Free City of Secrets by Kelli Stanley Page A

Jones and O’Farrell. They didn’t—they didn’t much care if we stayed together, ’long as I paid a little extra for Pan.”
    â€œHow about you?”
    Lucinda was lighting another Kool, blew a stream of smoke out the side of her mouth.
    â€œI got a shack of an apartment with two other girls. The La Salle, 650 Post.”
    Miranda recognized the name of a run-down building not too far from her own apartment.
    â€œOzzie…” He looked up. She tried to encourage him with a smile. “I understand why you didn’t want to turn her things over. How did you do it?”
    â€œWhen I found out—I—I left. Ran home. Kind of expected to see her there.” His hands were trembling, but his voice held steady. “Of course she wasn’t. I—I wandered around. Not even sure where. I’m off on Sunday until evening, and we were gonna—we…” He choked on the plural, wiping his eyes. Breath shuddered going down. Lucinda patted his shoulder.
    The kid held his fingers over his red face until he could breathe again. “I knew they’d be coming—the police, I mean—so I bundled up a few of her things and came back here. Stashed them in my locker at the Aquacade. That’s what Lucinda and I were meeting about tonight, to try to figure out what to do.”
    He was rubbing a spot on his hand, over and over, not looking at either woman. “God, I—I don’t want to live anymore. But I want—whoever did this—I want—” He shook his head again, unable to continue.
    â€œOzzie—may I see them? There may be something there that will help.”
    He turned toward Lucinda, who gave him a small shrug.
    â€œMaybe it’ll help somehow, kid. Might be worth a chance. Cops’ll just take it from you if they find out.”
    He hunched over the table, too-large blue jacket flapping open. “I’d need her things back, Miss Corbie.”
    She took a last draw on the Chesterfield and rubbed it out, making her voice as soothing as possible. “Of course. You have them in your locker now?”
    He nodded. Stood up suddenly, pushed the chair back in, bent down to kiss Lucinda’s cheek. “Thanks, Lu. You’ve been—been a real pal to both of us. I won’t forget it.”
    He held out his hand to Miranda to shake. She grasped it solemnly. “Thanks, Ozzie. Let’s go.”
    Lucinda looked up at Miranda. “Who was the other girl?”
    â€œAn Emporium perfume clerk. Annie Learner. You know her?”
    Lucinda shook her head. “No. I was just thinking. If some lunatic is targeting Jews, maybe I’d better lie low for a couple of days.”
    â€œAnybody here know you’re Jewish?”
    â€œSheila. And if she knows, everybody else does.”
    Miranda fished in her wallet for a business card, handed it to Lucinda. “Call me if I can help. Or if you remember anything else.”
    The other woman was reading the card, fingering the drawn-on beauty mark on her cheek, and accidentally rubbing some of it away. “‘Private—discreet.’ Yeah, well, I hope you’re all of those things, lady. And something else—smart.”
    She looked up at Miranda, worry in her eyes.

 
    Seven
    The exhibit buildings closed at ten, but there were families and couples and solitary people out and walking, trying to forget. About Monday, about their wives, husbands, children, the boss at the insurance firm, always picking, the same goddamn bus driver every morning, same grating voice. Old gossipy Mrs. Robertson down the hall and the young girl dating Davey who wasn’t what she should be. Petty grievances of everyday life, of peacetime life.
    A luxury made in America.
    She popped two more Life Savers in her mouth. Turned to the tall young man standing in the colored light.
    â€œPlease do what I said, Ozzie. The bulls’ll throw you under glass in a heartbeat. It’s