“My cousin Shirley's husband, Bruce, worked for a collection agency. He could tell you—”
I interrupt her. “Edna, did anyone else call?”
“Cal Morris.”
“Who?”
“Cal Morris from the newsstand. He said if you don't recognize his name, I should tell you that they're hanging really low today.”
Cal has never called me before; I didn't even realize he knew my full name. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“He wouldn't tell me,” Edna says, “but he said it was urgent, and he sounded really upset.”
I stop off at the newsstand on the way back, and sure enough, Cal has been anxiously waiting for me to contact him. He closes up the stand and takes me to the diner next door for a cup of coffee. We sit at a booth, and he lets it spill out.
“It's my daughter, Andy. She's been arrested. You got to get her off, there's no way she could have done this.”
“Take it easy, Cal. Start at the beginning.”
Cal doesn't know much, just that his only daughter, Wanda, has been arrested on prostitution charges. She's only sixteen, and until today Cal has assumed she's a virgin. In fact, he still does.
Cal knows that I have contacts in the local justice system. He is desperate, and he offers to pay me whatever it will take. Since money is not my biggest problem these days, I shrug it off, mumbling something about free newspapers and magazines. I don't mean it, though, since paying for the papers is part of my superstition.
I've got about an hour before I'm supposed to meet with Laurie, so I tell Cal that I'll stop off at the police station and see what I can do. He's so grateful I think he's going to cry, and it makes me feel good to be able to help. That's if I'm able to help.
I go down to the station and am lucky enough to run into Pete Stanton. Not only is Pete a pretty good friend of mine (we play racquetball together), but he is a lieutenant, and he owes me a favor. That doesn't mean he won't give me a hard time, it just means he'll eventually give in.
By a coincidence, Pete was the detective originally assigned to the Willie Miller case, and he ran the investigation. He assumes that is what I'm here to see him about, and is surprised when I tell him about Cal's daughter, Wanda.
Though Pete does not have anything to do with Wanda's case, he tracks down her file and looks through it. I tell him that Wanda Morris is a troubled kid, but after a quick read he dismisses her as a hooker.
I correct him. “An alleged hooker.”
“Who do I look like?” he sneers. “John Q. Jury? She allegedly propositioned a cop. Vice has allegedly got it on tape.”
“An obvious case of entrapment.”
Pete laughs and shows me his nameplate on his desk. He points to the word “Lieutenant.” “See that?” he says. “That means I'm hot shit around here.”
I nod. “You're a goddamn legend, a combination J. Edgar Hoover and Eliot Ness. Which means you spend your time walking around in a dress looking for alcohol.”
He ignores that. “Come on, Andy, why are you talking to me about a hooker? I deal in big stuff, like homicides. If this hooker screws a guy to death, come talk to me.”
“You owe me.” I didn't want to have to use my ace this early in the conversation, but I don't want to be late again for my meeting with Laurie. I represented Pete's brother on a drug charge in a nearby town. I got him off and kept Pete's name out of it. His brother is doing well now, turned his life around, and Pete remembers. Pete's the type who will remember it until the day he dies, and maybe even a few years afterward.
That doesn't mean he'll cave easily. “You calling in your chit on this? A hooker case? You know as well as I do she'll be back on the street in a day anyway.”
“Her father's my friend.”
Pete nods; no more explanation is necessary. Pete is a guy who understands friendship.
“I'll call McGinley,” he says. “I'll get him to plead it out to probation. She stays clean and it comes off her record.”
“Thanks. Now, on to more important business.”
He's surprised. “There's more? You got another friend whose kid is a bank robber? Or an arsonist? Why don't you just give me a list of your friends and we won't arrest