by Nora Kane
“Makes sense. I just want to see how much he’s lying to me.”
“Give me a second.”
A few minutes later, Radcliff came back to the phone.
“Let me guess, my client is a useless liar,” Margot remarked.
“Probably, but this one is kind of weird.”
“How so?”
“Shell casings were pristine. Not even a partial. It was like someone wiped them down and wore gloves while they loaded the gun.”
“That’s not exactly unheard of.”
“Sure, for professionals, but they don’t drive their own car and leave the casings on the floor very often, or use a weapon registered to them that has their prints all over it.”
“So, Anthony West was a total amateur except for this one thing?”
“Yeah, which is weird. Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it—people do weird stuff all the time—but it does make me curious.”
“Do you want to be more curious?”
“Not really. Crime won’t stop just because I’m curious. In fact, we’re still nowhere on that armored car thing that left a guard dead.”
“When’d you get that?”
“When they realized some crew got clear with over a half-million dollars, and the guys that caught it are going to need help.”
“I’m sure with you on the case, it will be solved in no time.”
“I wish that were true…but back to your case. Tell me why I should be more curious?”
“I went to talk to a couple of possible witnesses. One was his no-show Tinder date so I’m figuring it’s one of those necessary wastes of time because you never know.”
“I had it down as an unnecessary waste of time, but we have slightly different jobs.”
“Yeah, except she lied about the date and then threatened to bash my head in with a socket wrench for reasons I’m still not clear on.”
“You didn’t do anything, did you?”
“Like take away the wrench and make her wear it?”
“Did you do that?”
“Not to her.”
“To someone else?”
“The guy at the bar was even worse. He attacked me with a bat.”
“Why?”
“I guess the victims were good customers.”
“Probably friends.”
“It was still too much. He could have just said he had nothing to say or lie like a normal person, but he was acting like he wanted to be sure I didn’t come back.”
“Like he was trying to warn you off?”
“Yeah, and he was willing to leave some bruises, or worse, to make his point.”
‘He clearly doesn’t know you.”
“He knows me better now.”
“Am I going to have to bail you out of jail soon?”
“Nah, he was more embarrassed than hurt.”
“Well. You’re right, though. That’s weird too, but not reopen-the-case weird. I don’t think I can help you.”
“You already have. You know, you could have tacos and Margaritas with us?”
“That’s okay. You enjoy girls’ night out.”
Chapter 7
Margot did enjoy girls’ night out. The fact was, Gomes only needed two jumbo margaritas and one plate of grilled fish tacos to be completely happy. They didn’t talk about their jobs for a single second and Margot remembered why they became friends in the first place.
The night ended before the clock struck eleven but so did Radcliff’s. He was out cold when she got home. She still had an hour before she needed to call Mandy and considered vegging in front of the television, but instead ended up googling the Surf Coast Credit Union Shootout that had made Fast Tony ‘The Wheelman’ Wyland famous. She wasn’t sure how it had anything to do with his son’s predicament, but she felt compelled to revisit it anyway.
She was a rookie patrol woman when three men armed with AK-47s and wearing body armor decided to knock over the credit union. A witness saw them going in; luckily for Fast Tony, they didn’t see the car. The machine guns distracted them from just about everything else going on around them. In a bit of bad luck for everybody, a patrol car—Margot could easily have been inside—was passing by the shopping center. The patrolman died in a hail of gunfire but not before he uttered the words ‘officer down’ into his radio.
Half the force was already on the way and just about every law enforcement officer in the county descended on the area. Even Margot, who was on the other side of town.
Most of the cops who sped to the scene got there after it was long over, including Margot. Now, fourteen years later, she was about to decide her initial instinct that this wasn’t relevant to the current situation was on the money. Then she noticed the name of the man who died by the locked passenger door of Fast Tony ‘The Wheelman’ Wyland’s souped-up Ford Mustang.
His name was Roland Graves. Margot wondered if he was related to Sheila. The ages were right for them to be father and daughter. Of course, she could be named Graves and have no relation to the dead bank robber at all.
She hadn’t really paid attention to the robbers' names. For some reason, who they were hadn’t seemed relevant. She’d been more interested in what they did, but now as she re-read the names again, she realized Graves wasn’t the only familiar name. Another robber was named Tankerson.
Again, they might not be related to the victim and the Tinder date who didn’t show, but it was a weird coincidence. While she pondered the possible significance of this, the clock struck midnight. Margot gave it a few minutes so it would technically be ‘after midnight’ and then made the call.
“This is Mandy. I’m guessing this the P.I. from this afternoon?”
“Yeah, sorry for the scene today. Your boss caught me off guard.”
“Yeah, I wish I could say the same. He loves to threaten people with that bat. Usually, they just keep moving, and he makes a lot of noise.”
“I couldn’t take that chance. Getting hit with a bat hurts.”
“I bet.”
“Can you tell me what happened that night?”
“To a point. I was behind the bar inside when the shooting part happened. I was there for the fight.”
“Was it a fight?”
“No, I guess not. That guy, West, was just sitting there at the bar, looking annoyed about something, but if he talked to Tank, I didn’t see it. Tank was by the pool table talking to Matt and some guy I don’t know. He walked over, tapped West on the shoulder, and then clocked him. I guess he was just having one of those nights.”
“What do you mean? Did he get in another fight?”
“Less a fight and more a confrontation. I figured this one had to do with the pool game since it was with the guy playing pool with him before he walked over and hit that guy. Mack was ready to toss him after that.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No, he should have. He should have given him the boot after he punched that guy.”
“Instead, he tossed the guy who got punched.”
“Yeah, but after he got hit, West was going to cause some trouble. He got up pretty quick and was going after Tank with bad intent. I think Tank was surprised he got up so fast; the dude could take a punch. Anyway, Matt and our doorman that night intercepted him before he got to Kevin and took him outside. They didn’t see any way he was going to come back in without trying to get some payback, so they eighty-sixed him and as far as most everybody was concerned, that was the end of it.”
“No one said anything to Kevin Tankerson about randomly punching customers?”
“Not that I know of. He’d have to do much worse for Mack to toss him. Mack and Tank’s dad were buddies, so as far as he’s concerned, Tank could do no wrong.”
“You say that like he did some wrong.”
“I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but yeah, he wasn’t perfect. Nothing that deserved the death penalty though. He must have felt a little bad about it because he tipped me a hundred when he bought the next round. Actually gave me
a brand new c-note.”
“Did he do that often when he ‘wasn’t perfect’?”
“Again, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but he didn’t like to pay for his drinks, let alone leave generous tips. Mack and his old man must have been really tight back in the day because he put up with a lot of crap from that dude.”
“Back in the day? They’re not buddies anymore?”
“I don’t think Tank’s dad is still alive.”
“You don’t think?”
“He gets kind of squirrely when talking about his family.”
“The guy you didn’t know, the one who talked to Kevin and then looked like he was going to fight him, can you describe him?”
“Sure, older dude—not the age guy Tank and Matt hung around, for the most part. Probably around Mack’s age, maybe older, average height, thin but strong looking…You know, I just remembered something else. It’s probably nothing, but after Tank gave me the brand new C-note is when he and the older guy got into it. I remember the old guy looking at me and thinking I might have done something wrong.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea. It was just a feeling. The other funny thing is, Mack made me put the hundred in the drawer and take my tip in old twenties.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. He acted like he wanted it, which I get, a crisp new bill like that is a rarity at Swifty’s. I can’t really criticize him too much. I exchanged it back when he wasn’t looking.”
This felt like it meant something, but Margot couldn’t quite come up with what.
“Anything else you can tell me about the old guy?” she asked instead.
“Actually, I can do better than a description. I’m still at the bar closing up…Let me check something.”
After a few seconds, she came back and said, “Yep, I can do better than a description, for sure. He paid with a credit card. His name is Paul Garris.”
“Didn’t the police take all those receipts? It’s kind of standard to create a witness list.”
“Yeah, they did, but they must have missed this one or something. Mack was the one who gathered the receipts; when I opened the next day, it was still in the drawer. The only reason I still have it was I thought we should give it to the cops and then I forgot about it altogether until right now.”
“Is that the kind of thing Mack does often? Misplace receipts?”
“No, never.”
“Any reason you can think of that he’d misplace this one?”
“No. You don’t think he did it on purpose, do you?”
Margot was starting to think he had, but she said, “I’ve got no reason to believe that, just curious. It wouldn’t matter anyway. They would have talked to everybody there regardless.”
“Yeah, except Garris left before it all went down. Right after he and Tank almost got into it.”
“Did Mack know Mr. Garris?”
“They talked but Mack talks to a lot of customers. I couldn’t say if it was just Mack being friendly or he knew him.”
“One more question.”
“Sure, I guess I’ve gone this far.”
“Do you know Sheila Graves?”
“From the body shop? Sure, she’s in her almost as much as Tank and Matt.”
“They know each other?”
“Of course they know each other! Swifty’s isn’t the kind of place you can spend that much time in and not know each other.”
“Romantically?”
Mandy laughed. “Not that I know of. More like a brother-sister thing. I think they’d known each other since they were little kids so they were just friends.”
“She ever meet other people at Swifty's? Like dates?”
“If she ever had a date, she didn’t take them to Swifty’s. That might not mean much, though. We’re a nice little dive and all, but this isn’t a place you take a date, especially not a first one.”
“Anthony West thought he was meeting her there.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged him to be her type. Are you sure?”
“His lawyer saved the messages. Unless it was a fake profile, he had a date to meet Sheila at your bar that night.”
“That’s odd. Even odder is she never showed.”
“She’s not the kind of person to blow off a date?”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I just mean, well, she’s not the kind of person not to swing by our bar.”
Chapter 8
Margot spent the morning on her computer at the office going through all the databases she could access. It didn’t take long to find Paul ‘Paulie’ Garris. Margot could see why Mack wanted to keep his name out of it; Paulie had a long history with law enforcement and none of it was good. Given the number of arrests he’d piled up over the course of three decades —he seemed to alternate between assault and armed robbery—it was something of a wonder he was still a free man, even though he was currently on parole for what appeared to be a bar fight. Margot figured the miracle of his freedom was probably a willingness to talk about his fellow criminals in exchange for leniency.
A search of known associates turned up some interesting names. Margot found his most current address and employer and decided to go talk to him about it.
Paulie answered the door to his inland apartment shortly after she knocked.
“My name’s Margot Harris. I’m a P.I. working for Anthony West’s defense team—”
“—You’re the broad who beat up Mack.”
“The broad?”
“I mean it with the utmost respect. Is broad offensive?”
“Oddly enough, not when you say it. Can I come in?”
“I don’t see any reason we can’t talk out here. I can’t imagine this is going to be a long conversation. I wasn’t even there that night—”
“—Yeah, you were.”
“Pretty sure the cops make a witness list. Have your boss get a copy. You won’t find my name on it.”
“Yeah, because Mack’s a pal and you’re on parole so he did you a solid. People saw you though and we both know you were there, so let’s not play this game. Whatever else you’re into, I’m not here about that. I’m just looking to fill in the details the police report left out. I could have told the police you were there and let them ask the questions, but I didn’t. I came here myself because I don’t want to jam you up if I don’t have to.”
“I appreciate that, but what difference does it make? Let’s say for the sake of argument I was there? If I was, I didn’t see anything—at least, not anything that isn’t already in the report.”