Shadow Of Betrayal (Margot Harris 4)

“For all we know right now, it could be coyote blood.”

Before Margot could reply to that, Ames said to her, “I know my younger dumber partner will tell you anything you want to know, but you need to stay out of this. Your initial instinct that you were too personally involved was spot on then and it’s spot on now.”

“I know,” Margot told Ames. “I’m just curious. I’m not launching my own investigation. I wouldn’t mind a report or two when you have something.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Brantley said.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Radcliff asked.

“No, Stick hadn’t filed his first report. All I knew was, I paid him to look for Randy and then he interviewed my sister for background. I didn’t even know he went to Borrego until you told me.”

“If you think of anything, you know where to find us,” Radcliff said.

“I certainly do. See you tomorrow?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Radcliff replied.

“Stop it,” Ames said to his partner, “you’re making me ill.”

Chapter 3

Margot hated insurance jobs even more than she did infidelity gigs. If she caught a cheating spouse, at least it felt like they invited trouble when they decided to step out. The two parties there were at least on more or less equal footing before one party decided to do the other wrong.

Checking on potential false insurance claims, however, usually involved her helping a client with very deep pockets deprive someone with the opposite of deep pockets of a modest sum of money. The person she was checking out could certainly be doing the insurance company wrong, but it wasn’t like they started on equal footing.

Of course, working for the party with deep pockets ensured Margot made a few bucks. With this in mind, she was sitting in the parking lot of a Twenty-Four Hour Fitness waiting to see if Mr. Jones, a man with a workman’s comp claim, would be showing up to work out with a broken back. He’d driven out here at this time yesterday and had gone inside, but for all she knew, he had watched other people work out or possibly participated in some kind of physical therapy. She’d gone in after him and talked to a lady who offered to sell her a membership. Margot talked her into letting her get a workout in to see how she liked the place and the lady agreed. Since Margot hadn’t brough any gym clothes, she had to hope Mr. Jones had a regular time and went every day.

It was looking like he wasn?

??t going to show. Margot hoped he was an every-other-day type of guy. She was thinking she’d have to go back and sit on his apartment again. She decided to give him another fifteen minutes since Mr. Jones didn’t have a busy schedule to work his gym time into.

While she was giving Mr. Jones a few more minutes, her phone buzzed. The number was one she recognized. It was the number for Stick’s business phone. She answered.

“Margot Harris?” a female voice asked.

“Yes, is this Ms. Collins?” she asked, thinking of Stick’s secretary.

Unlike her, Stick had an office and a Ms. Collins who served as a receptionist and helped with the paperwork. Margot had an email address and a local bar that didn’t mind her meeting clients there as long as she showed up once in a while and bought drinks. Stick also had a partner. An ex-cop by the name of Crenshaw.

“Yes, Mr. Crenshaw would like to talk to you. Is this a good time?”

“Sure,” Margot replied as she looked around and saw Jones still hadn’t shown up.

“Hey Margot,” Crenshaw said as he got on the line.

Like Margot he’d been a cop before he went private. Unlike Margot, he’d put in over twenty years and had an exemplary record before he decided to supplement his retirement by joining up with Stick and doing private work.

“Hey, Shaw,” Margot replied, using his nickname. As far as she knew, only Ms. Collins called him Mr. Crenshaw. “I’m really sorry about Stick.”

“So, you heard?”

“Two homicide detectives and a sheriff’s deputy came by my place this morning.”

“Surely they didn’t think you did it?”

“No, they just wanted to know what he was doing for me and if that’s what got him murdered.”

“Could it have been?”