Her Alibi

by Carol Ericson

  “The police are going to call me, aren’t they?”

  “Homicide detectives. They’ll probably want to interview you face-to-face, especially once they find out you were the last person to see him alive.”

  “I’ll be ready.” She snapped down the lid of her laptop and rubbed her hands together. “Now, let’s go eat and make my presence known in SJB.”

  Savannah bounced along in the passenger seat of Connor’s truck as he pulled onto the road from the property he’d inherited from his father. She rolled down the window and inhaled the scent of the air sweetened by grapevines.

  “I think I can detect the aroma of wine already.”

  “This time next year, I hope to have my first harvest.”

  She tapped on the window. “I didn’t notice a name for the winery. Have you thought of one yet?”

  “I suppose the easiest choice would be San Juan Beach Winery.”

  “That’s a mouthful and kind of boring.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “I’ll think of something clever.”

  “Did you think of Snap App?”

  “I did. Catchy, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” He turned the truck west toward the coast. “I’ll take you to one of the newer places if you’re up for seafood. There’s a steak place, too, and they both do a breakfast or brunch or maybe even lunch.”

  “Seafood. I’m trying to rid my diet of red meat.”

  “Ethical or health?”

  “I do love animals, but it’s for health reasons.”

  He gave her a quick glance up and down. “You? You’re as fit as you were in high school, when you were a soccer star.”

  “Soccer star?” she snorted. “Our team was awful.”

  “Yeah, but you were the best one on that awful team.” He nudged her shoulder with the heel of his hand.

  “You always were biased.”

  “I know. In my eyes, you could do no wrong—even when you did wrong.”

  Savannah tucked her hands beneath her thighs and sealed her lips. She’d done more wrong than Connor had known about, but why dredge up old skeletons? The new ones were keeping her busy enough.

  She cleared her throat. “How much help do you have on the vineyard?”

  “I have a chemist working for me, who drops by a few times a month. I have a couple guys who work the land daily, and I hired a marketing person who’s going to help design the bottles, labels, logos—that kind of stuff.”

  Savannah wagged a finger in the air. “Don’t let her choose the name of the winery. I have dibs on that—I mean, since we’re back together and all.”

  “Don’t take liberties.”

  “How long do you think we need to play kissy-face?” She dropped her gaze and pleated her skirt with restless fingers. A girl could hope.

  “Kissy-face? You mean how long should we pretend to be a couple?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Same thing.”

  “We’ll play it by ear. Let’s see what the homicide detectives have to say. Let’s see if you’re their prime suspect.” He gripped the steering wheel at the top with both hands, his knuckles blanching.

  “Oh, God. Don’t even go there. I don’t want to think about it—any of it.” She tipped her head, resting it against the window.

  “Have you tried to remember what happened after you got to Niles’s house?”

  “I won’t.” She hadn’t remembered the time before, either.

  Connor’s head jerked to the side. “Why so sure?”

  “I—I don’t know. That time last night just feels like a black hole. Besides, if I was roofied, I’m not going to remember. I don’t think any victims after they’d been slipped Rohypnol ever remember what happened, do they? It’s usually forensic evidence, rape kit, even CCTV and witnesses that help piece things together and lead to a conviction, not the victim’s testimony.”

  “Typically, but why would Niles drug you?” Connor dragged a hand through his hair, tucking one side behind his ear. “He wasn’t after you, was he? Wanting to get back together?”

  “No way. He’d already moved on to a new girlfriend.”

  “Then why drug you?”

  “I’m thinking it wasn’t Niles who drugged me. Maybe somebody slipped something in both our drinks.”

  “At the bar?”

  She nodded. “This the place?”

  “How can you tell? The fishnets in the front or the giant swordfish?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.” She punched his thigh with her fist and met rock-hard muscle. Being a vintner agreed with Connor—the longer, sun-bleached hair, the casual attire, his more relaxed attitude. The fact that he hadn’t tossed her out on her bum after her outrageous story was a testament to that new attitude.

  Although if she were honest with herself, she’d known Connor wouldn’t turn her away. He never had even when she’d deserved it.

  He swung the truck into a parking place around the side of the restaurant that fronted the ocean. “Tourists are out in force. That’s the thing with these new restaurants. They do cater to the tourists.”

  “Is the food any good?”

  “Would I take you out for bad seafood? It’s decent.”

  “Maybe we should’ve gone to one of our old haunts with the old local crowd, like the Black Whale.”

  “Too risky. Too many direct questions. We need some time to ease into this.”

  When he turned off the engine, Savannah slid from the truck, yanking down her skirt as her sandals hit the asphalt.

  Connor had come around to the passenger side. “Should’ve waited for me to help you out. The truck sits kinda high.”

  “I’m not going to hurt myself falling out of your truck.” Connor might not be a cop anymore, but he hadn’t lost his protective instincts. Thank God.

  He took her hand. “It’s showtime.”

  She was going to enjoy this role more than most of the ones she played. She squeezed his hand and bumped his shoulder with hers.

  He opened the door for her, and she stepped into the restaurant, her breath hitching at the panoramic view of the ocean from the windows across the dining room. “Wow, no wonder this attracts the tourists.”

  “Hey there, Connor.” A slinky hostess floated toward them, and Savannah moved in closer to her man, even if it was pretend.

  “Hi, Cher. Do you have a table for two? No reservation.”

  “You don’t need a reservation here, Connor. We have a no-show in the back, and that table has your name on it.”

  “Thanks, Cher.”

  As the resourceful Cher led them to the table with Connor’s name on it, she twisted her head over her shoulder and winked at Savannah. “We’re hoping to serve his first bottle of wine here someday soon.”

  “I can’t wait for that myself. We’re trying to come up with names for the winery right now.”

  Cher’s eyes popped and a little stumble marred her sashay. She recovered nicely and pulled out a chair for Savannah. “Well, let us know when you decide. Enjoy your meal, you two.”

  Seated across from Savannah, Connor raised one eyebrow. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

  She hunched across the table and grabbed both his hands. “We’re back together. You’re the man I ran to in the middle of the night, knowing you’d take me back.”

  The light from the window glimmered in his eyes as he studied every detail of her face. Could he see the truth there? She would always turn to Connor Wells in a crisis because he’d always be there for her.

  He raised one of her hands, turned it over and pressed a kiss against the pulse throbbing in her wrist.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” The waiter cleared his throat and asked again, “Drinks?”

  Savannah tore her gaze away from Connor’s and jerked her hand out of his grasp. The connection
between them still sizzled, even under the current circumstances. It would never go away, but this was all still make-believe and she’d kept too many secrets from Connor to ever make this anything more than playacting.

  “Since it’s still before noon, how about a mimosa?” She ran a finger down a plastic drink menu. “The pomegranate mimosa, please.”

  “It’s one of our most popular. And you, Connor? The usual?”

  “That’ll do.”

  Maybe nobody at this tourist trap knew Connor enough to ask probing questions, but they knew who he was. Everyone in San Juan Beach had known the Wells family. Her own mother had always told her to cozy up to Connor. The Wells family not only had position, they had money or at least land, which always translated into money.

  She’d cozied up to him, but it hadn’t been for power or money—and now she had plenty of the latter, thanks to Niles’s death.

  As the waiter walked away, Savannah tapped the side of her water glass. “The usual?”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of wine tasting the past few years, and I found one I liked here.” He shrugged. “I’m a creature of habit.”

  Savannah cranked her head over her shoulder at the loud voices coming from the bar. “Football game?”

  Connor bolted upright in his chair, craning his neck toward the bar. “Not sure why they’d be pointing at us if it were.”

  As Savannah’s gaze darted among the faces turned their way, she placed a hand against the fluttering in her belly. Was there news about Niles?

  The bartender, Angel Cruz, burst through the low swinging door that led behind the bar and charged into the dining room. “Connor, there’s a fire—at your place.”

  Connor jumped from the table, knocking over his glass of water. “The vines?”

  “I don’t think so, man.” Angel tapped the cell phone in his hand. “My buddy said it’s a structure.”

  “The house? Not the house.” Savannah had tossed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair.

  “It’s not the house, either. Some building on the property between the house and the vineyard.”

  “I’ll settle this tab later.” Connor swirled his finger above the table. “Fire department already there?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go, dude. Don’t worry about this stuff.”

  Connor grabbed her arm and practically dragged her from the restaurant.

  When they hit the parking lot, Savannah shook him off. “It sounds like it’s under control, Connor, and thank God it’s not the vines or the house.”

  “You don’t understand, Savannah.” He put his lips close to her ear. “The building that’s burning? That’s where I hid the knife.”

  Chapter Four

  Connor raced back to his house, his truck flying over the asphalt. He’d be able to talk his way out of any speeding ticket right now.

  Savannah sat beside him, twisting her fingers in her lap, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

  She’d been mostly quiet after he told her about the knife in the burning building. She hadn’t seen him put it out there, had she? Not that she had an opportunity to set a fire before they’d left for lunch.

  He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “How the hell does a fire just start? There’s nothing in that building like a heater or water heater or gas cans. It’s just a storage area for now.”

  “A storage area that currently houses a murder weapon.”

  His hands jerked and the truck swerved. “What are you saying? There’s no way anyone saw me hide that knife.” Including Savannah.

  He squinted at the white divider line on the road in front of him. “Besides, I thought your theory was that someone set you up for Niles’s murder. How would that jibe with someone trying to destroy the murder weapon in a fire?”

  “Destroy it? Is that what someone’s trying to do? Maybe they’re trying to expose us...me.” She flicked her fingers at the window. “Firefighters swarming the place, putting out a fire, discovering a knife where a murder victim’s ex-wife happens to be staying.”

  “I get you.” He rubbed his aching jaw. “Why do you think I hightailed it out of that restaurant so fast? But intentional? How would this...arsonist even know you were here? How would he know I put the knife in the shed?”

  Crossing her hands over her chest, Savannah said, “I don’t know. What if the firefighters find it? Are they going to put two and two together when the news gets out?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He squeezed her bare knee, and then snatched his hand away.

  How far would they take this pretense? He’d never been able to resist Savannah, despite his mother’s warnings.

  Like mother, like daughter. Mom always knew Dad had a soft spot for Georgie Martell, Savannah’s mother, and when Dad wound up shooting and killing Georgie’s husband to protect Georgie and Savannah, that had been the last straw for Mom.

  As Connor turned onto the road leading to his property, Savannah tugged on his sleeve. “It looks like they’re finished already...and there’s a cop here.”

  “The sheriff’s department always shows up with the fire department.” He powered down the window and stuck out his arm.

  The sheriff’s deputy jogged to the truck. “You the owner?”

  “Yeah, what happened?”

  “Fire in that small wooden structure, not too much damage but you’ll have to replace the roof.”

  “How’d the fire department get here so quickly?”

  “You’re lucky. Someone saw the smoke from the road and called it in.”

  “Cause?”

  The deputy spread his hands. “Looks like arson.”

  Connor swore and Savannah stiffened beside him. “Now, who the hell would want to burn down my storage shed? Kids?”

  “Maybe.” The deputy swept his arm forward. “You can go ahead. They’re wrapping it up, and the fire chief is going to want to speak with you.”

  “Got it, thanks.” Connor pulled away from the deputy and rolled up his window against the smoky air. “Arson.”

  “This is freaking me out.” Savannah scooped up her purse from the floor and hugged it against her chest. “Why would someone set fire to the very shed where you just hid the knife that killed Niles?”

  His gaze flicked to her face. “You’re sure you weren’t followed here?”

  “I—I don’t think so. Like I said, I ran home first to change clothes and throw some things in a bag. It was still early morning when I drove down here, almost dark. I think I would’ve noticed the headlights of another car dogging me on the road.”

  Connor rolled up the window and stepped on the gas pedal. “Don’t be obvious.”

  “You mean we shouldn’t run straight to...wherever you hid the knife and pull it out in view of the firefighters and deputy?” She rolled her eyes. “I think I can handle that.”

  He slid her a sideways glance. “I think you can handle a lot.”

  He pulled in front of the house, and an average-sized man who seemed overpowered by his gear tromped up to him, his heavy boots stirring up little clouds of dust with every step.

  Connor mumbled under his breath, “The fire chief. Let me do the talking.”

  “It’s your property.” Savannah turned away and shoved open the passenger door.

  Connor scrambled from the truck and thrust out his hand. “Chief, I’m Connor Wells and this is my property.”

  “Chief Murray.” After shaking Connor’s hand with his own gloved one, Murray jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Arson. Crude Molotov cocktail. You know anyone who’d want to start a fire at your place?”

  “Not a clue.” Connor shoved one hand in the pocket of his shorts. “I’m just glad he decided to torch my storage shed instead of my vines.”

  Savannah had joined him and draped her arm casually around his waist. If she wanted to continue the
pretense in front of the fire chief, who was he to complain?

  “Yeah, that’s unusual. Someone wanting to do you the most amount of harm would’ve started with your grapevines.” Murray tipped his hat back from his forehead. “Maybe it was kids pulling a prank.”

  “In my day, pulling a prank would be playing ding-dong ditch, not setting fires.”

  Savannah pinched his side—hard. “That’s probably what it was. They figured this was a worthless building with nothing much inside, so they wouldn’t get in so much trouble if they were caught. I mean, as opposed to setting fire to the house or the land, which could’ve spread.”

  This time Connor nudged her sandaled foot with the toe of his shoe. If she kept going on and on about how worthless the shed was, she could raise the chief’s antenna.

  Connor cleared his throat, as much to stop Savannah from opening her mouth again as from the smoke lingering in the air. “I wouldn’t say completely worthless. The shed isn’t empty. Was anything inside damaged?”

  “Singed a little, scorched...and now waterlogged, but the fire mostly damaged the roof, where the arsonist tossed the incendiary device.” Murray stepped aside and waved his arm. “We’ve put it out completely, if you want to have a look inside, but don’t go in yet. The wood’s still hot and we’re going to rip off that roof before we go.”

  Connor put his hand on Savannah’s arm as she took a step forward. “Stay here. I’m just going to take a quick look.”

  He approached the blackened shed, water dripping from the roof, and one wall caved in. Ducking his head, he peered inside, his gaze wandering to the wine barrel where he’d stashed the knife.

  A hand clapped on his back and Connor jumped and spun around.

  Cole Miller, a friend of his, held up his hands. “Whoa, sorry, man.”

  “You’re good. Just startled me.”

  “Yeah, who wouldn’t be on edge? When I saw that we were riding out here to your property, I was hoping we wouldn’t find the vines on fire. Glad it’s just this storage shed.”

  “I had the same thought when Angel over at Neptune’s Cove told me there was a fire at my place—anything but the vines.”

  Cole hit the side of the shed with his hand. “Anything important in here? You have insurance, right?”