Twisted Hope

  “If you’re right you need to quit all this YouTube shit. I know you’re getting some views and even making some scratch but it ain’t worth it,” Trevor told her. He was still wearing his uniform from working the graveyard shift at 7-11. Normally he went back to his own place after a graveyard shift and drank a few beers to help him sleep. Instead, he was at his parent’s house where he put up Cassie last night before he went to work. She called him yesterday sounding scared which was weird for her in Trevor’s experience. He suggested his parents' place since they were out of town and to his surprise she said yes.

  “It’s not about the money,” Cassie replied.

  Trevor shook his head and took a deep breath. When Cassie said stupid shit like this he tended to tell her so in ways that no one would describe as diplomatic. It was one of the reasons she broke up with him. She came to him for help and he didn’t want to blow any chance they had of getting back together by saying something that would piss her off.

  After taking another breath he told her, “Whatever you get out of it I guarantee it’s not worth dying for.”

  Cassie couldn’t really argue with him. As much as she loved being the host of Cassie’s Coastal Crime Report she had to admit she loved being alive just a little more.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said as sat at the kitchen table and booted up her laptop, “No one will find me here.”

  It was Trevor’s turn not to argue. He didn’t figure anyone would track her to his parent’s house. Since they were in Hawaii all week she would have the place to herself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Putting the finish touches on the newest episode.”

  “Uh, weren’t we just discussing how you should be calling it quits?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve already got this one put together. There’s no reason not to post it. In fact, maybe this will give whoever it is second thoughts.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Yeah, but it won’t make it worse.”

  Cassie’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and typed in a short reply. She set the phone on the counter and continued posting her latest video.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Cassie asked.

  “No, probably just something from Amazon. My mom probably ordered something.”

  “While she was in Hawaii?”

  “It’s kind of an addiction for her. You should see all the crap in the closet.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t answer.”

  “Why? No one knows you’re here.”

  “Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Trevor went to the door anyway. He looked into the peephole before he opened the door to make Cassie feel better. He didn’t see the Amazon delivery guy.

  A bullet came through the peephole and Trevor’s brains exited through the back of his skull and made a mess on the tile floor.

  Cassie was already running when Trevor’s dead body hit the floor.

  She heard more shots and then the sound of the door swinging open and smacking into the wall. She didn’t look back.

  She ran out the back door and straight for the back fence. Even though Trevor insisted his place was safe Cassie made an escape plan the moment she arrived. She hoped it would be enough to keep her alive.

  Whoever she pissed off with her show seemed very determined to see her dead.

  Chapter 1

  “Mr. Radcliff is here to see you,” Ms. Collins said as she poked her head through the door.

  Margot thought that was odd. They saw each other a lot, in fact, she spent the night at his place last night, but he’d never stopped by in the middle of the afternoon when they were both working before. He never really showed up without calling ahead in any circumstance.

  Margot looked at her client, Mrs. Dithers, a middle-aged woman who may have been attractive once but clearly let herself go. Mrs. Dithers wanted to know if her husband really was working late every Tuesday and then going to the gym. She was thinking his regular night out with ‘the boys’ didn’t involve just boys anymore too. Margot would rather be hanging out with Radcliff but people like Mrs. Dithers paid the bills.

  “Can you tell him I’m busy with a client?” Margot said to Ms. Collins.

  “I can. Detective Ames is here as well and he’s been rather insistent. I’m not sure if he’ll accept that answer.”

  “Did Ames tell you to say Radcliff is here to see me?”

  “He did. I thought it was odd.”

  Margot shook her head and looked at Mrs. Dithers, “This should only take a minute. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Is Shaw still out?”

  “Yes. I doubt he’ll be back in today.”

  “Have them meet me in his office.”

  Ms. Collins disappeared.

  Margot apologized to Mrs. Dithers and went across the hall to Shaw’s office.

  Ames and Radcliff were already there.

  “I hope this can be quick, I’ve got a client.”

  “We just wanted to give you a heads up. Gloria Romero was murdered today. Shot dead when she answered the door to her apartment,” Radcliff told her.

  “Okay,” Margot said as she strained her memory for the name Gloria Romero.

  “Once the brass realizes the connection between you and lover boy I’m guessing they take us off the case,” Ames said.

  “You mean Radcliff?” Margot asked.

  “You don’t call him loverboy?”

  “I’m confused. What do Radcliff and I have to do with anything?”

  “They frown on detectives dating suspects.”

  “I’m a suspect?”

  “Probably the leader in the clubhouse once someone figures it out.”

  “Figures what out? Am I just on the list whenever someone gets themselves killed in this town? Who is Gloria Romero and why would I kill her?”

  “She’s Cassandra Coles' roommate,” Radcliff told her.

  “Cassie with the YouTube show?”

  “That’s the one,” Ames told her.

  “Why would I kill Cassie’s roommate?”

  “They looked a lot alike, same height and weight more or less and they both liked the Goth look. It could be an easy mistake, especially if you shot her in the face when she looked in the peephole.”

  “You think I shot her by mistake looking to kill Cassie?”

  “I don’t think that,” Radcliff told her, “Someone is going to though. Given your history with the department what you said about being a suspect in every murder in this town isn’t that far from the truth. It’s bad enough you were hanging out with a scumbag like Mal but after the incident with Anderson I’d say you were even less popular.”

  “Anderson shot himself.”

  “Yeah, but some people still blame you.”

  “He was dirty.”

  “Yep, and he was an asshole too, but surprisingly well-liked.”

  “For what it’s worth I don’t believe it either,” Ames said, “Otherwise we’d be having this conversation in an interrogation room.”

  “The easiest thing would be if you had an alibi,” Radcliff added.

  “What time are we talking?”

  “Around nine, give or take a half an hour.”

  Margot thought about it for a second and then said, “Shit.”

  “That doesn’t sound like what someone with a rock-solid alibi says.”

  “I didn’t have any appointments in the morning and my paperwork was caught up for the most part so after I left your place I went home and then went for a run up the beach. By the time I got here, it was nearly 10:30.”

  “So, at the time of the murder, you’re running along the pacific?”

  “Yeah. Someone saw me but…”

>   “Random beachgoers who happened to notice you jogging and happened to know what time they saw you might be hard to find?” Radcliff asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Especially when the detectives in charge aren’t very interested in proving your innocence,” Ames added.

  “Why would I kill Cassie anyway? I didn’t like the way she portrayed me on her show but we came to an agreement. All that ‘Viuda Negra’ crap was over. She moved on to slandering other people.”

  “Have you watched the show recently?” Ames asked.

  “It wasn’t really my thing.”

  Ames and Radcliff looked at each other and then Radcliff took out his phone. He cued up the latest episode of Cassie’s show and handed it to Margot.

  Over crime scene footage the young reporter shouldn’t have had access to Cassie narrated. The still’s showed a trio of young men seated at a fold-up card table. In the center of the table was a pizza box with a couple of slices left it was surrounded by empty beer cans. The still shots showed the men all suffered bullet wounds, mostly to the face. None of them were living and most would have had to have been identified via fingerprints since the lead makeover they all received rendered them unrecognizable.

  “Could the notorious cartel assassin they call ‘Viuda Negra’, Spanish for Black Widow, be operating again on this side of the border?” Cassie said, “What you’re seeing is the scene in Rancho Cucamonga where three men known to be part of the cartel’s heroin distribution network were murdered as they were eating dinner. This is believed by my sources to be part of a house cleaning by the new regime. Those thought to be loyal to the old leaders are being purged.”

  Instead of still shots of dead men the picture changed to the outside of a modest home, Margot assumed this was where the crime took place. The camera panned to a blurry shot of a man in a hoodie walking away from the house.

  “This man was caught on a neighbors security camera leaving the scene just after the crime took place. While the photo does not identify the suspect it is believed by my sources to be Malachi ‘Mal’ Flynn.”

  The screen changed to Mal’s mugshot from when he was arrested before they tossed him out of the police.

  “Mal Flynn is known to be an enforcer for several stateside organized crime figures, including Harry Lee. He is also a known associate of Viuda Negra. While she was not seen leaving the house the nature of the crime suggests multiple assailants and one of the murder weapons is believed to be a .40 pistol which is Viuda Negra’s signature weapon.”

  The show moved on to covering the Masterson Hot Tub Massacre. Cassie called the piece an update but she didn’t really have new information. It appeared to be an excuse to show the grisly crime scene photos Cassie managed to acquire. As far as everyone except maybe Cassie and her viewers considered that to be a closed case. She didn’t flat out say it but she heavily implied Margot’s former client and the wife of one of the victims, Phoebe Masterson, was guilty of the crime. While there were certainly questions about what exactly took place, Detective Anderson putting his own gun under his chin and pulling the trigger ensured those questions would likely forever remain unanswered.

  “Is there more about Mal?”

  “No, that’s the only part where she mentions you.”

  Margot turned it off and said, “Except she doesn’t mention me. She babbles on about Viuda Negra but as we all know I’m not her. Fact is, she probably doesn’t exist.”

  “She said you were Viuda Negra on multiple occasions.”

  “Yeah, but like I said we have an arrangement. She came closer to the line than I would have liked but she kept it.”

  “You sure? Anyone who’s watched the show before will connect your name with Viuda Negra and then there’s the part about Mal who is also connected to you. She may not have mentioned you by name but she didn’t have to,” Ames said.

  “Yeah, but that’s a stern talking to offense, not a shoot her in the face type offense.”

  “We agree. We’re just warning you that someone won’t.”

  Margot nodded, “Thanks for the heads up then.”

  “No problem,” Radcliff replied.

  “You know she was having problems with her old boyfriend.”

  “First place we went. He was working,” Radcliff told her.

  “We should get going,” Ames said.

  “Yeah, you should. I’ve still got a client waiting.”

  “Maybe we solve this thing before they get around to coming after you,” Radcliff told her.

  “That’d be nice. Dinner at your place tonight?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Chapter 2

  Once she had things squared away with Mrs. Dithers Margot decided the first course of action was to give Cassie the talking too she felt she deserved. Her call went straight to voicemail so after leaving a short message Margot went ahead and sent a text saying simply:

  “We need to talk.”

  Almost right away she got a reply.

  “1516 Broken Arrow.”

  “What about 1516 Broken Arrow?”

  Cassie replied again, “1516 Broken Arrow.”

  Margot plugged 1516 Broken Arrow into her map app on her phone and found it was a local address. If she remembered the area correctly it was a nice neighborhood, upper-middle-class, near the new golf course. Mr. Dithers almost always came home on time on Tuesdays so Margot wasn’t staking him out until tomorrow. She had no reason not to go up to 1516 Broken Arrow to check it out.

  She texted Cassie again asking, “Can you tell me what’s at 1516 Broken Arrow?”

  Cassie did not respond.

  The whole thing felt weird though Margot didn’t know Cassie well enough to know if being vague was standard operating procedure. She made sure she had her gun and an extra magazine as well her mace and the telescoping baton in her purse before she headed out.

  Her memory proved correct, Broken Arrow the street shared the same name as the golf club. Both the club and the neighborhood were well out of Margot’s price range. Not that it mattered, she was happy with her apartment just off the beach, which more and more was just the place she stored her stuff since she was always at Detective Radcliff’s place.

  If she actually golfed she might feel different but Margot had never played golf in her life. She’d gotten into martial arts at a young age and it was the only sport for her for a long time. She’d fought professionally briefly where she learned there was no shortage of stronger, faster, and meaner fighters out there. She might have been able to stay in the game longer than she did, filling out undercards when needed and being a beatable opponent for up and coming contenders, but it was clear she’d never reach the championship level meaning she’d be making a career of taking a beating and wouldn’t ever get rich doing it. The decision to give it up and pursue a career in law enforcement was an easy one.

  That seemed more promising until she messed it up with her ultimately misplaced loyalty to Mal.

  Margot slowed as she went past 1516 Broken Arrow. It was a two-story house like most of them on this block, which like most newer neighborhoods only featured three floor plans. 1516 seemed the middle plan, unlike plan number one it had two floors but it didn’t have the square footage as plan number three.

  There wasn’t much to see from the outside. Margot circled the block one more time and then parked her car in the driveway. As far as she could tell she was the only one on the street. She unzipped her purse so she could have quick access to the weapons inside before she slung it over her shoulder.

  Margot saw the hole in the door about where the peephole should be as she got closer. She drew her gun, a short-barreled S&W .40, and approached carefully.

  The hole could mean a lot of things but he sure looked like the right size for a bullet. Margot knocked with the side of her fist and called out, “Is anyone home?”

  No one answered.

  She went back to her car and got a pair of surgical gloves out of the box of them she kept i
n the trunk. If this was what she thought it was she didn’t want to leave her fingerprints on the door. If someone wanted to jam her up with a murder charge she didn’t want to make it easy for them.

  Margot tried the handle and found it was unlocked. She pushed the door open hoping her assessment of the situation was wrong.

  It wasn’t.

  Not completely, anyway. She expected to see Cassie Cole dead on the floor but even though there wasn’t much of a face left this was clearly a guy. It was hard to tell without the face but it seemed to Margot she was looking at Cassie's ex-boyfriend Trevor.

  Margot was getting ready to step out and call the police when she noticed a partial shoe print on the tile floor. It looked like someone stepped in blood and then tracked it through the house. She kept her gun in her hand and followed the tracks.

  They faded away pretty quickly. All of them were partials, but the tread seemed to be a running shoe. The size indicated a bigger foot than Margot’s when she put her foot next to the most complete print but not so bit it couldn’t be a female. Margot would bet they were from a woman’s shoe. It could mean either Cassie or another woman in the house found the body and stepped in the blood but to Margot, it felt like the killer came through the unlocked door to check for witnesses or to take out another target.

  The tracks led to a sliding glass door that led to the back yard, The door was open. Margot went outside and checked the well-manicured backyard. The tracks disappeared in the grass and they weren’t any dead bodies back there.

  Margot didn’t know anything about Gloria Romero other than how she died but she thought it was reasonable to assume the only common denominator between her and Rick was Cassandra Cole. It made Margot think the intended victim in both shootings probably was Cassie. She wondered if her body was in another part of the house.

  She texted Cassie saying, “I need to know where you are, and if you’re okay.”

  A buzzing sound coming from the kitchen got Margot’s attention and she walked over to find a phone on the counter. On the face was an alert showing the phone had just received a message. Margot looked to her number and her message displayed.

  Since Cassie was of the generation that kept their phones close by at all times Margot’s concern for Cassie’s well-being intensified.