The Alibi Man by Tami Hoag Page B

shoulder.
    â€œElena, please don’t leave angry.”
    He was standing too close. I didn’t turn to face him.
    â€œI’m not angry with you.”
    â€œYou are angry with the world, I think.”
    â€œYes,” I whispered, feeling very beaten by the day. Physically beaten. Emotionally spent. His hand moved from my shoulder to touch the back of my head.
    â€œPlease don’t try to comfort me,” I said. “I really don’t think I can take it right now.”
    â€œYou are always the strong one?”
    â€œI don’t have a lot of choice in the matter. If you’ll excuse me now, I really have to go.”
    He moved a step to the side so I could open the car door.
    â€œMay I call you?” he asked.
    I laughed without humor. “I can’t imagine why you would want to. I haven’t been the most pleasant company.”
    â€œThe death of a friend does not create pleasant circumstances. Still…This does not change the fact that you are a beautiful, complex, interesting woman, and I would like the chance to get to know you better.”
    â€œHmmm…You’re a brave soul,” I said, looking at him. In the film-noir black-and-white light of the parking lot, he was starkly beautiful, and I could feel the sexual energy that rolled off him in waves.
    â€œFortune favors the brave,” he said, and he leaned forward and kissed me gently, briefly. Just long enough to make me think I might want more.
    â€œYou’re naughty!”
    The voice came from the far side of my car. A person of indeterminate gender stood in back of the car parked next to mine, staring at us. A woman, I thought from the voice. But there were no other indicators. She was covered in what looked to be a black unitard that exposed only the features of her face, features painted on like a character from Cirque du Soleil. On top of her head was a conical black hat with a pom-pom at the end.
    â€œYou’re very naughty!” she said. “Like the others. Very naughty!”
    Barbaro took a couple of menacing steps in her direction. “Get away from here, Freak! Go! Go before I call the police and they arrest your crazy ass!”
    The Freak curtsied and ran away awkwardly on high platform shoes. She crawled through the pipe gate that led onto the Palm Beach Polo development and was gone.
    I turned to Barbaro. “What the hell was that?”
    â€œThe Freak,” he said. “Have you never seen the Freak?”
    â€œNo. I don’t get off the farm much.”
    â€œShe hangs around town. I’ve seen her here before. She’s crazy.”
    â€œI got that.”
    â€œNever mind her,” he said. “Go home and try to get some rest.”
    He reached up and touched the left side of my face, gently, I’m sure, though I couldn’t really feel it.
    I slid behind the wheel of the BMW and told him my phone number, and I drove away wondering what exactly I had just let myself in for.
    I thought of Barbaro’s kiss and felt guilty. I thought of Landry and the moment we had shared outside the barn, how I had wanted to turn to him but hadn’t. And I felt guiltier. Not that I needed to. I had ended my relationship with Landry. He wanted something from me I couldn’t give, wouldn’t give. I’d done him a favor, whether he wanted to see it that way or not.
    Maybe a fling with a hot polo star was a way to drive that point home.
    Don’t read too much into it, Elena,
I told myself. Inasmuch as I planned to use my new connection to Juan Barbaro to dig into this case, for all I knew he was planning to do the same thing. He had been there the night Irina went missing, as had Bennett Walker, and Barbaro’s
patrón,
birthday boy Jim Brody. Perhaps he planned on being the distraction that would take my attention away from his wealthy friends.
    I had no doubt that Juan Barbaro could have his pick of wealthy women and gorgeous girls in Wellington.