The Original Alibi mk-1

by David Bishop

  By the way, if you’re thinking me rude for brazenly gazing at Karen’s breasts instead of glancing, the rule changes when a woman purposely bares herself in front of a man. When a woman shows a small portion of her abundance a man should take a small look, a glance in that instance is a compliment while a gaze rude. However, when a woman intentionally bares herself in front of a man, a glance would be rude and a gaze a compliment. I know it’s confusing. Things like this have slowed the evolution of the male species.

  “I didn’t mean for you two to fight. Cliff and I run on the beach. We see each other now and then. I mentioned to him that the general was less calm, and Eddie a basket case. I think I said something along the lines of wishing you had never gotten involved, that I’d prefer it if you just went away. Apparently, Cliff processed that all wrong. I never told him to run you off, and certainly not to hit you.”

  “You’re good. You’re very good. The way you turn all coquettish. Teasing and flaunting at the same time, a very sexy pose, a carefully worded suggestion. With a guy like Cliff you’re not fighting fair.”

  “Oh, Matt, I don’t want you to think badly of me. Sometimes I can be a little … men like me. You like me, don’t you, Matt?”

  “Yeah, I like you. But I don’t know any better. I collect blondes and brunettes.”

  She stepped a bit closer, her breasts coming to a halt after the rest of her. “What else do you collect?”

  “Bottles of Irish whiskey, full ones. I trade them in for empties. It’s a hobby a man has to work at.”

  “Do you enjoy drinking that much?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I like it. It’s a family tradition. An obligation passed down from my ancestors. Now why don’t you stop picking on Cliff? Choose somebody who can fight back.”

  “Can you fight back, Matt?” She brought her black sweat shorts closer, her arms crossed below the feature of the day. Then she hugged me. Her hair tickled my face while her perfume played its way into my lungs.

  “You just don’t quit, do you? You just keep coming.”

  “I like to come, Matt.” She put her open palm on my chest. “Don’t you? But I know that already, don’t I. I’m guessing you’d like to come with me again.”

  I backed away a few steps. “I’m supposed to go meet Cliff, remember?”

  “I could come by your place later.” I didn’t respond. “Like the other night after we had dinner. This time I can bring the chocolate-dipped strawberries. I’ll also bring the container in case you’d like to drizzle some on me.” She took the bath towel from over my shoulder, walked into the bathroom and hung it on the rod. Then she walked back toward me, slowly, parts of her in constant motion, teasing me with each step.

  “Ten o’clock,” she said.

  “Perfect.”

  I know. I sold out, but somehow I couldn’t place what would come my way at ten tonight anywhere in the realm of punishment.

  Chapter 16

  I found Cliff in the garage. He had showered and changed clothes but likely had done so without the rain forest shower head, the plush bath towel, and the eye candy that had accompanied my clean up in Karen’s boudoir. Life is good.

  “You’re a tough son of a bitch, Kile.”

  “Make it Matt. I’ll be sore for a week.” We shook hands. Yeah. This was like the old days when men could fight and find friendship, at least respect.

  “So, you represent the general in this?” Cliff asked.

  “I represent myself. It’s a tough world out there. For now, working for the general is in my best interest.” I had been cagey because I don’t like suspects being too certain of my motives or ethics.

  “I got a couple of beers in the fridge in the corner?” I nodded and he got them. We screwed off the caps and took a pull before I spoke.

  “I mean no disrespect, but I know Karen manipulated you into what just went down. You must know she enjoys pushing your buttons.”

  He sat on a stool that faced a small workbench below a wall of tools, mostly for cars, not gardening. “Yeah. I gotta get over her, but it ain’t easy. If fucking were an Olympic sport, Karen would bring home the gold.”

  I laughed. “She’s jobbing ya. Getting you to do something I doubt is in your best interest.”

  He just lowered his head, shook it some and looked up with a smile. Then he nodded. “Beer okay?”

  “Good and cold. Thanks. Look. You know why I’m poking around in the Whittaker family closet. I also figure you do a bit of watching and a lot of listening while you’re driving them here and there. You introduced Eddie to Ileana, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Back then, Eddie and me rode our Harleys together. He’d never done that and needed an experienced rider along. For him it was a new toy. He sold it some years ago and I went back to just being the general’s driver.”

  I went over and opened the passenger door of a black 1950 Mercury with wheel-cover skirts, it’s lines as sleek as Karen’s hips. I left the door open and sat with my feet on the sill, facing Cliff. “Tell me about Ileana.”

  “Hot chick. She loved it like Karen, only Illy didn’t use her talents to tease. She dug Eddie, but I think she also saw him as a ticket to the good life.”

  “You ever hear her say that?”

  Cliff came over and got in the driver’s side. I swung my legs around and we became just two fellas talking in a car, a guy thing if ever there was one.

  “Never heard any scuttlebutt, just my take on it. Illy was gorgeous. I went after her once. Did it right, flowers, met her folks, the whole deal. But I had nothing material to offer her. We became friends. That was it.”

  “Could that be why you think she saw Eddie as a meal ticket?”

  He hunched up his nose like he’d detected a foul odor. “Could be, I s’pose. Who knows? But Illy was good. Nice, you know, funny. Didn’t seem to take herself too seriously. But she wanted more than her folks had. Guys’ eyes followed her. She always smiled at them. Not flirty. I think she liked being noticed. And I can tell you, the guys liked noticing her.”

  “Was Eddie a player or the kind who wanted to settle down?”

  “He’s always liked playing around, no doubt of that. But then why not, he was a young man and he had a generous allowance. He lived good, didn’t need to marry for a second income to pay the bills. But the man was nuts about Illy. Her death broke ‘im, man. He was down a long time. I used to drive him to therapy. In those days he didn’t even care to drive his Mustang. On the way, he’d just sit quiet. Three times a week. Silent. Just sit there. Like a year, man. I was worried about the dude.”

  “But he came out of it?”

  “Yeah. A year I guess. How long can a guy be in the dumps? Hormones keep getting produced. Tail talent keeps swishing by. Life goes on, you know. But for years, I could tell. There’s a point out there where he and Illy used to sit and look at the ocean for hours. Just talk. Laugh. You know. He still goes out there some. Sits. I don’t think he’s full over her yet.”

  Cliff got out and brought back two more beers. When he got back in, I turned on the seat to face him. “Cliff, did Eddie kill her?”

  His eyebrows went up, but his answer came fast. “No way. He loved her. Even if he didn’t, Eddie doesn’t have killer in him. Few guys do. Eddie spends most of his nights looking for a new place to hide his dick. No. Somebody tried to frame ‘im. It couldn’t just be a random killing. The papers said nothing was taken. She wasn’t raped. And a random killer wouldn’t have known about Eddie, or not enough to try and frame him. Somebody wanted Eddie to go down for it.”

  “Who?”

  He just shrugged.

  “I hear you taught Eddie how to shoot?”

  “Not long after I started working here, Eddie would have me take him out and we’d practice. Every once in a while he’d get in a groove and shoot the shit out of the target, like a sniper, man. But then he’d go back to missing the barn, you know what I mean? He’d go extra alone and practice. Next time I went with him, he’d be about the s
ame, no better. Eddie just couldn’t consistently stop jerking when he pulled the trigger.”

  “Why’d he want to learn in the first place?”

  “The general used to have family shoots, him and Eddie and Karen, usually me and sometimes Charles. The general wanted Eddie to get better. Now Karen, she was a different story. That gal could shoot the light off a candle, particularly with a handgun. She actually did that once while we were shooting, just the two of us.”

  “But Eddie never got it going?”

  “Not consistent like, no. Just them spurts when he couldn’t miss. After some months, he gave it up, dropped it flat and quit participating in the family shoots. That’s Eddie. When mastering something doesn’t come easy, he drops it.”

  “Before you came to work for the general, didn’t Charles drive for him?”

  “Sure. But in those years a lot of the time the general drove himself.”

  “But since you were hired about twelve years ago, you always do the driving?”

  “I’m the general’s driver. Sometimes Karen drives when she takes the general into town for lunch now and again. Charles drives when it’s my day off, but the general schedules his stuff for my days, you know, because Charles is pretty busy. Charles goes along when the general is seeing his attorney. Karen goes along when the general is going to his accountant or broker. But I do the driving; it’s my job. That’s about it, except for when I was driving Eddie to see his shrink, but that hasn’t been for some years now.”

  “The general’s dying, we all know that. What’re your plans after that?”

  “Eddie has told me he will keep me on. I hope he does. This is a good gig. Easy, you know.”

  Chapter 17

  It was mid-afternoon and Charles confirmed that Eddie was still at home. The general was in bed upstairs. Charles told me to go into the study, and he’d bring Eddie to me.

  From the doorway, Eddie Whittaker said, “Mr. Kile, how do you do. I’ve been looking forward to our meeting.” He walked in as if his shorts were too tight. “So, you’re a private eye as you fellows are called?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t think they existed anymore, other than in seedy books and second-rate movies.”

  “No. We’re for real. Correspondence school, you know. Study at home. All that.”

  He grinned, but not a friendly grin. His nose was a little wide, much like looking at a double barreled shotgun, but he was a handsome man. He had nice eyes and hair, and his wallet would be getting fatter soon.

  “Then you know what you’re doing, I take it.”

  “Oh, absolutely, I finished the course and passed the mail-in exam. Proud to say, top of my class, first out of all five of us. So, what can I do for you, Eddie?”

  “You asked to see me, Matt. What is it I can do for you?”

  “You said, ‘I’ve been looking forward to our meeting.’ Why is that?”

  “Well, I’ve heard you have taken on the task of proving once and for all that I was in no way culpable in the death of my fiancee. For me, that is good news. I will help any way I can.”

  “That’s good to hear, Eddie. May I call you Eddie?”

  “Please, Matt, I agree first names are friendlier, more personal.” He sat in the general’s chair, at his desk as if it was Eddie’s desk, or he anticipated it being his. He motioned me to take a seat. I sat in the same visitor chair I used during my meetings with the general.

  “Tell me about what happened eleven years ago.”

  “We had a nice Christmas; the summer was hot that year.”

  “Let me warn you, Eddie, Chapter six of the Apex detective correspondence course taught how to strong arm recalcitrant witnesses.”

  “Oooh, recalcitrant, that correspondence school must have really been good.”

  “It was. Chapter seven taught how to deal with smartass punks and spoiled, pampered brats who don’t deserve the treatment in Chapter six.”

  He squirmed a bit. What I said had stung.

  “I thought you had some questions for me, Matt. Why don’t you go ahead ask a few?”

  “Sure. Let’s get right to it. Did you kill Ileana?”

  “You do get right to the point, don’t you, Matt?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “No.”

  “You figure you deserve to sit in the general’s chair? That you can fill it?”

  He grinned, leaned back and intertwined his fingers with his elbows on the arms of the chair. “The general, my grandfather, was a great man. But I’m not exactly chopped liver.”

  “The general served his nation. Helped his friends. Raised his grandson. Gives to charity. Is concerned with justice for the family Corrigan. What do you figure elevates you above chopped liver, to use your phrase?”

  “I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology, I’m a member of Mensa, and I lost my father in defense of this country. You don’t like me, do you Matt?”

  “Alexander Dumas would have called you a fop. Baroness Orczy would have used the word popinjay. But me, I’d just say you’re a waste. And, I’d also not say your grandfather was a great man, as you characterized him. I’d say the general is a great man. Sounds like you already are thinking of him as dead.”

  “He doesn’t have long now.”

  “Before you get too eager, let me warn you. You might think you can fill his shoes, but you couldn’t even wear his yesterday’s socks.”

  Charles knocked softly and entered. “Would you like the usual, Mr. Kile?”

  “No thank you, Charles, nothing for me.” Eddie looked toward Charles and screwed up his face while shaking his head. Charles left.

  “I love my grandfather,” he said in a tone about a buck short of having real value. “He is more important to me than you could know. You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Oh, sure, I believe you. Millions wouldn’t, but then I’m a sucker for sincerity, even when it isn’t sincere.”

  “I don’t like your manners, Mr. Kile.”

  “I don’t like them either, Eddie. On lonely nights I worry about them. Not all that much. Not enough to work at changing them, but I do worry.”

  “You can’t get in my head, Kile.”

  “I was in your head before you walked in this room.”

  “That’s enough of your sarcasm, Kile. If this desk wasn’t between us, I’d kick your ass.”

  I smiled. “Please feel free to follow me outside when I leave. Now tell me, I’m curious. You were engaged to marry Ileana, with the engagement coming after you learned she was pregnant. What if I said, she got pregnant to trap you. Saw you as her meal ticket out of the middle class. When you figured out she was doing the Madonna material girl bit, you killed her.”

  “You’re full of shit. We were in love. Planned to marry and grow old together.”

  “In over eleven years you have found no other woman to replace her.”

  “That’s correct. She was the one, my one. There can be no replacement. I am destined to live alone with her memory. As for your accusation, the court found me innocent.”

  “Not so. The court ruled the state had not made its case even sufficiently to have you arrested. The D.A. had no real choice but to drop the charges. Those charges can be reinstated. You were not tried and found not guilty. So don’t rest all that easily.”

  “I am innocent, Matt.” So we were back to first names. “I did not kill Ileana. I loved her. And I want you to find whoever did kill her. I’m sure the general has agreed to compensate you well for proving my innocence. I want you to earn that money. I hope you do.”

  There was nothing more to be gained by continuing. Eddie Whittaker likely had very little confrontation in his life. I had given him a heaping serving and he had handled it well. I had scrambled his composure, but he had recovered and held it together. The man was smart and cool under pressure, perhaps an inherited trait, perhaps just a cocksure confidence that he believed himself to be the smartest guy in any room.

  I left. Eddie didn’t
follow me outside.

  Chapter 18

  On the way out, Charles stepped around the Christmas tree near where I had first seen Karen. “The general would like to see you, Mr. Kile.” I felt confused. Charles noticed and cleared that up. “The general is feeling much better. He asks that you come to his small private study off his bedroom. He occupies the west wing at the top of the stairs; I’ll take you up.”

  Karen’s room had been to the east at the top of the stairs. There was also a door to the right, past her suite, which she had said was Eddie’s room.

  The general’s small study was about twelve feet by fifteen, not all that small, with thick carpeting. Low music played in the background, music similar to what Mackie played in his bistro. The temperature was a bit warmer than downstairs and the general was in shirtsleeves, again khaki. He insisted on standing to greet me. We shook hands. His shake seemed weaker than it had been only a few days before. His eyes a bit more hooded.

  “Popinjay?” He laughed, and then coughed. “Fop? That was a bit thick, don’t you think? Even for a writer?”

  I looked at him. He grinned. “Oh. I heard the whole thing. You didn’t see him at all during the first several days of your investigation, left him to wonder, then a full frontal attack. Great strategy. May I ask if you learned anything from it?” When I continued to look at him, knowing he had somehow overheard, he explained. “This room is directly above the main study. I had it fixed so that I can listen or not to whatever is going on in there. I arranged for it while building the house. No one else is aware, so I ask you to keep it under wraps. Over time I have fashioned the study into the place where family members gather to talk seriously. However, there are other rooms that afford me this same … access, shall I say?”

  “General, I certainly hope, when our country again finds itself engaged in combat that the defense department will invite you to participate.”

  The general laughed. “There are advantages to being an old man. Not many mind you, but a few. Young people, even those well into middle-age, have this notion that we curmudgeons have minds which deteriorate in direct proportion to the wasting of our bodies. Their self-indulgence on this point can easily be played against them.”