sportsmanship Tony appreciated. As the sweat-soaked players headed toward the locker room, he stepped in front of Martha and said, “Nice game, Martha.”
She glanced at him with a who-is-this-guy look, made a rueful face and said, “Thanks.”
“I’m Tony, from the Hotline,” he said, falling into step beside her. She was taller than he was.
“Oh.” She stopped walking and faced him. “I’ve heard about you. What are you doing here?”
Who had talked to her about him? “I’ve been reading good things about your team, and I wanted to see it in action.”
“Yeah, right. It was good before Joy…” her voice broke, “when Joy was on the team.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Tony said. “May I buy you a coke at the Beach House?” It was only a few blocks away.
“I’ve got to shower. And I’ve got a lot of homework.”
“I’ll wait here until you shower. And I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” Tony gave her his best pickup smile, the one he had used so successfully in college.
“Well, all right. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”
Tony congratulated himself on still having the old charm, but he suspected that the reason she had accepted had more to do with the fact that they both worked on the Hotline. That created a bond between people.
“Joy was my best friend,” Martha said, stirring the milkshake she had ordered, with a straw. “I loved her. We grew up together. We did everything together. We learned to play volleyball together.”
Shahla had also said that Joy was her best friend. This tended to confirm his jealousy theory-not that Martha was jealous of Joy, but that Shahla was jealous of Martha. He said, “I suppose the other players were a little envious of the fact that Joy was an all-star.”
They had driven to the Beach House in separate cars. Many of the Bonita Beach students had their own cars, or at least had ready access to cars. This amazed Tony, who hadn’t had a car until he had bought one for himself after he finished college. He wondered if this affluence was good for them.
Martha shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. When you’re part of a team, you want the team to win. With Joy on the team, we were winners. Without Joy, we’re…well, we’re kind of mediocre. And she didn’t have a big head. She was a team player. We shouldn’t have lost today. With Joy, we would have won easily.”
She was lecturing him. Could she fake that level of intensity? Tony knew from his own experience as a teenager that they could be devious. But she sounded sincere. Seeing her up close, he realized that when she lost her acne, she would be a knockout. And when her coordination improved, she would be a good volleyball player. She didn’t have to take a backseat to anybody. He sipped his black coffee and shifted tactics. “Do you have any idea who might have killed Joy?”
“Detective Croyden asked me that question. It sounds crazy, but maybe it was somebody who wants the Bonita Beach volleyball team to lose. We’ve been dominating the league for years. The other teams would give a lot to beat us. You saw how they celebrated today. And it’s not just the kids. It’s the parents. When I was playing AYSO soccer, sometimes the referees had to red-card a rowdy parent.”
“Well, that narrows it down to a few hundred suspects.”
Martha smiled. “It’s just my idea. I don’t know of anybody in particular.”
“When Detective Croyden asked me what I was doing the night Joy was killed, I realized that I had nobody to vouch for me. Did you have that problem too?”
Martha noisily sucked the dregs of her milkshake through the straw and looked at Tony. She said, “I was studying at the library. When it closed at nine, I went over to visit Joy. She didn’t like to work alone at night.”
It took a moment for this to sink in. “You saw Joy the night she was killed?”
Martha nodded. “I was just there for a few minutes. I didn’t take any calls because I wasn’t working.”
“What time did you leave the Hotline?”
“About 9:30.”
“Did you walk out with the guard?”
“No. I left by myself.”
“And then did you go home?”
Martha shook her head. “I went and walked on the beach. Alone. I sometimes do that. I didn’t get home until about eleven.”
“How did Detective Croyden react to you telling him this?”
“He didn’t say anything; just wrote it all down. But he did ask me a lot of questions about my relationship with Joy. I think he was satisfied, especially because I volunteered that I had seen Joy. If I hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have known.”
“Has it occurred to you,” Tony asked, “that you might have been the one to get killed?”
“Yeah. All the time.” Martha had a haunted look on her face. “I feel guilty about it. That Joy got it instead of me. Or that I didn’t stick around until she left. I might have been able to prevent it. I have nightmares about that night. It’s strange, but as a result, I’m working harder to be a better volleyball player. And a better person.”
CHAPTER 12
Tony arrived at the Hotline before Shahla. She had signed up to work every shift he worked. Although he knew she had done it only because she hoped that he could help solve Joy’s murder, he felt good about it, because it meant she trusted him more than the other men and boys on the Hotline. Still, there was the possibility that he wouldn’t meet her expectations. Again. He thought back to his encounter with the Chameleon.
A boy and girl were working the four-to-seven shift. Tony said hello to them but didn’t bother to introduce himself. They left before Shahla arrived, so she didn’t get the opportunity to quiz them about what they had been doing the night Joy was killed. Tony was glad, because he became embarrassed when she did that. He guessed he wasn’t cut out to be a detective.
He signed in and took the good seat by the window. No sooner had he sat down than the phone rang. He answered it with his usual greeting: “Central Hotline. This is Tony.”
“I’m fifteen, and I’m a runaway.”
There was nothing like being smacked in the face by the first pitch. It was a girl’s voice. Tony thought fast. He said, “Are you safe where you are right now?”
“I’m at a phone booth.” She named an intersection in Santa Monica. “And I’m not going back home.”
Tony decided not to ask her reasons. It wasn’t his job to judge her. It was his job to make sure she was safe. Shahla had just come in through the door he had left unlocked for her. He put the call on the speaker and looked out the window. The sun was setting. He didn’t want the girl to be out there alone in the dark.
“Do you have any friends or relatives who can help you?” Tony asked.
“Not here. Not nearby.”
She sounded frightened. She may be having second thoughts, but whatever crisis impelled her to leave home must outweigh her fear. Tony was frantically leafing through the directory of available services in Southern California. He said, “There are shelters you can go to. Some of them will pick you up.”
At that moment, his eyes focused on such a shelter with a Santa Monica address. Thank God. “I’ve got a number for you. Do you have money so you can call the number or do you want me to call it for you? Oh, they take collect calls.”
“I’ve got some money.”
“Do you have a pencil and paper?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, write this down.” He gave her the number. “Call it immediately. If they can’t help you, call us back. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“And call us back to let us know that you’re all right.”
