One-Night Alibi

The young man nodded. “That’s her. Can I give her a message?”

“I don’t suppose you could give me a phone number, could you?”

“Ah, no. We can’t give out our employees’ personal—”

“Yeah, no, I get it. That’s okay.” He had a last name now. Downey. If nothing else, Mitch could find a phone number and home address. For that matter, he could tell Sanchez, and she could track Liz down. But he’d much rather talk to Liz first.

“Thanks.” As he exited the clinic, he was already redialing Mitch.

* * *

AFTERNOON WAS WANING as Hudson approached the front door of the posh apartment building in Houston’s downtown historic district. Who knew there were 28 Elizabeth Downeys living in the Houston area? Mitch was able to eliminate most of them based on identifying factors like race and age, but there were four who had shielded their privacy enough that he couldn’t rule them out. Mitch had offered to hack into Department of Public Safety records and peek at their driver’s-license pictures, but Hudson couldn’t condone Mitch breaking the law on his behalf.

He’d find her. In fact, he was almost positive he had. This building just looked like someplace Liz would live—a redbrick 1800s building right off Market Square. Secure—but not behind the walls of some sanitized gated community where no one knew their neighbors.

Now he just had the security desk to contend with.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth Downey,” he told the official-looking man who watched all who came and went through the lobby. He didn’t wear a uniform, just a nicely pressed suit, but Hudson had no doubt the man could stop anyone who tried to gain entrance to the elevators or stairs without his okay. At least he’d try.

“Your name?” the guard asked as he picked up the phone from the antique desk.

He considered lying, but Elizabeth would probably refuse entrance to someone she didn’t know. “Hudson Vale.” God, he hoped she was home.

The man spoke softly into the phone. Though Hudson was standing right next to the desk, he couldn’t understand what was said. That was a talent. The guard cast a suspicious eye at Hudson, then concluded the conversation and hung up.

“Fifth floor. Apartment 524.”

Relief flooded through Hudson’s whole body. She was here. And she’d agreed to see him. It had taken him half a day, but he’d found her.

Belatedly, he wished he’d brought flowers. She was undoubtedly still angry with him for the accusations he’d thrown at her Saturday night. That had been stupid of him.

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough to suit him. When he finally alighted on the fifth floor, he practically sprinted down the hall until he found her apartment number. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he knocked. Decisively. Twice.

The woman who opened the door was hardly recognizable as the sultry vixen who’d taken his breath away Saturday night, seducing him so shamelessly. She stood before him in sweats and an old Bryn Mawr College T-shirt, her face pale and devoid of makeup, her hair pulled back untidily in an elastic band.

She was still achingly beautiful.

“Liz.” Somehow, that was the only word that would come out of his mouth.

She turned, leaving the door open, and he followed her into her apartment. It was an expensive-looking space, open and airy. The walls were painted in soft pastels; the furnishings looked classy but not formal or pretentious. The only item that looked out of place was a huge bouquet of orchids on the dining-room table, wilted and turning brown. Everything else was clean and well-maintained.

“I can explain,” she finally said.

“There’s no need.” He felt a little off-balance. She was the one apologizing? “I don’t blame you for bailing out on me. I said some awful thing, things I didn’t mean. If I’d bothered to use half a brain before I spouted off...”

She looked at him curiously, as if an apology wasn’t what she expected, either.

He closed the door. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Her expression changed rapidly from guilt to suspicion. What had he done now?

“I stopped at your clinic first,” he explained, figuring she didn’t appreciate his intrusion into her privacy. “Someone there told me you’d had a death in your family.”

“Dear God, you still don’t know.”

“Uh...guess I don’t. Pretty clueless here. Liz, I don’t mean to intrude on your grief. But I’m in a difficult situation here, and you’re the only one who can help me. Believe me, I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise. I mean, I did want to see you again. And I’m kind of glad I had an excuse to track you down—”

“I can’t help you. You have to leave.” She strode toward her front door, obviously expecting him to vacate.

“What? I haven’t even told you what the problem is.”

“I already know. You want me to vouch for your whereabouts on Saturday night.”

“Well, yeah. How do you know about that?” Then he slapped his own forehead. “Duh. It’s probably been in the news.” He hadn’t turned on a TV in days. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me again, or if you don’t want the whole world to know you picked up some strange guy at a wedding. But there’s no need for anyone to know. Just talk to a couple of detectives. Tell them you were with me, that I couldn’t possibly have killed Mandalay.”

She paused at the door, her hand hovering over the knob. Finally she turned and looked at him with something approaching honest regret. “I would help you if I could. I’m not embarrassed. It’s just that using me as an alibi won’t do you much good. Because if there’s one person in the world who had a better reason than you to kill Franklin Mandalay, it’s me.”

Oh, God. This did not sound good. “Maybe I better sit down.”

“No, no, you have to leave.” The urgency had returned to her voice. “We can’t be seen together.”

“We’ve already been seen together. Your security man downstairs knows I came to see you. The valet at the wedding saw us leave together. You think cops won’t figure that out?”

Her face fell. She returned to the living room and more or less collapsed onto that comfy-looking sofa. Hudson sat in the chair opposite her.

“Maybe you better tell me everything,” Hudson said. “Why would you want to kill Franklin Mandalay?”

“Because he’s my father. And we’re estranged. He is manipulative and controlling and a liar. And I’m his sole heir.” With that, her eyes filled with tears. “Jesus, I have no idea why I keep crying. He was not a very nice man.”

Mandalay was her father? Hudson’s head was spinning like a gyroscope. “I knew there was something off about that night,” he murmured. Then, louder, he said, “Tell me everything. All of it, Liz. If I get even a whiff of deception from you I’m going straight to the police.”

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