Hotline to Murder

himself.
    Tony listened in on the conversation between Nathan and Shahla with one ear, while the other ear listened to the caller.
    “May I ask what religion you are?” Nathan asked Shahla without looking at her.
    “My dad was Protestant, my mom originally was Muslim, and I have Quaker ancestors. What does that make me?”
    “A mess. Let me tell you a little about my church.”
    Tony frowned. Was he proselytizing her? Shahla looked at Nathan attentively. With his usual shiftiness, Nathan didn’t look directly at her.
    “Our church is based on Christianity,” Nathan said, “but we differ from other Christian sects in one important respect.”
    “What’s that?” Shahla asked.
    “We know when Jesus is returning to earth to take the believers with him into heaven.”
    “Oh, when is that?” Shahla asked, as if she were asking what time the next bus left.
    Tony had to answer a comment made by his caller at this point. He missed the next few sentences of their conversation.
    When he tuned in again, Shahla was saying, “You can tell me, Nathan. I won’t tell anybody.”
    “Would you like to attend one of our services? Since you’re not strongly committed to any religion, that means you have an open mind. You would get a chance to learn the truth. And you would get into heaven with us. I would hate for a pretty girl like you to be left behind. Our services are on Thursdays at seven.”
    So, Nathan wanted Shahla to go to heaven with him. Tony had an almost overwhelming urge to grab Shahla by the scruff of her neck and yank her away from him. He gave a head-fake and quickly and quietly told his caller that he had to take another call. He told him he could call back tomorrow. Tony hung up, surreptitiously, so that Nathan wouldn’t be aware that he was listening to their conversation.
    Shahla was mumbling something, apparently looking at her appointment book. Tony knew she carried one. She was one of the most organized teenagers he had ever known.
    “Thursday. Why Thursday?”
    “You mean, as opposed to Sunday? Because on the weekends we’re too busy getting ready for the big day. Some of us still have jobs, you know, and can’t do that during the week.”
    “How long do the services last?”
    “Often several hours. But you wouldn’t have to stay for the whole thing. People come in and out. Would you like me to pick you up?”
    “No, I think I can get the car. Where is this church?”
    Tony wanted to scream. From the comments he heard them making behind him, he knew that Nathan was writing down the address and drawing a map for her. But Shahla was never going to make it to the church service because Tony was going to strangle her first.
    Two calls came in simultaneously. Shahla took one and Nathan the other. Tony sat and fumed and finished eating his pizza. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Shahla. Then the phone rang again, and he answered it. It was a man. When Tony routinely asked his name, the man wouldn’t tell him.
    The man said, “I used to work on the Hotline as a listener. I know all about you people.”
    Tony was instantly alert. He asked, “How long ago was that?”
    “I left about a year ago. Because I couldn’t stand it anymore. The listeners on the Hotline are all stuck-up jerks. Especially the girls.” He rambled on for several minutes about how mean everybody had been to him.
    “What did you say your name was?” Tony asked.
    “You people pretend that you’re performing a great service, but you’re really ripping off the callers. You don’t help them. You laugh at them. The kids would put the calls on the speaker and everybody in the room would make fun of the callers.”
    “The calls are confidential. And only three listeners at a time are allowed in the listening room.”
    “Bullshit. I was there. On the weekends, at night, it was party time. Beer and orgies.”
    “Alcoholic beverages are not allowed in the office. Listen, if you have a legitimate complaint, I’d like to follow up on it, but I need to know your name.”
    A click told Tony that he was not going to learn the caller’s name. Shahla and Nathan were still on the phone so he couldn’t talk to them about it. He wrote a detailed call report, mentioning that the caller had a slight accent and sounded older than a teenager. He painfully got up, walked into the administration office, and placed the report on Gail’s desk. She had been volunteer coordinator with the Hotline for years and knew all the