Hotline to Murder

any money. Could she try to borrow a phone from another jogger? That meant a long explanation and the strong possibility that she would be labeled as a weirdo.
    She continued on at a slow jog for a few minutes, breathing the cool night air and being thankful that she was free. However, each time she went past one of the streets that came down to the beach, she looked for the kidnapper’s car. She didn’t see it. A few minutes more and it occurred to her that she must be getting close to where Tony lived. She knew his townhouse complex was near the water in the northern part of Bonita Beach.
    Tony would help her. But she had to find him first. She wished she had her phone. His home number was in her directory. Of course she hadn’t memorized it, and of course it was unlisted. He had told her that he had gotten an unlisted number because some women made crank calls to Josh, his roommate.
    His development had a name. What was it? Something to do with the ocean. Duh. Ocean View? Ocean Air? Ocean Potion? Shahla almost laughed, in spite of herself. Something to do with the Pacific Ocean. Ocean Pacific? No, that was a trademark. She was getting close to the northern boundary of Bonita Beach.
    She stopped where the next street came down to the beach and looked carefully up the pavement but didn’t see the dreaded car. A jogger was coming down, about to turn onto the beach path.
    “Excuse me,” Shahla said, stopping him in mid-stride. “Do you know of a townhouse development called something like Ocean Pacific?”
    The man, who was dressed in sweats, stopped his forward progress and ran in place as he thought. “How about Peaceful Ocean? It’s just a few blocks from here.”
    “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Go up this street and take the second left. It’s quite big. You can’t miss it.” He took off in an easy lope.
    “Thanks,” she called after him. Shahla took one more look up the street before she started to walk along it. The coast was clear. As soon as that thought entered her head, it occurred to her where it had originated. The seacoast. Idioms, expressions, sayings, words, and their meanings—all fascinated her.
    But she had to concentrate on the present. The two blocks went fast and soon Shahla was walking roughly north again on the cross street in this relatively level part of the city. A few blocks more and she could see a sign at the entrance to a residential development. Please let it be Peaceful Ocean, she prayed. She hadn’t prayed since her father had died.
    As she approached, she could make out the letters. Peaceful Ocean. Thank God. Shahla turned into the entrance road and was faced with a number of almost-identical townhouses. Which one was it? She looked to the left and the right and realized that there might be a hundred of them.
    She remembered Joy’s description—the pool was in its front yard. Where was the pool? Not in sight so it must be in the center of the complex. She continued on the entrance road, which went between groups of the homes.
    She heard a car engine behind her. It was probably a resident, but she turned around to make sure. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him . Panic overcame her. She ran. When she passed the first row of buildings, she looked to the right. There was an open grassy area. She looked to the left. She saw the pool.
    Shahla ran toward the pool on the sidewalk. The road didn’t go in that direction. After a few seconds, she heard footsteps running behind her. She ran like she had never run before. As she approached the fenced-in pool, she realized that three units qualified as “having the pool in its front yard,” and they were at the other end of the pool from her.
    Would he dare follow her that far? She ran past the pool. The footsteps were gaining on her. Three houses. Which one was it? She didn’t have a clue. She ran up two steps to the door of the first one and knocked loudly. She turned her head and saw him a few feet away. He had stopped.
    If nobody answered, Shahla was sure he would try to grab her. She leapt off the steps and ran through a small garden area to the second house, trampling flowers. She jumped onto its steps and knocked on that door. Then she continued through another garden to the third house and did the same.
    Again she turned and faced her would-be kidnapper. He had retreated a few feet but was still near the first door. It hadn’t been opened. Uncertain now, Shahla stayed on the steps of the third townhouse. What if