The Alibi Man by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online

have told her that life is cruel and unpredictable, but she had just discovered that for herself.
    â€œLisbeth, I need to know everything that happened Saturday night.”
    â€œWe hit some clubs on Clematis. Had some drinks, danced.”
    â€œAny guys involved?”
    â€œSure. We have this contest…to see which one of us can get the most free drinks.”
    â€œDid any of the men seem to think they should get something in return?”
    â€œHa,” she said with very little strength. “All of them. They’re guys.”
    â€œDid Irina have any interest?”
    â€œNo. ‘Boys,’ she would say, and make a face. She didn’t waste her time on boys.”
    â€œDid any of them take that news badly?”
    â€œAll of them,” she said again. “They’re guys.”
    â€œI mean a guy who got pissed off, maybe made a threat, made you uncomfortable.”
    â€œNo. Well…” She shook her head as if shooing away a thought she didn’t want to have.
    â€œJust say it. Maybe it’s nothing, but maybe it isn’t.”
    â€œThere’s this guy we run into a lot. Irina dances with him…kind of leads him on…. He always wants her to leave with him, but she never does.”
    â€œAnd Saturday night?”
    â€œHe called her a name. We were leaving. Irina laughed at him. He didn’t follow us or anything.”
    â€œWhat did he call her?”
    â€œHe told Irina she should go for a ride with him. She said he meant a ride
on
him and that she wasn’t interested in riding a pony.”
    â€œAnd he said what?”
    â€œâ€˜You fucking Russian cunt,’ pardon my language. Irina just laughed and blew him a kiss.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œBrad something. I don’t know. He wasn’t interested in me, I wasn’t interested in him.”
    â€œWhat club was this in?”
    She rubbed her hands over her face and shrugged. “Monsoon, maybe…or Deuce. I don’t remember.”
    â€œWhen you’d had the fun you could have at the clubs…”
    â€œWe came back to Wellington and went to Players for a while. It was Mr. Brody’s birthday. There were a lot of people there. I left around one.”
    â€œAnd Irina?”
    â€œShe was still there.”
    â€œWith anyone?”
    â€œNo one in particular.”
    â€œAnd no one was paying special attention to her?”
    The girl laughed, but her eyes were welling again. “Everyone paid attention to Irina. Every
man
.”
    Something dawned on her then, and she said, “Wait,” and dug into another of the many pockets on her shorts, coming up with her cell phone. “I took some pictures.”
    She called the pictures up and scrolled through several, then stopped on one. “This is that guy. Brad.”
    The photo was cockeyed and the lighting wasn’t great, but I could make out his face. A good-looking kid with the spoiled expression of a privileged youth.
    â€œCan I send this to my phone?” I asked.
    â€œSure,” she said, and handed me the phone. “There are a couple more.”
    I scrolled through them. Irina dancing. Irina laughing with another girl. “Who’s she?”
    â€œRebecca something. She’s a tutor for Sebastian Foster’s kid.”
    Sebastian Foster had been a hell of a tennis player in his twenties. The Wonder from Down Under—wild blond hair, tan, quick as a cat, with a massive serve—until his shoulder had given out. I had read in
Wellington Lifestyles
magazine that he wintered in Wellington so his daughter could for the most part skip her education in favor of riding in horse shows.
    I had firsthand knowledge of that life. My mother had taken me out of school and brought me to Wellington more than one winter growing up so I could ride and show, the only activity that seemed to keep me out of trouble. I had routinely bribed my tutor to get out of doing