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

by Nora Kane

  West claimed to have passed out on the couch after getting home and pouring himself a nightcap, but his fingerprints on the weapon he owned and the shell casings on the floor of his car said otherwise. There was nothing in the report about gunpowder residue on his hands but that could mean he washed his hands afterward or wore gloves he was smart enough to throw away.

  Margot knew why Radcliff never mentioned this one. All he had to do was file a report and spend a few minutes trying to get West to confess, which would make an already easy conviction that much easier.

  If Margot was representing Anthony West, she’d recommend he take whatever the D.A. was offering in exchange for telling the Organized Crime Task Force about Harry Lee. Of course, she wasn’t a lawyer so she’d do what she could. She’d get paid the same regardless.

  She was curious what West’s connection to Harry Lee was. It wasn’t in the reports, and it looked like the O.C. Task Force didn’t get involved until West was already arrested. Until they got involved, West was being represented by a Public Defender who Margot guessed was frustrated West wouldn’t plead guilty and hope to be eligible for parole sometime before he died of old age. Even if she didn’t have a history with the Task Force, they wouldn’t be offering any information since she was working for the defense team. She would have to talk to Harry Lee.

  She was picking up the phone to see if Garth Clauson was prone to fighting losing battles when someone called her. It wasn’t a number she recognized—so chances were it was just some idiot trying to sell her something she didn’t need—and she considered letting it go to voicemail but since the phone was already in her hand, she answered.

  “Is this the bounty hunter looking for Evan Hayes?”

  She wasn’t a bounty hunter, she was a private detective, but sometimes she did the same job. Evan Hayes was one of those, but the search for him had gone wrong in all sorts of ways. Someone else was looking for him too and that someone was willing to murder at least four people to get to him. As far as Margot knew, neither one of them had found him. On her end, the trail had gone cold. She was technically still looking for him, but she wasn’t holding out much hope of finding him. The bail bondsman had already written it off as a loss. At this point, her search had more to do with finding out why someone wanted him dead.

  Since she didn’t want to explain the difference, she said, “Yes, who is this?”

  “Who I am doesn’t matter. You still want to find him?”

  “I do.”

  “He’s back on the coast.”

  “There’s a lot of coast. In fact, there’s two of them.”

  “Not as far Hayes is concerned. He’s on this one and more specifically, back in his hometown or somewhere close.”

  “Can you get more specific?”

  “How much more specific do you want?”

  “An address?”

  “No, all I’ve got is he’s back in town.”

  Considering he was halfway across the country last time Margot got close, the information wasn’t as useless as it sounded. If she got some time, it would give her somewhere to start looking.

  “I’m assuming there’s a reward,” the caller added.

  “Not until I catch him. I’m going to need a name if you’re going to want to collect,” Margot told him.

  There was no reward for Evan Hayes, who skipped on an assault charge that no one but the victim really cared about, but Margot wanted to get more information on the caller. Guys like this often knew more than they were willing to let on.

  “No way, after you catch him, I’ll find you.”

  “It’d be easier if I knew how to get a hold of you.”

  “Yeah, but forget that.”

  “You afraid of something?”

  “Heck yeah, I am. Don’t ask what either, because you damn well know.”

  “Do I?”

  “You want me to say it?”

  “I want to know if we’re thinking the same thing.”

  “Boog is still looking too, and I don’t want that motherfucker anywhere near me.”

  “Boog?”

  The caller hung up.

  Margot looked at the number he’d used to call her. It probably led nowhere but instead of calling the lawyer, she called one of her few friends other than Radcliff still with the police to see if she could bribe her into running the phone number.

  Detective Doreen Gomes of the fraud division surprised Margot by answering instead of making her leave a voicemail.

  “Let me guess, you need a favor?”

  “Maybe I just want to invite you out for Margaritas and tacos on me.”

  “Girls’ night out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Since you moved in with Radcliff, I figured you didn’t do that kind of thing anymore.”

  “He won’t have a problem with it,” Margot said, thinking he’d be glad to see her drinking socially instead of just drinking.

  “I’m in. Tomorrow?”

  “You read my mind.”

  “While I’m reading minds, what plate number do you want me to run?”

  “No plate number.”

  “Really?”

  “You could back trace a phone number for me when you had some time though.”

  “Alright, read it off. Just know I’m not drinking the house margarita, it’s top-shelf tequila for this lady.”

  Margot hung up and saw that while she’d been talking to Gomes, someone had called. She checked her voicemail and found Clauson had left a message. He’d arranged a sit down with West first thing in the morning.

  Since she had some time, she called Harry Lee instead. He never answered, but his secretary told her he’d be glad to meet her at the usual place and gave her a time. For the second time today, Margot headed out to Layla’s West.

  Chapter 3

  Even though she arrived forty minutes early, Harry was already sitting at the back table with his back against the wall. His driver was at the bar and as soon as Margot walked in, he motioned to Stan, the owner—and this afternoon, the bartender—who started pouring Margot a glass of Maker’s Mark on the rocks.

  Margot sat down and a moment later her drink of choice was in front of her.

  Harry sipped a single malt Scotch, one he’d had Stan purchase just for him. Margot wondered if he met anyone else here, but Harry wasn’t the kind of guy who answered those kinds of questions so she didn’t bother to ask.

  “I assume you’re here to thank me for throwing some work your way,” Harry said.

  “I can always use a gig with a prestigious law firm, but I'm thinking more about asking why.”

  “Because you’re good at what you do.”

  “Thanks, but…”

  “Also, I look forward to any opportunity to spend time with you, Margot. You do know my previous offers all still stand?”

  “I don’t want to be your mistress, Harry. Don’t take it personally. I don’t want to be anyone’s mistress.”

  “But if you did?”

  “I’d keep you in mind.”

  “That’ll have to do for now.”

  “So, you got me a job just to hit on me?”

  “Hit on you? What, do I look like I’m twenty-two? I’m offering a mutually beneficial relationship. Besides, that’s just a side benefit. I got you a job because I don’t want to see an innocent young man railroaded into prison by an unfair justice system.”

  “Speaking of the innocent young man, how do you know him?”

  “I have to know him to want justice?”

  “Yeah, I kind of think you do.”

  “I actually don’t, but his father worked for me for years.”

  “Worked? He retire?”

  “You say that like it’s unusual.”

  “If he worked for you, I’d say it was. Is that a yes or a no?”

  “A yes.”

  “Can you tell me what he did?”

  “He drove trucks, flew planes, even occasionally piloted a boat.”

  “What was he
hauling when he was behind the wheel by ground, air, and sea?”

  “Things.”

  Margot nodded, this was about as good as it was going to get when it came to talking about Harry's illicit businesses. She asked, “But the son never worked for you?”

  “No, never. He doesn’t think very highly of me. His father did some time during young Anthony’s teenage years. It appears Dad missed a lot of soccer games and Anthony blames me.”

  “Was it your fault?”

  “I played a part, though I certainly didn’t intend to lose Fast Tony’s services for three years. His son seemed to believe the sentence was harsher than normal because they wanted Fast Tony to implicate me and he refused.”

  “Was he right?”

  “As you know, the police have a lot of problems with me. I’m sure my name came up.”

  “So, like father like son?”

  “Except only one of them actually had something to trade. Anthony is being punished for his father’s transgressions.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You sound like you have trouble believing I would be involved if I didn’t have any skin in the game.”

  “I have to admit, I do. Fast Tony sounds familiar. Is there some reason I would have heard of him?”

  “Fast Tony is also known as Tony ‘The Wheelman’ Wyland in some circles. Anthony and Tony’s mom never got married; it was probably good for Anthony not to be a Wyland. That name made the paper a few times.”

  Margot thought about it for a few seconds and then she realized where she’d heard the name. “The Surf Coast Credit Union Shootout,” she said. “His name did more than make the papers. It got a lot of cable news play back in the day.”

  “Three men dead after a shootout on a Monday afternoon and a guy with a name like Fast Tony ‘The Wheelman’ Wyland? How could those crime shows not eat it up? It gave him a certain amount of celebrity he could do without.”

  “I can empathize with him on that,” Margot replied, thinking about the time a local girl with a popular YouTube true crime show had decided to make Margot the subject.

  “Pretty much forced him into retirement,” Harry continued. “Being famous is about the worst thing someone could be in his line of work.”

  “He walked on that, though, didn’t he?”

  “He did. Since the robbers themselves never made it to the car, they couldn’t prove he wasn’t just sitting in the parking lot listening to the end of his favorite song on the radio instead of waiting to be the getaway driver for a bank heist.”

  “One guy reached the car, though, if I’m remembering right.”

  “You watch a lot of cable news?”

  “No, it happened when I was a rookie. I was there but not until all the shooting was over. Am I right?”

  “Yeah, but he never got in. Tony didn’t open the door. Every cop in the city was bearing down on that parking lot so it was the right move. They weren’t getting out of there. Tony’s a good driver, but even he wasn’t going to get out of that one.”

  “The guy he didn’t let in might disagree.”

  “He might, but I’ve found no one cares what a dead man thinks.”

  “Bank robbery doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

  “It’s not but if it involved driving, Tony was up for it. It wasn’t just cars; the guy just loves anything with an engine. Sometimes things were kind of slow on my end so he did a little freelancing.”

  “You were good with that? Seems high risk.”

  “I’d have preferred he didn’t, but Fast Tony had proven to be a standup guy. I didn’t worry about him.”

  “The kid might not know anything about you, but he might know something about his dad.”

  “I suppose he might. His mom hates Tony, but he always looked up to him. It’s why I’m surprised he never went into the business like his dad.”

  “His dad might still know something about you.”

  “He might.”

  “Now that he’s out of the game, he might not be so willing to do time on your behalf.”

  “Certainly possible. Does it make you feel better thinking I have an angle working?”

  “It does, makes it seem like the natural order of things has been balanced. I have to tell you though, having read the police report, it doesn’t look good.”

  “Police reports never look good for the accused.”

  “True, but they didn’t have to spin this one very hard to make your boy look guilty.”

  “Are you saying you’re giving up?”

  “No, just saying there might not be anything I can do.”

  Harry shrugged. “Do what you can. I have no doubts you’ll do your best.” He downed his Scotch then added, “So now you know why I want you on the case. Since you’ve got what you came for, want to stick around and have another drink with me?”

  “Even if I do, that’s all that’s going to happen between us.”

  Harry shrugged again. “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Margot was about to say no, but then she thought of another question. She said, “Sure,” and finished her whiskey. While she was finishing her drink, Harry motioned to his man at the bar who had Stan mix up a couple more cocktails. That done, Margot told Harry, “I’ve been trying to run down a skip trace, a guy named Evan Hayes.”

  “He doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “He shouldn’t. The part I want to ask you about is…I’m not the only one looking. The other party after Hayes plays rough, really rough.”

  “Rougher than you?”

  “I’m not even in their league. Heck, I’m not even playing the same game. You ever heard of someone called Boog?”

  “Kind of dumb name.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

  Harry thought about it for a long second before asking, “Short for Boogieman?”

  “I suppose it could be.”

  “I have heard of him, but I don’t think he’s real. He’s just another variation of an urban legend that’s common among the criminal class.”

  “Which urban legend is that?”

  “The unstoppable, almost supernatural contract killer. Usually, the legend has him killing people in cruel and unusual ways as if just being murdered in a straightforward simple way isn’t bad enough. Is The Boog after Mr. Hayes?”

  “Some people seem to think so.”

  “And you do too?”

  “Someone killed his cousin and a couple of friends of his where he was hiding out in Colorado. They did it in an ugly way too. In fact, I think ‘cruel and unusual’ sums it up pretty well.”