Chapter 7: Danny
“Hey, Monica,” Danny called. His desk wasn’t thirty feet from hers, and he never closed his office door unless he had an especially secretive client in his office. It had long been the custom in the refurbed filling station for its occupants to holler at each other from the comfort of their seats. “Would you see if you can find the unedited transcripts from that Margaret Chase deposition? In this mess she never says anything but ‘I don’t remember,’ which I’m pretty sure she only said when you asked her where she got those shoes.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Hanrahan,” Monica replied. “I won’t be able to work that into my schedule today. Shall I draw you a map to Records?”
Danny raised an unseen, impotent, Oh no she didn’t eyebrow. “No, thank you, Monica,” he said frigidly. “That
