Angela Morrison was a material witness, he thought, and he should call Sykes and hand her over. But he had a strange feeling there was more to her than met the eye, in more ways than one.
And dangerous. She was one of those women who could cause a man to do something he would regret for a long time, and Harry was not in the frame of mind for committing regrettable actions. At least, not right then.
He had a lot more work to do before he could close this case.
Despite Sykes’ warning and his immediate thought of turning her into the police, a decision on what he was going to do next could wait till the morning.
“You got somewhere to stay?” Harry asked.
She had been looking out the window, down on the street. Whatever was down there had caught her attention, and Harry had to ask her again before she turned her attention back to him.
“Yes. A hotel room, not far away. Are we done?”
“For the moment?”
“Are you taking my case?”
“Proving Al killed Cathy Jones.”
“I thought you wanted to find Al?”
“Jennifer Jones is already paying for me to find him.”
“And if it was her? You wouldn’t get paid.”
No, he thought, he wouldn’t. And, considering the fact she turned up with Brightwater when they last met, he was not sure what her involvement was. That didn’t rule out Brightwater either.
“And if it turns out to be you?”
“I didn’t do it, so you’re guaranteed to get paid, one way or another.”
“Then yes. I might as well.”
She pulled a stack of bills out of her handbag and tossed the bundle to me. At least what appeared to be about five thousand dollars.
“Where did you get this?”
She looked as though she was thinking about an acceptable answer, and then said, “Hush money from Miriam. I'd be looking into that woman because she seems to have a tap at Outtel that pours money.”
© Charles Heath 2016-2019