Criminal

even more harried than before.
    “Pam, it’s Amanda Wagner.”
    A few seconds passed before Pam seemed to recognize her name. “Mandy. What’s going on? Oh, crap, don’t tell me something’s wrong with Mimi?”
    Mimi Mitideri, the niece who’d almost run off with a Navy cadet. “No, nothing like that. I was calling to see if you could do me a favor.”
    She seemed relieved, though her day was probably filled with people asking for favors. “What do you need?”
    “I was wondering if you could look up a name for me, or an apartment.” Amanda realized she wasn’t being very clear. She hadn’t thought through the conversation. “There’s an apartment at Techwood Homes—apartment C. It’s on the fifth floor in the row of buildings—”
    “Whoa, let me stop you there. There’s no C at Techwood Homes. They’re numbered.”
    Amanda resisted the temptation to ask her where one might find these numbers. “Could you look up a name, then? A Katherine or Kate or Kitty Treadwell?”
    “We don’t go by names. We go by roll numbers.”
    Amanda sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She felt the uselessness of the situation sitting like an elephant on her chest. “I’m not even sure if I’ve got the right name. There are—were—at least three girls living there. Maybe more.”
    “Wait a minute,” Pam said. “Are they related?”
    “I doubt it. They’re working girls.”
    “All in the same unit?” Pam asked. “That’s not allowed unless they’re related. And even if they are, none of those gals ever want to room together. They lie all the time.” There was a noise on Pam’s end of the line. She covered the mouthpiece for a few seconds and had a muffled conversation with another person. When she came back on the line, her voice was clearer. “Tell me about the apartment. You said it was on the top floor?”
    “Yes. Fifth floor.”
    “Those are one-bedroom units. A single girl wouldn’t get that housing assignment unless she has a child.”
    “There was no child. Just three women. I’m guessing it was three. Maybe there were more.”
    Pam groaned. When she spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. “My supervisor can be persuaded sometimes.”
    Amanda was going to ask what she meant, but then it hit her.
    Pam sounded bitter. “They should put me in charge. I wouldn’t trade a top-floor apartment for a blow job.”
    Amanda gave a shocked laugh—as if such a thing was possible. “Well, thank you, Pam. I know you’ve got work to do.”
    “Let me know if you get the unit number. Maybe I can track it back from there. Might take me a week or two, but I’ll do it for you.”
    “Thank you,” Amanda repeated. She hung up the phone. Her hand stayed on the receiver. Her mind had been working on other things while she was talking to Pam Canale. It was like looking for your keys. The minute you stopped trying to find them, you remembered where you’d left them.
    But there was only one way to be certain.
    Amanda put another dime in the slot. She dialed a familiar number. Duke Wagner was never one to let a phone ring more than twice. He picked up almost immediately.
    “Hey, Daddy,” Amanda managed, but then she didn’t know what else to say.
    Duke sounded alarmed. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”
    “No, no,” she told him, wondering why she had called her father in the first place. This was sheer lunacy.
    “Mandy? What’s going on? Are you at the hospital?”
    Amanda rarely heard her father panicked. Nor had she ever considered the fact that he might be worried about the job she was doing, especially since he was no longer there to protect her.
    “Mandy?” She heard a chair slide across the kitchen floor. “Talk to me.”
    She swallowed back the uneasy realization that for just a moment, she had enjoyed scaring her father. “I’m fine, Daddy. I just had a question about—” She didn’t know what to call it. “About politics.”
    He sounded relieved and slightly irritated. “This couldn’t wait until tonight?”
    “No.” She looked out at the street. Cars were backing up at the light. Businessmen were going to work. Women were taking their children to school. “We had a new sergeant last week. One of Reggie’s boys.”
    Duke made a sharp comment about this, as if his feelings weren’t already known.
    “He got transferred after just one day. Hoyt Woody was moved into his position.”
    “Hoyt’s a good man.”
    “Well.” Amanda didn’t