Free Blue Molly (Danny Logan Mystery #5) by M.D. Grayson

Sings show tunes.”
    She looked at me, confused. “Really?”
    “Really.”
    “You were at the symphony?”
    I nodded. “Yes, I really, really was.”
    “Okay, then. Care to give me the particulars?”
    “Certainly. We—my girlfriend, Toni Blair, and I—got to Benaroya Hall about seven thirty. Parked right there in their underground garage. We took the elevator upstairs and met my parents in the lobby—it’s their box, and they were already there waiting for us when we arrived—probably seven forty by this point. Show started at eight, so we went upstairs and took our seats and stayed put through the end of the first half. I talked to my dad at the intermission, then we all went back inside and stayed till the end of the performance, which was probably a little before ten. Then we went back down to the lobby. We talked to some acquaintances of my parents, whose names I don’t recall, but I’m sure my parents do. Then we said our good-byes and took the elevator to the garage, probably exited the building maybe ten thirty, ten forty-five or so. Had to stop for gas at the Chevron station up on Westlake. I can get you the receipt. We made it home probably around eleven fifteen or eleven thirty.” I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Eight o’clock to eleven o’clock. That’s pretty much it.”
    She stared at me for a second, then said, “I presume your parents will corroborate your story?”
    “Certainly.”
    “Okay. I’ll expect a copy of that gas receipt in my e-mail later this afternoon.”
    I nodded. “I’ll send you the ticket stubs, too.”
    She looked at me for a second, then she turned to John and rolled her hand in a “now what” gesture.
    John chuckled. “Well, that didn’t take long, did it? Inez, do you mind if I tell Danny what happened?”
    She shook her head. “No.”
    “So then,” John started, “Eduard Markovic gets arrested Wednesday afternoon at twelve forty-five along with three of his friends, plus you and your associate and the fellow later identified as the male victim, a Mr. Mike Lyon. Unlike you, Markovic and his boys actually get charged for D&D. He doesn’t get out until nine a.m. yesterday after his arraignment and bail hearing. He posted five hundred dollars cash bail. Then, apparently while you were enjoying the symphony, sometime between nine and ten p.m. yesterday, he was murdered. His body was left in one of the Dumpsters in the parking lot at your apartment complex early this morning, where a homeless man who was looking for aluminum cans found it a little later, at nine thirty. He flagged down a patrol car.”
    “You’re sure of the times?” I asked.
    “Reasonably sure, yeah. The ME established the time of death. And the city says they picked up the trash yesterday at five fifteen a.m.—Dumpster was emptied then. Our patrol unit got flagged down at nine thirty-five a.m. Dumpster wasn’t empty anymore—Eduard Markovic was parked inside. So sometime between five fifteen and nine forty in the morning, the body got dumped.”
    “Cause of death?”
    “GSW. Single shot to the chest. Large caliber.”
    “Murder weapon?”
    “Not recovered. No slug, no casing either.”
    “So when you asked about my sidearm being a .45 and all, you don’t actually even know for sure that it was a .45?” I said, giving Inez a little stinkeye.
    “We know it was big,” John said. “Big exit wound.”
    I nodded. “Okay. Was he murdered right there?”
    “ME says not. Not enough blood. Also, there was no spent slug or casings lying around anywhere. Looks like he just got dumped there.”
    I looked at Inez. “You don’t really think I’d kill someone, do you? And then be so dumb as to dump the body in the trash can where I live?”
    She stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled. “I’d say not likely. Especially now that you seem to have an alibi.”
    I nodded. “‘Seem to have an alibi’—thanks for the vote of confidence there, Inez. What if I’d been home