“Would I notice if things looked off?”
“Something like that.”
“I would, but I didn’t. That could be because Tim was working with crooks from day one, so it just looked normal. I’d say he was, but that’s just a guess.”
“But an educated one.”
“I suppose.”
Helms ate some more burrito and then added, “I don’t know if some crook killing Rita instead of Phoebe makes it better or worse. Maybe worse since she didn’t have anything to do with Tim’s shady business. It’d make it hard to be mad at her if she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“Sometimes. Other times, I’m unbearably sad. Others, it’s like I am now. I don’t know what to think.”
“I think that’s normal.”
“Yeah, but what would you know about it?”
“More than I want to. My mother was murdered.”
“No kidding? I’m sorry to hear that. Did they catch the killer?”
“They did,” Margot told him, leaving out the part where it was her father who killed her.
“Did it help?”
“Not really. Though I guess it didn’t hurt. If he’d never been caught, I think it might have hurt more.”
“Yet you’re working for Phoebe’s defense.”
“Yeah, well, if she did it, nothing I do is going to matter. If she didn’t, putting her away won’t do anyone any good.”
“It’d be nice to put someone away, though I agree it’d be better if it was the person who committed the crime. I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. Rita’s dead either way.”
“Who was the mobster?”
“I’d rather not say, especially in light of what happened to Tim and Rita.”
“I can find out anyway, you’d just be saving me some time and the headache of digging through Tim’s records. I’m not going to tell them who told me. Discretion is a big part of my profession.”
“Sounds like some sort of advertising slogan.”
“Maybe it should be. That doesn’t make it less true.”
Helms considered this for a long second before saying, “A punk by the name of Harry Lee. From what I understand, he made his money in heroin.”
When Margot didn’t say anything, Helms added, “You don’t look surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“I’d be careful with that guy. He didn’t get where he is by being nice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Margot was headed for her car when she spotted Cassandra Cole standing on the sidewalk next to Margot’s Prius.
Cassandra held up her hands like she was being arrested as she said, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re following me.”
Cassandra pointed over Margot’s shoulder at Derek Helms. “I was actually following him. The Masterson hot tub massacre is kind of a big story.”
“I noticed.”
“You’re working for Phoebe Masterson, aren’t you? Come on, just confirm it. It’s not like a secret or something.”
“Who I work for is none of your business.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, unless you’re working on behalf of your pal Harry Lee.”
“What does Harry Lee have to do with all this?” Margot asked her.
“I think you know. Word is, he wasn’t happy about the impending divorce.”
“Word from who?” Margot asked. Harry knowing about the divorce was news to her.
“I’d say a girl needs to protect her sources, but since Phoebe made a scene over the oyster bar by the pier, I don’t think I need to.”
“You are talking about the lighthouse?”
“Yeah, the fancy place next to Lefty’s Bar and Grill.”
“When did this happen?”
“What? I’m doing your legwork now?”
“Cooperate with me and maybe I cooperate with you.”
“Maybe?”
“I already agreed to an interview.”
“Okay, it was a week ago. Word gets around this town fast.”
“You know what she said?”
“Something about knowing where the bodies were buried.”
Margot shook her head and looked at her watch, she could probably get to The Lighthouse in time for the shift change and find someone who heard Phoebe’s rant firsthand.
“See you later Cassandra,” Margot said as she went around her and got in her car.
Margot drove off thinking, Phoebe lied to me again.
Chapter 8
For the second time today, Margot had good timing. She arrived after the lunch crowd left and before the dinner crowd showed up. Since it was a Saturday, there was still a smattering of customers, but the bar was empty, and the bartender was keeping himself busy washing glasses.
“Can I get you something?” he asked as he abandoned the glasses.
Margot ordered a light beer even though she was working—again, her exception for getting information from bartenders came into action. Light beer was a good choice since it was fairly cheap, she didn’t like it very much so it would be easy not to drink it, and even if she did, the alcohol content was low.
She put down a twenty, said, “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.”
“Were you here last Saturday?”
He smiled. “Is this about the Masterson Hot Tub Massacre thing?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Seems to be a popular subject. A reporter was here asking about it.”
“I’m guessing the police have been by as well.”
“No, just the reporter.”
“Cassandra?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I might be on her show. Have you seen it?”
“I have.”
“You kind of look like that hitman chick she profiled, something in Spanish.”
“Huh, I guess I’ll have to watch that one,” Margot said as she gave him one of her cards.
While he read it, she said, “You never told me if you were here last Saturday.”
“Sorry, I was. It was early, not this early but early enough not many people were here and even less were ordering drinks. I saw the whole thing.”
“So, what happened?”
“They were talking. You know, just normal stuff, but then she got mad. I thought she might throw her drink at him and
