Hotline to Murder

experience that she meant what she said. “Okay, this is what we’ll do. There should be enough light from the moon to follow the path. I’ll go first. If I hold up my hand, stop.”
    “All right.”
    At least she didn’t argue. Tony started up the path, slowly, avoiding rocks and roots that made the footing tricky. He was relieved that it wasn’t especially steep. The night air was chilly—it cooled off rapidly in the desert—but he wasn’t going to take time to go back to the car for the sweatshirt he had brought. And Shahla wasn’t complaining. They walked uphill for several minutes in silence. Then the path leveled off, and Tony saw an open space ahead. And moving shadows; they must be people. He held up his hand. Shahla obediently stopped.
    He beckoned for her to come up beside him. He bent down and spoke into her ear. “There are at least two people there. In order for us to get close enough to hear them, we’ll have to get behind that rock.”
    A rock large enough to hide them stood fifty feet ahead. Tony moved toward the rock, staying silent and close to the ground, to keep from being silhouetted against the moonlit sky like the two figures he was watching. It was difficult work. He crouched as low as he could, but sometimes he had to get down on his hands and knees, amid small but sharp stones. He kept looking back at Shahla. She remained at his heels, stuck to him like a tick. He hoped her dress—Rasa’s dress— wasn’t getting too dirty.
    Several times he saw a flash of light coming from the direction of the two people. The first one startled him, but then he realized that they must be taking pictures.
    He could hear voices, but he couldn’t make out words. Probably a man and a woman. When they got to the rock, he felt more secure. At least they weren’t exposed. Tony put his finger to his lips as Shahla hugged the rock beside him. He inched forward so that he could see around it.
    What he saw almost made him gasp out loud. A girl—she was now lit well enough by the moon so that he could tell—was standing right at the edge of a cliff. Behind her he could see city lights—Las Vegas. It looked to him as if one step and she would be over the edge.
    Shahla leaned against his back so she could see. She put her mouth to his ear and said, “She’s going to fall over the cliff. And what is she wearing?”
    Not much, as Tony could see now. It looked as if she was wearing a bra and panties. She must be cold. He spotted Paul—the angular silhouette could only be Paul—a few feet away. He had something in his hands, probably a camera.
    “Now the bra,” he heard Paul saying.
    The girl didn’t argue; she immediately took off her bra. Paul was aiming the camera. There was a flash. Another flash. Each flash momentarily lit up the girl. It was the blonde, no question about it—and she was beautiful.
    After taking several pictures, Paul told her to take off her panties. And she did. Without any fuss. Tony was perplexed. This was too easy. Especially for someone he had said was a new girlfriend. Paul took more pictures.
    Shahla said, with her mouth to Tony’s ear, “He’s got her underwear. Now he’s going to push her off the cliff.”
    Was he? Was this what Paul had done to Joy? Convince her to pose for him in the nude? Pretty girls were vain about their figures and susceptible to flattery, but Joy hadn’t even known him—had she? What was going to happen next? Should he intervene?
    They heard Paul say, “That’s enough of that.”
    Paul placed his camera on the ground and started to walk toward the girl.
    Shahla spoke into Tony’s ear, loud enough to hurt his eardrum. “He’s going to do it now. Stop him!”
    Tony sprang to his feet and ran toward Paul. The girl screamed. Tony lowered his head and hit Paul with his shoulder, at waist level, the full weight of his body behind the blow. Paul crumpled to the ground, and Tony fell on top of him. Tony lay dazed for several seconds. Paul didn’t move either.
    Then he realized that the girl was standing over him, yelling at him. “What are you doing?” she shouted, again and again. He was aware that she had picked up something. A rock. She was going to hit him with a rock. He staggered to his feet and raised his arms. She threw the good-sized rock at him with both hands. It was a weak throw, and he evaded it.
    “He was going to push you off the cliff,” he told the girl.
    “You idiot. He wasn’t going to push me off the