Free The Alibi Man by Tami Hoag Page A

was a Jimmy Buffett wannabe with a guitar, a harmonica, and a bad-looking aloha shirt (as if there is some other kind). He had a guy on keyboard who wore a captain’s hat and a double-breasted blue blazer with shiny brass buttons, and a drummer who was young enough, and looked bored and embarrassed enough, to be the son of one of them.
    I walked into the bar and skirted the dance floor, where a dozen people were drunk enough to have lost their inhibitions. I’ve always thought there should be a public-service ad showing video of middle-aged drunk people dancing. The rate of alcoholism would surely plummet, simply from the humiliation factor.
    The bartender, a hunky young fellow with dark eyes and five o’clock shadow, came over as I took a seat toward the end of the bar.
    â€œWhat can I get for you, ma’am?”
    â€œFor starters, you can not call me ma’am, you darling boy,” I said with a wry smile tucking up the right corner of my mouth. “How do you ever expect to have a mad hot affair with an older woman if you treat them like your old aunt Biddie?”
    He grinned. Excellent orthodontia. “What was I thinking?”
    â€œI can’t imagine. Next, you can bring me Ketel One vodka with tonic and a big squeeze of lemon.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    He turned away to see to it. Someone had abandoned a pack of cigarettes on the bar. I helped myself to one, feeling vaguely guilty, not that I had stolen it but that I was smoking at all. Filthy habit. When he came back with the drink, I asked him his name.
    â€œKayne Jackson.”
    â€œKayne Jackson. My God, you’re a soap star waiting to happen,” I said. “Kayne Jackson, I’m Elena Estes.” I took a sip of the drink, savored it, and sighed. “It’s a wonderful pleasure to meet you. Were you working here Saturday night?”
    â€œYeah, why?”
    I had downloaded and printed the photos from Lisbeth Perkins’s cell phone. I showed him the one of Irina sitting between Jim Brody and Bennett Walker. “Did you see this girl here?”
    â€œYeah. That’s Irina. She’s a regular with that crowd. Hot babe, but she wouldn’t look at me twice.”
    â€œDo you think she had a problem with her eyesight?”
    â€œI think I don’t have a big enough wallet.”
    â€œAhhh…One of those. Looking to snag herself a rich husband?”
    He shrugged.
    â€œDid you happen to see when she left?”
    â€œNo. I couldn’t say. It was Jim Brody’s birthday. It was a zoo in here. Why?” He looked a little suspicious. “Are you a cop or something?”
    I took another sip of the drink, another drag on the cigarette. “Or something…Did she seem to be having a problem with anyone?”
    â€œNo. She was having a good time,” he said, then checked himself. “She and Lisbeth Perkins got into it about something out in the hall. Lisbeth looked pissed and left. Must have been around one.”
    â€œWith anyone?”
    â€œAlone.”
    The band had decided to give it a rest. More people came to the bar. Kayne Jackson excused himself and went to serve people who wouldn’t make him work so hard for his tip.
    â€œAre you enjoying my cigarette?”
    The voice was smooth and warm like a fine brandy, almost seductive, a little amused, accented. Spanish.
    I looked at him from the corner of my eye as I exhaled a stream of smoke. “Why, yes, I am, thank you. Would you like one?” I said, offering the pack to him.
    His dark eyes sparkled. “Thank you. You are too generous, señorita.”
    â€œSeñorita. You could give Junior here a lesson or two. He called me ma’am.”
    He looked shocked and disapproving. “No, no. This is unacceptable.”
    â€œThat’s what I said.”
    He smiled the kind of smile that should require some kind of permit to use, because of the impact it could have on unsuspecting women.