Hotline to Murder

cliff.”
    “How do you know? You just met him.”
    “I’ve known him all my life. He’s my brother.”
    “Your brother?” He looked from the girl to the still horizontal Paul. There was definitely a family resemblance. This was terribly wrong. Tony couldn’t sort it out, but he knew he had to get out of here. Right now. Before Paul got up. And Paul was stirring.
    Tony started running toward the path. Where was Shahla? Then he saw her running ahead of him. He came to the downhill portion. He was going too fast in the dark. He tripped over a root and went flying. He landed hard. He couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him. He lay there for several seconds, wondering if he was going to die. He gasped for breath and then realized that since he could gasp, he could breathe.

He climbed slowly to his feet. He hurt all over. He continued down the hill, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Paul coming after him. But there was nobody in sight. Tony limped down to the street, waited for a car to pass, and then crossed to the other side. Shahla was standing beside the car.
    “Are you all right?” Shahla asked anxiously. “I was about to go back and look for you.”
    “No.” But he had to get them out of there before Paul identified them. He belatedly fumbled for the keys in his pocket—found them. His hands were shaking as he tried to press the remote that unlocked the car. He finally heard the click and then managed to open the door. He fell into the car. Shahla was already in her seat. He started the engine and ground the gearshift into first. The car jolted forward.
    ***
    “You look terrible,” Shahla said as Tony stiffly got out of the car.
    “Thank you.”
    They had stopped at a diner outside of Las Vegas. Shahla had insisted on it. They hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. And Tony’s hands, elbows, and now he realized, his knees were ground up like raw hamburger from his fall. He admitted he couldn’t drive home until he ate and got cleaned up, but he refused to go to an emergency room, thinking that if Paul reported the attack he would be linked to it.
    “They won’t let me in there looking like this,” Tony said, surveying his wounds.
    “I’m going to get some paper towels to clean you up.”
    Shahla went into the diner. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Tony wondered how he would be able to hold the steering wheel for 300 miles with his mangled hands. And his pants were ruined, torn at the knees. He sat back down on the car seat as he became conscious of increasing pain.
    Shahla returned a few minutes later with damp paper towels and a knife.
    “I borrowed this from the kitchen,” she said, referring to the knife.
    “Are you going to put me out of my misery?”
    “I’m going to cut off your pants above the knee so we can get at your knees.”
    In order for her to do that he had to stand up. He was afraid she’d cut his legs off, but she was careful. And skillful. She fashioned him a new pair of shorts. Together they cleaned up the worst of his injuries. By the time he walked into the diner, he was confident he wouldn’t attract too many stares.
    “Go into the restroom and finish cleaning yourself off,” Shahla ordered.
    “While I’m doing that, call your mother and tell her you’re all right.” It wouldn’t be a complete lie.
    Tony emerged from the restroom a few minutes later, feeling almost human. They ordered dinner, and he realized how starved he was.
    “What do you think was going on between those two?” Shahla asked, after the waitress took their order.
    “Well, I think that’s what you call an incestuous relationship. When I tackled Paul, he was starting to take his shirt off.”
    “Incest? I’ve heard callers talk about incest, but I thought they were fantasizing.”
    “That didn’t look like a fantasy to me.”
    ***
    “I can’t stay awake. If I try to keep driving, I’m going to kill us.” Tony took the off-ramp into a rest area and parked the car. It was past midnight, and he hadn’t had any sleep since 5:30 that morning. Even the pain from his injuries couldn’t keep him awake. He had been driving all over the road. His left knee was stiffening up, too, making it difficult for him to shift, although not much shifting was required on the Interstate. It was the sleep factor he couldn’t overcome.
    “I’ll drive,” Shahla said.
    “Have you ever driven a stick shift?”
    “No, but I can learn.”
    “Not in my Porsche.