The Original Alibi mk-1 Page 15

  “I’ll split man. Lemme go.”

  I cut the tape from around his wrists. He took off his jacket, put it over the seat of the bent chair, dropped his hat on top, and walked out. We followed him to the door and watched him drive away in the van he must have used to bring me here from behind Russell’s restaurant.

  Chapter 26

  Fidge drove me back to the lot behind Russell’s on Atlantic. The slight movements associated with leaning as he turned corners leveraged my rib cage, delivering the trauma of each bump home to the damaged area. It hurt like hell is what I’m trying to say. On the way I explained to Fidge a little more of my plan and how it might, just might, help close his unsolved Ileana Corrigan murder case.

  In my own car, I hung over my steering wheel for a few minutes trying to find a way to breathe that didn’t make me want to stop breathing. Driving my car felt better. The holding of the steering wheel while turning made it easier. I drove slowly. I wouldn’t say life was good, but it had gotten better.

  Axel had gone back to his place, or he could’ve been at Mackie’s, or with Hillie, or a movie maybe. He had become a big fan of movies during his years in stir. In any event, he wasn’t home. I wanted to go to bed and sleep until the twelfth of never, but first I needed to try to figure who had employed Ernest to work me over. The one thing I knew, whoever it had been would fail at keeping me off the job. I’d be after his ass in the morning.

  With some Irish straight in a short glass I went out on the patio. Yeooow. Irish may be good for cleansing a wound, but in a half raw mouth it stung like riding through hell on a splintered board. I swished it around before swallowing. After a few drinks it calmed. As I saw it, or chose to see it, that addressed my need for immediate medical care. In the morning, I’d go see Doc Medford, one of my loyal readers, to learn if my rib was broken or whatever. I was hoping for the whatever.

  The person who had hired Podkin knew the doctor had given the general about a week to live, that’s why he or she wanted me off my feet for that long. The quest for who killed Ileana Corrigan was the general’s private passion. Once he died, the personal representative for the estate could be expected to leave the cold case of the murder of Ileana Corrigan in police archives. Eddie Whittaker would take over leadership of the general’s assets and he considers having been released by the court to be enough. I would be taken off the case. To solve the woman’s murder and earn my fee, I had the same amount of time left the general had.

  I was now convinced that the killer of Ileana Corrigan and the general’s unborn great grandson lived in the general’s house, an enemy within.

  *

  By two the next afternoon I had left Doc Medford and his dowdy nurse. Podkin had cracked a rib, a lower one on my left side. The doc also found a lot of bruising around my rib cage. He presented the crack as good news, saying it would hurt worse if it were broken. I doubted that, but in the end it was what it was. He wrapped it tight enough to make breathing harder. The upside being that I looked more svelte in my slacks than any time since I first got out of prison. Prison had kept me fit. I looked forward to exercise to work off the high carb foods the prison purchasing agents seemed to favor.

  “Where you been boss?” Axel asked right off when I reached him on his cell phone. He and Buddha were back tailing Eddie Whittaker.

  I told him about being abducted and worked over, that I had gotten away with a cracked rib and mushy face. He asked if I wanted him to come back and help. “No. I can manage. You two stay with Eddie.” Then I asked if Eddie had done anything suspicious since they put the tail on him.

  “No. Not really, boss. He goes to the gym, his broker’s office, has lunch, and then plays golf or whatever. Like that. Usually eats supper with some doll. All in all, he’s living the good life. Just a minute, boss … Buddha just reminded me to tell you about Eddie going by a biker bar down in Pedro, near the docks. He went in and came out in under ten minutes. Like he’d gone in looking for someone and that person hadn’t been there.”

  Eddie could have been looking for Podkin.

  “Let me know if he goes back. Where are you right now?”

  “It’s around four so Eddie’s at play. He’s over at the Skylinks course hitting golf balls on the driving range. You know, I gotta take up that game. You play, don’t you boss?” I grunted. “Like I said, this guy lives a very casual lifestyle.”

  “Stay with him. If anything happens that looks suspicious, I wanna know about it. I’ll keep my phone near me.”

  I checked in with Fidge by phone to let him know I was back at home.

  “Brenda offered to fix you some of her homemade soup. You can rest up over here. She’ll have you back in the game in a day or two.”

  I told him I didn’t have a day or two and that I appreciated the offer-and I did. I promised we’d all get together when I had this wrapped up. The best guess said the general only had a few days left, and I had the same. That without the general I would not be on the case and, damn it, I wouldn’t walk away with this half unraveled.

  I felt like shit. Axel would be out until late. I expected he’d check in with me then. I went to bed, got up sometime after hard dark and made a soft-boiled egg, drank some cranberry juice, and then went back to sleep.

  *

  Before six, the sun started sliding into the room, doing its thing, the way cream softens black coffee. I’d had enough sleep, and wasting time wouldn’t make it hurt less.

  Axel winced when he saw me, which didn’t make me feel any better. I understood because I had seen myself in the mirror. My face looked like uncooked beef Wellington with the puff pastry raw, and my eyeballs like one of those roadmaps printed off the Internet. The tissue around my left eye was purple and puffy, nearly shut. Axel had already made coffee and squeezed some fresh tomatoes in a juicer he had bought a few days ago. He sprinkled in some salt and ground pepper.

  “I left out the dash of Tabasco,” he said, “figuring you didn’t want that in your mouth right now.” The coffee was too hot. I drank the juice while I gave him more details on my time with Podkin and how I had escaped. He said nothing other than, “You shoulda burned his ass the way Clara crisps bacon.” When I asked about Eddie, he said the general’s grandson did nothing suspicious yesterday or last night. And, no, he had not returned to the biker bar. Then Axel left to do some shopping for us and for Clara so she’d make us another pie.

  Ten minutes later, the front bell rang. Having no reason not to open the door, I did, and found my ex-wife standing in the doorway. She had never been to my condo and, if you had asked before I opened the door, she would have been the last person on the planet I’d expect to be standing on the other side.

  “Matt, what happened?” She walked in without my saying come in, but I was about to say it. I spent some time filling her in. Then I showed her around. She loved the view from the terrace. She put a hand on my face, gently on my cheek and then the back of my neck. The look on her face told me she didn’t like what she saw. But it was concern, not one of those hey, you’re double-ugly looks. She said a few of my facial cuts and abrasions had not been cleaned properly. She took my hand. The next thing I knew I was sitting on the toilet with her using cotton balls and witch hazel and, I don’t know what, to bathe some of my wounds. She had brought the stuff she was using with her. It figured that Fidge’s wife had called her. She rubbed some ointment on several places, put a bandage on one, and said, “The others we’ll leave open to the air.”

  Helen left after inviting me to her house on Sunday for breakfast. I didn’t promise, but I told her I wanted to come. Today was Wednesday and I needed to cut some corners to bring this across the finish line while the general was still in the race. I needed to see him and give him a hang in there, I’m getting close talk. Even though I wasn’t all that sure it was true. He wanted the answer that would come at the end of my investigation. I was counting on the general soldiering through till then.

  About noon I heated up some of that chicken soup th
at comes ready to eat in the can. All you need do is warm it. I did. It tasted good, but I was longing for something to chew. I’m a meat and potatoes guy. I wanted to chomp on something, but my chomper wasn’t ready. While I ate the soup, more like drank the soup, I opened the DNA report I had picked up at Chunky’s the afternoon Podkin had diverted my attention. I had expected the report to be a routine thing. Investigators are always running checks or tests of some kind to confirm what they already knew. But Chunky’s report didn’t confirm anything I already knew. It didn’t even fall within the shadow of anything I already knew.

  Chapter 27

  Slow traffic got me to the general’s house later than I had hoped. I spent the first ten minutes calming Charles after he saw the condition of my kisser. I described it as one of those beefs private investigators sometimes get in and don’t come out of as well as Sam Spade always did. Mostly, I watched his face. He had not seemed surprised to see me which he would have had he hired Podkin to keep me under wraps. Then he said, “I saw you through the window. You’re not moving all that well.” No verbal response was needed. I simply blew out some air and raised my eyebrows.

  “The general is asleep,” Charles said. “I’ll be waking him in about an hour, when the cook has prepared his dinner. He’s taking his meals alone now in his room. This morning, the doctor indicated he should use a wheelchair as much as possible. Fortunately, we’ve always had an elevator for workers to get back and forth to the upstairs. It’s just outside his room.”

  “That’s fine, Charles. I came to see you. Can we go someplace private?”

  “We can use the study sir. The general doesn’t go there anymore.”

  “No. Somewhere else, private.”

  “You certainly have my curiosity aroused, Mr. Kile. It’s a bit irregular, but we can use my upstairs quarters at the end of the hall past Karen’s suite.”

  When we got there he offered coffee or a soda. I accepted water, no ice; he had a glass with ice. We sat at his kitchen table that looked out toward the ocean. You couldn’t see the beach. The view showed calm water far out to the horizon.

  “Well, sir. Please take my curiosity down a notch or two. What is this about?”

  “I’d like you to indulge me by finishing a brief sentence: Karen’s father is?”

  “What is this about?”

  “Indulge me, Charles. Who is Karen’s father?”

  “Why, the general, Mr. Kile, everyone knows that.”

  “Her birth father, Charles. Who is Karen’s birth father?”

  “The general.”

  “No. General Whittaker did not sire Karen Whittaker, therefore her last name is not even Whittaker. I figure that only two people, not counting Karen’s mother, know the answer, you and the general. Do I need to ask General Whittaker?”

  “No, sir. You do not. I am Karen’s father. The general’s wife, Mary, and I … well, you know. She was a frisky woman. The general was in his fifties, I in my thirties. Her needs exceeded his. Due to my living here then as I do now, my sex drive could best be described as involuntary hibernation. It just happened that once. No. That’s not true. It happened several times over a month or so. Then I put a stop to it. It was wrong. Mary always insisted the general was Karen’s father, but I doubted it, sir. When DNA tests became available, I had them run. She is my daughter. How did you learn this, Mr. Kile?”

  Charles had spent a good part of his life serving his daughter as if she were the mistress of the house.

  “Charles, do you sometimes use the general’s bathroom, the one between his bedroom and his private study?”

  “Yes. Often when I am in the general’s wing, it is closer and the general finds my doing so acceptable. Not regularly, but several times a week I would imagine. I asked how you learned the general was not-”

  “The same as you. The general’s DNA didn’t match. Someone else’s did. I figured you. Does Karen know?”

  “No sir. I will tell her someday.”

  “After the general dies?”

  “Yes, Mr. Kile, after the general dies. That is something I cannot imagine. I mean I am here. I talk to the doctors. I know. But the general always seemed indestructible, a man who would always be here. Always be in charge. Yet the reality is now undeniable. The general’s deterioration is accelerating at a rapid pace.”

  “Would you have stayed with the general had Karen not been your daughter?”

  Charles got up and walked to the window and looked out toward the ocean. “I don’t know,” he said with his back to me. Then he returned to sit with me again at the table. “I have wondered. It has been a distinct honor to be his friend and companion all these years. After my tryst with Mary, I felt so dishonest to be here. But with time that eased and finally passed.”

  “You said Karen doesn’t know?”

  He shook his head. “No sir. I saw no reason.”

  “Then there’s the inheritance. Yours and your daughter’s. If the general knew, he would likely remove you both from his will.”

  “I would expect so, sir. Karen has been loving and loyal to the general, as I have been. She is entitled, I believe. Don’t you agree, Mr. Kile?”

  “It is not my place to judge that. I leave that to you. My job is simply to determine who killed Ileana Corrigan. I don’t have much time left, so what else can you tell me about that?”

  “Nothing. I have been fully candid with you on that entire matter. I know nothing further.”

  “Have you ever heard the name, Ernest Podkin?”

  “No, I have not. Who is he?”

  “A biker. That’s all I know. And I’d appreciate you not repeating that name to anyone.”

  “As you wish. You might ask Cliff, he rides a Harley and hangs out with those guys. Used to a lot. Less now, but he still does.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for talking with me. I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Where do we go from here, sir? Will you need to tell the general? I realize I have a selfish interest on this, but the general would not take the news well. He is weak now. I see no reason to … change his memories at this point, sir.”

  “I think I agree. Then, I do work for the man which obligates me to tell him what I learn.”

  “What you learn about who killed his great grandson. You were hired to learn that, not who fathered his daughter.”

  “That’s a point. I just don’t know yet. If I decide I need to, I’ll let you know first.”

  “Is there anything else, Mr. Kile?”

  “One more thing. Did you kill the Corrigan woman?”

  “Sir? Why would you think that? What reason could I have?”

  “There was an attempt to frame Eddie. Had that held, he would have gone to prison. It is more than likely the general would have left his entire estate to your daughter, thinking she was his.”

  “I understand you must consider every angle, your job and the nature of being a detective, but I don’t believe you think I did. Besides, while I could have arranged to frame Eddie in the manner it was done, why would I bribe Mr. and Mrs. Yarbrough to provide a defense to get Eddie released?”

  “Yes. There is that, Charles. However, given your devotion to the general, it is possible you could not bring yourself to be the cause of him watching his grandson being convicted of murder. You could have used the Yarbroughs so you could shake down the general for the two million by selling him the alibi. That amount along with what the general is leaving you and Karen would set you both up without destroying the relationship between Eddie and the general.”

  “Being a detective can be a disgusting business, can’t it, Mr. Kile?”

  “Yes, Charles. At times like this, it can.”

  *

  Cliff was in the garage changing spark plugs on the general’s MG Roadster. It didn’t get driven much anymore. Karen took it out once in a while, but the general loved the car.

  “I can’t imagine anyone getting their fists on you that much, Matt.”

  “You could if you k
new my arms were tied, as well as my feet.”

  Cliff and I went over to the workbench and occupied two of the stools. “You okay for a beer?” he asked. I nodded, not knowing how it would go, but eager to find out. He brought them over, twisting the cap off mine before handing it to me.

  “Ernest Podkin.”

  “How do you know Poddy?”

  “Poddy?”

  “Yeah. We used to call him that because he had bad breath. Poddy mouth. You know. Potty mouth. It stuck. Where do you know him from?”

  I circled the air with my index finger pointing at my face.

  “Poddy did that? I mean, he’s tough but …” He left the rest unsaid.

  “Are you two tight?”

  “We know each other. He rides with the gang I once did. We always got along, but never close. It was a big gang. I can’t imagine him doing that to you.”

  “Like I said, my arms were tied. So tell me about Mr. Podkin.”

  “Lifetime biker. Petty criminal. Hauls drugs up and down the coast. Strong arm work. Not a killer. Least not as I know. If he did this, he was hired by someone who wanted you worked over.”

  “That’s right. Podkin told me so before I left him on a concrete floor down by the docks. He said he didn’t know who. I believed him. The way he was set up to do it, well, it was the same way as some others.”

  “You say you left him on the floor in a place down in Pedro?” I nodded. “Tell me about the place. Describe it.” I did, including the conveying belt of hooks running along the ceiling. “I know the place,” Cliff said. “I don’t know what those hooks were ever used for. The general had me drive him there after he bought it. He had me go in with him. I asked him what he was going to do with it. He said it was an investment. He liked the location and that eventually somebody would need the space and he’d turn a profit.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “More than a year, less than two.” Then Cliff offered to help me find Podkin.