Page 81 of Don't Say a Word
“How long was she there?”
“She was here over an hour, but only spoke to Bradford for six or seven minutes.”
“What was her demeanor when she left?”
“She was hard to read. I’d say frustrated, not as friendly as when she first entered. I’ve seen her often, because of her father, and she’s always been very polite, chats with guards. I’ve talked to her a few times, but not today.”
“And Bradford?”
“He was angry, cut their conversation short and asked to be escorted back to the yard.”
Cal wrote down her name, and then typed it into his computer. First person to visit Bradford in the last year who wasn’t family was a private investigator. Very interesting. He needed to know why.
“Can you let me know if he calls anyone in the next forty-eight?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, Dave. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. Stay safe out there.”
“Stay safe in there,” Cal said and ended the call.
Cal immediately pulled up Margo’s contact information and printed her sheet. She was a licensed private investigator for nearly nine years. Had been an MP in the US Army, stationed in Fort Hood, with one eighteen-month deployment overseas. Left with an honorable discharge nine years ago. Had a concealed carry permit even though it wasn’t necessary in Arizona. However, if she took cases out of state, it was easier to get a temporary reciprocal permit if she already had a CCW.
She had no criminal record, which wasn’t a surprise since she would have to be clean to get licensed as a PI and to get the CCW. Small social media footprint, but big enough that he was able to piece together her connections. Worked with her family. Grandpa a retired state judge—Cal recognized the Morales name. Her dad had been arrested for killing a fellow doctor at the VA three years ago. Lots of cousins all over Maricopa County, including a Phoenix PD officer, and her brother worked at the crime lab.
Why was she talking to Bradford?
Had she taken a case that was connected to him? Maybe to his supplier?
He had a tingle, that little excited twist in his gut. He’d been waiting for something like this.
Every DEA agent with more than a decade of experience had a case that haunted them, and a case that irritated them. This was Cal’s irritation case.
The AUSA offered the entire family witness protection if they gave up their supplier. They both refused. Insisted there was no supplier.
Cal would bet his pension they were both lying.
What did Margo Angelhart know? And why would she go to Bradford instead of the police?
Cal strode down the hall to his boss’s office and waited impatiently for him to get off the phone.
“What has you all riled up?” George asked.
“Bradford. He had a visitor.”
George raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Local PI. I want to see what she knows.”
“Just going to ask her?”
“Not yet. Can I have a couple days to follow her around? See what she’s working on before I talk to her? Make sure that she’s on the up and up and not working for the bad guys?”
George looked down at a chart on his desk, which gave him a one-page visual of every active case and who was assigned. Hemade a small notation. “I know you hate riding a desk more than most,” George said. “It’s all yours. But if you get a line on Bradford’s supplier, do not go after him alone, understood?”
“Understood.”
