Read The Alibi Man for Free Online Page A

seen him back there different times when I was in the store, but I didn’t know his name. That made Tommy Bahama the owner of Star Polo: Jim Brody. I didn’t recognize him from any of the tailgating photos. The third man had been in the background of one of the shots, laughing, raising a glass of champagne, a cute twenty-something blonde at his side.
    Brody slapped the denim-shirt man on the shoulder and said he’d see him soon.
    I turned and made my way to the front of the store, careful not to be seen by the clerk I had spoken to. She was occupied with a customer. I slipped out the door and went back to my car. Brody and the other man came out. Brody got into a pearl-white Cadillac Escalade: STRAR POLO 1 . The Argentinian slid behind the wheel of a silver Mercedes convertible and followed the Cadillac out of the parking lot. I drove out behind them.

chapter 7
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  THE MAIN entrance to Star Polo on South Shore Drive (which is, of course, nowhere near the shore of anything but a drainage canal) looked like the entrance to a five-star resort. Stone pillars, huge trees, banks of red geraniums, clipped grass. The Cadillac and the Mercedes turned in. I drove past and went to the stable gate farther down the road.
    A rider went past with three ponies tethered on either side, going for a jog. The farrier was banging on a hot shoe, shaping it to fit the foot of a horse being held by a barn hand. A groom was hosing the legs of a chestnut in the wash racks across the drive from the barn. Apparently there was no day of rest at Star Polo.
    I parked my car in the shade and went to the girl in the wash rack.
    Her focus was on the horse’s forelegs and the cold water that ran down and puddled on the concrete. Lost in thought, she held the hose in one hand, and with the other toyed compulsively with a medallion she wore around her neck on a thin black cord. She looked sad, I thought; then again, maybe it was just the way I felt and I wanted to project that onto everyone around me. It seemed wrong that people should be going on in a normal way. But their reality was not mine.
    â€œBoring job,” I said.
    She looked up at me and blinked. Twenty-ish, I figured. Her curly streaked blond hair was up in a messy clip. She looked different in a faded tank top and baggy cargo shorts, but I recognized her from one of the tailgating photos. She stared at me with big cornflower-blue eyes.
    â€œHose duty,” I said. “It’s boring.”
    â€œYeah. Can I help you?” she asked. “Are you looking for the barn manager?”
    â€œNo, actually, I’m looking for you.”
    Her brows knit. “Do I know you?”
    â€œNo, but I think we have a mutual acquaintance. Irina Markova.”
    â€œSure, I know Irina.”
    â€œI recognize you from a photograph she has. From a tailgating party at the polo grounds. I’m Elena, by the way,” I said, offering her my hand. “Elena Estes.”
    She shook it tentatively, still not sure what to make of me. “Lisbeth Perkins.”
    The friend from the caller ID.
    â€œHave you seen Irina around?” I asked.
    â€œShe doesn’t work here.”
    â€œI know. I mean, just around.”
    â€œWe went out Saturday night. Why?”
    â€œI work at the same barn as her. We haven’t seen her for a couple of days.”
    The girl shrugged. “It’s her day off.”
    â€œDo you know where she would go? What does she usually do on her day off?” I asked, fishing for whatever information I could get about Irina’s life away from the barn.
    â€œI don’t know. Sometimes we go to the beach when we’re both off. Or shopping.”
    â€œWhere did you go Saturday night?”
    â€œAre you a cop or something?”
    â€œNo. I’m just concerned. The world is a scary place, Lisbeth. Bad things happen.”
    She gave a little involuntary laugh. “Not to Irina. She can take care