Free Murder on the Rocks by Allyson K. Abbott Page B

an alibi for that time?”
    Though I felt badgered by Duncan’s persistence, his tone was gentle. And damn if he
     wasn’t also right. I knew there were several people who couldn’t account for their
     exact whereabouts at the time my father was shot. Billy was one of them. And there
     was little sense to lying about it because Duncan could simply look it up later in
     the case file.
    “No,” I admitted. “He claimed he went straight home to his apartment after leaving
     the bar that night, dropped into bed, and fell asleep. Since he lives alone, there
     was no one who could vouch for his story.” At the time of my father’s murder the cops
     had questioned me at length about Billy’s relationship with my father, but there was
     nothing there for them to latch on to. Billy adored my father. Everyone did. Well,
     everyone except his killer.
    “A couple of the other detectives talked with Mr. Hughes earlier today and he has
     no alibi for much of last night, either,” Duncan said. “I don’t have a definitive
     time of death for Ms. Rifkin yet, but the ME gave me a range between four and six
     this morning. Mr. Hughes can’t prove where he was after leaving your bar last night
     at two-thirty and arriving at an eight A.M. class this morning.”
    I started to speak up again in Billy’s defense, knowing in my heart that he wasn’t
     the kind of monster who could kill someone in cold blood, much less two someones.
     But I also understood Duncan’s need for an open mind and decided it was best to let
     him sort through things on his own.
    Per our plan, I introduced Duncan to Billy as a family friend in need of a job, making
     no mention of Duncan’s real vocation or reason for being there. Billy greeted Duncan
     amicably and then with a whispered aside as he surveyed the remaining crime scene
     techs said, “The cops already questioned me. Came to my place a little while ago and
     asked me for an alibi, which I couldn’t give them. I heard it was Ginny.”
    “It was,” I said. Billy looked understandably edgy and I felt a need to reassure him
     despite knowing that he was, at least for now, high on the list of suspects as far
     as Duncan was concerned. But Duncan beat me to it.
    “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” he said. “I’ve dealt with this kind of thing
     before and they consider everyone a suspect in the beginning.”
    I shot Duncan an amused look. “You make it sound like you’ve been a suspect yourself.”
    “I have,” he said, winking. “But we’ll save that story for later.”
    Billy eyed Duncan warily a moment and then shrugged. “Well, welcome aboard. Let me
     know if I can be of any help.”
    I explained to Billy that the alley was off limits and then directed his attention
     to the crime scene tech with the fingerprint scanner. “They’re getting prints on everyone
     who works here,” I told him. “It’s so they can rule people out.”
    Billy shrugged again, turned on his megawatt, chick-magnet smile, and said, “Whatever.”
     Then he made his way over to Jenny.
    I breathed a sigh of relief that at least one employee seemed to be cooperating, but
     I suspected it wouldn’t be long before things turned awkward. Sooner or later I’d
     have to send Jenny into the kitchen to get Helmut’s prints, but I figured I’d wait
     before scaring the poor child to death. As it turned out, Helmut wasn’t the biggest
     problem.
    More employees arrived and I introduced Duncan to Gary Gunderson, who works as both
     a bouncer and a backup bartender. Gary is bald, tattooed, and built like a linebacker.
     His appearance alone does the job on most occasions, but his deep, rumbling voice
     scares off any contrarians who aren’t intimidated by his looks. Gary has had to get
     physical a few times, mostly with people who are too drunk and too stupid to know
     better, but it’s been an exception rather than a rule.
    I filled Gary in on what had happened, who the victim was, and that the