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Trixie rubbed her face where the door hit her, “You better not have given me a black eye.”
“Why? I bet you make more that way especially at the dump you're working. Stay where you are.”
Margot went into the kitchen and found a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. She came back and tossed them to Trixie who put the bag against her face.
“You know, I know a dozen guys who would kick your ass for me at just the hint I might screw them.”
“Are they here right now? If not, I’d keep that to myself. If I’m going to get my ass kicked over this I might as well break that arm.”
“You’re not very nice.”
“That makes two of us. You were with Dr. Barger last night.”
“You telling me or asking me?”
“Telling. You left early. Why?”
“So he could afford me.”
“So he could afford you?”
“Yeah, that’s what he told me. He wasn’t wrong. I’m not cheap.”
“He had a client.”
“I guess.”
“What kind of client?”
“Someone who needed medical attention but didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“A gunshot.”
Trixie shrugged. “Probably, they have to report those to the police, so that’s what he usually gets.”
“He tell you that?”
“Yeah, he likes to brag about what a great surgeon he is.”
“He talk about that a lot?”
“Guys who like to do coke tend to talk. Guys on coke who think highly of themselves tend to talk about themselves.”
“Did he tell you how he lost his license?”
“Something about how everybody in San Francisco is an asshole.”
“That and he killed his San Francisco version of you when she tried to blackmail him,” Margot told her. In addition to the address, Mal had sent over some old newspaper articles detailing the end of Barger’s’ days as a legitimate surgeon.
“I think they do worse than take your medical license for that.”
“They couldn’t prove it.”
“Then why’d he lose his license?”
“He killed her too late. She’d already ratted him out.”
Trixie nodded. “I’m not surprised, but when you start blackmailing people, you have to know they won’t like it.”
