Defensive Wounds by Lisa Black

Author:Lisa Black [Black, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780061989414
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

* * *

He waited until Britton looked up, then made a show of pulling out his palm-size notebook and flipping a few pages. “There were five of you who went to the hotel bar after attending the last session of the day—which was, I believe, ‘Strategies for Invoking the Fifth Amendment.’ From the bar you all went to Morton’s steak house, where you paid a big bill and a small tip, and then to House of Blues. They must make good drinks at the House of Blues, because that’s where people’s memories get a little fuzzy. Your alibi men are equally split—two say you went to the Crazy Horse with them, and two say you showed up later.”

Britton set down the jar and returned to trimming his car’s gaping hole. “I’ll bet I can guess which two. The assistant registrar of the convention and our illustrious keynote speaker tried to outdo each other with blue martinis. They probably aren’t sure they were there, much less me.”

“No, the two with bad hangovers insist you were with them every minute. It’s your more sober compatriots who think you did a disappearing act.” Slightly more sober. “And, you see, the cabdriver doesn’t remember you either.”

Britton barely paused. “Because you can’t fit five guys into a cab. I grabbed another one.”

“All by yourself?”

“With the effort it took for my colleagues to get into the vehicle in the first place, I wasn’t going to ask them to get back out. I just slammed the door and hailed the next one.”

Frank hesitated. The cab company hadn’t said anything about a single fare immediately following the first, but then he hadn’t asked. And there were several major cab companies in the city, as well as minor ones. He considered bluffing Britton—considered it very briefly.

Besides, he had more. “Then there’s your destination. The Crazy Horse remembers your four friends—not that they’re the only ones in history to walk in drunker than they walked out, but still memorable—and remember only four. No fifth.”

“As I just explained, I arrived a few minutes later.”

“Got lost in traffic?” As if traffic would be a problem, downtown after dark with no ball games scheduled.

“It took me a few minutes to find a cab.”

Again Frank considered bluffing, then abandoned the idea. No one in the dim lighting and cacophony of the Crazy Horse would remember a single man in a business suit, not unless he tipped with hundred-dollar bills, and Frank suspected that Britton would not. “Just letting you know that your alibi has some potential holes. You’re sure you didn’t walk two blocks back to the Ritz for a quickie with Marie?”

“Positive.” Britton was watching Angela, but not in a flirtatious way, more like a disapproving mother watching a child as she slowly circled the purplish car, as tense as if he had a body stuffed in the trunk. It said “Stutz” on the radiator and “Bearcat” on the grille. Frank hoped his partner would make the mistake of touching the immaculately painted body, so that just once he could see Britton discombobulated.

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