Page 27 of The Alibi Club

“Yes, ma’am,” Cliff said as he cleared his throat. “Should be my tagline.”

“You’re hired.”

“Then it’s a small matter of a deposit of two thousand dollars,” Cliff said, a tentativeness tightening his delivery. If Lorna provided his deposit, he could finish Vasken’s security system with some left over, but he still needed a larger influx of cash.

“Of course. One small favor. Can you write this plan up so I can take it with me and examine it further?”

“Not a problem. I’ll provide you a copy of the blueprints and a detailed plan by tomorrow afternoon. I can drop it off at the house. That should give me a better view of things.”

“Actually, drop by my office instead, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a hectic day tomorrow. My office is in Riviera Village down in Redondo Beach.” She handed him one of her pink embossed cards. He glanced at it.

“Consider it done.” Cliff smiled so deep he could feel it in his toes. His second bona fide client, and he could get an advance to pay for equipment while his pitch meeting with The Siberian loomed. Perhaps he could finish this job, get paid, and not need The Siberian at all.

Maybe he could turn it around after all. The criminal mind is a funny thing, though. It always has a hold. He leaned on the conference table, his curiosity brimming, as much a part of his nature as the dimple in his chin, and said, “Whatever you’re trying to protect must be pretty special to put in a system like this.”

Lorna Gray deferred the question and shrugged. “There have been a series of break-ins of houses on The Strand. I’d rather hope for the best, but plan for the worst. ‘Be prepared,’ right? Boy Scout pledge?” She grabbed her Chanel bag, removed two slim stacks of hundreds totaling two thousand dollars. Along with the bundle of cash, a card fell onto the table that read Vanderlip Airfield.

Cliff recognized it instantly. “Small world. I took flying lessons there years ago. Do you fly?”

Lorna Gray stuffed the card back into her wallet and said, “Me? No, never. Small planes are just … yikes.” She shivered and explained. “A pilot I know happens to fly in and out of there, and I’m setting him up on a blind date.”

She walked toward the exit and turned toward Cliff. “Oh, one more thing, Mr. Weston.”

Cliff looked up, hoping she wasn’t going to ask about his past crimes. She gave a half smile, and he noticed the beauty mark right above her top lip.

She paused and asked, “Are you single?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Soulmate Adjacent

LORNA

Lorna stood back to consult the massive corkboard in her office after tacking up a picture of Jamie Frisco. The panel itself was taking on police evidence board vibes as it was slowly being filled with a collage of items including a photo of Cliff Weston, Post-it notes, pictures of three local restaurants, a map, a calendar with two circled dates, and in the middle of the board, a small cartoon table with six chairs around it. A line of red string led from Cliff’s photo down to one of the seats at the table.

Lorna drew a big question mark next to Jamie’s picture and pondered it.

Jamie Frisco was challenging, slightly combative, naturally suspicious … and totally perfect. It had taken all of three minutes after meeting Jamie at Angel’s Salon for Lorna to ascertain that she could be the next single in her Dinner for Six puzzle. Her mind was buzzing with anticipation. As her fingers tapped quickly at the keyboard, setting up the plan, she wondered if Cliff used to feel this way before pulling off a heist, or Jamie before nailing a perp. The sheer joy of it. Though she was fairly sure she had the better job over those two. Another thing she could appreciate: Elaine Cromwell Frisco’s sales tactic—undersell her and let Jamie overdeliver.

Lorna was not surprised to find a chip the size of Saturn firmly on Jamie’s shoulder after meeting her mother, but she also seemed unaware of how pretty she was without makeup, and yet nearly chomping at the bit to deny herself any form of self-love or happiness that came her way. Lorna could not have conjured up a more ideal candidate. Pliable, desperate, yet smart and attractive.

However, intuition was strong with this one. As a forensic psychologist, Jamie had likely honed and sharpened her intangible capabilities. Police called in forensic psychologists when they were out of their depth with a criminal mind, which meant she was an expert at deductive logic, reading people, intuiting motives. Jamie was trained to see the marionette strings, the larger picture, the impulses people tried to hide. For a moment, Lorna wondered if perhaps Jamie’s abilities were even stronger than her own. But that was ridiculous. Lorna had never met her equal. Yet, she did plan to keep Jamie somewhat in the dark; otherwise, she might sniff out the romantic scheme, turn tail, and ruin her own love life forever. That’s how some souls need to find love; by throwing it away.

When people get to a certain age, they stop believing in soulmates. They stow away the possibility like a broken toy forgotten in an old crate, fooling themselves that they’ve outgrown such childish notions. So begins a search for something more modest and more attainable. This lowering of expectations was what Lorna termed soulmate adjacent. Loneliness and a steady diet of disappointment could erode anyone’s long list of must-haves and replace it with “that’ll be fine.”

Fine. The death knell of love.

This was the opposite of what Lorna promised. Her aging singles were dangerously close to that precipice, dipping their toes in the tepid pool of romantic complacency, their hopes of love fading to make way for settling. Sure, companionship, understanding, and common interests were important, but that was not what she peddled.

Lorna was selling the dream. That first-glance-across-a-crowded-room, all-consuming kind of love Taylor Swift wrote about, where the chemistry lights you up like a pinball machine, all bells, whistles, attraction, and joy at full volume. The kind of love where you invent your own language, find solace and exhilaration in each other’s eyes, and finally feel seen and loved not in spite of your flaws and eccentricities, but because of them. Lorna knew that finding that kind of love required letting go of all the things you think you’re looking for. By letting yourself be seen by the right person.

It was a thrill like no other.

If Lorna tapped into her deepest talents, the singles at this table would be able to conjure that exact kind of thrill. Her goal wasn’t to find someone who was simply fine, but to match each tattered, or skittish, or bulletproof heart with another heart who felt the same essential way. She got so excited at thinking about the revelations her singles would stumble upon that she could feel tingling in her fingertips as she drew them together and stared at her corkboard. She was missing a few pieces, but she could see the grand scheme unfolding.

Oritte entered with a slim file folder. “Your meeting with Jamie Frisco is in thirty minutes.”

Lorna checked her watch, nodded, and reached for the pink file folder.