The Alibi Man

Chapter 32

“She’s a problem.”

“She’s a detective.”

“Used to be a detective,” Barbaro corrected.

“She’s investigating the girl’s murder, badge or no badge,” Brody said.

They had adjourned from an uneasy dinner and regrouped at Brody’s house, in the game room, where an antique billiards table dominated the space and oxblood leather club chairs were scattered around on Persian rugs a hundred years old.

Walker paced back and forth in a not-so-straight line. “I don’t want her around.”

“What do you want to do, Ben? Knock her off?”

He wheeled and shouted, “Fuck you! Just fuck you, Kenner! Fuck yourself!”

“You’re the problem,” Kenner challenged, scotch slopping out of the tumbler in his hand as he gestured. “You have to be an asshole every time you open your mouth.”

“She tried to put me in prison!” Walker shouted. “She’ll try to do it again! She’s a fucking cunt, and she hates me!”

“Let’s stay on point,” Ovada said calmly. “How does she know about the after-party?”

“What does she know about the after-party?” Kenner asked.

“I saw her talking with Lisbeth this afternoon,” Brody said.

Foster made a face. “Lisbeth? She wasn’t even there that night. She doesn’t know anything.”

“She’s been to other parties,” Barbaro pointed out. He sat against the back of one of the club chairs, looking bored and unhappy to be there.

“So what?” Kenner said. “It’s not against the law to have a party.”

“The party isn’t the issue,” Brody said. “The cops want DNA, for God’s sake. That means they have something to compare it against.”

“It’s not against the law for consenting adults to have sex either.”

“It’s not against the law to own a gun,” Ovada said, “but if you are seen with the gun and a murder victim before the crime, you become a suspect.”

Walker turned a dark look on Brody. “She’s your groom. Fire her. Get her out of here. Send her back to where she came from.”

“And give her every reason to make trouble?” Brody said. “No. I keep my friends close, and my enemies closer.”

“Well, get her close and impress on her to keep her stupid mouth shut,” Walker said. “Stupid little bitch. Does she have any idea how lucky she is? How many hick-town chicks from Bumfuck, Michigan, get to have the life she does? And she’s so ungrateful, she’s shooting her mouth off to someone she met yesterday. Fuck that.”

“She’s hardly the only girl who has been to a party,” Barbaro said.

“No,” Walker returned. “But she’s the only one talking.”

“Maybe she’s thinking she’ll get her fifteen minutes of fame,” Ovada offered.

“Oh, great,” Walker said. “Now we can worry about her going to the press, and they can descend on us right behind the detectives.”

“Here’s a news flash, mates,” Sebastian Foster chimed in. “That’s a done deal-the cops, the press. And it’s got nothing to do with the Estes woman or Lisbeth. The detectives came looking straightaway. The dead girl was at the party at Players. That’s no secret. There had to be a hundred people there to see her. Why wouldn’t the detectives come looking at us?”

“And if we don’t cooperate with them, we look guilty,” Kenner whined.

“If we do cooperate, we look guiltier,” Brody said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m not going to prison because I got a blowjob on my birthday.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Ovada asked.

“Not a damn thing,” Walker said.

“Deny, deny, deny,” Foster chimed in. “What else is there? Tell them, oh, yes, we all had sex with her? No one would find that suspicious.”

Brody focused on Barbaro. “You’re awfully quiet, Juan. What are you thinking?”

Barbaro shrugged. “Only people who were at the after-party know what happened at the after-party. All of those people are in this room-except one. There is no reason to talk about it that I can see.”

No one said anything.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, pushing himself away from the chair. “I have a match to play tomorrow. I’m certain Mr. Brody would prefer me to be fresh for it.”

He walked out of the room and out of the house, stopping to stand on the front porch. Walker wasn’t far behind him.

“You need a ride home, friend?” Barbaro asked.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Did you kill her?”

Walker started, gave him a look that slid away too quickly. “No! I told you, no. She was dead when I found her.”

Barbaro just frowned and shook his head, looking out at the yard.

“What’s the matter with you?” Walker said. “You were at the party too. Did you kill her?

“You’re letting Elena poison you,” he said. “You’re pissing me off with that. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Yes.”

“You’re as bad as that stupid little twat groom. You know Elena twenty-four hours and you believe her over me? What the hell is that? What kind of friend is that?” Walker demanded, his voice getting louder and louder.

Barbaro spread his hands and gestured for Walker to keep it down. “You need to calm down… friend.”

“Calm down? Do you have any idea what happens to my life if the media gets wind of me having anything to do with a murdered girl?” he asked. “It’s a fucking nightmare. They’ll dig up everything from back then, spin it around, make me look like Ted Bundy.

“And-and-what about Nancy?” he asked as an afterthought. “None of this is fair to Nancy.”

Barbaro arched a brow. “Somehow, my friend, I don’t believe your concern is for your wife.”

“Well, fuck you too, Juan,” Walker snapped. “You want to have your name put out there as a rapist?”

“No one said the girl was raped.”

“That’s what they’ll imply, that the girl was raped and killed, and it had to be me because-”

He caught himself short of saying it.

“Because you did it before?”

Barbaro stepped out of the way as Walker took a wild swing at him, lost his balance, and tumbled down the stone steps to the lawn, landing with a thud and a groan. When he struggled back up onto his knees, his lip was split and bleeding.

Barbaro descended the steps, put a foot on his shoulder, and knocked him sprawling again.

“Look at yourself,” he said with disgust. “You’re drunk, you’re pathetic. What kind of man are you?”

Walker came up on one knee and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He took a couple of deep breaths and composed himself.

“My father-in-law is pushing me to run for office,” he said, getting up. “Imagine that.”

“You seem a poor choice,” Barbaro said.

“It’s America, amigo. Anything can happen. Look at Bill Clinton. The guy nailed anything in a skirt, and he was a two-term president.”

“Was he also associated with a murdered girl?”

“You know,” Walker said with an edge in his voice, “the thing about this club is that no one is innocent. You’ve needed an alibi before.”

“No,” Barbaro said. “In fact, no, I have not. I have been an alibi many times. I have been your alibi many times.”

“Then once more won’t kill you,” Walker said. “We stick to our story. We left Players, went to my place for a nightcap. We didn’t see Irina after the party.”

“And if the detectives get a warrant and go into your home and find evidence the girl was there?”

Walker looked at his watch. “They’ll never get inside my house,” he said. “That’s what lawyers are for.”

Only slightly unsteady, he walked to his car and drove away into the night.