The Alibi Man by Tami Hoag

asked.
    â€œI know someone,” the priest said. “But he will not speak with you.”
    â€œIf he’s afraid, we can speak over the phone,” Weiss said. “All we’re trying to do at this point is locate this Alexi person.”
    The old priest got up from his chair. He stood ramrod straight, a formidable figure in his black cassock and priest’s collar.
    â€œHe will not speak with you,” he said again, “because Alexi Kulak cut out his tongue.”

chapter 14
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  IN MY IMAGINATION I had always visualized that I would be prepared for this moment, that I would have the upper hand when this circumstance arose, that I would know exactly what to say. I pictured myself as being strong and in control, unaffected by the sight of him, and looking like a million damn dollars. And Bennett Walker would be the one taken by surprise, rattled and shaken, unable to speak. But that wasn’t what happened.
    He came through the door with a sense of purpose, his attention on his friend and alibi, Juan Barbaro. Time and lifestyle had chiseled some lines into his face but in a way women would find attractive. He still had all his hair—dark, wavy, falling in his eyes. He still had the body of an athlete—tall, broad-shouldered, trim hips. He was impeccably dressed—white slacks, black jacket, black-striped shirt opened at the throat. The dashing social scion, disheveled just enough to be sexy.
    He glanced at me with not one shred of recognition in his eyes.
    I was a very different person from the girl he had known. Gone was the wild mane of black hair, the ready-for-trouble smile, the glint of excitement in my eyes. I had been vibrant then, flush with first love, innocent—if not in fact, in spirit.
    Twenty years is a long time. A whole lot of life had gone on since I had last seen him. Still, a part of me was offended he didn’t know me on sight, that he hadn’t stopped dead in his tracks, gone pale, started to stammer. Had I been so unimportant to him that he had never imagined this moment? Out of sight, out of mind. A bad memory best left in the past.
    â€œJuan, my man,” he said, grabbing Barbaro’s hand and pumping it like a politician. “Could I have a moment—”
    â€œWhere are your manners, friend?” Barbaro asked. “I have a lovely lady on my arm, if you haven’t noticed. Why would I leave her for an instant to be with the likes of you?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Walker said at me, not to me. “But I—”
    Barbaro ignored him. “Elena, this is my very rude friend, Bennett Walker. Bennett, my lovely companion for the evening, Elena Estes.”
    He saw me then. He looked at me for the first time and saw me. There was the stunned, guarded look I had been wishing for.
    â€œI’ve never known you to be at a loss for words, Bennett,” I said, as if I were calm.
    â€œElena.”
    He wanted the floor to open and swallow me. He wanted to turn and go back out the door. Do-over, without the woman who had tried to put him in prison.
    â€œYou know each other?” Barbaro said. “Why would I be surprised? Is there a beautiful woman within fifty kilometers you don’t know, my friend?”
    â€œOh, I knew Bennett back when,” I said, enjoying the apprehension in Bennett’s eyes. “Or so I thought.”
    â€œElena,” he said again. “It’s been a long time. How are you?”
    â€œIs that the best you can do?”
    â€œYes, at the moment.”
    â€œTo think you used to be so quick on your feet.” I glanced at Barbaro from the corner of my eye. “Ben used to be able to talk his way out of anything. Isn’t that right, Ben?”
    He said nothing.
    â€œI’m upset, to answer your question,” I told him. “A friend of mine was found murdered this morning. Imagine my surprise to discover you were seen with her the