by Nora Kane
“Did you shoot back?”
“Yeah, I thought I might have hit him, but all I did was wake the neighbors. My Glock was a hell of a lot louder than Mrs. Stone’s twenty-two. Lights started going on just in time to see my bloody ass leaving. No doubt someone got my license plate. Which is why Ames was leaning on you this morning.”
“Even if he knew you were there though, he wouldn’t know Mr. Stone was my client.”
“He might have guessed. He’s an asshole, but he’s smart. He knows I still do some work for you and took a flyer that’s why I was there.”
“Maybe. Could the killer have been the same guy from dinner?”
“Possibly, similar height and build. The shooter seemed taller, but it was dark and shit was happening fast. The car was different but taking a different car than your own to commit murder makes sense.”
“I don’t suppose you got any pictures?”
“No, I was in gunfight mode before I got the chance. I hate to say it, but this guy seemed like a pro.”
“How pro could he be if you're still talking about him?”
“He hit me in the dark with a short-barreled pistol that wasn’t his own while we were both moving. He’s either lucky or damn good.”
“You’re no slouch yourself. You think you hit him?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, it was dark and we were moving. I had ten rounds in the magazine and I fired them all.”
“So, we’ve got to find a pro before Ames pins this on us?”
“Looks that way.”
“Damn, Mal, you never make it easy.”
“Yeah, well, where do you want to start? A guy like Stone has to have a long enemies list.”
“It wasn’t a secret he was out of town. I’d say the target was Katrina.”
“Which would make the top suspect Stone himself. How long is he gone?”
“A week.”
“We’ll both be in jail by then.”
“Yeah, I guess we’re going to need to figure this out without him. If you did hit him and he is a pro, he won’t go to a hospital. Do you know where he could go to get stitched up?”
“A lot of ifs there.”
“We don’t have the option of pursuing sure things. Do you know or don’t you?”
“You seem to be implying I’m some sort of criminal. Remember, I got shot and went to you.”
“That’s because the other guys would expect you to pay them. Is that a yes or no?”
“I can make some calls, though discretion is what they pay these guys for. What are you going to do?”
“Find out who her date was. At the very least, he might know who wants to kill her.”
Chapter 6
“How’s my favorite bartender?”
“I’m no one's favorite bartender; bar owner, maybe, but this is a job for people with two hands.”
Margot smiled, “You seem to be doing okay.”
Lefty shrugged and went about pouring Margot a Maker’s Mark over ice. Since it was mid- afternoon on a weekday, Lefty’s was pretty much empty. There were only a couple of day drinkers sitting at the bar. Things were slow enough that Lefty himself was pouring the drinks. There were a lot of stories out there about how Lefty lost his left arm. None of them came from him and most likely none of them were true. He seemed to like it that way.
He put the drink in front of her, “I suppose you’re here for a favor.”
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve got a sixth sense for that kind of thing. Lucky for you, being on the good side of a cop is good for business.”
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
“Even better, having someone who can catch a bartender skimming and break his arm if need be owing me a favor is good for business too. Spit it out, I can only say no.”
“There was a tall brunette, built like a stereotypical male fantasy, having drinks at my favorite table last night.”
“Katrina Stone.”
“Yeah.”
“What about her? You’re working for her husband, aren’t you?”
Margot didn’t answer the second part since he was still the client and asked, “I’m curious about the guy with her. He didn’t happen to pay with a credit card, did he?”
“No, cash only. Smart if you’re hanging out with the trophy wife of a guy like Dean.”
“First name basis?”
“We’ve both been hanging around this town for a while. I ain’t proud of it, but there was a time when we ran in the same circles. I decided I wanted to be legit and he decided he wanted to be rich.”
“Looks like you both got what you wanted.”
Lefty shrugged, “Or we both wish we were the other guy.”
“What can you tell about the guy she was with?”
“Not much. Unlike Dean, this guy wasn’t from around here.”
“How did they seem together?”
“You mean, did they look like they were fucking?”
“We can start there.”
“I’d say no.”
“Friends?”
“Harder to tell on that one, but I’d say no.”
“Does she come here often? With other guys?”
“No, never. Too many people around here who know her husband. It seems to me this is among the last places she’d want to show up with a side piece.”
“Is she trying to tell her husband something?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I’m not sure what. Like I said, they weren’t acting like lovers. You and Dean looked friendlier yesterday afternoon.”
One of the day drinkers motioned for Lefty.
“I’ve got some work to do. I don’t know what else I could really tell you.”
“No problem, I think I’ve got all I need.”
“What’s this about? If you don’t mind me asking. I’ll understand if you can’t answer.”
“It’s not a secret. Katrina Stone is dead, murdered after she left here.”
“Seriously?”
“I wish I was joking.”
“The guy from last night?”
“It’s certainly possible. That jog your memory?”
“No, I wish I did know him, I’d give his punk ass up in a heartbeat.”
The day drinker waved his empty glass. Lefty looked like he was going to tell him to go fuck himself, but Margot told him, “Get the man a drink, I’m good.”
Lefty shuffled off to get the man another drink and Margot worked on her whiskey on ice.
She was getting ready to settle up and leave when Detective Ames sat down next to her.
“Am I under arrest again?”
“No.”
“Then sit somewhere else.”
“I was hoping you might help me find Mal. It’s for his own good.”
“Sure it is.”
“I know, it sounds like standard cop bullshit, but we’re not the only ones looking. He’s going to want to be found by us first.”
“Who else is looking?”
“Bring him in and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Margot shook her head. “Sure you will. What part of sit somewhere else did you miss?”
“You know, you never should have quit. You had good instincts and a good moral compass.”
“How would you know anything about me?”
“I pay attention. Your only weakness was a blind spot for Mal. You let him take you down with him back when you were cops and you’re letting him do the same thing now.”
“That so?”
“If you're with him when they find you, I can’t help.”
“I don’t remember asking for help.”
“You should be. Your lawyer is going to run out of stall tactics and you're going to find yourself locked up. Do you think anybody inside is going to care you’re no longer a cop?”
Before Margot could answer that, Lefty approached, saying to Ames, “What can I get you?”
“Nothing, thanks.”
“Bar stools are for paying customers.”
>
Ames gave Lefty a hard stare for a long second before getting up.
“I’ll catch you later,” he said to Margot before he turned and walked out.
“You want to go out the back?” Lefty asked.
Margot put a twenty on the bar.
“Sure.”
Chapter 7
“Where you at?” Mal asked as soon as Margot picked up the phone.
“Walking the pier until Ames gets tired of sitting on my car. He showed up at Lefty’s. He might have been on me since I left the station.”
“Good thing I didn’t go with you. You get anything on the guy who was with Katrina last night?”
“Nothing. Did you know Lefty and Dean Stone knew each other?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. They both grew up here and as you know, even though we’ve got big cities to the north and south, this isn’t that big of a town. That all you learned?”
“Yeah, how about you?”
“I hit up the guys I know who would do that kind of thing and struck out, but I think I’ve got a line on a new guy in town who would treat a gunshot wound on the sly. Apparently, he’s making a killing in the underground surgery business. More than one of my doctors hinted they’d love it if I put him out of business.”
“So, he’s good?”
“The best apparently. He used to be a big shot surgeon up North but had a coke and stripper problem and lost his license. Should have done time from what I hear. If I hit our guy—and our guy is a pro—this dude Dr. Barger would be the one.”
“You got a location?”
“No, I’ve got a phone number, but I wouldn’t bother calling him. He won’t talk about clients. He stills likes the strippers and the coke, however. Apparently, he has a favorite and she was with him last night. Only she didn’t spend the night at his place like she usually does. You want to guess the only reason he’s ever sent her home early?”
“He had a client.”
“Exactly. He might be tough to crack, but I’ll bet Trixie would tell all she knew if you asked nicely and maybe slipped her a C-note. I’d do it but between this hole in my side and the cops, I think I ought to lay low.”
“So, I’m going to have to go to a strip club?”
“No, her shift doesn’t start until eight. I figure if you go now you can catch her at her apartment before she leaves.”
“Where does she live?”
“Just down the street from you. I’ll text the address.”
Chapter 8
If Ames was still watching Margot’s Toyota Prius, he was doing a good job of it because Margot didn’t see any sign of him. Mal gave her a hard time for driving a fuel-efficient hybrid instead of some muscle car with a big engine. The fact was she logged a lot of miles in this job but had yet to have to chase anyone.
Margot was a little disappointed to see how much nicer an apartment Trixie had than she did. She checked the little digital recorder she kept in her purse. She stored it a side pocket that wasn’t obvious unless you knew it was there. She didn’t keep it there so much to hide it as to keep it out of the way in case she needed to reach inside for her gun, the mace, or the telescoping baton. The last thing she needed was to go to break someone's knees with the baton and come up with a cheap recording device.
She checked the remaining memory on the digital device and considered erasing her conversation with Lefty. It felt weird recording him since she spent so much time drinking there; he seemed more like a friend. It was a work conversation, though, and she liked having an actual record of what was said.
It seemed there ought to be more than enough memory left—unless Trixie was going to talk for a couple hours—so she didn’t delete the conversation. She walked to the door before turning it on and sticking it back in the hidden pocket.
After Margot knocked, a girl with hair a shade of red that doesn’t exist in nature opened the door. She kept the chain on so all Margot could see was a face with too much makeup poking out.
“Are you the dude? Or should I say, the chick?”
“Probably not. I wanted to ask you some questions about a friend of yours. I can make it worth your while.”
“You a cop?”
“No.”
“You look like a cop. You even smell like a cop.”
“What’s a cop smell like?”
“It’s the breath. You smell like you’ve been sucking pig dick.”
“How do you know what that smells like?”
“Go fuck yourself, cock breath.”
Trixie started to shut the door, but Margot drove the heel of her Nikes into it. The kick broke the chain and knocked Trixie over on her butt.
Margot stepped in and shut the door behind her.
Trixie lived in a nicer building, but her place was trashed. Take-out boxes and liquor bottles shared floor space with overflowing ashtrays and drug paraphernalia. The only furniture was a big sectional that at one time might have been blue. Trixie crawled over to it, knocking trash out of the way to get there and reached under the cushion.
Margot stepped over the trash and grabbed Trixie’s arm. She pinned her wrist against the sofa and put the palm of her other hand against Trixie’s elbow. She began to slowly push the elbow joint in a direction it wasn’t meant to go.
“I can let go and you can bring your hand out empty or I can break your arm. To be honest, I hope you choose broken arm.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“You told me to fuck off and said my breath smells like pig dick. You’re lucky I don’t break your arm just for that.”
“If you’re a cop, you can’t just bust down my door and break my arm. I have rights.”
“I told you, I’m not a cop. I just wanted to talk to you about what Dr. Barger did last night.”
“Why would I want to tell you shit?”
“Well, there is the whole broken arm thing and I was going to give you a hundred bucks.”
