Twisted Interest (Margot Harris 7)
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“I don’t put anything past anybody. Did he try something?”
“Not with me, but I saw him when I was visiting Phoebe’s.”
“That could be a problem. I don’t suppose he said or did anything while you were there?”
“He did a lot of leering since Phoebe was wearing a very small bikini, but that’s what I’d say she was going for.”
“Hardly illegal. Even if he’s doing more than just looking, as long as she’s consenting, it might be wrong, but it’s not illegal. Now, tell me why you thought your old boyfriend tried to kill you.”
Margot hesitated, she didn’t want to be a rat and felt like she was betraying Mal, but she decided he made his own choices and she couldn’t be responsible for the outcome of those choices.
“Dennis Thorn, which was the name Mal used working undercover, visited Conner Heller before the murder.”
“Mal visited Heller?”
“I think so,” Margot said, finding herself hedging on the truth and offering a little protection even though she shouldn’t be.
“Think?”
“No, I know it. I emailed him asking about it. I didn’t even know if he still checks his email.”
“Then he takes a shot at you thinking he doesn’t want you to spread this information around?”
“Exactly, but it wasn’t him.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me. Don’t ask where he is or why he might be talking to Conner Heller. I don’t know the answer to either one.”
“I’d say he was working as a middle man to whoever wanted Lucas dead.”
“I thought the same thing, but he said no.”
“And you believed him?”
“He told the truth about everything else.”
“You know I have to give this to Anderson.”
“I know and I don’t have a problem with it. I’m done helping Mal.”
“That’s actually really good to hear.”
He may have liked hearing it, but Margot didn’t like saying it.
Chapter 10
Even though Margot wasn’t an actual police officer, Heller’s lawyer insisted he be there when she talked to him. Margot ran into him heading into county jail. He didn’t drive a Porsche or wear a watch or a tailored suit like Thad. He was definitely not Browers and Associates caliber, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a good lawyer.
“Frederic Nolan, but you can call me Fred, if you’d like,” he told her as they walked in together.
“Margot.”
“Nice to meet you. I can tell you this is a waste of time. He’s not talking until he gets a deal. He’s not going to be intimidated either.”
“Do I look like I’m here to intimidate him?”
Fred shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time some high-level gangster sent a private eye to make the muscle work look more respectable.”