“Come back, okay? I’ll pick up a bottle of Maker's Mark just for you.”
“Then if I can, I’ll be back.”
Margot put on the hat and stuffed as much of her brown hair under it as she could before she walked out the back door.
She could still hear the helicopter, but with the rotors echoing among the building, it was impossible to fix its location on sound alone. She didn’t dare look up so she just had to walk down the alley like she belonged and hope if they saw her it would be from overhead where her feeble attempt at a disguise might work.
Margot wanted to run, but all that would do was attract attention. She couldn’t really even walk fast. The longer she was on the street, the more likely it was someone would spot her, but trying to go fast would mean they’d see her for sure.
All the way to the car she could hear the helicopter, but at no time did she hear anyone telling her to freeze. She unlocked it and got in.
Just like when she was walking, the temptation to drive fast was strong. Instead, she took a deep breath and forced herself to drive the speed limit until the sounds of the helicopter faded.
Chapter 11
Margot circled the neighborhood a couple of times to make sure no local or federal police were around before parking a couple of blocks away and walking to Mal’s little two-bedroom house.
She figured Mal’s place would be among the last places they’d look for her and he wasn’t the only who’d kept a spare key after they had stopped dating. She let herself in and then listened. Ames and the F.B.I. had already proven they could be one step ahead of her. It wouldn’t have surprised her to have one or more of them sitting around in the dark waiting for her to show up.
When no one arrested her, she went to Mal’s bedroom and lay down. She was exhausted, but the adrenalin rush of having to run from the law was still keeping her heart beating fast. As tired as she was, it was going to be a while before she fell asleep.
She was sure Mal had a bottle of something with a high alcohol content around that would help her relax, but she’d already had one glass of whiskey and wanted to keep her wits about her. Unless she was the one refusing to see the truth and Mal really did do it, Katrina Stone’s killer was still out there.
Margot checked her phone. She’d turned off the ringer while driving when Ames called her. He’d called a few more times and Doreen had called her as well. While she was scrolling through, Doreen called again.
Margot answered, “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“I’m at home, no one's tracing this one.”
“You're going to have to excuse me when I say I don’t believe you.”
“I wouldn’t believe me either. They didn’t give me a lot of choice. I’m sorry.”
“Okay, you called, I answered, you said it. Goodbye.”
“Wait, I didn’t call to apologize. I called to tell you I ran the plate. Do you still want to know?”
“Make it fast.”
“It was harder than it should have been because the plates in question won’t be found on a Chrysler. They came off Honda registered in the L.A. area. I’m betting someone is going to report them stolen.”
“Sounds like something a pro would have done.”
“Yeah, it does. That hardly clears Mal, though I read the report and the witnesses all say it was his Jeep they saw fleeing the scene.”
“Anyone see a Chrysler?”
“Some said there was a sedan with the lights out, but that is not universally agreed on like the Jeep.”
Margot knew if they were tracing the call again she needed to end it, but she decided to trust Doreen and ask the question that just popped into her head. She put the call on speaker so she could open her email.
“Can you run another plate for me?” she asked as she scrolled through the photos Mal had sent her. She stopped when she found the photo of the mystery man Katrina met at Lefty’s.
“It won’t be until tomorrow.”
“That will work, though I may have to dump this phone, so I’ll call you.”