The Alibi Man

“What’s it about?”

“Be

I said nothing.

“Meet me downstairs at Players. I want to speak with you before I go to the detectives. Please, Elena, give me that chance.”

He was going to turn on Be

“A soul with a conscience,” I said. “Seems too good to be true.”

“Meet me, please,” he said.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” I said, and closed the phone.

Chapter 47

A couple of TV news vans had taken up residence in the main parking lot at Players. Python-size tangles of cord had been snaked from the vans up to the prime exterior-shot spots, where blinding white lights and screens stood on spider legs, ready for the on-camera talent to step in front of them.

Irina’s murder was Big News again, with the rumors about the Alibi Club and its members. This was the last public place Irina had been seen Saturday night, a natural choice for a backdrop. As I watched, a blond woman with a very serious expression stepped into one of the setups to do her thing.

The tall gangly kid was working the valet stand. His hair was sticking up. He looked overwhelmed, which I imagined happened all the time, considering the slow-turning wheels of his brain.

“Where’s your pal Jeff?” I asked.

“I du

He hustled off to open the doors of a cream-colored Bentley. I went inside the club, took the stairs down, and told the maitre d‘ I was there to meet Mr. Barbaro.

We were just far enough into the dining room that I couldn’t gracefully back out when I saw the real focus of the media attention: Be

My feet stopped moving forward and I couldn’t seem to help but look right at them.

My father was holding court and had yet to notice me. His hair bad gone entirely gray and his face was a little drawn, but otherwise he looked exactly the same to me: arrogant, intelligent, and in his element in front of cameras.

The mix of emotions that bombarded me in that moment were diverse and upsetting. Just as I had with Be

Anger, rebellion, guilt, that devastating sense of inadequacy I had always felt when he looked at me with that cold, disapproving stare. The stare that met my eyes now as he sat at a table with the rapist and probable murderer who had shattered my world twenty years past.

“Elena,” he said, with that same subtle hint of condescension as ways, as if he were a king deigning to speak to a commoner. The backs of my eyes burned, and I was furious with myself for. But I had only that split second to think about it, because the couple of still cameras and video cameras there to make my father id Be

I was trapped. I could leave and look like a coward or stay and face them both. There really wasn’t a choice at all, considering the options.

I reached somewhere very deep inside me to hold my composure.

He wasn’t ten feet away. I took a step, and another, toward him.

“Edward,” I said, echoing his tone of voice exactly.

I saw the almost imperceptible tension in his jaw. I had stopped calling him Father when I was twelve, a defiance he hated. I wouldn’t be subservient to him. He had punished me time and again for my disrespect. I had never wavered. The only currency that meant anything to me had been the horses, and I knew he would never take them away from me, because it would reflect badly on him and make him look like the tyrant he was.

I glanced at Be

“Just like old times,” I said. “Be

He was furious with me, but he would never show it in public. He rose, as any gentleman would. Be

“Be careful, Elena,” my father said very quietly.

“Be careful?” I said so everyone could hear. “Of what? Are you threatening me?”

“You wouldn’t want to say anything slanderous,” he said, in that same quiet voice he might use to speak to a small child.

I laughed and smiled the sardonic half smile. “It’s only slander if it isn’t true.”

Shutters and motor drives went mad.

He shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame you became so bitter.”

The benevolent monarch. My ass.

“How can you be disappointed?” I asked calmly. “I’m exactly what you made me.”

He sighed the sigh of the long-suffering parent. “You shouldn’t upset yourself, Elena. It isn’t good for you.”

Implying that I wasn’t psychologically stable.

“Well, Father,” I said, with such venom he would never want to hear the word again, “just when I think you can’t possibly disappoint me more than you already have, you manage to find a way. Congratulations.”

I turned my back to him and walked away.

“I’ll give your regards to your mother,” he said. “If you want me to.”

I just kept walking. I certainly didn’t care if people thought I was in ungrateful child. People had thought far worse things about me.

“Ms. Estes!”

“Ms. Estes!”

I held a hand up to indicate I had no intention of speaking to the media. They didn’t try to follow me into the ladies’ room.

The dizziness hit full force then, the shaking, the sweating. I threw up, rinsed my mouth, splashed cold water on my face. I didn’t look at myself in the mirror for fear of what I would see in my eyes- vulnerability. I would hate myself for it.

I rinsed my mouth again, then dug an Altoid out of my purse.

When I finally stepped out into the hall, I was alone. The jackals had all run back to try to pull some meat off my father.

As I turned toward the terrace, there was Barbaro looking at me.

My vision flashing red, I went straight at him and into his face. You rotten son of a bitch!“ I said, struggling to keep my voice own. ”You filthy, rat-bastard, son of a bitch! You set me up!“

“No! Elena, I swear!” he said.

I gave him such a look of disgust, he should have died from it.

“Elena! Please!” he said, and made to grab my arm as I turned away from him. I jerked out of his grasp. My pulse was roaring in my ears. I slammed out the side door to the external staircase and started climbing.

I knew he was behind me. I kept walking.

“I didn’t know they were here,” he said, hustling alongside me.

I went toward the parking lot.

“Oh, please. You can’t come up with anything better than that?”

“That’s the truth! I swear! I wouldn’t do that to you!”

“Why not?” I asked, finally stopping and turning to face him. We were well away from the building now and half hidden by trees.

“Why wouldn’t you, Juan? Jim Brody is your bread and butter. I’m supposed to believe you wouldn’t set me up if he asked you to? Be

“I didn’t-”

“Or did my dear old dad put you up to it himself?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve probably been out on one of his boats with Ben. Christ, he’s probably your lawyer too.”

“I refused,” he said. “Brody offered, I refused.”