by Nora Kane
“She can present that as her defense at trial. In the meantime, she’s still going to county.”
“We already talked to Phoebe,” Ames said, “and Cranston.”
“What do they have to do with her assaulting me?”
“Why did you go back to Lucas Lau’s room?”
“I didn’t.”
“Someone changed the logs to show you left an hour before the murder, but Cranston confirms you were both still there.”
Anderson didn’t say anything.
“Phoebe Masterson says you kept her out of jail and her husband in the dark about Harry Lee in exchange for sex.”
“Bullshit.”
“She thinks you and Lucas killed her husband. Lucas for his boss and you because you wanted her for yourself.”
“Nonsense.”
“She says you asked her to leave her husband. She says she told you that you don’t make enough money. She would have stuck with a good looking detective like Radcliff if she wanted to live on a cop’s salary.”
Anderson didn’t reply to that.
“Are we going to find the murder weapon at Margot’s? The one you put there after she ran away?” Radcliff asked.
“I didn’t put anything at Margot’s.”
Rodriguez cued up the recorder and pressed play.
“Maybe while you’re gone, someone will search your place and find something incriminating. Maybe even a murder weapon.”
“Like a butcher's knife?”
“Could be, that is a fine murder weapon.”
“Is that going to be the butcher’s knife that stabbed Tim Masterson and Rita Helms?” Ames asked.
“Did you know Margot has a solid alibi for that night?” Radcliff added.
Anderson drew his gun. So did everyone else—except Margot, who had given hers to Ames when she turned herself in. Anderson swung the weapon her way, but Radcliff stepped in front of her with his gun raised.
Everyone held their fire. Anderson moved his gun from one person to the other as the three cops kept him in their sights.
“Come on Anderson,” Ames told him, “You don’t want to go out like this.”
“I don’t?” Anderson said as he put the gun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.
Rodriguez shook her head and sat down.
“I knew we shouldn’t have done this in my office,” she said as she put her gun away.
Chapter 14
“You still awake?” Radcliff asked as they both laid on his bed in the dark.
“Yeah.”
“You should be exhausted. You’ve been up nearly twenty-four hours.”
“I could be in jail right now while the D.A. charges me with a double homicide. Assuming no one shanked me already.”
“It didn’t happen though.”
“True, and I didn’t get shot in that drive-by either, but it would be nice to get a night in without someone trying to kill me.”
“It’s after midnight, you’re at my place. I think you’ll make it.”
“Do you think Anderson really killed Masterson and Rita Helms?”
“He had the murder weapon. Otherwise, he couldn’t have planted it at your place. He had motive and opportunity. He most definitely killed Lucas who was probably helping him. And I don’t think he would have shot himself in the face for no reason.”
“Worked out for Phoebe.”
“Maybe that’s because she didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Maybe. If she did, she got away with it and I don’t like that part.”
“Sometimes people get away,” Radcliff said. “Honestly, while I think Phoebe is capable of a lot of truly bad things, I don’t see her doing that. I never did, and nothing that’s happened has changed my mind.”
“I wish I could be as sure.”
“Yeah, but on the bright side, even if she was involved, I’d say for her it was a one-time thing.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s what I tell myself when I let one get away.”
“Does it help?”
“With a couple of shots of Patron, it’s pretty effective. Do you think Anderson set up the drive-by? He’d have known someone willing to do it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it and no. He had no reason to worry about me at that point. He wasn’t even on my radar.”
“He knew you were investigating, and he knew you found Lucas.”
“True, but I think he’d be more about the frame job. He didn’t save the murder weapon as a souvenir. He was going to plant it on somebody at some point.”
“True. You sure it wasn’t Mal?”
“He could have killed me anytime and while it wouldn’t stand up in court when he told me he wouldn’t do it that way, I believed him.”
“So, who?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t know what Mal is up to. Two more reasons not to sleep. I just have a bad feeling this isn’t really over.”
Twisted Hopes
Margot Harris Book 8
Nora Kane
Prologue
“If you’re right, you need to quit all this YouTube crap. I know you’re getting some views and even making some scratch, but it ain’t worth it,” Trevor told her.
He was still wearing his uniform from working the graveyard shift at 7-11. Normally, he went back to his own place after a graveyard shift and drank a few beers to help him sleep. Instead, he was at his parent’s house where he’d put up Cassie last night before he went to work. She’d called him yesterday sounding scared, which was weird for her in Trevor’s experience. He’d suggested his parents' place since they were out of town and to his surprise she’d agreed.
“It’s not about the money,” Cassie replied.
Trevor shook his head and took a deep breath. When Cassie said stupid shit like this, he tended to tell her so in ways that no one would describe as diplomatic. It was one of the reasons she’d broken up with him. Now, she’d come to him for help and he didn’t want to blow any chance they had of getting back together by saying something that would piss her off.
After taking another breath, he told her, “Whatever you get out of it, I guarantee it’s not worth dying for.”
Cassie couldn’t really argue with him. As much as she loved being the host of Cassie’s Coastal Crime Report, she had to admit she loved being alive just a little more.
“I’ll be fine,” she said as sat at the kitchen table and booted up her laptop. “No one will find me here.”
It was Trevor’s turn not to argue. He didn’t figure anyone would track her to his parent’s house. Since they were in Hawaii all week, she would have the place to herself.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting the finishing touches on the newest episode.”
“Uh, weren’t we just discussing how you should be calling it quits?”
“Yeah, but I’ve already got this one put together. There’s no reason not to post it. In fact, maybe this will give whoever it is second thoughts.”
“Unlikely.”
“Yeah, but it won’t make it worse.”
Cassie’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and typed in a short reply. She set the phone on the counter and continued posting her latest video.
The doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting someone?” Cassie asked.
“No, maybe just something from Amazon. My mom probably ordered something.”
“While she was in Hawaii?”
“It’s kind of an addiction for her. You should see all the crap in the closet.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t answer.”
“Why? No one knows you’re here.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Trevor went to the door anyway. He looked into the peephole before he opened the door to make Cassie feel better. He didn’t see the Amazon delivery guy.
A bullet came through the peephole and Trevor’s brains exited through the back of his skull and made a mess on
the tile floor.
Cassie was already running when Trevor’s dead body hit the floor. She heard more shots and then the sound of the door swinging open and smacking into the wall. She didn’t look back. She ran out the back door and straight for the back fence. Even though Trevor had insisted his place was safe, Cassie had made an escape plan the moment she arrived. She hoped it would be enough to keep her alive.
Whoever she’d pissed off with her show seemed very determined to see her dead.
Chapter 1
“Mr. Radcliff is here to see you,” Ms. Collins said as she poked her head through the door.
Margot thought that was odd.
They saw each other a lot—in fact, she’d spent the night at his place last night—but he never stopped by in the middle of the afternoon when they were both working. He never really showed up without calling ahead in any circumstance.
Margot looked at her client, Mrs. Dithers, a middle-aged woman who may have been attractive once but had clearly let herself go. Mrs. Dithers wanted to know if her husband really was working late every Tuesday and then going to the gym. She was thinking his regular night out with ‘the boys’ didn’t involve just boys anymore too. Margot would rather be hanging out with Radcliff, but people like Mrs. Dithers paid the bills.
“Can you tell him I’m busy with a client?” Margot said to Ms. Collins.
“I can. Detective Ames is here as well and he’s been rather insistent. I’m not sure if he’ll accept that answer.”
“Did Ames tell you to say Radcliff is here to see me?”
“He did. I thought it was odd.”
Margot shook her head and looked at Mrs. Dithers. “This should only take a minute. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Is Shaw still out?” she asked Ms. Collins.
“Yes. I doubt he’ll be back in today.”
“Have them meet me in his office.”
Ms. Collins disappeared.
Margot apologized to Mrs. Dithers and went across the hall to Shaw’s office.
Ames and Radcliff were already there.
“I hope this can be quick, I’ve got a client.”
“We just wanted to give you a heads up. Gloria Romero was murdered today. Shot dead when she answered the door to her apartment,” Radcliff told her.
“Okay,” Margot said slowly as she strained her memory for the name ‘Gloria Romero.’
“Once the brass realizes the connection between you and lover boy, I’m guessing they take us off the case,” Ames said.
“You mean Radcliff?” Margot asked.
“You don’t call him lover boy?”
“I’m confused. What do Radcliff and I have to do with anything?”
“They frown on detectives dating suspects.”
“I’m a suspect?”
“Probably the leader in the clubhouse once someone figures it out.”
“Figures what out? Am I just on the list whenever someone gets themselves killed in this town? Who is Gloria Romero and why would I kill her?”
“She’s Cassandra Coles' roommate,” Radcliff told her.
“Cassie with the YouTube show?”
“That’s the one,” Ames told her.
“Why would I kill Cassie’s roommate?”
“They looked a lot alike, same height and weight more or less, and they both liked the Goth look. It could be an easy mistake, especially if you shot her in the face when she looked in the peephole.”
“You think I shot her by mistake looking to kill Cassie?”
“I don’t think that,” Radcliff told her, “Someone is going to though. Given your history with the department, what you said about being a suspect in every murder in this town isn’t that far from the truth. It’s bad enough you were hanging out with a scumbag like Mal, but after the incident with Anderson, I’d say you were even less popular.”
“Anderson shot himself.”
“Yeah, but some people still blame you.”
“He was dirty.”
“Yep, and he was an asshole too but surprisingly well-liked.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t believe it either,” Ames said. “Otherwise, we’d be having this conversation in an interrogation room.”
“The easiest thing would be if you had an alibi,” Radcliff added.
“What time are we talking?”
“Around nine, give or take a half an hour.”
Margot thought about it for a second and then said, “Shit.”
“That doesn’t sound like what someone with a rock-solid alibi says.”
“I didn’t have any appointments in the morning and my paperwork was caught up for the most part so after I left your place, I went home and then went for a run up the beach. By the time I got here, it was nearly 10:30.”
“So, at the time of the murder, you were running along the Pacific?”
“Yeah. Someone saw me but…”
“Random beachgoers who happened to notice you jogging and happened to know what time they saw you might be hard to find?” Radcliff asked.
“Yeah.”
“Especially when the detectives in charge aren’t very interested in proving your innocence,” Ames added.
“Why would I kill Cassie anyway? I didn’t like the way she portrayed me on her show, but we came to an agreement. All that ‘Viuda Negra’ crap was over. She’d moved on to slandering other people.”
“Have you watched the show recently?” Ames asked.
“It wasn’t really my thing.”
Ames and Radcliff looked at each other and then Radcliff took out his phone. He cued up the latest episode of Cassie’s show and handed it to Margot.
Over crime scene photos—evidence that the young reporter shouldn’t have had access to—
Cassie narrated. The stills showed a trio of young men seated at a fold-up card table. In the center of the table was a pizza box with a couple of slices left. It was surrounded by empty beer cans. The still shots showed the men all suffered bullet wounds, mostly to the face. None of them were living and most would have had to have been identified via fingerprints since the lead makeover they all received rendered them unrecognizable.
“Could the notorious cartel assassin they call ‘Viuda Negra’, Spanish for Black Widow, be operating again on this side of the border?” Cassie said. “What you’re seeing is the scene in Rancho Cucamonga where three men known to be part of the cartel’s heroin distribution network were murdered as they were eating dinner. This is believed by my sources to be part of a house cleaning by the new regime. Those thought to be loyal to the old leaders are being purged.”
