David Bishop - The Original Alibi

By the way, if you’re thinking me rude for brazenly gazing at Karen’s breasts instead of glancing, the rule changes when a woman purposely bares herself in front of a man. When a woman shows a small portion of her abundance a man should take a small look, a glance in that instance is a compliment while a gaze rude. However, when a woman intentionally bares herself in front of a man, a glance would be rude and a gaze a compliment. I know it’s confusing. Things like this have slowed the evolution of the male species.

“I didn’t mean for you two to fight. Cliff and I run on the beach. We see each other now and then. I mentioned to him that the general was less calm, and Eddie a basket case. I think I said something along the lines of wishing you had never gotten involved, that I’d prefer it if you just went away. Apparently, Cliff processed that all wrong. I never told him to run you off, and certainly not to hit you.”

“You’re good. You’re very good. The way you turn all coquettish. Teasing and flaunting at the same time, a very sexy pose, a carefully worded suggestion. With a guy like Cliff you’re not fighting fair.”

“Oh, Matt, I don’t want you to think badly of me. Sometimes I can be a little … men like me. You like me, don’t you, Matt?”

“Yeah, I like you. But I don’t know any better. I collect blondes and brunettes.”

She stepped a bit closer, her breasts coming to a halt after the rest of her. “What else do you collect?”

“Bottles of Irish whiskey, full ones. I trade them in for empties. It’s a hobby a man has to work at.”

“Do you enjoy drinking that much?”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it. It’s a family tradition. An obligation passed down from my ancestors. Now why don’t you stop picking on Cliff? Choose somebody who can fight back.”

“Can you fight back, Matt?” She brought her black sweat shorts closer, her arms crossed below the feature of the day. Then she hugged me. Her hair tickled my face while her perfume played its way into my lungs.

“You just don’t quit, do you? You just keep coming.”

“I like to come, Matt.” She put her open palm on my chest. “Don’t you? But I know that already, don’t I. I’m guessing you’d like to come with me again.”

I backed away a few steps. “I’m supposed to go meet Cliff, remember?”

“I could come by your place later.” I didn’t respond. “Like the other night after we had dinner. This time I can bring the chocolate-dipped strawberries. I’ll also bring the container in case you’d like to drizzle some on me.” She took the bath towel from over my shoulder, walked into the bathroom and hung it on the rod. Then she walked back toward me, slowly, parts of her in constant motion, teasing me with each step.

“Ten o’clock,” she said.

“Perfect.”

I know. I sold out, but somehow I couldn’t place what would come my way at ten tonight anywhere in the realm of punishment.

I found Cliff in the garage. He had showered and changed clothes but likely had done so without the rain forest shower head, the plush bath towel, and the eye candy that had accompanied my clean up in Karen’s boudoir. Life is good.

“You’re a tough son of a bitch, Kile.”

“Make it Matt. I’ll be sore for a week.” We shook hands. Yeah. This was like the old days when men could fight and find friendship, at least respect.

“So, you represent the general in this?” Cliff asked.

“I represent myself. It’s a tough world out there. For now, working for the general is in my best interest.” I had been cagey because I don’t like suspects being too certain of my motives or ethics.

“I got a couple of beers in the fridge in the corner?” I nodded and he got them. We screwed off the caps and took a pull before I spoke.

“I mean no disrespect, but I know Karen manipulated you into what just went down. You must know she enjoys pushing your buttons.”

He sat on a stool that faced a small workbench below a wall of tools, mostly for cars, not gardening. “Yeah. I gotta get over her, but it ain’t easy. If fucking were an Olympic sport, Karen would bring home the gold.”

I laughed. “She’s jobbing ya. Getting you to do something I doubt is in your best interest.”

He just lowered his head, shook it some and looked up with a smile. Then he nodded. “Beer okay?”

“Good and cold. Thanks. Look. You know why I’m poking around in the Whittaker family closet. I also figure you do a bit of watching and a lot of listening while you’re driving them here and there. You introduced Eddie to Ileana, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Back then, Eddie and me rode our Harleys together. He’d never done that and needed an experienced rider along. For him it was a new toy. He sold it some years ago and I went back to just being the general’s driver.”

I went over and opened the passenger door of a black 1950 Mercury with wheel-cover skirts, it’s lines as sleek as Karen’s hips. I left the door open and sat with my feet on the sill, facing Cliff. “Tell me about Ileana.”

“Hot chick. She loved it like Karen, only Illy didn’t use her talents to tease. She dug Eddie, but I think she also saw him as a ticket to the good life.”

“You ever hear her say that?”

Cliff came over and got in the driver’s side. I swung my legs around and we became just two fellas talking in a car, a guy thing if ever there was one.

“Never heard any scuttlebutt, just my take on it. Illy was gorgeous. I went after her once. Did it right, flowers, met her folks, the whole deal. But I had nothing material to offer her. We became friends. That was it.”

“Could that be why you think she saw Eddie as a meal ticket?”

He hunched up his nose like he’d detected a foul odor. “Could be, I s’pose. Who knows? But Illy was good. Nice, you know, funny. Didn’t seem to take herself too seriously. But she wanted more than her folks had. Guys’ eyes followed her. She always smiled at them. Not flirty. I think she liked being noticed. And I can tell you, the guys liked noticing her.”

“Was Eddie a player or the kind who wanted to settle down?”

“He’s always liked playing around, no doubt of that. But then why not, he was a young man and he had a generous allowance. He lived good, didn’t need to marry for a second income to pay the bills. But the man was nuts about Illy. Her death broke ‘im, man. He was down a long time. I used to drive him to therapy. In those days he didn’t even care to drive his Mustang. On the way, he’d just sit quiet. Three times a week. Silent. Just sit there. Like a year, man. I was worried about the dude.”

“But he came out of it?”

“Yeah. A year I guess. How long can a guy be in the dumps? Hormones keep getting produced. Tail talent keeps swishing by. Life goes on, you know. But for years, I could tell. There’s a point out there where he and Illy used to sit and look at the ocean for hours. Just talk. Laugh. You know. He still goes out there some. Sits. I don’t think he’s full over her yet.”

Cliff got out and brought back two more beers. When he got back in, I turned on the seat to face him. “Cliff, did Eddie kill her?”

His eyebrows went up, but his answer came fast. “No way. He loved her. Even if he didn’t, Eddie doesn’t have killer in him. Few guys do. Eddie spends most of his nights looking for a new place to hide his dick. No. Somebody tried to frame ‘im. It couldn’t just be a random killing. The papers said nothing was taken. She wasn’t raped. And a random killer wouldn’t have known about Eddie, or not enough to try and frame him. Somebody wanted Eddie to go down for it.”

“Who?”

He just shrugged.