City of Secrets by Kelli Stanley

Did I wake you up?”
    She struggled to sit up, rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”
    â€œI can’t talk long—called you before writing the story—you owe me—”
    â€œGet to the fucking point!”
    â€œThey’ve made an arrest—for both murders.”
    She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Fully awake.
    â€œWas it Kaiser?”
    Rick paused, News typewriters in the background drumming like Krupa. “No, not Kaiser. Someone else who likes to beat up on women.”
    â€œWho the hell—”
    â€œYour old friend. Ex-inspector Duggan. Arrested early this morning—no bail.”
    She said good-bye to Rick, shock making the words perfunctory and pleasant. Hung up the phone. Stared at the forget-me-nots on the wallpaper, periwinkle blue.
    Gonzales. Gonzales told her Duggan had been demoted.
    After the Takahashi case. After her bruises healed.
    She was still staring at the phone when it rang again. Her hand hesitated before picking it up.
    â€œDarling girl, this is Meyer.”
    Her lawyer wasn’t typically an early caller.
    â€œRick just phoned me about Duggan—hard to believe they nailed one of their own.”
    He poured on extra oil, the kind of soothing delivery he usually saved for the closing argument. “It is, my dear, what Mr. Earle Stanley Gardner might call a ‘frame-up.’”
    She opened the drawer on her nightstand, found a pack of Chesterfields and a Yellow Cab matchbook. Miranda stuck the stick between her lips.
    â€œWhere’d you get the information, Meyer? It’s good of you to phone me, but—”
    â€œYou should know by now I do precious little from the good of my heart. I’m calling you about a job.”
    â€œA job? I asked you for leads on Pandora Blake.”
    â€œAnd so you shall have them. The job is to work for me.”
    The bourbon and lack of sleep were making her tired and confused. She lit the cigarette, closing her eyes for a second.
    â€œMeyer—you’re my attorney. What’s this about? And don’t try any of your trial-style bullshit on me.”
    He laughed for a few seconds. “Exactly why I adore you, Miranda. All right. I want you to work for me because if you do, you will have a legitimate reason to investigate the murder of Pandora Blake and the other unfortunate girl, Annie Learner.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    His voice was low, serious now. “I’m representing Mr. Duggan. And I want you to help me prove he’s innocent.”
    Miranda cradled the phone in her hands, paying no attention to Meyer’s muffled exclamations on the other end.
    *   *   *
    She finally held up the receiver. “You want to hire me to help defend Duggan. A dirty cop who nearly broke my face three months ago. Who hates my guts.”
    â€œYou asked for a chance to work on the Pandora Blake case—”
    â€œGoddamn it, you’re the one that nailed the bastard for what he did to me. You’re the reason he got sent down. Why the hell are you defending him?”
    Silence. Miranda ran a shaking hand over her forehead. Meyer let out a deep breath and finally spoke. “Because I believe he’s innocent. And because he asked for me.”
    â€œHe asked for you?” She wrapped an arm around her side, body stiff and sore. “I don’t believe this. Duggan belongs in a nuthouse. They’ve arrested one of their own, for God’s sake—they’ll have damn good evidence.”
    â€œPrecisely why he asked for me.”
    â€œI’m not so sure. There’s no shortage of capable attorneys in San Francisco.”
    â€œMy dear, you cut me to the quick. Why don’t you come down to the Hall and interview him yourself? They’ve refused bail, but we’re fighting it. We can all talk it over.”
    She reached across to the nightstand ashtray and gave the cigarette a vicious