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

by Nora Kane

  “Sheila Graves?” she asked the broad-shouldered woman who slid from under a Ford F-150 with a socket wrench in her fist.

  “That’s me, how can I help you?”

  “My name’s Margot Harris. I’m a private detective looking into the shooting two nights ago at Swifty’s.”

  “Well, I’m there a lot, but thankfully I wasn’t there that night.”

  “You were supposed to be.”

  “I was?” Sheila said as she stood up. She was tall and built like somebody who works with their hands. Margot noted that she didn’t put down the wrench.

  “According to Anthony West, you were supposed to meet him there.”

  “Who?”

  “Your Tinder date.”

  “What does any of this have to do with the shooting?”

  “You were supposed to meet the shooter that night.”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Are you saying I’m a liar?” Sheila asserted as she tapped the wrench in the palm of her hand, making sure Margot knew it was there.

  “If I say yes, are you going to try to hit me with that wrench?”

  “I don’t like being called a liar.”

  “Well, someone is lying to me. Do you know Anthony West?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Any idea why he would give me your name?”

  “None. I’m going to ask you to leave now. I’ve got work to do.”

  “You know, if you were supposed to meet him and for whatever reason changed your mind and decided not to show up, that's not a crime. I was just wondering if you arrived after he left and maybe heard anything relative to the incident.”

  “The incident? Is that what you call two good men getting killed? An incident?”

  “You knew them?”

  “Didn’t I already ask you to leave?”

  “You said you were going to but didn’t really get around to it.”

  “You need to leave. You’re starting to piss me off.”

  “Why?”

  “Excuse me?”

  As Margot was about to reply, a voice from behind her said, “Look lady, you need to go. If you keep pushing Sheila, I’m not going to be able to stop her if she decides to kick your ass.”

  Margot glanced back at the guy in a Manny’s Paint and Auto Body shirt. Sheila was rubbing her the wrong way, but Margot realized no good would come from continuing to prod the strangely angry Sheila. In truth, she probably wasn’t really relevant to the case anyway.

  “You all have a nice day,” Margot said as she turned to leave.

  “Don’t come back if you know what’s good for you,” Sheila spat.

  Margot turned around and countered, “If I find out you’re lying, I’ll be back.” She gave Sheila a smile before she marched out the front of the garage.

  She could have left her Prius in the lot and walked, but she could picture a pissed-off Sheila taking her wrench to it and she liked her car. She drove over to a parking lot with one car in it. Before she went in, she called Clauson. She expected to get a secretary since attorneys tended not to answer their calls, but it was Clauson who answered.

  “What do you need, Margot?”

  “Can you have someone do a screenshot of the messages West and Sheila Graves exchanged and save it? The faster it can get done, the better.”

  “I’ll have someone do it right now. What’s up?”

  “I have a feeling Sheila will be deleting her app. She was insistent to the point of violence that she’d never heard of Anthony West.”

  “Right.” Clauson paused for a moment. “Okay, it’s already done. What do you think Sheila’s reaction means?”

  “Could mean the account was fake or Sheila doesn’t want it out there that she brought a murderer to her local watering hole. Could be she’s just crazy. If it is something though, I’d rather we had the evidence.”

  “Never hurts to be thorough. I can see why Harry Lee likes you.”

  Margot was thinking Harry liked her for a lot of reasons and her thoroughness wasn’t on top of the list. She didn’t want to discuss that with Clauson so she simply said, “Thanks.”

  Swifty’s was open, catering to a lunchtime drink crowd of one. The bartender was a female, which at least meant there was a chance she was there that night. Other than her and her one customer, a bearded guy in a black Swifty’s shirt was cleaning off the small bar room’s small collection of high tables.

  “We don’t serve food,” he said to Margot as she walked in the door.

  “No problem,” she told him as she went over to the bar and asked, “You got Maker’s?”

  She found that when asking questions in bars, they were a lot friendlier if she ordered a drink. She wasn’t sure if she’d put it on the expense report or not since even if Clauson understood the reason for it on paper, it didn’t look very professional.

  “No, but if you’re looking for something from Kentucky, we’ve got Jim Beam.”

  “That will work, over ice.”

  “Coming right up.”

  The lone customer looked over and smiled, “You want me to get that for you?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” Margot told him as the bartender set her drink in front of her.

  Margot set her P.I.’s license on the bar and then asked, “Were you working the other night when—”

  “—Yeah, I was, but I was behind the bar. I can’t really help you.”

  Margot sipped her whiskey. Jim Beam made her appreciate Maker’s, but it was drinkable. After a pause to enjoy that fact, she said, “Actually, I was interested in what happened before.”

  “Whatever happened, it didn’t justify that asshole coming back and shooting Tank and Matt.”

  “I didn’t say it did. I’m just putting together what happened.”

  “There’s a police report, my statement is in it.”

  “I know, I read it, but those things can be sort of vague.”

  The guy cleaning the tables shouted out, “Who is this? You don’t look like a cop to me.”

  “I’m not. I’m private.”

  “So, you work for the defense?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can get your pretty little ass out of my bar.”

  “No need to be hostile. I’m just asking questions, it’s my job.”

  “If you think just because you're a chick I won’t kick your ass, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “Look, the drink is on the house. Why don’t you leave?” the bartender said. “Everything I know is in the report.”

  “Don’t talk to her, Mandy, and the drink sure as hell is not on the house.”

  “How much do I owe you?” Margot asked Mandy. She wasn’t getting anywhere anyway.

  “Fifty,” the man said before Mandy could answer.

  “Come on, Mack,” the customer chipped in, “give her a break.”

  “You want to get thrown out too?”

  “Her drink was ten and I’ve got it,” the customer persisted.

  “No,” Margot replied as she tossed a twenty on the bar. She put her business card on top of it. “I’ve got it. This should cover it.”

  “You’re thirty bucks short,” Mack said as he came around the bar and took a sawed-off with black tape around the handle out from under the bar.

  “Damn,” Margot said. “Why is everyone so angry today? You know you're the second person to threaten me with a blunt object?”

  “Maybe it's you.”

  “Maybe,” Margot replied as she turned to leave.

  “You owe me thirty plus tip,” Mack demanded as he came around the bar and snatched her business card off the top of the twenty.

  Margot ignored him.

  “Pay up or I take it out of your pretty little ass.”

  Margot turned and smiled. “You do what you think you have to do.”

  “She paid for the drink, Mack, let it go.”

  Mack didn’t take the bartender's advice and followed M
argot out into the parking lot. He crumbled up her card and threw it at her back.

  “You’d better pay up or start walking faster,” Mack growled as he continued to follow her.

  Instead of walking faster, Margot slowed down a little and let him get closer. “You know, I was kind of hoping you’d do this,” Margot said without turning around.

  “If you think I won’t kick your ass, you’ve got another thing—”

  Margot spun as she pulled the telescoping baton out of her purse. She went low and put the heavy metal ball at the end of the fully extended baton into Mack’s knee. While he was grunting in pain and trying to keep his balance, she came up and hit him in the elbow. She could tell his arm had gone numb immediately.

  Margot pulled the bat out of his hand with ease since he couldn’t feel anything from his forearm down and used it to uppercut Mack in the groin. He was hunched over holding his balls when he looked up to see Margot raise both her baton and his bat over her head to strike. He covered his head and she kicked his legs out from under him.

  After striking the pavement, Mack looked like he wanted to try to get back up until Margot dropped his bat and retrieved the can of mace from her purse. He dropped back down and curled into the fetal position instead.

  “Why is everyone so hostile today?” Margot asked him.

  He didn’t reply.

  Margot looked up and saw that Mandy the bartender and the customer had joined them in the parking lot. She thought she might be fighting them next but then the customer shouted, “That was awesome.” The look on Mandy’s face said she agreed.

  Margot looked down at Mack, “What is it that happened that you couldn’t just lie to me like anybody else?”

  “I don’t like people asking questions,” Mack groaned and then quickly covered back up his head.

  “You like getting your ass kicked better?”

  “You sucker punched me.”

  “You want to get up and try again?”

  Mack stayed curled in a ball.

  “Speaking of sucker punching,” Margot continued, “what really happened between Anthony West and Kevin Tankerson?”

  “I’ve got nothing to say and neither does anyone else.”

  Margot looked at Mandy and the customer.

  Mandy shook her head to let Margot know she wasn’t going to say anything in front of Mack.

  The day drinker shrugged and said, “I’m only here at lunch.”

  Margot realized that while she might be able to beat some information out of Mack, anything she did to him past this point wouldn’t really be self-defense and she liked working for Browers and Associates a lot better than she liked being a client.

  She looked down at Mack, “Do you still think I owe you something?”

  “Just leave, please.”

  Margot nodded.

  She was almost to her car when Mandy yelled, “Wait!”

  Margot turned and Mandy put a piece of paper in her palm.

  “Danny paid for your drink,” Mandy said as she motioned to the day drinker, “he insisted.”

  “Tell him thanks,” Margot replied as she got in her car. She opened her palm to see her twenty with Mandy’s phone number and the words After midnight written in black ink across Jackson’s face.

  Chapter 6

  “You know, instead of bribing Gomes with tacos and Tequila, you could have asked me,” Radcliff said after Margot explained why she wouldn’t be home.

  “I guess I should have, but old habits die hard. Plus, I don’t like taking advantage of you.”

  “But you’re good with taking advantage of Gomes?”

  “I wouldn’t like it if she decided to hate me forever, but I’d get over it. I can’t say the same about you.”

  “Wow, you turned that around nicely.”

  “Since I’m turning things around, I guess I’m going to have to go the other way for a second. I’ve got a new case working for Browers and Associates.”

  “That’s actually a good thing, unless it’s one of mine.”

  “It is.”

  “Seriously? I haven’t arrested anyone with that kind of profile or money in a while. Who is it?”

  “Anthony West.”

  “Really? How can he afford them?”

  “His dad worked for Harry Lee so the O.C. Task Force is pushing him to give them something. Harry hired them.”

  “Which says he might have something to give.”

  “Everyone denies it, but I’d say yes.”

  “It’d have to be something incredibly good to make a difference. I don’t see the D.A. losing this one. Seemed pretty clear at the time. We found shell casing in the car and his prints on the gun. Did something change?”

  “Only Harry’s money.”

  “Did you think I’d be mad?”

  “I don’t know. In my experience, homicide detectives sometimes take this stuff personally.”

  “You’re not wrong, but I figure I did my part. It's up to the D.A. now.”

  “Yeah, but speaking of your part, I did have a question.”

  “Are you saying I messed up?”

  “No, not even a little bit,” Margot said, glad to hear that he didn’t sound mad. Sometimes she forgot what a good detective he was. Unlike some others she’s run across, he didn’t let his ego get in the way. If the facts went up against his opinions, he went with the facts, which wasn’t always the case.

  “But?” Radcliff prompted.

  “Did anyone dust for prints on the shell casings?”

  “Of course.”

  Margot was thinking this was the end of West’s claim he didn’t have that many bullets, but then she went ahead and asked, “Were they my client’s?”

  “I think so. Who else would they belong to?”

  “He claims to only be in possession of six bullets at the time of the shooting.”

  “We found eight shell casings in the car.”

  “Thus the question.”

  “You know he’s probably lying or just bad at math.”

  “I know, but I have to look into it.”

  “Fair enough. Let me look it up. Since we found him, the gun and the car all together, I’m going to say the fingerprints on the shell casings weren’t a high priority.”