The Perfect Alibi Read online

  “Me?! Why do they want to know about me?”

  “They know you threatened Armstrong. I guess that faggot whined to someone and they heard about it.”

  “What’s that got to do with his partner getting killed?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask them. I told them to shove off as soon as I heard what they wanted.”

  “Well, I didn’t murder anyone.”

  “But you were out last night,” Senior said. “Did you go anywhere near Armstrong’s office?”

  “Of course not. Why would I want to go there? I was at a club. I’ve been locked up, and I wanted a night out.”

  “You’ve got to be smart, Blaine. You can’t go clubbing. There’s drugs, someone might pick a fight with you just because you’re famous. You’re out now, but the cops will use any excuse to put you back in.”

  “You’re right, Dad. No more clubbing. I’ll stay home at night until this blows over.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jessica Braxton spotted the buyer sitting at the end of the hotel bar where Harry said he would be. He was a big dude in a leather jacket and black turtleneck who looked like a character in Shaft, one of those blaxploitation movies out of the seventies. Jessica scanned the bar for anyone who looked like a cop before taking the stool next to him.

  “A Cuba Libre,” she told the bartender, using the code Harry had instructed her to use.

  “That’s a pretty powerful drink for a little woman,” the man said, giving her the response she was expecting. They made small talk until Jessica finished the Cuba Libre. Ten minutes after she walked to her car, the buyer was sitting in her passenger seat.

  “You got the stuff?” he asked.

  “You have the money?”

  The man handed Jessica a wad of cash. She counted it and gave him the heroin. That’s when he showed Jessica his badge.

  * * *

  “Hi, Miss Braxton,” the chubby young man in the mismatched jacket and slacks said. “My name is Ron Jenkins, and I’ve been appointed by the Court to represent you.”

  Jessica was sick and she had trouble paying attention. Withdrawal was a bitch, and she was in its throes. “Can you get me out?” she asked. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “That may be a problem. The amount of heroin the police say you delivered to the undercover agent was large enough to warrant sending this case to the feds.”

  Jessica put her head in her hands. “I gotta get out. I’m really sick. I’ll do anything.”

  “I did talk to the district attorney, but they have such a strong case against your supplier, Harry Newcomb, that they aren’t inclined to deal.”

  Jessica ran her tongue across her lips. “What if I had something bigger than Newcomb to trade? Could you get me help? I really need help.”

  “Big like what?”

  * * *

  Carrie Anders opened the door to the interview room. Jessica Braxton was sitting on one side of a wooden table, and her public defender was sitting beside her. Anders thought Braxton looked awful. She was a lot skinnier than she’d been when Anders had interviewed her at the hospital about her rape case, and she was twitching and scratching like someone who was really hurting.

  “Hi, Jessica,” the detective said. “I’m a little surprised we’re meeting under these circumstances.”

  “Yeah, well, I fucked up big-time, but it’s not my fault.”

  “Whose fault is it?”

  “I’m an addict, Detective Anders. I wasn’t thinking straight. You can see that, can’t you? I’m not a criminal. I’m sick and I need help.”

  “Being an addict and being a criminal aren’t mutually exclusive, Jessica. The way I see it, you’re an addict who needs medical help and you’re a criminal who sold a shitload of heroin to an undercover agent. You’re facing a ton of jail time.”

  “But you’d help me get into rehab if I told you something important, right? Mr. Jenkins says that we could make a deal.”

  “That depends on what this important thing is.”

  “This is all off the record until we have a deal?” Jenkins interjected.

  Anders nodded. “I’m here to listen. If Miss Braxton has something useful to trade, I’ll work with her. So, Jessica, what do you want to tell me?”

  “It’s about Blaine Hastings.”

  “What about him?”

  “It was a scam.”

  “What was?”

  “I wasn’t raped. His father paid me to say I was raped. He told me to say a guy named Ray did it, and he gave me a description of this Ray I was supposed to give to the cops.”

  “You had a black eye and a split lip. How did that happen?”

  “Blaine’s father did it. He said it would make the story more believable. He gave me a little extra. He called it combat pay.”

  “Let’s back up here,” Anders said. “When did Mr. Hastings ask you to say you were raped?”

  “Right after his kid was convicted.”

  “How do you know the Hastingses?”

  “I was working at his company and I got in a little trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I took some money to buy drugs, and he found out—so I had to go to a motel and work it off.”

  “You had sex with Mr. Hastings so he wouldn’t call the police?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When was this?”

  “About a year and a half ago.”

  “Did you keep working for the company?”

  “No, he fired me.”

  “Did you see him after that?”

  “Not until he called me after his kid went down. He said he would give me five thousand dollars if I told the cops I’d been raped. I was down on my luck and out of a job, so I said I would.”

  “This doesn’t make sense. The DNA test showed a match to Blaine Junior’s DNA. How did they figure out a way for you to have sex with him while he was in jail?”

  Braxton laughed. “It was simpler than that. Junior jacked off into a ketchup packet and slipped it to his dad when Senior visited him in jail. Then I put some of it inside me and wiped the rest on my panties.”

  Anders stared at Braxton, dumbfounded. Then she started laughing, too. “A ketchup packet?”

  Braxton nodded. “We sure fooled everybody.”

  “You sure did,” Anders agreed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rex Kellerman was reviewing the police report of Carrie Anders’s interview with Jessica Braxton when Les Kreuger walked into Judge Redding’s courtroom.

  “What’s going on, Rex?” Kreuger asked when he walked through the gate that separated the bar of the court from the spectator section.

  Rex suppressed an urge to gloat as he handed Kreuger a copy of Carrie Anders’s report. “There’s been a new development in Mr. Hastings’s case. Read that. Then we can talk.”

  Kellerman watched Kreuger’s face. When he got to the paragraph where Braxton described the scam, Kreuger’s mouth opened and Kellerman grinned.

  “Interesting, huh?” he said.

  “A ketchup packet,” Kreuger said.

  “Yeah, that’s everyone’s reaction.”

  “You can do that?” Kreuger asked.

  “We ran it by the people at the crime lab, and they agreed that it would work. One of the lab guys even remembered hearing about a perp in Milwaukee who ran the same scam about twenty years ago.”

  “What are you going to do?” Kreuger asked.

  “I’m asking the judge to revoke Hastings’s bail, of course.”

  Rex checked his watch. “And speaking of Mr. Hastings, where is your client? It’s almost two.”

  “I called his house as soon as you notified me about the hearing. I assume his folks are driving him down.”

  “You didn’t speak to him?”

  “I told Mrs. Hastings.” Kreuger looked at the clock on the courtroom wall. “He’s still got a few minutes.”

  Rex was about to reply when the bailiff called the Court to order and Ju
dge Redding took the bench.

  The judge surveyed the courtroom and frowned. “Where is Mr. Hastings?” she asked Les Kreuger.

  “On the way, Your Honor.”

  “He’d better be.”

  Kreuger took out his phone. “Let me check.”

  At that moment, Gloria and Blaine Senior walked in. They both looked upset.

  “Where is your son?” Judge Redding asked.

  Senior looked flustered. “We don’t know, Your Honor.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I told him about the hearing when your clerk called yesterday, but he wasn’t in his room this morning,” Gloria said.

  “Are you telling me that he’s run off?” the judge asked.

  “We don’t know that,” Blaine said, straining to sound reasonable. “There may be some explanation.”

  Judge Redding looked grim. “If there is, he’ll be telling me about it in prison clothes. I’m revoking bail and denying the motion for a new trial.”

  The judge turned to Kellerman. “You tell your people to bring him in.”

  “It will be the first thing I do as soon as I get to my office. But there’s another matter I’d like to take care of right now.”

  “What is that, Mr. Kellerman?”

  The DA nodded toward Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon, who had been sitting in the back of the courtroom. “I am placing Blaine Hastings Sr. under arrest for obstruction of justice.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Robin was talking about a case with Jeff Hodges when the receptionist told her that Carrie Anders was on the phone.

  “Hey, Carrie, what’s up?” Robin said.

  “I have some news about Blaine Hastings.”

  “What about him?”

  Anders told Robin about the Hastingses’ scam.

  “That is ingenious,” Robin said. “But why are you telling me about it?”

  “You know Doug Armstrong was Hastings’s lawyer?”

  Robin nodded.

  “I assume you know that Armstrong’s partner was murdered.”

  “Yeah, it was on the news.”

  “Frank Nylander was beaten to death, and Armstrong is missing. Hastings threatened Armstrong. He’s a suspect in Nylander’s murder and Armstrong’s disappearance. You had a run-in with Hastings at the sentencing, and I wanted to give you a heads-up in case he decides to go after you.”

  Robin’s features hardened. “I hope he does.”

  “I know all about your martial arts background,” Anders said, “but Hastings is a beast, and he doesn’t have any qualms about hurting women.”

  “We’ll see who hurts who.”

  “Don’t handle this by yourself, Robin. You call 911 if Hastings comes anywhere near you.”

  “I will, and thanks for warning me.”

  Robin told Jeff what Anders had told her.

  “You have a gun, right?”

  Robin nodded.

  “Don’t go anywhere without it until this shakes out.”

  “I won’t.”

  Jeff hesitated. “Look, I know you can take care of yourself, but I’d like to babysit you until we have a clearer picture of what’s going on.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but—”

  Jeff smiled. “Face it, Robin. You’re a damsel in distress, and you need a brawny knight to protect you. I’m also a terrific cook. From what I know about your eating habits, you need a decent meal even more than you need a bodyguard.”

  Robin couldn’t help smiling. Even if she wasn’t in danger, she found the thought of spending an evening with Jeff appealing.

  “Are you going to be stubborn?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t need a he-man to protect me, but I can use a good meal.”

  “Good. Let’s finish up our work on this case. Then I’ll see you home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Randi Stark had been a mess ever since Robin’s call. It was terrifying to think that Blaine Hastings was on the loose, and her mother’s wails and hand-wringing didn’t help. When she couldn’t stand to be in her mother’s presence another minute, Randi said she was going to bed. She was so anxious, she didn’t see how she could sleep—but she had to get away from Maxine.

  As soon as she was in her room, Randi texted Annie Roche and told her the news. Annie panicked. She wanted to know if she was in danger. Randi told her that Blaine wouldn’t go after her, but Randi cautioned Annie to be careful. Randi would be the one he went after if he went after anyone,

  After she turned off her phone, Randi tried to do some schoolwork, but she couldn’t concentrate. She had a television in her room. She turned down the sound so her mother wouldn’t hear it and come barging in. Then she tried to find a show that would distract her and eventually put her to sleep. Nothing worked.

  Randi got into bed and turned out the lights. She closed her eyes and Blaine Hastings glared at her. Randi got out of bed and walked to her window. She pulled the edge of the shade aside and gazed into the night. Then she froze and her heart started tripping. Halfway down her block was a streetlight. Someone was leaning against it; someone with a build like Blaine Hastings’s. Randi leaned forward. Was it Blaine?

  Robin had given Randi her cell phone number, and she punched it in.

  “Yes?” Robin answered after several rings.

  “It’s Randi Stark. I think Blaine is watching my house.”

  “Calm down and tell me why you think he’s watching you.”

  “There’s a man standing under the streetlight. He’s staring at the house.”

  “And you’re certain it’s Blaine?”

  “I … No, but who else would be watching my house at this hour?”

  “Okay, here’s what I want you to do,” Robin said. “I’m coming over. Meanwhile, call 911 and tell them Blaine was outside your house. If he’s still there, the cops will either arrest him or he’ll run.”

  Randi called the police, but the person who had been watching her house had vanished by the time the squad car arrived. Robin and Jeff showed up soon after and explained the situation to the two officers. When they drove away, Robin sat at the kitchen table with Maxine and Randi.

  “Do you have someplace safe where you can stay?” Robin asked.

  “My aunt,” Randi replied.

  Maxine nodded. “Camille will put us up.”

  “Good. Call her now. Then pack and go while Hastings is not around.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Marvin Turnbull had just come back from a contentious meeting with his board when Tyler Harrison called.

  “I have bad news, Marvin,” Harrison said.

  “What happened?”

  “I called Frank Nylander in Portland on the Voss case. He’s dead, murdered.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I were.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was killed in his office the evening he got back from our meeting.”

  “Do they know who killed him?”

  “I just talked to the receptionist. She told me that no one has been arrested.”

  “Where does that leave the case?”

  “It’s too early to say. Nylander had a good relationship with Voss. If anyone could convince him to settle, it would have been Frank.”

  “Shit,” Turnbull muttered.

  “Yeah,” Harrison agreed.

  “So, what happens now?”

  “Barring a miracle, we prepare for trial.”

  “And the newspapers get hold of the story, which means we’re fucked.”

  “I’m afraid so. I could try to get a gag order, but I had an associate research the question, and our chances would be almost zero.”

  Turnbull’s end of the line went silent and Harrison waited.

  “Voss will need a lawyer,” Turnbull said. “It will probably be someone in Nylander’s firm, but he could hire someone else. Either way, it will take a while for the new attorney to get up to speed, and that gives us time. Hell, a
new lawyer might even be able to convince Voss to settle.”

  “You’re right. If two lawyers advise the same thing, he might see the light.”

  “This might work to our advantage, Tyler. Let me know what happens.”

  “Will do,” Harrison said.

  Turnbull disconnected and closed his eyes. The board had been informed about Leonard Voss’s refusal to settle, and they were in panic mode. Turnbull had sounded confident during his conversation with the firm’s attorney, but he was a realist. Voss was on a mission. He would never settle. If his lawsuit made headlines, the company would be ruined. More important, he would lose his job, and his stock would be worthless. Something had to be done, and he could see only one solution that would solve his and the company’s difficulties.

  * * *

  Ivar Gorski’s burner phone rang while he was in his motel room, performing katas, dancelike exercises that karate practitioners use to simulate combat. Gorski stopped in mid-kick and answered the call.

  “We need to implement plan B,” Turnbull said.

  Gorski hung up without saying anything in case someone was listening. He knew this wasn’t likely, but Gorski had stayed alive by being paranoid.

  As soon as he ended the call, he continued his exercises. They calmed him and helped him think clearly. By the time he was showered and shaved, he had decided how he would carry out his mission.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Marsha Armstrong called Carrie Anders at seven in the morning on Tuesday.

  “I just got a call from Saint Francis Medical Center. Doug’s there on the third floor. I’m getting ready to drive over.”

  Carrie was headed to work, but she changed direction. Anders’s phone rang again just as she was about to get out of her car, in the hospital parking lot.

  “Carrie?” Robin said.

  “What’s up?” Anders replied.

  “I wanted to give you a heads-up. Randi Stark called me last night. She was very upset. She thought she saw Blaine Hastings watching her house.”

  “Is she sure it was Hastings?”