One-Night Alibi

by Kara Lennox

  “Be there in just a minute,” Binnie called. She would have to turn off the water, dry her hands, then make her way to the front door. She walked right past his hiding place. As soon as her back was to him, he tiptoed into the kitchen, then made his way to the hallway leading out to the garage. She wouldn’t see him here unless she specifically went looking.

  “Hello,” he heard her calling out, “anybody here?”

  First, Hudson checked the hall closet, where his folks kept things like batteries and flashlights, a few tools, garbage bags, that sort of thing, to see if there was anything useful there. The first thing he noticed was a pile of cheap cell phones—his mom’s stash of throwaways.

  Thank God for his mom’s quirky habits. Each of those phones would have a few minutes left and they would be untraceable. He also found a stack of paper shopping bags, the pretty kind with handles that came from high-end stores. His mom couldn’t stand to throw those away. He selected one and shoved the cell phones inside. He took a crescent wrench, a screwdriver and some bungee cords, though he really had no idea what he would do with the stuff. He wasn’t exactly MacGyver.

  Time was running out. His mom could finish the dishes at any moment and decide to take the trash out.

  The key rack was next. Hudson took a hasty inventory of the various keys hanging on the rack. His dad’s were gone. His mom’s were there, along with keys to the shed and another set of keys clearly labeled Baumgartner—the neighbors’ keys. Finally he found both sets of keys he wanted. Likely they wouldn’t be missed, at least for a while.

  His only route of escape was out the garage. He waited until his mother returned to the kitchen and turned the water back on. Then he slipped out the door into the garage, which was unfortunately closed.

  He thought he would just ease the door up a couple of feet, slide out, then leave the property the same way he’d come in. But he quickly saw the error in his plan.

  When had his parents got an automatic garage-door opener? That thing was going to make a helluva noise and his mother would definitely hear it. But she would probably think it was his dad, coming home unexpectedly. She would only go to check after a minute or two when he didn’t appear.

  It was the best he could do. He pushed the button and scooted out under the door as soon as it had raised up three feet or so. Then he ran like a chicken being chased by a cook with a hatchet. He could only hope none of the neighbors saw, but this neighborhood was rather rural and sparsely populated, so he was probably safe.

  He took the shortest route off the property and out of sight. Once he was on the street and half a block away, he slowed to a brisk walk—just a guy out for a walk on a beautiful fall day.

  Next stop—U Store It. When his great-uncle had gone into a nursing home, Hudson’s parents had ended up with his car, an ancient but sturdy green Buick. They kept it in a storage facility, always meaning to get rid of it but never quite getting around to putting an ad in the paper. The tags were expired, but with luck no one would notice.

  Hudson needed a way to get around, and no one would be looking for that car. Even if his parents realized he’d taken it, they probably wouldn’t rat him out. He hated to put them in that position, but he had no choice. If he was going to catch a murderer, he needed wheels.

  The storage place was only a couple of miles away, so he walked. No one seemed to notice him when he entered the property. He walked back to the unit, opened it and was relieved to see the Buick sitting right where it should be.

  There was a lot of other stuff here, too—some old water skis, a floor lamp, various framed posters, some junk he recognized as having come from his and his brother’s rooms. If he’d had the luxury of time, he’d have gone through it to see if there was anything useful. But he wanted to get the hell away before someone thought to look for him here.

  Hudson slid behind the wheel, stuck the key in the ignition, held his breath and turned. Although it hesitated a couple of times, the engine finally turned over and the car started. Hudson checked the glove box to see if it still had its registration papers, in case he needed to sell it. He’d be doing his parents a favor, actually.

  The registration was right where it should be.

  He knew a guy who would pay top dollar for vintage cars, no questions asked. Liz’s suggestion about South America flitted through his mind. With a couple thousand bucks, he could get there and have a little to spare. He could find work, rent a room, wait it out. Wait until Project Justice exonerated him.

  But he would still have to deal with other charges, like fleeing to escape justice. He would never get his badge back. And chances were good he would never be free of the murder charge. He could never come back to the States.

  He could never see Liz again.

  Nope. That was the coward’s way out. This flight from justice was temporary. He just needed a few more days. He would find Munch’s friends, family. Find out if he’d talked about his involvement with Mandalay. It was the kind of thing a two-bit thug like Munch would brag about. Maybe one of them would know the identity of the tall man who’d disposed of Mandalay’s body.

  It was someone he worked with. Someone who had access to his desk at work. Someone who had an ax to grind. Someone male.

  Oh, hell. The answer had been staring him in the face the whole time. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

  * * *

  ELIZABETH COULDN’T STAND pacing around Daniel’s house one minute longer. Despite the size of the house and grounds, she was feeling claustrophobic, like one of those animals in a wildlife park. They had fields to run in, plenty of food, but they weren’t free.

  She wanted to go home—to her tidy little condo, where not so long ago her life had been simple, if not perfect. She’d gone to work each day and come home every night feeling as if she’d done some good in the world. Her biggest worry was how to keep her father from taking over her life.

  He’d been a pain, that was for sure. But she still missed him. Not her father the murderer, but the father she remembered from when she was little, who had spoiled her and told her over and over what a wonderful life she had ahead of her, how special she was, how she touched his life with magic.

  True or not, his constant praise and encouragement had started her off in life with high self-esteem. She could at least be grateful for that.

  Feeling the need for a female friend, Elizabeth sought out Elena, who was in the process of replacing faded flower arrangements with fresh ones. She caught up with her in the foyer. The flowers there were orchids, calling to mind the ones her father had sent. Elizabeth ruthlessly pushed the memory into the back of her mind.

  “The arrangements are beautiful,” she said. “Do you do them yourself?”

  “Oh, goodness, no. I have no artistic talent whatsoever. Mr. Li, the gardener, does them. There are so many flowers growing on the estate and in the greenhouse, and he wants everyone to enjoy them, even if they don’t have time for a walk outside.”

  “He seems passionate about his work.”

  “Oh, he is. Everyone should feel so lucky to have a calling like his. Or like you. It must be wonderful to help people work through their problems.”

  Elizabeth dug out a smile. “Most days I feel very lucky to be doing what I love. What do you love, Elena?” She couldn’t help herself. Elena, while incredibly efficient and seemingly serene, was a puzzle to Elizabeth. She sensed a quiet yearning beneath the beautiful woman’s calm facade.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you been to college? That’s where a lot of people figure out what they love, by taking different classes.”

  “Yes. I have a business degree.” Elena shrugged. “I like what I’m doing, for now. The pay is very generous, so I can send most of it back to my family in Cuba.”

  “How did you come here?”

  Elena smiled self-consciously as she picked up the bowl of faded flowers and carried it into the kitchen, where presumably someone would put them in the compost and wash the container. Sh
e then headed for the patio, where the table they’d had breakfast on just a couple of hours earlier was now filled with a frenzy of bright colors, the exotic blooms arranged into the most creative bouquets.

  “My story is complicated,” Elena said.

  Elizabeth scooped up one of the arrangements and grabbed another. She might as well help out.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Elena protested.

  “I’d like to feel useful.”

  They headed back indoors, to the living room this time. Elena pointed to a table where Elizabeth could set the heavy arrangement until Elena cleared a space for it.

  “I’m a good listener,” Elizabeth said.

  Elena shook her head, and Elizabeth sensed sadness there. “Another time, perhaps, when we can relax over a pitcher of margaritas.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. Say, Elena, I’d really like to go back to my apartment. I can see the writing on the walls—I could be arrested anytime.”

  Elena stopped what she was doing and turned, going to Elizabeth and taking both her hands. “That would be so stupid of the police. Anyone can see you are kind, that there is no violence in you.”

  “Unfortunately, the police look at evidence, not emotions. And right now, the picture they’ve painted of me is pretty damning. I’d like to tidy things up—ask my neighbor to water my plants, pay bills, clean out the fridge—that kind of thing. Is there a car I could use?”

  Elena frowned. “Daniel said you shouldn’t go out by yourself. It’s too dangerous—someone could be after you.”

  “Oh, I think they’ve accomplished what they want. With the sheriff focusing on Hudson and me as suspects, the real murderer can go on about his business. If he were to hurt me, it would only turn suspicion in a new direction.”

  “Unless he could somehow blame Hudson for that, too,” Elena said practically.

  Gad. Elizabeth hadn’t even considered that. Maybe she wasn’t safe.

  “I’ll get one of our security people to take you home so you can do these chores, okay?” Elena was already reaching for the phone.

  Elizabeth would have preferred to get off by herself, but perhaps it would be safer to have company.

  Thirty minutes later, Elizabeth was ensconced in the backseat of another cushy Lincoln Town Car with a nice, deceptively harmless-looking man named Toby at the wheel. Elena had assured her Toby could handle whatever threats came her way.

  “We do have an escort,” Toby said casually once they were on the freeway.

  Elizabeth craned her neck to look out the back window. She saw a sea of cars.

  “They’re cops. I’m sure of it. Nothing you can do about that, really, so long as they stop short of harassing you.”

  “Whatever.” She didn’t care if they saw her visiting her own home.

  “You should know, they might be listening to anything you say and watching anything you do, even when you think you’re in private.”

  “You mean, they might have bugged my apartment? Or put in surveillance cameras?” Her skin crawled at the thought.

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m going to say anything incriminating.”

  “Even when you’re innocent, conversation can be taken out of context. Just be aware. At the estate, your privacy is protected.”

  Except that Daniel always knew who she was talking to when she used the silver phone. She’d twice tried calling Hudson’s untraceable silver phone with hers. But apparently Hudson wouldn’t risk even that. The cops couldn’t trace them through the phones, but Daniel could.

  Toby pulled up to the curb and let her out, then instructed her to wait in the lobby with the doorman until he’d parked the car and joined her. He didn’t want her entering her apartment without him.

  Though it was late October, her building still ran the air-conditioning in the lobby. It was too cold, and she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She said nothing to the doorman, whom she didn’t recognize. Oscar was probably still on vacation, and this guy could be anybody—one of Daniel’s people, an undercover cop or a legitimate temp worker. He seemed to pay no attention to her.

  Toby reappeared a couple of minutes later, and they rode the elevator upstairs. He entered her apartment first, doing an exhaustive check for people and for booby traps. He even checked for surveillance equipment. He found nothing, but told her she should still be on her guard.

  She dealt with her mail first, paid a few bills, doubling the amount on the check to cover the following month, too. She cleaned out the fridge, then went outside on her balcony to water the plants. She would leave a note for Jean, her next-door neighbor, asking her to water them, at least until it became clear Elizabeth wasn’t coming back.

  That was a depressing thought.

  While she attended to business, Toby sat on her sofa reading a book.

  She’d just finished watering when her cell phone chimed. Not the silver one, but her regular phone. When she saw that it was Tonda, she answered immediately. Maybe Tonda would have some new information.

  “Tonda. What’s going on?”

  “I’m hurt bad, Ms. Downey,” she sobbed. “Real bad.”

  Oh, dear God. “Tonda, what happened?”

  “Jackson. He just snapped. Beat me up pretty bad.”

  “Is he there with you now?” Elizabeth had to first determine if Tonda was still in danger.

  “No. He left.”

  “Then call 9-1-1 for an ambulance. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “No, no, no hospitals. They’ll call the police!”

  Of course. Tonda didn’t want the police involved. It was something Elizabeth dealt with over and over, this mistrust of police from her clients who’d been treated badly by law enforcement or who were scared of going to jail themselves.

  “We can sort that out later. The important thing is to get you taken care of. You and the baby.”

  “Will you come get me?” Tonda asked in a small voice. “Please, I’m scared.”

  “All right, I’ll come. But you have to let me take you to a hospital.”

  “Yeah, okay. But you have to come by yourself. No cops. Nobody else.” She was crying so hard, Elizabeth could barely understand her.

  “No cops.” She wondered how Tonda would feel about Toby, then dismissed the thought. Toby would never drive her to see Tonda. He would deem it too dangerous. He would insist on letting the authorities handle the matter, since technically it had nothing to do with the case. “Just tell me where you are.”

  “I’m at home. At the apartment on Cherry Blossom, 3322A. Please hurry.”

  If Elizabeth’s cell phone was being monitored by the police, they might show up anyway. She couldn’t help that. But what to do about Toby?

  Her neighbor’s balcony was right next door, separated only by a five-foot wall. Getting over it would be easy, and she knew her neighbor never locked her sliding glass door. With a quick glance inside to make sure Toby was still occupied with his book, she dragged a chair to the wall and clamored over. She was inside, through the apartment and out into the hallway in moments. All she needed was a few minutes’ head start on Toby and he wouldn’t be able to follow.

  Her police escort might be a bit harder to shake, but maybe they wouldn’t be watching the garage. They’d expect her to exit with Toby and get back into his car, right? If it was just one guy, he couldn’t watch all the exits at once.

  She had no purse, no money or driver’s license, but fortunately, she’d stuck her keys in one pocket and both cell phones in the other. Her car was in its usual spot. She got in, backed out and was out of the garage and on the road as quickly as she dared.

  The address Tonda had provided was familiar enough to Elizabeth that she could find it without using her GPS. Three minutes into her flight to freedom, the silver phone rang.

  Her heart beating wildly, she answered.

  “Elizabeth, what the hell!” Daniel exploded.

  “It’s not what you thin
k,” she said hastily. “I’m not meeting Hudson. I don’t know where he is and I haven’t heard from him. I’m going to pick up a client who’s in trouble. She made me promise to come alone, and I can’t break—”

  “You’re putting yourself in danger.”

  “This has nothing to do with my father’s murder. One of my clients got beat up by her boyfriend. I’m taking her to the hospital. As soon as I’m sure she’s safe, I’ll come back to your place.”

  “There was no need for all this subterfuge,” he groused. “You scared Toby to death.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just... I don’t know. I needed to feel like I was in control of something.”

  “I promise not to interfere. But I’d like to at least know where to start looking for you if you go missing.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Unless Jackson came back. After a moment’s thought, she gave him the address. “If she sees anyone but me—on the street, in the parking lot—she’ll run, and I’ll lose her forever. Next time Jackson beats her, he might kill her. She might lose her baby. Please tell me you understand that, Daniel.”

  “I do. Be careful.”

  Tonda’s neighborhood, in the Third Ward, wasn’t very far from where Carlos and his girls did business. It was daylight, and Elizabeth’s car didn’t have expensive wheels or much of anything worth stealing, but she knew she still had to be careful.

  At least she didn’t have a purse or money to worry about.

  There was the building. She cruised slowly past. It wasn’t a horrible place. The small, Spanish-style building was probably an eightplex. The pink stucco was stained, and a few of the red clay tiles were missing from the roof, but someone had made an attempt to landscape the place. The grass was patchy but green and had been mowed recently. A couple of brick-lined flower beds featured a handful of sagging pansies.

  Elizabeth found a place to park on the next block. She glanced up and down the street; no one seemed to be about. No sign of anyone following her, though she’d already proved she was no good at spotting a tail.