Alibis Can Be Murder

by Connie Shelton

He gave me a firm look, seeing past my brave façade. The truth was, I felt bone tired. My plan to start the day early and continue full speed suddenly didn’t seem so great. He steered me toward a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Let me get us some breakfast,” he said, “then you’re going to take it easy all day.”

  “Is that an order?” I really hoped it was. Freckles sensed my vulnerability and laid her head on my lap.

  I watched as Drake cracked eggs into a bowl and chopped some onions and tomatoes. In very short order he had made an omelet and toast and set a plate in front of me.

  “Eat. I’m calling Ron to let him know you won’t be in. After breakfast, you can have a nice, hot shower and then I want you to sleep as long as you possibly can.”

  It sounded heavenly. He hovered over me and even wrapped my favorite big fluffy robe around me when I came out of the shower. I barely heard him say something about keeping Freckles out of my way for the day, as he closed the bedroom door behind them. I sank into my luxurious mattress and pulled the bedding over me, cocooned in another dose of muscle relaxers. A brief thought intruded, of talking to Ron about Jay Livingston and the diamond ring, but I shut it firmly out.

  The room was dark when I woke, momentarily confused about the time of day when I saw the clock said 8:19. Had I slept nearly twelve hours?

  I could hear the soft sounds of the television in the other room, and there was a strip of light under the bedroom door. A shadow crossed it and the door gave a slight rattle. Freckles somehow knew I was awake.

  I stretched and discovered I was less sore than I’d been earlier. Slipping into soft sweats and a t-shirt, I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair. The view in the mirror brought me back to reality. The cut on my forehead wasn’t bad, but a huge, purple bruise had bloomed on my right cheek. The red scuff on my chin meant I must have scraped it on the carpeted floor mat. No point in trying to hide it from Drake—he’d already seen it all—but I would have to scrounge up some foundation makeup before I went out in public.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teased when I emerged from the bedroom.

  “I feel more like Rip Van Winkle. It is still Wednesday, isn’t it?”

  “It is. But I would have let you sleep several more hours if you needed them. You’ve been pushing pretty hard recently.”

  True. The two trips to El Paso in three days had exhausted me. Not to mention I was tired of all the games between Bobby and Marcie Lorrento and Jay Livingston. For all I knew Marcie and Jay had cooked up the idea of substituting another ring and the two of them might be about to head south for a lengthy vacation together. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all if they did so, as long as Bobby didn’t try to break down our door again.

  “You have a few messages,” Drake said. He’d paused his TV show and left the couch. He pointed at a note lying on the coffee table. “Want something to eat?”

  I picked up the slip of paper. “No, thanks. I’m fine for now.”

  “Oh, besides that one, Ron called to see if you were coming in today. That was around noon and I told him not to count on it. I guess he wanted to tell you about some pawnshop guy. And Victoria offered to bring soup, but I assured her we already had a pot of stew from Elsa. It’s in the fridge, whenever you’re ready for it.”

  “Wow. Lot of fuss over my tiredness.”

  “And the accident. Everyone’s concerned.” He nodded toward the paper in my hand. “That’s the insurance adjuster who went out to look at your Jeep.”

  The note only contained a name and phone number.

  “He didn’t give you any information?”

  “Well, yeah, he did. It’s not good. He said the body damage to the rear hatch, door and quarter-panel would cost more to repair than the vehicle’s current value. So, they’re going to total it and give you the book value.”

  I sighed. “I was afraid of that. All the way home I was thinking about it. Sally had a repair job done on her van awhile back and I was astounded at how much body work costs. Hers was minor and it was over a thousand dollars.”

  “The man suggested you can keep the car if you’d rather, spend just enough to get it running again and not repair the body damage.”

  “Yeah, and drive around in a bashed vehicle with doors that barely open and close.” I remembered having to give a hard shove just to get my driver door open. “I don’t see that working out too well.”

  “We could go car shopping tomorrow.”

  Next to dental procedures, I hate car shopping the most. The whole scene where you walk onto a car lot and immediately become targeted by every sales person around. No … no … don’t make me do it.

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll have some of that stew after all.” I wandered toward the kitchen, halfway wishing I’d just stayed in bed.

  Chapter 34

  Drake postponed a client’s job in the morning and we spent a few hours at the car mall, where the experience was every bit as delightful as I’d imagined. When, at the Ford place, the third sales guy bee-lined his way toward us, I took Drake’s arm and we ducked between pickup trucks. Our dash for freedom felt so good I couldn’t force myself to go back.

  “Why don’t you shop around online and see what you find?” he suggested as we pulled into the parking lot at Souper Salad for lunch.

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? Most likely because my head recently had been filled with all the natter of teen girls, rich people’s marital drama, and the blunder I’d made with the hundred-thousand-dollar diamond ring. The auto crash was the thing that topped it all off.

  We loaded plates with salad and bread and found a table. I stared out at my rental car in the parking lot. With the daily meter ticking, the decision about new wheels wasn’t something I should delay. I pulled out my phone and browsed the subject of cars. The problem was I didn’t even know what make or model interested me, and trying to make decisions based on the tiny images on a phone screen wasn’t making the task easier.

  “A few more days with the rental isn’t going to matter,” Drake said, reading my mind. “Take your time. Um, as long as you deliver me back home to get my truck. I do need to get back to my business at some point today.”

  Ron had texted me twice, and I knew I needed to get back to RJP business as well. We finished our meal and headed home. Drake gave me a kiss and got into his truck. I headed for the front door, planning to retrieve Freckles from her crate and take her to the office with me. We were headed back to the white sedan when the blue Corvette coasted to a stop at our curb.

  “Hey, where’s your Jeep?” Clover asked.

  I explained the situation. She eyed the plain little car with sympathy.

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah, and the worst part is deciding what to replace my Jeep with.”

  She bit at her lower lip, thinking. “You could drive Zayne’s car,” she said.

  I looked up the street at the red convertible in their driveway. A flutter resembling excitement went through me.

  “Aw, I really can’t take it …”

  “I’ll let you. Um, I mean, her being back at school now, you know.”

  I didn’t know. I had to give her credit for sticking with her story though.

  “It’s just … I’m not sure about the fallout. You know, what if she comes back and is furious? Or what if your parents blow a gasket over your giving permission for something they didn’t agree to?” And yet, the lure of that gorgeous car tugged at me.

  “Call ’em. Except they’re off somewhere crazy right now.” She said it so simply, confident it would be no problem at all to loan an expensive car to a neighbor who’d just wrecked her own.

  Still … no one on earth could say the ’Vette wasn’t at least a hundred points higher on the coolness scale than the boring little sedan in my driveway.

  “I’ll call your Aunt Donna. If she says it’s okay, I’ll consider it.”

  Drake would say I was stretching toward a midlife crisis. Ron would be so envious
he would turn purple. My own practical streak told me there was no way to follow or surveil anyone on any of our cases. But the latent kid in me said yes! Go for it!

  Clover sat there at the curb, looking at me. She meant now. I pulled out my phone where I’d stored Donna Delaney’s phone number. I’d no sooner said hello than Clover held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. I handed the phone over.

  “Aunt Donna—hey. Charlie needs to borrow Zayne’s car for awhile but she’s embarrassed to ask, so is it okay? It is, right?”

  I grabbed the phone away.

  “Donna, hi. Look, this wasn’t my idea but it would be a big help. I’m paying for a rental but I still need a few days to get something new lined up for myself.”

  “Charlie, you didn’t really even need to ask. I know both girls think highly of you, and those are their cars, not mine. Take it if you need it.”

  “Wow. I—well, this is so generous of you.”

  “Not me. The girls. Really, it’s fine.” She paused a second. “I know you can’t really talk with Clover right there, but do let me know sometime how you’re coming along with locating Zayne. Okay?”

  I wished I had better news for her, but promised another call in a day or two. Now the pressure was really on.

  Clover had picked up the gist of the call, put her car in reverse and hit the gas. It whined its way back home, and I trotted up the street to catch up.

  “So, I’ll grab the key,” Clover called out, halfway to their front door when I walked up the drive.

  She popped back outside a few seconds later and we spent a few minutes together while she gave me some tips and tricks to know about the car. I slipped into the driver’s seat and breathed deeply. I wouldn’t say it had the new-car smell—after all, a teenager had driven it for a year or two already—but it was way new compared to mine. Once again, it hit me how unlikely it was that Zayne had gone away to school without taking this baby along.

  Clover seemed distracted. She hopped back in her car and waved goodbye while I sat in the purring sports car.

  Wow. Okay. Things had taken a turn and I needed to think of practical considerations, such as turning in the rental and getting to the office, but the lure of simply putting my foot to the gas pedal tugged at me. I carefully backed it out of the Delaney driveway, getting used to the different configuration of blind spots, put her in gear and cruised to my own house.

  Ten minutes later, with Freckles perched on the passenger seat, I roared into my parking slot at the Victorian in fine style.

  The whole point of driving a car like this is for people to see you in it, and that urge was met with gratification for me when Ron opened the kitchen door and openly gawked. I clambered out of the low-slung car a little awkwardly. It was a whole different set of moves from merely sliding off the seat of my higher-riding Jeep.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s on loan.” Drake had already given him the highlights about the crash, my night in the hotel and my subsequent day of rest.

  Ron gave the car a skeptical sizing-up.

  “I know, I know. How many times have you told me a red sports car wasn’t your best choice either,” I said with a pointed glance at his Mustang. “I’m not keeping this car.”

  “It is very cool though.”

  “It’s very cool.”

  We both stared at the car while Freckles made her rounds of the back yard. I supposed I could consider a sports car of some kind. Maybe not quite this flashy, maybe a more subdued color … Well, it was a decision I didn’t have to make this minute.

  We walked through the kitchen, where Ron picked up the mug he’d been filling when I drove up. I went up to my office and he joined me a few seconds later.

  “So, the week has been eventful,” he said, settling onto my sofa while I turned on my computer.

  “I don’t hold much hope that the police in El Paso will put a lot of effort into catching Jay Livingston and getting Bobby’s ring back.”

  I described the cramped office and lone detective who’d taken the report, ending with the fact I had no intention of traipsing back and forth on that long stretch of highway again.

  “Couldn’t Bobby just file an insurance claim for the ring being stolen, show them the cheap substitute he got in return?”

  “If he carried a rider on his policy for jewelry of that value, sure, I suppose he could.”

  “If he’s not too embarrassed for the story to spread that much further …”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “You think he’d do that?”

  “Who knows? Right now he wants me to keep working on it. While you were away, he and Marcie started to make up. He went back home last night.”

  I felt a groan rise in my throat. Those two were a pair, all right.

  “So, can we drop the case? That’s my question.”

  “I’m meeting with Bobby later today and I’ll tell him. I need to fill him in on my visit to that pawnshop guy, which is to say I basically didn’t learn anything, but I did convince him to get his attorney to settle out of court for the punching incident.”

  “Yeah, well, have fun with that. I am so done with both the Lorrentos. I think they deserve each other and whatever happens to their fame and possessions.”

  Ron grinned and headed toward his own office. I could only hope he agreed with me.

  Chapter 35

  Hopeful I’d seen the last of the battling Lorrentos, I turned my attention back to our other case, figuring out how I was going to verify both Delaney twins were all right and get a picture for their aunt. Even this morning, Clover was sticking with the story that Zayne was living in Las Cruces, although I smelled deceit all over the tale.

  Somehow, I needed enough proof to confront her and get the real skinny on it. I leaned back in my chair and thought about the reasons an otherwise gregarious young woman would choose to disappear.

  A man.

  I don’t know why it hadn’t occurred to me before. The most likely reason Zayne wasn’t around was because she’d run off with some guy. In another era, if she’d become pregnant she might have been sent off to a home for unwed mothers and returned a few months later. But times had changed and I couldn’t see such a scenario now.

  Still, there were other reasons people moved away. The guy promised exotic travel, or he lived in another city, or there was some reason she needed to keep the relationship secret. I could see the desire for secrecy if this was someone her family didn’t approve of, but Rick and Jane were hardly around and they certainly didn’t appear to have set any limits on their two daughters.

  The other puzzle I kept asking myself: how much does Clover know? Surely she was in on the secret. It didn’t seem logical her twin would have gone away without a word, not to mention Clover’s lack of worry and the cover story about Zayne being away at school. No, she was in on it.

  My challenge was to get close enough and find the opportunity to get her to talk about it.

  How would I do that? I drummed my fingers on the desk. Maybe Clover had inadvertently handed me the answer: social media.

  I opened my browser and went to Facebook. Over the past few years, several friends had suggested I set up accounts, including Twitter and Instagram. I’d done it, friended a few people, and discovered I either needed to monitor it constantly to keep up with the crowd, or I had to forget about it. Life being busy enough already, I did the latter. Now, my social media skills were severely lacking.

  I found the little cheat-sheet where I’d written all my passwords and logged into my Facebook account. A few dozen comments awaited my viewing, but I discovered most were hopelessly outdated tidbits from friends who had, no doubt, given up on hearing from me. A few friend requests waited to be accepted or denied. Deleting the obvious scams from handsome soldiers in military uniform, men I’d never seen in my life, I noticed two of the requests came from Clover and Zayne. I accepted both.

  Clover’s page contained the photos from our hike and picnic. She was r
ight—the one of me and Freckles touching noses had received a lot of likes, along with comments like “Awwwwww, how cute!!!!!” Apparently, drawn-out words and loads of punctuation were the way to bring extra emotion to short and simple messages. At any rate, I found myself a little flattered by the attention.

  On her timeline, a day after the picnic with me, Clover had posted a charming heads-together shot of herself and Zayne dressed up and maxed out on their makeup. The caption read: Checking out RADZ! Best time ever!!!!

  I recognized the name of the club that had opened a year or so ago to lots of media attention. Apparently, it had caught on with the younger crowd. It might be worth a trip if I could spot the two girls together, and if not, perhaps I could get a conversation going with their friends and learn more. I could mention it to Drake and see if my dear hubby was up for a night out on the town.

  Then I quickly discarded the idea. Not only was nightclub life not at all his thing, the two of us would stand out just as badly as someone Clover’s age walking into a retirement home. With the touches of gray in his hair, Drake would most likely be taken for law enforcement. If the kids smelled a narc they’d scatter like roaches in the light.

  It would be better if I walked into the club with a girlfriend. Who did I know with the playfulness, not to mention the clothes to dress us up properly? I needed a pal who would inspire me beyond my preferred stay-home-with-a-book demeanor. The Facebook page was still open and I scanned the photos of my friends. Geez, we were becoming a dull crowd. Linda was a doctor with such a busy practice she rarely stayed up past ten o’clock. Sally was younger but had a husband and two kids. With the toddler, she was barely awake most days, much less into the evening hours.

  Victoria. My sister-in-law has sparkle and energy. She’s a classy dresser, but she knows fashion well enough to young-it-down a bit. She’d be the one to come up with something we could wear. I called her.

  “I’m tied up with something tonight,” she said. “Could we make it tomorrow night?”

  “Sure.” An extra twenty-four hours to work up my courage would be a good thing, right?