Tony filed into the Bonita Beach High School auditorium along with the other Central Hotline listeners. He recognized some of them because they had been in his training class. Patty, the Hotline administrative assistant, sat at a table just inside the door, checking listeners’ names on a list as they entered.
Tony said hello to her, and she smiled at him. She knew his name because she had been at several of the training classes and, being one of the few adults, he stuck out. Patty was a young and pretty brunette with an oval face, large eyes, and a boyfriend. She was also taking college courses at night, so if she had a class scheduled for this evening, she was cutting it.
He found a seat near the front of the auditorium, over on the side, so he wouldn’t block the view of any of the shorter listeners behind him. The room had a flat floor, not inclined, and the metal folding chairs weren’t fixed in place. In spite of these drawbacks, it was nice of the school district to allow the Hotline to use the auditorium of the high school for this meeting. All the listeners would not have fit into the Hotline office. Joy had been a student here, and Tony was sure the school district was cooperating in everything to do with the investigation of her murder.
The mood of the listeners was subdued as everybody found a seat. There wasn’t the usual banter and laughter that one would expect from a young crowd. Tony estimated that close to a hundred people had showed up, a high percentage of the active listeners.
The stage contained a lectern with a microphone. Three chairs sat beside the lectern. A few minutes after seven, two women and a man climbed several steps to the stage from the auditorium floor and sat in the chairs. The women were Nancy, the Executive Director of the Hotline, and Gail, the Volunteer Coordinator. Tony didn’t recognize the man.
After a whispered discussion among the three, Nancy stood up and came to the lectern. A middle-aged woman, she had her hair cut short and curly. It was a brownish color that made Tony suspect it might be dyed. She wore a smart shirt and pair of slacks and had a look of authority. Even before she said a word, Tony admired her aura of composure in a difficult situation.
The audience became quiet without being asked. Nancy tapped the microphone to see if it was turned on and then started speaking. “Thank you for coming tonight. This is a hard time for all of us. As those of you who attended Joy’s funeral and listened to her friends and family talk about her know, Joy was a very special person.”
Tony hadn’t attended her funeral. His rationalization was that he had barely known her and couldn’t afford to take time off from work, but in a rare self-analytic moment, he had admitted to himself that he had a fear of funerals. Now he had to contend with a certain level of guilt.
Nancy looked around the auditorium and continued, “But all of you are very special people. As listeners on the Hotline, you have made a commitment that few people can make. You have committed yourselves to help others- not just go through the motions of helping others, with surface gestures such as donating money or old toys. You have agreed to enter their worlds, to listen to their problems, to walk a mile in their shoes, to feel what it’s like to be disabled or abused or bi-polar or even suicidal. You have invested not just your time, but your emotions, as well. And that is what is difficult to do. That’s what sets you apart and makes you special. That’s what puts you in a class by yourselves and gives you a bond with other Hotline listeners that nobody who hasn’t been a listener can share. And all of you have a permanent bond with Joy.”
The woman was an orator. As Tony listened to her, he felt his usual cynicism slipping away. He looked at the listeners around him with new eyes. He even looked at himself with new eyes. He had been planning to quit the Hotline, using Joy’s murder somehow as an excuse, but how could he do that now? He felt tears rolling down his cheeks, which he tried to hide by brushing them away with his sleeve, but when he dared to look around the room again he noticed that there were not many dry eyes in the place.
Nancy was saying, “We are going to reopen the Hotline, starting tomorrow. Joy would want us to keep it open. Our callers need us and want us to keep it open. We will be making changes to increase our security. However, to those of you who feel they can’t continue as listeners, we understand. But we would like as many of you as possible to stay. In a few minutes we’ll tell you about some of the changes we are implementing. But first, I want to introduce Detective Croyden to you. Detective Croyden is with the Bonita Beach Police Department. He will bring you up to date on the investigation and answer any questions you may have.”
Nancy sat down, and Detective Croyden walked to the lectern. He was an athletic man, wearing a dark business suit with pinstripes, but primarily some shade of brown. His hair was trimmed so short that it was barely there. He looked overdressed for the modern casual world, but Tony realized that he had at least one gun hidden beneath his jacket. He would have been handsome if his nose hadn’t tilted to one side. It probably hadn’t always been like that.
Detective Croyden took a few seconds to survey the room. He had a penetrating gaze that prevented his audience from fidgeting or talking. When he started speaking, he had everybody’s attention.
“I want to add my thanks to you for coming tonight. This is a difficult time for you. I am going to level with you as far as what we know. I won’t hold back just because many of you are young. Nancy and Gail told me that as listeners, you are used to hearing strong language.”
He paused again for a moment which, Tony realized, had the effect, planned or not, of riveting the attention of the audience on him even more. “First, let me tell you what we know and what we don’t know about the murder, itself. Joy walked out to her car after her shift ended at ten o’clock, escorted by the building guard. The guard remembers it as being approximately five minutes past ten. She got into her car. The guard walked back into the building. As of the time he entered the building, Joy had not started her car, but he didn’t see anybody in the parking lot. The only other vehicle belonged to him. So he figured she would be okay.
“What happened after that is speculation because we don’t have any witnesses. The murderer-I will use the word ‘suspect’ and the masculine pronoun, although we are not ruling out the possibility of a female at this point- may have gained access to the car, previously. He may have been hiding in the backseat. Another possibility is that he was hiding behind a nearby bush in the park that borders the parking lot. Whatever the case, he was able to gain control over Joy and get her into the park.”
Nobody moved in the auditorium as the listeners waited for Detective Croyden to continue.
“Once in the park, he was able to get her clothes off, except for one sandal. The other sandal was found nearby. Also found was a tank top and a pair of shorts. Both were ripped, as if they had been removed with considerable force. She had bruises on her face and other parts of her body and several small cuts, as well, which could have been inflicted with a knife. However, the cause of death was strangulation.”
There was an audible gasp from the audience, even though everybody must have already known this. It had been in the papers, on TV, and on the Internet.
We think the suspect must be a physically strong person. Joy was a big girl, and she was an athlete. It would have taken somebody quite strong to control her. However, there is no evidence that she was raped.”
This was new information. That’s why the police hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a female suspect. But it would have to be a strong female.
Detective Croyden continued, “In fact, we have nothing from the suspect that would contain DNA-no skin, no body fluids. The suspect was lucky in that respect. But that doesn’t mean we won’t get him. And you can help. I have talked to a few of you-those who were especially close to Joy. I don’t have time to talk to all of you, but if any of you knows anything that might help us, please come forward at the end of the meeting. I will give a business card to everybody who wants one and leave some with Nancy. If you remember anything, if you come across any piece of information, please call me immediately. Even if you think it’s inconsequential, tell me. Don’t pass judgment yourself. And now, are there any questions?”
Some people in the audience looked around, but nobody raised a hand for a few seconds. Then a girl timidly put up her hand. Detective Croyden pointed to her and said, “Yes?”
“What about underwear?” the girl asked. Nobody laughed. “None of the reports have mentioned underwear being found.”
“We have reason to believe that Joy was wearing underwear,” Detective Croyden said, with a straight face. “We think the suspect took it with him. He may have a fetish of some sort. That could help us in our investigation.”
Detective Croyden had used the word fetish, just as Tony had. He was glad to have official support for his conjecture. When nobody else raised a hand, he got up his nerve and raised his own hand.
When Detective Croyden recognized him, Tony stood up and said, “What about the guard as a suspect? By his own admission he was the last person to see Joy alive, other than the suspect. Couldn’t he be a suspect?” He
