Hotline to Murder

he scored the girls, depending on their looks and what they wore. He scored one for a pretty girl in a nice bikini. Using his system, he could score an additional point for an unfastened top or a thong.
    Some of the best-looking girls were competing in a beach volleyball tournament. Competing here in the birthplace of beach volleyball, which was appropriate. Tony slowed down as he walked past the courts. He recognized Martha, Joy’s friend to whom he had spoken about her murder. She was partnering with another girl. She had a good figure. And her volleyball playing wasn’t bad, either. She couldn’t be the murderer. Especially if the murderer had kidnapped Shahla.
    Shahla. He had to keep focused. He had to find her. He wondered if he would ever see her again. No, don’t think like that. Think positively. He would find her. Or somebody else would. He kept walking.
    ***
    Shahla awoke because somebody was pounding on her head with a hammer in time to her heartbeat. She didn’t want to move, but she couldn’t stand not to. She had to make him go away. How long had she been asleep? She opened her eyes. There was a film over them, but she could see objects, however blurry they looked. It must be daylight outside. A little light was seeping through the drapes. She looked at her watch and blinked her eyes, trying to focus. As the watch hands slowly became clearer, she read the time as quarter to eight. She had slept all night. She sat up and immediately felt nauseated.
    She sat on the edge of the couch, wondering whether she was going to vomit. The pounding in her head continued. She thought about trying to get to the bathroom, but was sure she wouldn’t make it. She sat motionless, waiting for the nausea to pass. After a few minutes, her stomach steadied, although her headache continued. She got up, feeling wobbly, and made her way to the bathroom.
    After using the toilet, she thought about what she could do to make her body livable. She didn’t have any pills with her. She didn’t have any food or drink. Water. She needed water. She turned on the sink faucet and placed her mouth under it. She sucked in the lukewarm liquid and swallowed it until she couldn’t drink any more. She straightened up and felt a little better.
    She determined that the only food she had eaten since yesterday morning was whatever she ate at the party. She had snacked on chips and dip and other so-called food that Lacey had randomly pulled off the shelves of a supermarket, but nothing substantial. What Shahla needed more than anything else was a good meal.
    And to call her mother. She suddenly realized that her mother must be frantic by now. Where was her cell phone? Then she remembered. Well, she’d better get home, on the double. She took the security stick out of the track of the sliding door and opened it. Once outside she closed it again. She took a look around, but of course nobody was there. Had she imagined that she had seen something last night? She might have seen an animal. Maybe the cat that howled.
    The route to her house was two blocks downhill and then relatively level along Sandview Street. At least it wasn’t uphill. Shahla walked slowly, in time to the throbbing pulse in her head. Food would help, she knew. There was food at home.
    She arrived at her house and opened the door with her key. Inside she was greeted with silence. “Mom,” she called. No answer. She looked at her watch. It was a little after eight. At least her mother should be up by now, even on a Sunday morning. She went into the kitchen. A few dirty dishes sat on the counter, but they were not breakfast dishes.
    Shahla went upstairs. Her mother’s bed was made. She went into Kirk’s bedroom. His bed was also made. That was indicative. He wasn’t known for making his bed in the morning. That bed hadn’t been slept in. Where had they gone? As of yesterday morning, her mother had not had any plans to go anywhere.
    She checked for messages on the house answering machine. There were none. She picked up the phone and called her mother’s cell phone number. She got voice mail. She said, “Mom, it’s me, Shahla. I’m home. Give me a call.” Then she checked the garage, just to make sure. The car wasn’t there.
    Her mother apparently hadn’t been very worried about her, but she should at least have left her a note. Shahla looked around, but there definitely wasn’t any note. Well, she wasn’t going to worry about them, either. She would get a call