by Nora Kane
“You shot at a cop,” Cranston added, “even if you’re cleaner than virgin snow, you aren’t walking away on that.”
“Sure, but then I got shot like six times in the back. They tell me I may never be able to pee right and shit. I think I’ve suffered enough.”
“You’re the only one who thinks so.”
“Until you all start being a bit more sympathetic, I guess the murder is going to remain unsolved.”
“We’ve got you.”
“Nah, you don’t and you know it. That razor don’t mean shit, I’m surprised you haven’t thrown Phoebe’s nice ass back in here.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Anderson said.
“Damn,” Lucas replied, managing a smile, “You sound like you’re sweet on her or something.”
“Just watch your mouth, punk.”
“Her name might be in my mouth a lot after you get the charges dropped.”
“Are you saying Phoebe did it?” Cranston asked, drawing a look from his partner.
“Nah, like I said, as long as I’m in here, the murder case stays unsolved.”
“How do we know you even know shit? I told you, give us something, and if it checks out…”
“—I look like some punk? I know how you cops play people. Get me out and I serve up the perpetrator of the Masterson Hot Tub Massacre on a tray like you just got some McDonalds or something.”
“You know, the longer you hold out, the more likely somebody solves this thing without you and then you get nothing for sure,” Anderson said.
Lucas tried to laugh, but it hurt, so he stopped and then told them, “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”
“Think about it, Lucas. This here might be your best chance to get yourself out of this mess.”
“You heard the terms. Come back when you meet them.”
“Your loss, Lucas.”
“Next time, let me know you’re coming so I can call my lawyer.”
“You mean Harry Lee’s lawyer,” Anderson corrected him. “You know he’s just here to make sure you don’t talk about your boss when you’re trying to make a deal.”
“Lucky for me, I know enough I don’t need to say shit about Harry to walk away from this shit.”
“You’d better hope so. I don’t think prison will be easy for a guy like you,” Cranston told him.
“What do you mean ‘a guy like me’?”
“A guy who was getting his ass kicked by a girl the last time he was breathing free air,” Anderson said.
“Yeah, well, I bet she’d kick your fat ass too.”
“Maybe, but I’m not the one going to prison.”
Lucas didn’t have a good reply to that so instead, he said, “I think I want my lawyer.”
“Suit yourself,” Anderson told him. “We’ll be seeing you, Lucas.”
Lucas watched the detectives leave and went back to trying to find something on television. He was flipping through the channels when the door opened again.
He looked over and said, “I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You forget something?”
“Yeah,” the man said as he held up the hand holding a sharpened metal spoon, “I forgot to stab your sorry ass to death.”
Lucas tried to reach the call button but he was too slow. The sharp spoon was jammed through his neck before he could pick up the call button. His jugular vein was severed and blood began to spray. It wasn’t long before a spoon did what bullets couldn’t.
Chapter 1
“Mind if I sit?”
Margot scanned the mostly empty Layla’s West barroom and then looked Harry Lee over. As agreed, it appeared he had come alone. He was dressed in his usual dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie. He could have a gun under his coat, but there were no telltale bulges. In his hands were two drinks including a whiskey on ice.
Margot was sitting with her back against the wall with her short-barreled S&W sitting on her lap. Her boyfriend, homicide detective Rick Radcliff, was sitting at the bar, watching the proceedings in the mirror.
Margot motioned to the empty chair across from her and Harry sat down.
“I bought Mr. Radcliff a drink as well,” Harry told her, sliding the glass of whiskey across the table.
“Thanks,” Margot said as she took a sip.
“Did I get it right?”
“Yeah, you did. How did you know what I like to drink?”
“I know a lot of things about you, Margot.”
She let that go and asked, “What can I do for you, Harry?”
“I thought you stopped meeting clients here when you started working for Shaw.”
“You’re not a client.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
“You want to hire me?”
“I do.”
“No thanks.”
“You haven’t even heard the job.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You’ve worked for misunderstood businessmen before, Margot. I’m feeling a little insulted.”
“You’re right, Harry, there was a time when I couldn’t afford to be so picky, but that’s not really the case right now.”
“I assume you heard about poor Lucas?”
“I did.”
“Poor kid survives getting shot by the cops and then gets stabbed to death in lockup. What a shame.”
“Worked out pretty well for you though, didn’t it?”
“How so?”
“He ran his mouth, a lot. He would have got around to talking about you eventually.”
Harry couldn’t disagree with that entirely, so he said, “I want to know who killed Lucas.”
“That’s what you want to hire me for?”
“Yes.”
“Investigating homicides isn’t really my job.”
“Nonsense, it’s what you're best at. Photographing cheating husbands leaving the scene of their ‘crime’ is beneath you.”
“Spoken like a cheating husband.”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Has to do what? Cheat?”
“No, look into Lucas’s murder. Ask your boyfriend, he’ll tell you they’ve already assumed I ordered it.”
“So, this is as much about protecting you as it is justice for Lucas.”
“I’m not going to pretend to be that altruistic. I’m protecting my own interests here. I wouldn’t be the only one protecting my self-interest. He did finger you for planting evidence and he did point out the bloody dress fit you better than him.”
“Is that when he was talking about my boobs?”
“Yes, and he was right. You have much better boobs than he did.”
Margot decided not to dignify that with a response.
“With the exception of the young man sitting at the bar, I know the police, especially the homicide ones, don’t think highly of you, Margot. They’ll be coming to see you soon enough. Work for me, Margot, and you can serve your own self-interest while getting paid for it.”
Before Margot could answer, two men in cheap suits came through the door. Margot recognized one of them, Anderson, from her days as a cop. Even before her career went awry they never liked each other. They’d come up in the academy together and he never got over the time she shot down a drunken advance. His partner was an old school guy named Cranston who people were saying was two years past when he should have retired when Margot was still on the force. Harry recognized them too. They were part of an organized crime taskforce and Harry was a frequent target of their investigations.
“Fancy running into you two here,” Anderson said as he walked up to the table and sat down. Cranston didn’t move very fast so he was still on his way over.
“Did you invite this man to join us?” Harry asked Margot.
“I certainly did not.”
“Aw come on, Margot, you and I go way back,” Anderson said.
“All the more reason not to invite you to sit down, but since you’re here, I’m thinking I’ll be leaving,” Margot said as she stood up
.
“I was thinking the same thing, only we’re going to be leaving together.”
Cranston finally finished lumbering over to the table. He stepped in Margot’s path.
“What do you want?” Margot asked.
“We need to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“I’d prefer you come with us.”
“Too bad for you, I don’t give a damn about what you prefer.”
“What’s this about?” Radcliff said as he approached the table.
“Sit down, choirboy,” Anderson said, “this doesn’t concern you.”
“Let’s make it easy and just arrest her,” Cranston added.
“Easiest thing would be for her to come down and cooperate,” Anderson said.
“What am I being arrested for?” Margot asked.
“We’ll think of something. I mean, you are here consorting with a known criminal.”
“Come on, Harris,” Cranston said, “come on down and we can clear all this up.”
“Clear what up?”
“The mess with Cassandra Cole you’ve got yourself into.”
“You mean the goth chick with the YouTube channel?”
“The one and the same, Harris, or should I call you ‘Viuda Negra’?”
“Is she still trotting out that nonsense?”
“You tell me.”
“I quit listening a while ago. What exactly did Cassandra do that has you two here bothering me?”
“She’s been getting death threats.”
“I can see how that might happen.”
“Someone took a shot at her.”
“Forty caliber slug was dug out of the wall,” Cranston added, “the same caliber as the gun you’ve got registered.”
“You think I took a shot at Cassandra Cole?”
“That’s what we want to talk about. You coming nicely or…” Anderson said as he took out his handcuffs and let them dangle by his index finger.
“Why does the organized crime taskforce care about someone shooting at a YouTube reporter?” Radcliff asked.
“Well, when one of the suspects is the feared and famed cartel hitwoman Viuda Negra, it sure sounds like organized crime to me,” Anderson said.
“Or you’re just harassing her because she’s talking to me,” Harry replied.
“Either way, she’s coming with us.”
Margot could think of all sorts of arguments as to why she wasn’t the one who took a shot at Cassandra but knew that at best, they’d fall on deaf ears and at worst, they’d twist them around so she sounded guilty. So instead, she said, “Whatever, I’m coming.”
“Bummer, I was kind of hoping to do it the other way,” Anderson said as he put the handcuffs away.
Margot turned to Radcliff. “Do you want to call my lawyer?”
“Already on it.”
Anderson looked at Harry Lee. “I’m guessing we’ll be seeing you again soon.”
“I certainly hope not.”
“I don’t see how it would be avoidable since we caught the Lucas Lau case.”
“You two got that?” Margot asked. “I thought Barnes and Cartwright got that one…”
“They had The Masterson Hot Tub Massacre; Lucas is a whole different case. Since he worked for a known organized crime figure, he falls under our jurisdiction. You were working that hot tub case too, weren’t you?”
Margot thought discovering the identity of the killer was a bit more than just ‘working it,’ but she just said, “Yeah.”
Cranston shook his head. “I don’t know how Barnes and Cartwright put up with it. Having some snoop second-guessing them. That kind of shit would drive me crazy.”
Margot turned to Harry Lee. “I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take the case.”
Chapter 2
Anderson set a tape recorder the department had been using since sometime before Margot was born on the table and said, “Would you please say ‘I hear my name coming out your mouth one more time, bitch and I’m putting a cap in your pretty face.’”
Anderson pressed record.
Margot said nothing.
Cranston turned off the recorder and said to her, “You need to say it like you’re pretending you’re a man.”
He turned it back on and set it back down on the table.
Margot still said nothing.
After a couple of minutes of silence, Anderson turned off the recorder.
“Do I need to repeat the phrase? I can write it down.”
“Is this for some sort of voice line up?” Margot asked him.
“Yeah. If it’s not you, then we can check you off the list.”
Margot shook her head. “You do know I was a cop? A detective, in fact. Did you really think I’d do this?”
“Of course I knew you were a cop. We were in the academy together.”
“Plus,” Cranston added, “the dirty ones always stick in my memory.”
“Why do you think I’m trying to get you in the line-up other than to clear you so we can move on?” Anderson went on. “I’m playing it straight with you. I know better than to try and con a cop.”
“You know, the fact you think I’d fall for this shit is actually making me angry.”
Anderson put the recorder back on the table. “Come on, Margot: ‘I hear my name coming out your mouth one more time, bitch and I’m putting a cap in your pretty face.’ Just say it and you can be on your way.”
Anderson hit record.
Cranston turned it off again and once again added, “Say it like you’re trying to sound like a man.”
Cranston pressed record.
Margot shook her head and then leaned in close and said, “Hey Cassandra, this is Margot. While I do think you are a bitch, I didn’t threaten you and I certainly didn’t shoot at you. Have a nice day.”
Anderson turned off the recorder.
“The phrase was ‘I hear my name coming out your mouth one more time, bitch and I’m putting a cap in your pretty face.’”
“Said like a man,” Cranston added.
Margot motioned for them to turn back on the recorder.
