Octopus Alibi by Tom Corcoran Read Free Book Online Page A

you’re going to be in fifteen minutes. But I’ve got to document exit procedures. I’ve got to dictate a report, tell how a self-inflicted gunshot snuffed a damned good mayor. You have fun at supper. I’ll grab a midnight snack.”
    “Don’t choke on your fat self-pity, Dexter. You might snuff a damned good martyr.”

5
    D UFFY L EE H ALL WORKED out of a large two-story house on Olivia, where I stopped to drop off the death-scene film for processing. The warm smells of his neighbors’ suppers filled the street. He came to his broad, shaded porch with two cold Corona Lights and offered me a cushioned Adirondack chair.
    I had bolted two cups of coffee, skipped breakfast, barely touched lunch in Lauderdale, and passed on a banana when Marnie borrowed one of mine. Dexter Hayes’s midnight snack remark hadn’t helped, and beer was not what I needed.
    Hell, I thought, if it keeps my stomach from imploding …
    “You don’t look so hot,” said Hall. “This one get to you?”
    “Other things.” I tilted back the beer. “Hunger and heartbreak.”
    “You had a thing for the mayor?”
    “Remember those eleven-by-fourteen prints?”
    “You sold to Naomi Douglas? The start of your fine art career?”
    “She died in her sleep,” I said.
    “She had taste.”
    I agreed. “She had everything.”
    Hall promised to guard my negatives, to not release them to anyone else.
    Sucking suds on a breezy veranda was an improvement on an ugly day, but I needed quick bulk intake, token nutrition before stomach acid ate its way to daylight. I chugged the Corona, thanked Hall, and drove the motor scooter to Dorothy’s Deli on Simonton. My belly growled while I read the newspaper and waited for a smoked ham and provolone on whole wheat. Three Solares Hill articles in a row made me think of Naomi. An art opening, a Paradise Big Band concert, a garden seminar. I felt pissed off that she had died, more pissed that I had nowhere to direct my anger. I told myself to be grateful for the time she had been in my life. Small consolation. I walked out to the soft evening light, my hand in the sack, clutching ham and cheese. I found Teresa waiting next to her parked scooter. She had changed out of her work outfit, wore a black cocktail dress and extra blush to fake a tan. Passersby might have mistaken her grimace for sun squint.
    “Dexter dropped the ball?” she said. “You didn’t get told?”
    “Sorry,” I said. “I heard about dinner. I was too hungry to wait.”
    “I thought gourmet might be a welcome change, Alex. An old friend of mine is in town. It’s a free meal.”
    The fun at lunch that Marnie had mentioned. “Friend from childhood?”
    “We worked together at Chili’s in Gainesville. I think my junior year.”
    I played naive: “She must be doing well these days, to roll into town and treat a guy like me to supper.”
    “He’s a he, and he’s that kind of person. People said he came from a wealthy family on the West Coast. I always had the impression he didn’t have to work, but he took jobs to kill boredom.”
    “He get here today?”
    “I ran into him the night before last, in the Waterfront Market. He bought me a beer at Schooner Wharf, and we played ‘What happened to…’ for an hour or so. He’s been in town a few days and he might stick around another week. This morning he called the office and asked me to lunch, so I went. I told him about you, and he offered us dinner tonight.”
    “It’s been a long day,” I said.
    “A nice meal will improve your outlook.”
    “A good night’s sleep will make me better company at breakfast. I don’t want to be in a shit mood tomorrow like you were this morning.”
    “Oh. The direct shot.” She looked away, then back at me. “It was those mosquitoes in the shower. And I saw a scorpion yesterday, thank goodness after I was dry. At six-thirty it’s a rude, cold wake-up.”
    “The price of luxury. It’ll get better in summer.”
    “Your sarcasm is not