One-Night Alibi. Kara Lennox
Usually he trimmed a few bushes, kept the lawn mowed, raked leaves in the fall, and that was it.
A car had turned down his street; Hudson recognized the growl of a powerful engine, and knew almost before he turned his head that a police vehicle was coming his way. A silver LTD. Were they coming to arrest him?
Hudson’s stomach whooshed even as he straightened and arranged his face into a neutral expression. He’d known this might happen. His word against that of a powerful, rich attorney, and the only witness to the incident, Jazz the prostitute, couldn’t be found.
He relaxed slightly when he recognized his partner, Carla Sanchez, get out of the passenger side. He and Carla weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy with each other. They would never be drinking buddies or confidants. But she was smart, and he felt certain she had his back.
He tensed when he saw whom she was with. Todd Knightly, Mr. Rules-and-Regulations. Were they partners now? Did that mean Knightly was working Major Crimes?
Hudson tried to read their faces. Sanchez had her best poker face on. She wasn’t giving him a clue. Knightly had a determined glint in his eye, but also appeared slightly worried.
“Mornin’,” Hudson greeted them in his best good-old-boy demeanor. He stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of his jeans, expecting Sanchez to make some crack about his disreputable appearance. She was always giving him grief about the way he dressed. She thought his loud Hawaiian shirts were juvenile.
She said nothing.
Last he heard, Carla hadn’t believed Mandalay’s story about an unprovoked assault. Had something changed her mind?
“I’m guessing,” he said, “this isn’t a social call.”
Knightly didn’t engage in any small talk. He never did. When he was on duty, he was all work, all the time. “Vale, where were you Saturday night between 10:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m. Sunday morning?”
The question actually brought to mind a series of very pleasant memories. “I was here. At home.” Though the evening hadn’t ended as he’d wished, he couldn’t help a slight smile as he recalled the beautiful siren who had shared his bed two nights ago.
“Alone?” Knightly said.
“As a matter of fact, no.”
Knightly cut his eyes toward Carla and nodded, as if saying, I told you so. He took out his notebook. “Can you give me the name and contact information of the person or persons you were with?”
“Come on, what is this?” Hudson asked impatiently.
“Just cooperate, for once,” Carla said.
Perspiration broke out on Hudson’s forehead. Something was really wrong here. “Liz. Her name was Liz.”
“Last name?”
Hudson rubbed his chin. “Ah, there’s the problem. I didn’t get a last name.”
“Typical,” Sanchez muttered.
Knightly ignored her. “How can we find this woman?”
“She’s a friend of a friend. Of a friend. I’m sure I can track her down if there’s a need. But might I ask why there’s a need? Last I heard, I was off duty Saturday night. A guy is allowed to have a little fun, isn’t he?”
“Franklin Mandalay.” Knightly watched Hudson carefully, as if expecting some kind of reaction.
“Jeez, what’s that bastard accused me of now?”
“He didn’t accuse you of anything,” Sanchez said. “He’s dead. From a bullet through the heart.”
“Dead?” He waited for someone to burst out laughing. Nobody did. “Holy crap, you’re serious.”
“He was found in the lake,” Sanchez said.
Hudson immediately went into detective mode. “Time of death?”
“This isn’t your case,” Knightly said. “We’ll ask the questions. You provide the answers.”
Hudson sighed. Knightly had been watching too many episodes of Dragnet. “You can’t honestly think I had anything to do with it.”
“You had a beef with him,” Sanchez said. “His body was found less than two miles from your house. And you don’t have an alibi.”
“I do have an alibi.”
“Whose name you’ve conveniently forgotten. Do you take so many women to bed that—”
“Her name is Liz.” Wow, Sanchez was certainly in a mood. So much for having his back. “I met her at a party. We came back here. She stayed until about four, then she had to leave because she worked in the morning.” That was sort of the truth.
“What kind of car did she drive?” Knightly asked, all business.
Sanchez, on the other hand, was getting personal. Years ago, long before they’d been partners, they’d slept together. Once. She’d wanted more; he’d realized it was a mistake. She’d been angry at the time but claimed to have put the matter behind her. Still, she never missed an opportunity to rag on him for his “indiscriminate sleeping habits,” as she called them.
“We took my car,” Hudson explained. “And she took a taxi home. Look, I’ll ask around, track her down. Give me a day or two. If I can’t find her, break out the rubber hoses and the hot lights and have at me.”
“In a day or two you could be on the other side of the world,” Sanchez said.
Knightly shook his head. “He isn’t going to run, Carla, or he would have done it already. He had to have known he’d be a suspect.”
“I didn’t know anything until five minutes ago,” Hudson couldn’t help but point out.
Knightly took off his mirrored sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Vale, we have to clear you from the suspect list. You understand that, right? People are going to ask questions, and we’ll have to have good, solid evidence that you couldn’t have done this. Give us a real alibi and we’ll get our job done.”
Hudson nodded. “I totally get that. And I will find the mystery woman. So unless you’re prepared to arrest me on the spot, y’all best back off and let me get to work.”
Knightly considered him for a few more seconds. “All right. Two days.” He turned and strode back to the car, jerking the driver’s door open.
“Hey, Sanchez,” Hudson said softly as his former partner turned away. “How long did it take for them to promote Knightly into my job?”
She lowered her voice. “The transfer to Major Crimes was already in the works. I requested to work with him. He might be a little humorless, but he’s a good cop. He knows the law. He follows protocol.”
Hudson knew he’d just been put down. But now was not the time or place to argue.
“You better go, before Mr. Rules-and-Regulations reports you for consorting with a suspect.”
“If I were you, I’d forget about Knightly and focus on finding the girl. If she exists.”
Hudson’s jaw dropped as Sanchez slid into the passenger seat. Did his own partner actually think he might have killed a man? Did she actually prefer working with that pompous ass?
Knightly had about a year’s seniority over Hudson. In fact, when Hudson had first made detective—assigned to juvie and missing persons—Knightly had shown him the ropes with a sort of big-brother attitude that was only slightly annoying. Hudson had assumed he was well-meaning.
But after a few months, Hudson had realized that Knightly relished his superior attitude. He had the state and local penal codes memorized word for word and wouldn’t hesitate to complain to the lieutenant if he thought any of his colleagues weren’t following the rules. He always