Hotline to Murder

kitchen, next to the family room.
    “I’ll get it,” Shahla called. She was headed back toward the family room to pick up the rest of her clothes.
    “Let me get it,” Tony said, following her as fast as he could. Maybe it was Mona, his boss. She often called him early in the morning with things for him to do. But by the time he got to the opening into the kitchen, Shahla had already answered it.
    He heard her say, “Hello. Hello.” She looked at the phone with a puzzled expression. “Hang up. Just like we get at the Hotline.”
    “Hang up?” Tony didn’t normally get hang ups. “Maybe whoever it was hung up because a girl answered,” he said as a small joke. Wishful thinking.
    “Maybe it’s your girlfriend,” Shahla said. “The one who likes to put me down.”
    “Carol? She’s my ex-girlfriend at this point. Very ex. And the likelihood of her calling me at this hour of the morning—or any hour—is about the same as the probability that we’ll get hit by a meteor today.” Unless she had had a falling-out with her boyfriend—Horace, or whatever is name was. More wishful thinking.
    “I could hear something in the background that sounded like traffic noise. Whoever it was must have been calling from a cell phone.”
    “That’s annoying. Makes it hard to hear. Like that caller I was reading about in the Green Book yesterday morning when I was trying to figure out what happened to you. It said he always played a television set in the background during his calls. Maybe he did it to help disguise his voice.”
    “Who was that?”
    “Someone called the Cackling Crucifier.”
    “I remember him. He never gave the same name twice. He talked about religion and Jesus. You’re right; he always had a television playing. And he had a weird laugh. Why were you reading about him?”
    “I’m not sure. I was going through the inactive pages and for some reason he sounded familiar.”
    “He was worried about my immortal soul. He asked me if I was a Christian. He said he’d like to take me to church. He got pretty insistent. I was a little afraid of him.”
    “Did he ever tell you where he lived?”
    “No, he was very evasive. And then he stopped calling. I was relieved.”
    Tony was trying to put some pieces together. “What if that call just now was actually from him? What if he’s trying to find out whether you’re here?”
    “Huh?” Shahla looked at Tony as though she thought he had flipped. “I never gave him any personal information. Besides, he doesn’t even know you. How could he know where you live?”
    “Stay with me. What if the reason he stopped calling was because he signed up to be a listener on the Hotline?”
    “A listener? But who…?”
    “How about Nathan? Didn’t he attend the training class that started soon after the Crucifier stopped calling? He certainly fits the religious profile.”
    “Nathan? Nathan has some strange ideas, but I think he’s basically harmless. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
    “I’ve heard Nathan laugh. It could be described as a cackle.”
    “I’ve never heard Nathan laugh that I can remember. And I’ve worked shifts with him. I’d certainly remember if he had a laugh like the Crucifier. ”
    “Here’s my hypothesis. He always had to be very careful around you and the others he had talked to on the phone before. And he probably altered his voice somewhat when he was on the phone, like the Chameleon.”
    “The Crucifier had a fairly high-pitched voice on the phone. Nathan’s voice is lower.”
    “I saw a plastic device at the Chameleon’s apartment that is probably what he uses for voice alteration. I did a little research on the Internet and found similar devices that will make you sound younger—that is, they raise the pitch of your voice. Remember the night that Nathan and you and I were working, and I got a call from a guy who said he was a former listener and was badmouthing the other listeners? Talking about orgies and stuff? Nathan seemed to identify with him a little too well. As if he were in his shoes, perhaps as both a caller and a listener. Or is that theory all wet?”
    Shahla thought for a moment. Then she said, “Maybe not. I heard you get up, but I couldn’t drag myself out of bed. I kept going over and over what happened last night. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure I noticed something familiar about the guy.”
    “Do you think you’ve seen him before?”
    “I didn’t really