The Alibi Man

Chapter 31

Jeff Cherry had never known one valuable thing in his life until he had taken the job as a valet at Players. He had taken the job because it seemed pretty much like money for nothing and he got to drive cars he otherwise could only have dreamed about. But he had figured out pretty quickly that he could make an extra five or ten bucks off certain customers if he sucked up hard enough, complimented the ladies, offered to do little extras like clean out the ashtrays while the customers were in having dinner.

The more he began to pay attention to the customers, the more the customers expressed their gratitude. Then one night a gentleman slipped him a twenty to turn his head and pretend he hadn’t seen a certain young woman-not his wife-leave with him.

Being an entrepreneurial sort, Jeff had built himself a nice little side business, turning a blind eye to all kinds of things. Then expanding to provide other services, such as getting small amounts of recreational drugs delivered while his clients were in the club. His success relied on his discretion and on knowing things he shouldn’t have.

Talking with the cops was not on his agenda.

He split as soon as the bitch with the questions and the cell phone was out of sight.

He made a call from his cell phone while sitting in the parking lot of Town Square shopping center on Forest Hill and South Shore.

The client didn’t pick up, of course. None of these people were going to take a call from a valet. He waited for the beep, then blurted it all out.

“Hey, this is Jeff from Players. From the parking lot. So anyway, this woman called the cops and told them I might know something about that dead girl-like who she left with that night. So I split, ”cause I don’t wanna talk to them, but I gotta figure they’re gonna come looking for me. I can’t just get out of Dodge. I have a lucrative business to run, but lying to the cops isn’t a regular service. So I gotta charge extra for that, is what I’m saying. So call me back.“

He left his number and ended the call, out of breath.

Wow. What would that kind of lie be worth? Ten grand? Twenty? It would sort of depend, he thought, on whether or not the client had actually killed that girl. He couldn’t imagine that was what had happened. These people were rich. Rich people didn’t go around killing people. But they wouldn’t want people thinking that maybe they did even if they didn’t, so that was worth a lot.

Fifty grand? More?

And what if the client had killed that girl? How freaky would that be?

A hundred grand?

He went over to the gas station and bought himself half a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts and a quart of chocolate milk, went back to his car, and waited for his phone to ring.