One-Night Alibi Page 10

  “Let’s see what’s in those boxes,” Liz said, seeming to shake off the memories.

  There were three small white boxes. Hudson set them on the glass coffee table and opened them one at a time. He heard Liz’s sharp intake of breath. She sank next to him on the sofa, as if her legs were no longer strong enough to support her.

  The boxes contained jewelry—an antique gold locket, a dainty Rolex watch and a gold charm bracelet.

  “You recognize these?” Hudson asked.

  She nodded. “They were my mother’s—things she wore every day. The locket belonged to her grandmother. The charm bracelet was her mother’s. The watch was a gift from my father to her.”

  “And your mother...disappeared, right?” Mitch asked.

  Liz nodded. “When I was fourteen. Everyone said she’d run off with a lover, but I never believed it.”

  They all stared silently at the jewelry, pondering the implications. Hudson picked up the watch and studied it more closely, turning it around and around in his hand. He spotted something that looked like rust on the band. But surely a Rolex watchband wouldn’t rust.

  “If she did run off,” he said, “it might make sense that she would leave the jewelry behind. Aside from wanting to start with a fresh slate, the jewelry might have been used to identify her. So if she was trying to disappear...”

  Liz shook her head. “No way.”

  “It happens, Liz,” Hudson said gently. “People get to a breaking point. Maybe she saw the act of disappearing as the only way she could be truly free of your father. If he controlled her the way he controlled you...”

  “What you say makes sense,” Liz said, “and I might be persuaded, except for one thing. I have a specific memory of my father giving the detective a description of this jewelry. He claimed it went missing right along with her. When he’s had it the whole time. What do you make of that?”

  Hudson couldn’t possibly say aloud what was going through his head. Your father killed your mother, but then he couldn’t bring himself to dispose of such valuable jewelry right along with the body.

  Instead, he said something that might also be true. “He kept these items safely tucked away for a reason. Maybe when he looked at them, they made him feel closer to her memory. Maybe the items turned up long after the police stopped investigating the case. We’ll probably never know.”

  Liz narrowed her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You think he killed her.”

  “Well...it did cross my mind.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. He wasn’t perfect, but he loved my mother. He worshipped her. He would never hurt her.”

  “Even if she threatened to leave him? Even if that was the only way to prevent her from—”

  “Stop it.” Liz’s cheeks flamed pink as her emotions flared. “That’s not what happened. Why do you always see the worst in people? Like you said, my dad probably found her jewelry later. Maybe he even told the police. I was only a child, and my dad shielded me from details of the investigation.”

  Hudson nodded, not at all satisfied with that explanation. Of course Liz would have a hard time believing her father would kill his beloved wife, the mother of his child. But Hudson had no problem with the concept. He’d looked into Mandalay’s eyes when he issued those threats against Hudson.

  The man had been evil.

  Now that Hudson had seen the fake passports, he realized Mandalay’s out-of-the-country alibi for the day his wife went missing might have been a sham. The man could have crossed the border at will, no one the wiser.

  Mitch cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was still there. “Maybe we should focus on one mystery at a time, huh?”

  Hudson nodded. “Right. We can’t afford to get distracted. But, Liz, I promise you, when this is over, I’m going to look back into this case, and I’m going to find out what happened to your mother.”

  He wanted to do that one thing for her.

  She gave him a sad little smile. “I’d really rather you didn’t. It won’t bring her back.”

  “No, but I think you’d probably like to know the truth, wouldn’t you?”

  She shrugged noncommittally.

  Mitch stood, seeming uncomfortable with the intense emotion in the room. “Let’s get this stuff back to the lab. Soon as Beth pulls fingerprints from the computer, I’m going to dig in. Within a couple of days I’ll have a hundred new leads.” He packed up his bag of toys.

  Liz stood, too, and smoothed the skirt of her pretty sundress. Earlier she’d had on something different—a conservative blouse and pants. Hudson couldn’t help wondering if she’d changed into something attractive and feminine for him.

  Probably not. Clearly she hadn’t fixed her hair for him; she’d just wadded the thick, brown mass on top of her head and put a stick through it to get it off her neck. For some reason, he found the hairstyle sexy as hell, especially with that strand falling across her face. His fingers itched to smooth the stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  “Let’s touch base again tomorrow,” Hudson said. “Is it okay if I take the jewelry? Just temporarily.”

  “Sure.” She didn’t ask him why, for which Hudson was grateful. She wouldn’t like his answer.

  “Wait, I’m going to leave with you two,” she said. “I don’t want to stay here alone.”

  She collected a few things, and the three of them left through the garage door. Liz set the security alarm and locked the door.

  As Mitch loaded his bag and the evidence into the Z’s miniscule trunk, Hudson helped Liz with a small box, which she’d packed up with a few mementos that had belonged to her parents, things she wanted to keep safe.

  “You can call me, you know. If you just want to talk. It’s a lot to take in, all this stuff we’re finding out about your father. I know you weren’t close, but—”

  “I guess I still loved him, despite everything,” she said. “Why else would I keep crying? And why would I keep those stupid flowers he sent me sitting on my dining-room table, even though they’re dead?”

  “Ah. I wondered about that.”

  “It’s hard to completely hate someone who loves you as much as my father loved me. He truly wanted the best for me. He used to say to me, even when I was a little girl, that he was going to see to it that my life was perfect, that I always had the best schools, the finest clothes, the most handsome and successful husband—that I would always have every single thing I wanted.” She shook her head sadly. “He didn’t understand that all I ever really wanted was to be free to pursue my own dreams—not the dreams he had for me. That all he had to do was love me, and my life would have been fine.”

  Hudson shrugged. “Every parent does what they think is best. Sadly, you don’t have to pass any kind of test or get certified to have kids.”

  “What about your parents? Do you have horror stories?”

  “It’s almost embarrassing, but no. I had a great childhood. No complaints about how I was raised. The only thing my mother nags me about is getting married and giving her grandbabies.”

  Crap. He wished he hadn’t mentioned that. Because the moment he said it, he pictured Liz as a bride; Liz holding an infant, his child.

  Hudson turned away from Liz, afraid she could somehow see his thoughts reflected in his face, and opened her car door for her. “Be safe. Remember, there’s a killer out there somewhere who doesn’t want us to find the truth.”

  She gave him a quizzical look. Then, just before ducking into her Prius, she kissed him. It was quick, intense, and it made him see fireworks. By the time his senses cleared, she had the engine started and she was backing up.

  He waved weakly.

  Hoping Mitch hadn’t witnessed the kiss, he slid behind the wheel of his car.

  “Did Elizabeth just kiss you?” Mitch asked.

  “Well...yeah. I think she just wanted to, you know, connect with somebody. She was pretty shook up about finding the stuff in that safe. I’m sure it was just an impulse.”

&nb
sp; “You two can’t get involved, you know. Not until Franklin Mandalay’s murderer is caught and charged, at least.”

  “We aren’t involved. It was a one-night stand.” Maybe if he said that enough times, Hudson would believe it. But right now, he felt involved up to his neck.

  * * *

  “MS. DOWNEY? YOU okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry, Tonda.”

  “That’s okay—I’d be distracted, too, if somebody shot my old man.” At Elizabeth’s surprised look, Tonda smiled slyly. “What, you think I can’t read a newspaper?”

  “I shouldn’t bring my problems to work with me. We’re here to talk about your situation. You were telling me about Jackson?”

  “Yeah, I broke down and told him about the baby. He reacted just like I thought he would. He said he’d pay to get rid of it.”

  Elizabeth felt herself flinch. She’d like to lock up Jackson in a closet with a rabid pit bull, but she knew Tonda had feelings for the scumbag. A prostitute often developed an attachment for her “manager,” because he “took care” of her.

  “He yelled a lot. Said I better not try to tap him for child support or I’d be sorry. But then, actually, when I told him I was gonna keep it and there was nothing he could do about it, he calmed down. Said we’d work something out.” Tonda laughed. “You know, I think he was really surprised I wanted to keep his kid. And all that yelling was just, you know, bluster. Is that the right word?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Still, you need to be careful. When a woman is pregnant, it’s the most dangerous time of her life in terms of domestic violence.”

  “I don’t think he’d hurt me. Not bad, anyway.”

  Famous last words, but Elizabeth didn’t want to argue about it. They’d covered the same territory in previous sessions; Tonda refused to think ill of Jackson. Most women didn’t want to consider that the father of their child would hurt them or the kid.

  “I told him I wasn’t gonna work no more, ’cause I don’t want to give the baby some disease. He said he’d kick me out on the street. But I don’t think he will. ’Cause later, he kept grinning when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

  “Well, Tonda, I’m proud of you for how you’re dealing with all this. You’ve come a long way since I first met you.”

  “I’m healthier, anyway.”

  Elizabeth had seen Tonda sporadically at the clinic for the past year. When she first came, she’d been malnourished and depressed. Gradually her outlook had improved, and she gained some weight and started taking care of herself more. Though of course it would be a good idea for her to leave “the life” altogether, no one was going to talk her into it. The change had to be her own idea. She had to see an alternative, visualize a different life for herself. Elizabeth was trying to give her the tools to do that.

  “Say, Tonda, this is a long shot, but have you ever heard of a call girl named Jazz? Latina, long black hair, really pretty?”

  “Jazz? No... Oh, wait...Yazmin?” She gave the name a Spanish pronunciation.

  “Maybe. You know her?”

  “I heard of her. If it’s the same girl, she used to be with a dude named Carlos—went by ‘King C.’ Then she got all full of herself and decided she didn’t need a manager. Went strictly call girl. Internet, credit cards, the whole deal.”

  “Do you know her last name?”

  “Mmm, no.”

  “What about a guy with a big fish tattoo on his arm? The tail is on his hand and then his whole arm is fish scales.”

  “That sounds kinda familiar.... I can ask around, if it’s important. What you want to know for?”

  “Apparently Jazz knew my father. I’d like to talk to her. She might have been one of the last people to see him alive.”

  “I’ll find out for you.”

  “Oh...no, wait, Tonda, just forget it. It could be dangerous. I’ll tell the police what you told me already. That could help.”

  Tonda laughed. “Okay, whatever you say.” She glanced at her phone. “I better be going. Gotta buy groceries. The doc said I need to watch my salt, so no more pizza and Taco Bell every night.”

  Elizabeth hugged her favorite client, and Tonda departed, leaving Elizabeth to ponder. She had two new names to give Hudson—Yazmin and Carlos. Carlos might know the prostitute’s last name.

  She dug the silver cell phone from her purse and started to dial Hudson’s number, then stopped herself. This wasn’t exactly stop-the-presses information. She just wanted an excuse to talk to him, to hear his voice.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d kissed him in her dad’s garage. She hadn’t planned it at all; he’d just been standing there looking so cute, so sexy, and he’d been so concerned about her feelings even if he had accused her father of murder. And she’d just done what came naturally.

  Hudson hadn’t exactly kissed her back, but then, it had all happened so quickly, he really hadn’t had a chance. He’d just stared at her with a stunned expression. And she’d retreated to her car before she could ruin the moment by talking. She was dying to know what he thought about the kiss, or if he would rather pretend it never happened.

  She hadn’t felt this goofy about a kiss since David, her high-school boyfriend. Unlike with Hank, that relationship had progressed to making out. Until her father got wind of it. David had broken up with her in a most abrupt and unexpected way; then, a few weeks later, Elizabeth had seen him driving a brand-new Mustang she was sure he couldn’t afford.

  Quietly she set the phone down. Hudson had said he’d touch base with her sometime today. She would wait until he called, instead of behaving as if she had a teenage crush on him. Even if she did.

  * * *

  CARLA DOWNED THE dregs of her herbal tea she’d made earlier and grimaced. Vile stuff, and worse cold, but her stomach just couldn’t take it anymore. Then she focused her attention on her computer screen again. This was some interesting information. But how to inform Knightly? He wasn’t going to be thrilled with her methods.

  She sensed a presence behind her and stifled a curse.

  “What are you up to?” Knightly asked suspiciously.

  They were the only two detectives in the bull pen; everybody else had gone home or was out in the field.

  “Checking on a lead.” That was suitably vague. Knightly wasn’t a computer-savvy guy, not that she knew of, anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t question her methods too closely. “It seems our suspect paid a visit to Franklin Mandalay’s home last night.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked. “Did you—did you put a tail on Hudson?” He sounded scandalized, and she couldn’t totally blame him. He was lead on this case. If she was out doing stuff on her own, she ought to at least keep him informed.

  “Vale would spot a tail in two seconds flat,” she finally answered. “But I did something better.”

  Knightly leaned over her and squinted at the computer screen. “You planted a tracking device on his car.” His voice fairly dripped with disapproval. “You do know you need a court order for that, right?”

  “Only if we want to use the results as evidence. I just want to find out what he’s up to during his enforced vacation.”

  “He’s doing exactly what I would do under the circumstances,” Knightly said. “He’s investigating the crime himself. He thinks we’ve rushed to focus on him as a suspect—which some of us have,” he added pointedly. “You know I hate investigating one of our own.”

  “You don’t think he’d turn on you in a second if your roles were reversed? He’s not your biggest fan, you know.”

  “Maybe he would, but that doesn’t mean we have to sink to his level. Anyway, he could have gone to the Mandalay house to talk to servants, maybe search for evidence our team missed.”

  “He was there for over an hour, and get this. Elizabeth Downey was there at the same time. He met her there. You know what I’m thinking? Elizabeth. Liz. She’s Hudson’s mystery woman.”

  Knightly appeared intrigued despite Carla’s questionable tacti
cs. “So you think our two chief suspects know each other.”

  “I think it’s highly probable that they not only know each other, but that they were together the night of the murder. Elizabeth was at the society wedding. Hudson said he met his sexual conquest at a party, but a wedding is a party, right?”

  Knightly shook his head. “Maybe Elizabeth just happened to be at her father’s house when Hudson arrived. I’m sure she has lots of things to take care of following her father’s death.”

  “According to the report, they left at exactly the same time.”

  “Now wait a minute. Let’s be logical about this. If Hudson and Ms. Downey were together the night of the murder, why would he even mention it to us? He has to know she’s a suspect. And if he does decide to mention it, why doesn’t he just tell us her name instead of inventing some mystery woman named Liz? Either he wants us to know he was with her or he doesn’t. And if he doesn’t, he wouldn’t mention a woman at all.”

  Why did Knightly have to be so damn logical? “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. Hudson would spot a tail, but Elizabeth Downey won’t.”

  “Last I heard, Captain Hodges won’t authorize the overtime unless we have a more compelling suspect.”

  “I’ll tail her myself. And I’ll do it on my own time.” She would borrow her cousin’s car, just in case she was spotted. “Want to join me?”

  Knightly wavered. He probably didn’t trust her to handle this on her own.

  Finally he nodded. “Let me go home, grab a shower and a bite to eat, and I’ll go with you. But, Carla, why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing? With the tracking devices? I’m your partner now. You have to trust me.”

  “Let’s just say I was protecting you, okay?” Carla congratulated herself on coming up with a plausible reason. “I know what I’m doing isn’t strictly kosher. If I get caught, I don’t want you to get in trouble, too—not when you’re so new to Major Crimes.”

  “But now you bring me in?”

  “Because I’ve observed something relevant. C’mon, Todd, this is weird, the two of them getting together.”

  He nodded.