One-Night Alibi Page 13

  “What? Do you see Jazz?”

  “Stop. Stop the car.”

  Hudson slowed down, but he didn’t stop all the way. “Liz, what’s going on?”

  “That’s Tonda Pickens.” At his blank look, she added, “My client.” She rolled down her window. “Tonda!”

  A slim African-American woman, who looked way too young to be selling herself on a street corner, stared at their car in surprise. “Ms. Downey?”

  “Hudson, stop the car!”

  He knew he shouldn’t, but Liz’s command was so compelling, he did it anyway. “Liz, what are you doing?”

  She ignored him and motioned for Tonda to come over.

  The girl drew closer. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  “Pretend you’re talking to a customer.”

  Tonda closed the distance between them and leaned on the car door. “Ms. Downey, what’re you doing here? This isn’t a safe neighborhood, especially in a car like this.”

  “Then it’s not safe for you, either! I thought Jackson said you didn’t have to work.”

  “I’m not doing the full...you know. Just...” She pantomimed an activity with her hand and her mouth that was unmistakable. “The baby can’t catch anything that way.”

  “Well, it could, but I’m not going to argue that. Just—get in the car.”

  She looked over her shoulder, a frightened expression on her face. “I better not.... Jackson finds out I been talking to you... He’s right over there, across the street. He takes down the license plate of any car I get into, for my safety.”

  “It’s okay—this car won’t trace back to me. Just get in. I’ll pay you for whatever time you’ve lost.”

  Hudson finally couldn’t contain himself. “Liz, this isn’t part of the plan.”

  “Tonda, meet Hudson. Hudson, Tonda.”

  The girl reluctantly climbed into the car and Hudson put it in gear. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s the one looking for Yazmin. Tonda, what if we took you someplace tonight where you’d be safe?”

  “No. Ms. Downey, really, you shouldn’t interfere.”

  “I could take you to a women’s shelter. From there, we could relocate you to a different city. Help you find a real job, an apartment...”

  “You’re talking crazy. Jackson would kill you.”

  “Jackson won’t know I had anything to do with it.”

  “Then he’d kill me. No. No way. You better give me my twenty bucks and drop me back where you found me.”

  “I just want something better for you, Tonda.” There was a pleading note in Liz’s voice. “For you and your baby.”

  “It’s gonna be better. Jackson’s gonna get us our own apartment, just the two of us. We’re gonna be a family.”

  Poor deluded girl, Hudson thought.

  Liz slumped in her seat. She reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of bills. “Here. Give Jackson a twenty and keep the rest for yourself.”

  Tonda took the money and stuffed it down her bra with a well-practiced move. “You tryin’ to get me killed? Jackson finds out I’m holding out on him, I’ll be in a world of hurt— Hey, that’s Yazmin.”

  “What?” Hudson and Liz said together, peering out the windows and turning their heads.

  “Not out there—on the screen.”

  “Oh,” Liz said, sounding disappointed.

  “If you’re looking for her around here, don’t bother. I heard she and Carlos aren’t on good terms. He was really mad, said he was gonna cut her. She wouldn’t dare show her face here.” Tonda didn’t wait for Hudson to return to the block where he’d picked her up. When he stopped at a light, she got out. “Thanks, Ms. Downey. But you’re getting in too deep, coming ’round here.”

  She slammed the door and walked off in her platform shoes without a backward glance.

  “Way to line her pimp’s pockets,” Hudson commented as they drove off. “I know you’re trying to help her, and that’s very admirable, but you need to be more careful. What if she goes back and tells her man about this? He could come gunning for you.”

  Liz waved away his concern. “She wouldn’t rat me out.”

  “You can’t know that for sure. If her man starts sweet-talking her... I mean, let’s face it—she didn’t get to where she is today because she’s immune to a man’s persuasive tactics.”

  Liz shrugged. She apparently wasn’t willing to concede the argument, even though he was right.

  Hudson returned to the address on Bellows Street that Mitch had provided, slowing down at the adjacent block. He found a parking spot and pulled the Lexus between a pickup truck, held together mostly by Bondo, and a brown ’76 Monte Carlo missing all its hubcaps. In fact, every car on the street was missing its hubcaps.

  Hudson retrieved his binoculars from the glove box. From here he had a good view of the apartment building. He was pretty sure he knew which door was apartment D.

  “This might be kind of boring,” he said.

  “I’ll just check phone messages.”

  “No, don’t. In fact, you should keep your phone turned off. If a cop is following you, they can locate you from your cell-phone ping.”

  “Don’t they need a court order or something?”

  She was so naive in some ways. “We won’t be here too long, promise. I just want to see if anyone is coming and going from that apartment.”

  He didn’t have to wait long. After about five minutes, a woman in short-shorts, a tube top and thigh-high white boots approached the apartment building on the arm of an older man, probably in his sixties, dressed in khakis and a neatly pressed shirt.

  “You horn dog,” Hudson groused. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “What?” Liz placed a hand on his arm as she leaned over, trying to see what he saw.

  “Hold on. I got my sights on a working girl, and she’s heading for our building with a john.”

  The couple paused at the bottom of the stairs. The man looked around in a paranoid manner, then reached in his pocket and pulled something out. That was when Hudson realized there was a third person, lurking in the shadows. The prostitute’s manager. Hudson could just make out the glow of the tip of his cigarette, but nothing else.

  The john handed the anonymous man something, then headed up the stairs with the hooker. They turned right and headed into apartment D.

  “Bingo,” Hudson said softly. “That apartment is still being used as a love nest. And I see someone who might be Carlos.”

  Hudson was itching to talk to the guy. He could pose as a john. With his sunglasses and baseball cap, he wouldn’t be recognizable. He just wanted to size this guy up, maybe inquire about Jazz. He could claim to be one of Jazz’s former customers, trying to hook up with her again.

  Yeah, that would work. He’d played this role many times when he worked undercover stings on the Vice Squad.

  Hell, what was he thinking? He couldn’t leave Liz in the car by herself, and he sure couldn’t take her with him. He put the car in gear.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “To take you home. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

  “Wait. Aren’t we going to talk to that guy?”

  “Another time.”

  “He might not be here another time.” She unfastened her seat belt. “Let’s just ask him if he knows where to find Jazz.”

  “You’re not going anywhere!”

  “Then you go. I’ll lock the doors. I’ll keep my phone in my hand. You’ll be there and back in two minutes. It’ll be fine.”

  His suspect was just a few feet away. He’d never be out of sight of the car. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I’m not a ’fraidy-cat when it comes to bad neighborhoods or scary characters. The bad boys aren’t interested in victimizing anyone who doesn’t make themselves an easy target.”

  He would never call Liz an easy target. “The car alarm has a panic button. Right here.”

  She nodded. “Go. Now.”

>   Still feeling uneasy, he got out and locked the door with the key chain, gave her a little wave, then sauntered across the street as casually as he dared, keeping his eye on the man at the bottom of the stairs. He’d melted back into the shadows, but Hudson could see the top of his hat silhouetted against the lone porch light that still worked on the apartment building.

  However, Hudson pretended not to see the man. He approached the staircase, then stopped and stared up at the second story, scratching his head as if he were confused.

  “Can I help you with something?” The question was more of a challenge than a polite query.

  “Oh. Hi. I was just looking for a girl named Jazz. I think she lives around here somewhere.”

  “Lot of people lookin’ for Jazz,” the stranger said, stepping closer. It was definitely Carlos. He wore a black leather blazer over his white T-shirt and jeans. In person he seemed taller than in his picture. His build was slender, but what there was of him looked solid. His hands were covered in scars, probably from fights. In addition to the scar visible in his mug shot, he had another one that split his lower lip, and yet a third on his neck. Guy obviously liked to get into knife fights.

  “This is the right building, then? It’s been a year or so since I saw her. The phone number I had for her is no good.”

  “Jazzy’s not here. She took off coupla months ago, owin’ me money.”

  “Damn, that’s too bad.”

  “If you’re looking for company, I know lots of ladies. Accommodating ladies. If you like Spanish, my friend Lola is just your style. She looks a little like Jazz. But younger.” Carlos winked.

  How to gracefully extricate himself? Any normal horny guy looking for a good time would gladly consider a substitute. “Party girls?”

  Before Carlos could answer, a car alarm shrieked so loud Hudson jumped about a foot. At the same time his phone vibrated. He looked at the screen, then took off at a dead run. Liz was calling for help!

  A guy was stooped down, stealing the rims off the Lexus, but all Hudson could think about was Liz. If she was hurt, he’d kill the son of a bitch.

  “Hey, you!” The gun was in his hand before he realized it. He’d tucked it in the small of his back as he’d got out of the car, using a little sleight of hand so Liz wouldn’t see it and get wigged out.

  The guy grabbed the rim and ran like a weasel. That was when Hudson realized the thief had two confederates; each of them had a rim.

  Hudson didn’t waste time chasing them. It wasn’t as if he could shoot them for jacking his rims, and they could have friends nearby. Besides, he was more concerned about Liz. He reached for his keys, but the door clicked unlocked before he could get them out. He yanked it open.

  “Liz. You okay?’

  “They surrounded me like piranhas.” Her eyes were wild with fear. She grabbed on to his arm as he slid behind the wheel. “I’m sorry, Hudson—I hope I didn’t spoil your investigation.”

  “Who the hell cares? I’m worried about you!”

  “I’m fine. Really.” She seemed to be making an effort to calm herself, but her movements were still frenetic as she checked all around them, trying to spot any imminent threats. “I just panicked. There were six or eight of them—”

  “Six or eight? I only saw three.”

  “All but three disappeared the second the alarm went off.”

  “Jesus. I never should have left you here alone. What the hell was I thinking?”

  “It’s okay. Hudson, it wasn’t your fault—”

  “Of course it was my fault. I’m responsible for you. I should have trusted my gut. I’m so sorry. If anything ever happened to you I don’t know—”

  “It’s okay. Nothing happened.”

  With every word they exchanged, they’d leaned in closer, speaking more and more softly until they were whispering. Finally there was nothing left to do except kiss her, and he did.

  He’d forgotten how hungry her kisses could be, and how quickly she could produce a response in his body. He forgot what they were doing there; his universe shrank to the few cubic feet of air in the car and the feel of Liz’s lips on his, her hand gripping his arm, his fingers tunneling through the silky strands of her hair.

  They kissed for who knew how long until Hudson came to his senses and remembered where they were. They needed to get out of that neighborhood; in his current state of distraction, that gang could come back and lift out the whole engine and he probably wouldn’t notice.

  Reluctantly he pulled away from Liz with one final nibble to her upper lip. “We need to get going.”

  “Oh, um, right.” She put on her seat belt while Hudson pushed the start button. The engine roared to life; that was good. Once they’d made it back to the main thoroughfare, Liz pulled down the visor and turned on the lit mirror. Hudson had to struggle to keep his eyes on the road rather than watching her repair her lipstick; every move she made was imbued with sex, and he couldn’t figure out why. She couldn’t touch him, even innocently, without calling to mind wrestling between the sheets, her fingernails pressing into his naked back. She couldn’t clear her throat without his remembering the cute little noises she made when she was having an orgasm.

  “How are we going to explain to Daniel about the missing rims?”

  “I’ll take care of it. I didn’t even tell anyone you were coming with me tonight.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “I’d rather ask for forgiveness than ask for permission.”

  “Oh? You think Daniel, or Joe, would have nixed the idea?”

  “No good reason for me to involve you. Despite what I said earlier, it’s a risk every time we get together that someone will put two and two together.”

  “So then, why are we doing this?”

  “I think that kiss said it all.” He chanced a glance at her, but he couldn’t quite read her expression. Anger? Irritation? Confusion?

  “Adrenaline caused that kiss,” she finally said, her voice prim.

  Convenient explanation. But that didn’t explain away any of the other times they fell into each other’s arms. He could tell she didn’t buy it, either. She was grasping.

  “I just wanted to see you,” he finally said, opting for honesty. They’d played enough games. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “You know, sometimes, when two people are involved in a high-stakes or dramatic situation, they bond. But once the situation is resolved...” She shrugged.

  “Oh, okay, I get it. This is your social-worker mumbo jumbo for ‘Once this mess is resolved our...mutual interest will disappear.’”

  “I’m just saying we don’t have a lot in common, other than we’re trying to keep ourselves out of jail.”

  “You’d rather date someone from your own socioeconomic background.”

  “How in God’s name did you reach that conclusion from what I said? Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”

  “Just trying to understand. You know, the mutual-interest thing happened before we knew we were in the same hot water. Unless you were pretending to like me.”

  “I wasn’t pretending, then or now.”

  “But you never intended it to go longer than one night.”

  She didn’t deny it. “It can’t work in the long run.”

  “How do you know? Do you have a relationship crystal ball?”

  “I know because I’ve studied hundreds of relationships. I even worked as a marriage counselor. I see what works and what doesn’t. Two people who look at the world in completely different ways can’t possibly make it work.”

  “Never? Not ever? There’s never been a single healthy relationship where the two people looked at the world differently?”

  “Well...I’m sure there might be exceptions. One or two.”

  “So who’s to say we can’t make it three? I’m not asking for a commitment here. But you’re anticipating trouble that doesn’t exist yet.”

  “Doesn’t exist? All we do is argue.”

  “That�
��s not all we do. In fact, I thought we got along pretty well that first night.”

  “Why are you doing this? Have you ever had a long-term relationship? Been married or lived with a woman?”

  “Not yet. Haven’t found the right woman.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not her.”

  How could she be so sure? He found their arguments oddly...stimulating. Maybe she’d intended last Saturday to be a one-night stand, a walk on the wild side. But he had a feeling it could be so much more.

  Hudson kept driving, letting her stew. After a while, the silence grew awkward.

  “You hungry?” he asked. “We could grab something to eat.”

  “I’m starving. I couldn’t make myself eat much dinner, but now I’m ravenous.”

  “Adrenaline surges will do that. Burn up all your energy reserves, I mean. Let’s go somewhere. Italian? Mexican?”

  “We can’t. You know we can’t be seen together. How about if we go to my place and grab something?”

  “You can cook?”

  “No, I’ll have my live-in chef whip up something.” She laughed, breaking the tension. “Of course I can cook. Nothing fancy, but I can manage pasta or a frozen pizza.”

  “Sounds great.” Now things were looking up. If Liz was inviting him into her apartment for dinner, chances were good he’d spend the night. No matter what sort of psychobabble she tried to throw at him, she couldn’t hide that hungry look in her eyes. And she wasn’t just hungry for pizza.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHAT HAD ELIZABETH just done? Why had she invited him to come into her apartment? A late-night dinner, a glass of wine—she was definitely having a glass of wine after tonight’s adventure—it was practically foreplay.

  There were so many reasons she should stay away from Hudson Vale, and really only one for keeping him close: she was crazy about him. Even if they didn’t have much in common, and even if the attraction would fizzle once they cleared their names and no longer had a common goal, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop with the kisses and keep things on a professional level. They might soon find themselves imprisoned for the rest of their lives, or even condemned, if the county prosecutor decided to throw in a conspiracy charge and turn it into a capital case.