The Alibi

“What’s good?”

He propped his elbows on the bar and leaned closer to her. “That all depends on what you’re after.”

“Excuse me,” Ellen interrupted. She wound up having to tap the bartender on the shoulder to regain his attention. “If he comes back—the guy I was with last night—call me. Okay?”

With little hope it would do any good, she pushed a slip of paper toward him. “Here’s the number of my hotel.”

“Okay.”

She watched him pocket the telephone number, knowing that his dry cleaner would probably find it in a couple of days. She had entered the club with the proud, purposeful stride of a crusader. She was a woman on a mission.

This morning, after the initial shock had worn off and she’d had time to pull herself together, she had determined to track down the lying son of a bitch and turn him over to the police.

When darkness fell, she had set out with the intention of canvassing every nightclub in Charleston if that’s what it took to find and expose him. This character had hustling down to an art. Looking back, she realized that he had been too smooth for her to have been his first victim. Nor would she be his last. Feeling heady and confident after last night’s

success, her seducer would be on the prowl again tonight.

But now as she left the club, her zeal was already on the wane. She acknowledged how foolhardy it was to be traipsing around Charleston looking for a liar and thief she knew only as Eddie, which in all likelihood was an assumed name.

The new patent leather pumps she had bought especially for this vacation trip were pinching her toes, reducing her march to a hobble. She was hungry, but each time she had tried to eat today, her stomach had grown queasy from last night’s liquor consumption and this morning’s self-loathing.

Not that she could afford to eat at any decent restaurants, she reminded herself sourly. She had notified the credit card companies of the theft, but it would be days before she received replacement cards. Luckily she had remembered tucking some cash into the pocket of a blazer. It was a fraction of the amount Eddie had stolen, but if she was frugal it would see her home.

So why not just cut her losses and go?

Charleston had been spoiled for her. The sultry heat that had enhanced the city’s romantic appeal now made her irritable and headachy. If she stayed as long as planned, she wouldn’t be able to afford any tours or attractions. Fewer nights here would mean a smaller hotel bill.

Common sense told her to return to Indianapolis tomorrow. The airline would charge her for changing her ticket, but the fee would be worth it. In her safe little house, with her two cats and familiar belongings, she could retreat to lick her wounds until the fall semester began. Eventually work and routine would crowd the nasty incident from her mind.

In any case, slogging through Charleston searching for Eddie was a waste of time and effort.

On the other hand, even now, while she was limping along in her uncomfortable, blister-rubbing patent leather shoes, he was probably working his con on another lonely lady who would wake up tomorrow morning relieved of her pocketbook and her self-respect. The crime would go unreported because the victim was too ashamed to report it to the authorities. That’s why Eddie could do it with such arrogance—he could get away with it.

Well, he wasn’t going to get away with it this time. “Not if I can help it,” Ellen Rogers said out loud.

With renewed determination, she entered the next club.

* * *

Hammond slid into the booth across from Loretta. “What have you got for me?”

“No hello or how are you?”

“I’m fresh out of pleasantries today.”

“You look like shit.”

“You must be out of pleasantries, too.” Hammond smiled grimly. “Actually, that’s the second time today that it’s been noted how ragged I look. That’s how my day started out, in fact.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t got that much time. I’m running out of time myself, so do you have something for me, or not?”

“I called you, didn’t I?” she retorted.

He didn’t blame her for taking umbrage. He was acting like a jerk. His visit with Davee had left him more disconcerted than before. When he got in his car and used his cell phone to check for messages, he was only half glad to hear Loretta’s voice urging him to meet her as soon as possible at the Shady Rest Lounge. Seeing her meant extending a day he was ready to put to a close. Conversely, he was anxious to know what her probe had turned up.

Shaking his head and sighing heavily, he apologized. “I’m in a pisser of a mood, Loretta, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”