Free The Original Alibi (Matt Kile) by David Bishop Page A

boy.
    I could see three possibilities, maybe more would come to me later. The first went something like this: Somebody had wanted Ileana dead for their own reasons and felt it would work best if there was a patsy set to take the fall and close the investigation into her death. It could have been one of the sugar daddies who were paying her rent and buying her expensive baubles. Thus the real killer bribed and frightened Jackson and Montoya into falsely setting up Eddie Whittaker as the patsy. The plan soured when three law-abiding citizens just happened to see Eddie dining right where he said he had dined.
    Number two spread out this way: The murderer didn’t know Eddie or Ileana, using them both as a ruse in a violent confidence game wherein the real target was the general, or, more accurately, the general’s bank account. This scenario required the killer have a complex plan that would include the two losers to falsely accuse Eddie, and some citizens with solid credentials to come forward to alibi Eddie off the hot seat. Of course, for the second part to happen, the general would first need to pay the shakedown. If he didn’t, Eddie would take the fall. It would also require the illicit cooperation of three people we generally don’t think of being the types who take part in this kind of chicanery.
    The last but not least scenario was that Eddie did kill his fiancée. But this stacking of the facts would again require the assumption that three good people would falsely testify to get him off the hook. If they were salt of the earth folks as they appeared on the surface, they would not agree to commit perjury in a murder case. Fidge said the D.A. looked into the three of them and they had all come up solid.
    I needed to confront Eddie. To get in his face and get a read on him. First, I needed to get the wheels in motion to find out everything I could about the bank manager, the RN, and the retired middle-school principal. That meant bringing Axel on board may have been a really good idea. Of course he was handicapped because he still hadn’t gotten his license to drive.
    *
    It had been a long day, but I wasn’t ready to sleep. Not yet. I had planned to talk with Axel, but he had gone downstairs to his place by the time I got back. We’d talk in the morning. I took off my day clothes, down to my shorts, pulled on a t-shirt and my too-short robe. Then turned on some Miles Davis and cracked the slider to the patio so the sounds of Mr. Davis could follow me outside. I got a snifter of Irish for sipping, and tugged on my Dodgers’ cap with a sweat ring obvious even in the ambient light.
    Sitting in the patio recliner reminded me of late nights in prison. Just the quiet, after Axel had fallen asleep on the upper bunk. I’d think about whatever and leave my senses to snag on sounds and stray light. Out here on the patio, I didn’t have all the sounds and sightings down pat. Not yet, but I would. There was a greater variety of sounds here than in prison. Inside it mostly came down to differentiating between the steps of the various guards. Other sounds were mostly the farts, snores, coughs, and sometimes muffled sobs of inmates. Newer cons usually paced their cells, but that generally ended in a few weeks. Once in a while, a light would slide silently through the lockup when a guard opened a distant door. Lights and sounds were the only things that really escaped from anywhere inside stir.
    My life had become much different from what I expected while growing up. It started for me, like it may have started for you. Mom could make any hurt go away. Dad could fix anything. The nuns who taught at the Catholic school weren’t gods; they just demanded to be treated as such. But we learned. We had to, our lives depended on our doing so. None of this mushy treatment kids get today in the public schools.
    When my age rolled into double figures I started to see the world differently. Mom and dad weren’t perfect. They didn’t have