Hotline to Murder

there, he bought a gyro to go at the drive-through window of the Beach House. He was eating on the run more and more lately. He knew that wasn’t good for his attempt to control his weight. Too much fat and too many empty calories. Or was it too many carbs? He had to get back to his days and nights of relative leisure, before he had started working at the Hotline. Well, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
    Shahla was already there when he arrived. She almost ran to meet him as he came through the doorway. The first words out of her mouth were, “Did you bring the panties?”
    Tony quickly looked around the office to see if anyone else was there.
    “Tony, don’t be so squeamish. We’re alone. Did you bring them?”
    “I…er, they’re in the car.”
    “Give me the keys, and I’ll get them. It will take you all night to hobble down to your car and back. At least I’m not a cripple.”
    “But you are showing your usual sensitivity. My knee is actually feeling better, thank you for asking. I should be able to get rid of the crutches soon.”
    “Sorry, but we’re running out of clues.” She held out her hand for the keys. “I want to make sure we follow up on the ones we have.”
    “Bring the whole attaché case so that we’ll have something to keep them in, just in case somebody else shows up.”
    Tony was on a phone call when Shahla returned, having eaten no more than two bites of his gyro. He watched Shahla take the panties out of the case, while at the same time trying to concentrate on his caller. She looked at them from all angles and then another call came in, tying her up. She placed the garment on the table. Tony spent the next twenty minutes listening with one ear for the sound of somebody unlocking the outside door of the office, in which case he was prepared to put his caller on hold, even though she was talking nonstop, rush over to Shahla’s table, grab the panties and stuff them into the attaché case. Until he remembered that he couldn’t rush anywhere in his current condition.
    Fortunately, that eventuality didn’t occur and when Shahla ended her call thirty minutes later, Tony was examining the panties, himself, while attempting to fathom the vicissitudes of life that found him looking at a woman’s underwear from the point of view of a detective rather than a horny man. He didn’t see anything unusual about them. They didn’t contain any obvious tears or stains. As to their age, how did one tell? Could they use carbon dating on panties?
    Shahla finished writing her call report and said, “Tony, we’ve got to turn these in.”
    “To the police?”
    “No, to the Goodwill. Of course to the police.”
    “I was hoping that you would be able to prove they didn’t belong to Joy.”
    “So was I, for your sake, but I can’t. They’re too generic. Both the size and the style.”
    “You said they were conservative.”
    “So? It proves nothing. Maybe Joy’s mother bought them for her.”
    The shit was really going to hit the fan. If his relationship with Josh had been stumbling a little, now it was going over the cliff. Tony had a strong impulse to destroy the panties, perhaps to burn them. But that would be tampering with evidence. And what if Josh had actually killed Joy? No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t rule out that possibility.
    The phone rang. Tony answered it. He thought he heard somebody breathing before he heard the click. Hang up. He and Shahla chatted about their adventure of the night before while he finally finished his sandwich. They concluded that Nathan was a harmless dupe, as were the other members of the congregation.
    Tony said he was going to spend part of his Saturday telling the story to the Los Angeles Police Department, if for no other reason than to clear his conscience. Shahla said she would go with him. Tony said it was unnecessary, and he didn’t want to waste the time of both of them. He thought she looked a little disappointed, but that may have been wishful thinking on his part.
    The phone rang again. Shahla answered it. After a few seconds, she signaled to Tony and put the call on the speaker. The voice wasn’t immediately recognizable to him, but then he hadn’t had as much experience with the Chameleon as Shahla had. And the Chameleon was a master of voice disguise, sometimes even using some sort of mechanical means to change it.
    The voice was saying, “If you’re too busy I’ll call back another time.”
    Tony