couple of sips of coffee, Tony said, “We need a plan for dealing with Paul. We should get there before he does, which is good.”
    “I thought we’d sit at separate tables, and I’d talk to him while you keep an eye on us.”
    “No way. I don’t want to be separated from you. And I need to hear everything he says.”
    “You’ll scare him.”
    “No I won’t. I’ll be your…brother. Don’t you think we could pass as brother and sister?”
    “In a dim light, maybe. But let me do the talking.”
    Tony chuckled. “You’re really a control freak, aren’t you?”
    “I’m just trying to protect you, Tony. You don’t know poetry. You might say the wrong thing.”
    “I thought I was supposed to protect you. That’s what your mom wants. And speaking of, you must really have her buffaloed to convince her to let you run off to Vegas with a character like me.”
    “Quit running yourself down. And she exaggerates. I’m a good daughter. Especially compared to some of the others. One of the girls at school won’t live at home. She lives with a friend and communicates with her mom mostly by e-mail.”
    “Whew. No wonder I’m not married.”
    “You’ll make a good father.”
    “That’ll be the day.”
    ***
    They made a nonstop run from Barstow to Las Vegas. Shahla, now fully awake, became quite talkative, commenting on the desert scenery, talking about her plans for college and life. She was in the process of filling out applications to universities. Tony reflected that she was doing a lot more planning than he had done at her age—maybe than he did now.
    “Have you written a lot of poetry?” Tony asked her at one point.
    “I started writing poetry when I was eight or nine. Mom sent me to my room for a time out, and I didn’t have anything better to do so I wrote a couple of bad poems. I’ve been writing poetry ever since. I’ve had some published in the school paper and a few other places. I’ve also written articles for the paper.”
    “You’re so busy. When do you find time to write?”
    “Oh, when I’m sad. Or depressed. Or happy. I can write pretty much any time. I have a notebook full of poems.”
    They parked in a lot in downtown Las Vegas, near Fremont Street, and walked several blocks to the Tortoise Club. It was a typical downtown casino—loud and flashy, but without much substance beneath the facade, as Tony knew from experience. A good way to lose your money in the slots or at the blackjack tables slowly, with minimum bets, without the distraction of shows. Perfect for the businesslike gambler who didn’t have a large stake. And the small gamblers were out in force today—the retirees who came on buses and lost their Social Security checks before returning home to their empty lives.
    Tony steered Shahla into the coffee shop, away from temptation, a half hour before their appointment, and they sat down at a table, both of them on the same side, facing the door. A quick glance at the other tables convinced them that Paul had not preceded them here. Tony suggested they order lunch.
    “Can we drive by some of the big hotels on the way back?” Shahla asked between sips of a soft drink.
    Tony didn’t know whether her excitement was at the prospect of meeting Paul or from the effect Las Vegas had on people. It was probably a combination. He had avoided Las Vegas Boulevard on the way in because traffic on it was so miserable—worse than in many parts of Los