On The Money: A Margot Harris Mystery (Margot Harris Mystery Series Three Book 2)

by Nora Kane

  On the Money

  Margot Harris Series 3

  Book 2

  Nora Kane

  On the Money by Nora Kane Copyright © 2021 by Nora Kane.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Books by Nora Kane

  1. Secrets of Woodcrest Manor

  2. Wolverine Harbor Novellas Series

  Book 1 - The Veil of Deceit

  Book 2 - The Veil of Envy

  Book 3 - The Veil of Vengeance

  3. Margot Harris Series One

  4. Margot Harris Series Two

  6. Margot Harris Series Three

  Book 1 – On The Prowl

  Book 2 – On The Money

  Book 3 – On The Lam

  Book 4 – On The Loose

  Book 5 – On The Edge

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  Claim Your Free Copy of My Book Secrets of Woodcrest Manor.

  This book is not available anywhere else, exclusive for subscribers of Nora Kane’s Newsletter.

  When the Patriarch of the Woodcrest Family was found dead in the flowerbed under his bedroom window, the local police department called it suicide. His son hired Private detective Emmy wanting to uncover the real truth behind his father's death. Surrounded by so many individuals who could benefit from his death, now the responsibility is on Emmy to figure out who was responsible. When Emmy starts to talk to the heirs the Woodcrest family's secrets begin to emerge.

  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

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  Prologue

  “Know what to do?”

  “Just because I haven’t worked with you guys, doesn’t mean I’m some amateur.”

  “Say it to me anyway.”

  The new guy shrugged. “We go in hard; you take down the security guard, your boy goes to the counter and tells the tellers what’s up while I take position by the door. I’m watching the inside in case anyone tries to play hero as well as keeping an eye on the door in case some fool comes wandering in. If things go as planned, we’re out of here in under three.”

  “Sounds to me like he’s got it, Kenny.”

  Kenny looked back, shot his long-time partner in crime a hard look. For one, Kenny didn’t like being interrupted and for two, he didn’t like his name being used during a job, even if they were in the car on the way. He said it created bad habits and he wasn’t wrong. It was especially tough for the two of them since they’d known each other for so long. They had wives who hung out with each other and kids who played together; it was weird calling him anything but Kenny, but he didn’t want to slip up inside the bank so he said, “Sounds like he's got it, Spider.”

  “It’s better to be sure,” Kenny said adding, “Cobra.”

  “So, you get to be Cobra, and he’s Spider, why do I have to be just ‘New Guy’? Why can’t I be Gator or something like that?”

  “Because you’re the new guy. If we do this right, we shouldn’t have to talk to each other at all anyway.”

  New Guy decided that would be alright, but he did ask, “So, the guy who couldn’t make it, what name did he use?”

  “Crackers,” Cobra said.

  “Crackers? That’s not even an animal.”

  “No one said it had to be an animal.”

  Kenny looked at the driver. “How about you?”

  “You don’t even need to ask. There’s a reason they call me ‘The Wheelman.'”

  “But that’s not what we’re calling you today.”

  “Hell, man, I ain’t getting out of the car.”

  Kenny decided that was reasonable.

  The three of them piled out as The Wheelman slowed. Everyone had a bandana and sunglasses covering their face and baseball caps obscuring their hair. Each one had on a long coat, much too warm for the current weather, and leather gloves over their hands. Everybody had an AR-15 with the stock cut down so they could hide it under their coat until the moment they burst into the bank. Spider had his hanging on a harness under his coat so he could have a taser in one hand and sap in the other. If the pattern held, the guard would be by the door telling people who came in to take off their hats and sunglasses. Oftentimes, he opened the door for customers. They came at the Surf Coast Credit Union—they all called it a bank job even though it was technically a credit union—from the side so the security guard wouldn’t see them until they were coming inside.

  The security guard opened the door for Spider when he went to grab the handle. He got tased and smacked on the head with the sap. Spider pushed him inside and the three of them followed.

  A car idling in front of the bank would draw the wrong kind of attention, so The Wheelman pulled around and backed into a parking space that would give him a straight shot at picking them up when they left the bank.

  The Wheelman almost pulled right back out when the black and white cruised into the parking lot. He’d never told the others, but he was concerned that a more accurate name for Crackers might have been Rat. Instead of stopping at the bank, however, the cop pulled into a parking space. Surf Coast Credit Union was in a mini-mall next to a grocery store. The cop appeared to be stopping to go into the store. If everybody listened and no one tripped an alarm, he might be inside the store while the crew was running out. They might drive away before he even knew the credit union had been robbed. The presence of the police so close could be a problem, but it was one they could overcome as long as he kept walking.

  He was halfway there when he stopped, put his ear to the radio he wore on his shoulder, and looked at the bank. He was moving back toward his car when New Guy came out of the bank.

  The Wheelman had the car in gear ready to drive across the front of the credit union, cop or not, but he waited. The cop spun with his gun drawn. New Guy let out a burst of fire as the cop pulled the trigger.

  Both men missed. They both also realized they were shooting at each other, so they were soon ducking and firing, more worried about getting shot than hitting their target. As a result, neither man did anything but collateral damage.

  Spider and Cobra were better. They stayed calm and aimed, but the cop made himself a small target behind a parked car. They fired, keeping him ducking for cover. With the cop pinned down, The Wheelman started to drive but once more he hesitated as the security guard came out of the door. He had a gun, a smaller one than what he’d carried on his hip, which Spider had taken away after tasing and sapping him. He must have kept the thirty-eight stashed somewhere, probably on his ankle.

  The security guard shot Cobra in the back twice and was turning toward the other two when Spider
gave him a faceful of bullets. The cop who’d been pinned down decided this was the time to fire back, but when he rose up, the New Guy put a line of slugs across his midsection. A bullet found its way through where his bullet-proof vest connected at his side and the cop went down for good.

  Once more, The Wheelman was going to drive, but a black and white he never saw coming pulled in front of him and blocked his way to the credit union. Another one came around the other side and blocked them in from that side too.

  Spider unloaded his gun on the car nearest to the getaway car and then drew the pistol he’d stolen from the dead guard. He grabbed Cobra by the coat and started dragging him toward the getaway car.

  New Guy tried to do the same thing to the car that blocked the other side, but the first cop out shot him through the eye. He dropped down, pulling the trigger though, and sent the cop that shot him ducking for cover.

  Three more squad cars came roaring into the parking lot as well as a car from the sheriff's department. An officer was down, so every cop on the street was descending on the Surf Coast Credit Union.

  Spider fired the pistol and ran as fast as he could while dragging Cobra’s dead weight toward the getaway car. Someone fired back, and he was hit in the shoulder and spun around. He scrambled between a couple of parked cars as multiple officers returned fire. The injured Cobra tried to crawl toward cover, but he was struck multiple times and dropped face-down onto the pavement for the last time.

  More police poured into the parking lot, including ones wearing full body armor and carrying assault rifles. A few stopped and blocked off the exits.

  Spider rose up from between the cars with a gun in each hand, his and Cobra’s, both with a new magazine. There were a lot of police now, but none of them wanted to get shot so just about everybody was ducking for cover as Spider fired with two guns. Once everyone ducked, he ran. Not fast enough to avoid taking another couple of bullets, though, one through the side and another in the thigh.

  He still reached the car, but The Wheelman locked the door. No one was getting away now and he felt his best chance was just to claim innocence. It was a long shot; if anyone had seen them getting out of the car, he’d be sunk, but it had a better chance than trying to run for it.

  At least four of the ten bullets that hit Spider as he started to yell at The Wheelman to open the door were instantly fatal.

  Chapter 1

  Fourteen years later

  “It’s another ugly one,” Garth Clauson, one of the associates at Browers and Associates said as Margot sat down across from him at Layla’s West.

  “You know, I have an office now, I don’t meet clients here as a general rule anymore.”

  “I know, but this is way cooler than my office. I’ll be honest, I just don’t get to go places like this these days. I miss them. Plus, I figured if I wasted both our time, I’d rather do it here with a nice Martini.”

  “Why do you think you might be wasting my time?” Margot asked. She was already worried this wasn’t going to be professional and his words now weren’t helping. If Browers and Associates wasn’t such a prestigious firm and valued client, she never would have met him at a bar.

  “For one, I believe you have a relationship with the lead detective on the case.”

  “Radcliff?”

  “Yes. Is that correct?”

  “We live together, so yeah, we have a relationship.”

  “The second is it involves a mobster who I understand you might want to distance yourself from. His ‘friendship’ has not been good for your reputation.”

  “You mean Harry Lee?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Harry kill somebody?”

  “Detective Radcliff hasn’t told you?”

  “No. Unfortunately, he often works multiple homicides. He only tells me about the really messed up ones. Did Harry kill somebody?”

  “Not this time. An associate of his did, however. As you might guess, the O.C. task force is pushing hard to get him to flip. I understand you don’t have a lot of friends there.”

  “I had some run-ins with some bad cops. People died and they weren’t happy with me. I guess this would be the third reason I would want to avoid this one.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be working against them.”

  Margot leaned back and took a sip of her Makers over ice. It was the middle of the workday, but if Clauson was having one, she figured she could have one too.

  “Given there’s already three strikes against me, why am I here? There are plenty of good detectives out there, you could have asked Shaw.”

  “I’m going to give you one guess.”

  “Harry asked for me.”

  “Yes, and he’s paying the bills.”

  “Did you tell him to go with somebody else?”

  “Would you hate me if I said yes?”

  “No.”

  “Then yes. When it comes to Harry Lee, you have some baggage but on the other hand, you’ve proven to be good at this kind of thing. You were exemplary last time you worked for us.”

  “Yeah, well, that didn’t turn out all that well though, did it?”

  “Yeah, Phoebe Masterson is a piece of work, but to be fair, the only crime she’s been arrested for was the one she probably didn’t do. Regardless of what happened afterward, your job was to help us defend our client and you were excellent in that regard. This kid might actually be innocent. Trust me, if I didn’t think there was a good chance, we’d be looking to make deals and Harry would be paying lawyers to keep him out of jail instead of my client.”

  “I think that’s what he’s doing now. It’s in his best interest that your client keeps his mouth shut.”

  “Of course, but if it gets what seems to be a decent kid off the hook then I can live with myself.”

  “If he’s working for Harry Lee, he’s not completely decent. Trust me, I know.”

  “I’m not going to dispute you on that. The question, however, is are you in?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  Garth lifted his glass. “Welcome to Team Garth. I guess we need to finish these drinks and actually get to work.”

  Chapter 2

  Margot was considering calling the associate she worked for on the Phoebe Masterson case who was her go-to when she needed the services of an attorney, to get the low-down on Garth Clauson. She’d read the report, and his belief he could win this case seemed misguided.

  Anthony West got in a fight at a bar and while the report didn’t declare a winner or loser, Margot got the feeling he’d lost, badly. The report didn’t state who started it, saying it was a verbal confrontation that escalated, but since West got tossed into the street by the staff and the other participant got to stay, Margot guessed West had started it.

  A lot of places frown heavily on people who start fights but have no problems with people who defend themselves, especially if the person doing the defending is a regular. Again, the report didn’t say so, but Margot guessed Kevin Tankerson and his friend Matt Hatten were regulars.

  On his way out, West, who witnesses say had a few more drinks in him than he could handle, said a lot of the things drunk guys who just got their ass kicked say. Many of which could be interpreted as threats. If somebody hadn’t shown up later and shot Tankerson and Hatten down drive-by style as they walked out to smoke, no one would have thought much about West’s drunken ramblings.

  The police would have been showing up at his place even if witnesses didn’t describe his car leaving the scene. Uniforms found West passed out on his own sofa; the murder weapon, still warm, was on his coffee table. If they’d arrived a few minutes sooner, it might have still been smoking.