Twisted Game, Nora Kane [the giving tree read aloud .TXT] 📗

for him to come out carrying Glock. Margot ran and jumped over the nearest car parked on the street as he tried to take aim. He put a bullet through the window as Margot got low and retrieved her own pistol. She was thinking she really screwed this up when the police arrived.

As the squad car pulled up, Margot put down her gun. Lucas did not. He wheeled and put a couple bullets into the red and blue lights on top of the squad car. He turned to run after that and took a bunch of bullets to the back. When he fell down, it was clear he wasn’t getting back up.

While they were putting the cuffs on them both, Margot said, “You might want to tell someone in homicide the razor he attacked me with has a murdered man’s initials on it.”

Chapter 13

“You got lucky,” Radcliff told Margot, “that could have been much worse.” He’d met her outside the county jail where she’d got to spend the afternoon until they realized she was fighting the Masterson Hot Tub Massacre perpetrator and let her go.

“Yeah, well, how was I to know Lucas forgot his phone?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been snooping around his place.”

“Part of the job. Was I right about the razor?”

“You were. Turns out he kept the butcher knife too. Since it was actually the murder weapon, he hid that in a shoebox in his closet, along with a handful of spent bullets. Looks like you found the killer.”

“That should make Phoebe happy.”

“Did you see her? I mean, you were both in the same jail.”

“She had her bail hearing in the morning and she got it. We have the same lawyer. Or had—I think we’re both going to be in the clear.”

“Let’s hope. They frown on detectives dating felons.”

“All I did was knock on his door and then I defended myself. Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean it’s not self-defense.”

“True. Why do you think he put on the dress?”

“He didn’t want to wear his own clothes? I bet he was thinking he’d set up Phoebe since she could have been a problem as well. He’d have known about her and Harry. My guess is, once Phoebe was convicted, he’d spill his plan to Harry and get promoted or something.”

“Too bad we can’t ask him. Kind of a crazy plan.”

“If he didn’t like to run his mouth and keep souvenirs, it probably would have worked.”

Cassandra Cole was waiting by Radcliff's car, just like last time they’d walked out of the county jail.

“Do you have any comments about the rumor that the incident with Harry Lee’s driver was a failed hit attempt by you?”

“Rumor? Who the hell is saying that?”

“Is that your comment?”

“Are you just going to keep doing this?”

Cassandra turned off her camera. “Uh, yeah. I get more hits on Viuda Negra videos than all the others combined.”

“Go to hell, Cassie,” Margot said as she got in Radcliff’s car.

“You still owe me an interview.”

Margot opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say something Radcliff drove away.

Excerpt From Book 7 – Twisted Interest

“How’s my favorite victim of police brutality doing?”

Lucas sat up as best he could in his hospital bed and gave Heller a little head nod before he replied, pointing to his groin, “I’ll be better when they take this tube out of my “you know what” and let me out of here. I miss the regular hospital.”

“Least you ain’t handcuffed to the bed in here.”

“Not like it makes any difference. Even if I could get up and walk, where would I go?”

“I hear you on that. Jail sucks, but trust me, prison is worse.”

“No shit. They got you sweeping the floors now?”

“Yeah, but I can’t complain. No tube in my dick.”

Heller moved on, going through the motions like he was actually cleaning something.

Lucas looked up at the box-shaped television mounted on the wall in front of him. The thing looked older than him. He missed the television at the regular hospital; having a flat screen and some decent channels when you're stuck in bed all day and all night made being handcuffed to the bed worth it.

The nurse walked in and announced, “Good, you’re awake. You’ve got visitors.” He left as quickly as he’d arrived, probably going off shift—unlike Lucas and Heller, he got to go home at night. Lucas didn’t get a chance to ask who his visitors were, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The two detectives came into the room. Anderson, the younger and fatter of the two, was first in. He leaned against the rail at the foot of the bed and made sure his big body was blocking the television.

“What are you two doing here? This ain’t your kind of case,” Lucas remarked.

“We’re organized crime. You work for Harry Lee. This is our case.”

“Then you wasted your time. I’ve got nothing but nice things to say about Harry Lee. You all need to quit harassing him. He’s just a misunderstood businessman.”

“Whose driver went all horror movie on two people.”

“Did I?”

“If you didn’t, who did?”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told everybody else. You want to know who killed that white boy and his bitch; I need to be doing my recovery on the outside.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Anderson said.

“You shot at a cop,” Cranston added, “even if you’re cleaner than virgin snow, you aren’t walking away on that.”

“Sure, but then I got shot like six times in the back. They tell me I may never be able to pee right and shit. I think I’ve suffered enough.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so.”

“Until you all start being a bit more sympathetic, I guess the murder