Page 62 of The Alibi Club

The evening was picture perfect. Redemption was in the air.

One moment later, an explosion went off.

The blast shook the windows of the small Manhattan Beach restaurant and plunged everything into darkness. The clatter of plates and flatware flung in all directions mixed with the shrieks from the diners as panic overtook everyone.

Jamie began crawling away from the door as Chef Pascal rushed out from the kitchen, his massive six-foot-five frame filling the doorway. He was armed with a fire extinguisher, wild eyes, and a first aid kit in hand.

“Who is hurt?” Chef Pascal asked. “I have all the things to help,” he said in his German accent and accidentally sprayed the fire extinguisher. A gust of white powder spurted out, scaring him.

Suddenly Cliff was there, positioning his body over hers. How he found her in the darkness, she didn’t know, but he found her. He came to protect her. “I’ve got you,” his voice rasped. “Stay down.”

Hair pinned uncomfortably to the floor, Jamie jerked her head slightly to the side to loosen it, and settled into the comfortable heat pulsing between them. If she was going to die, this would almost be the way to go. Cliff’s face dropped lower toward her until she felt his breath on her cheek. Yes, great way to die.

Seconds later the lights came back, and Cliff extricated himself from Jamie. She sighed and sat up.

“Thanks for—” Jamie motioned to the ground where moments ago their bodies had been intimately close, searching for the right words. “Protecting me?”

Cliff actually blushed and said, “My pleasure.” But then he seemed to realize his words and added, “But not in a creepy way!” He held out both hands, hoping she did not misunderstand.

She did not misunderstand. “Just your normal first-date behavior.”

Cliff said, “Whatever it takes to get me to a second date.”

They smiled goofily at each other. Jamie then looked around. The front window had somehow remained intact. The dining room itself was scattered. The rich aroma of roast duck still hung in the air, but cutlery and Chef Pascal’s delicious duck were everywhere. A few tables were overturned, the candles all snuffed out.

The rest of the party was coming out from their various hiding places around the restaurant—dazed, shaken, speechless.

That is, all the guests except one.

Nigel Spokes, notorious food critic who was revered and feared in equal measure by all chefs and restaurateurs in Los Angeles, remained slumped forward in his dining chair, forehead nearly dipping into his Moroccan saffron sauce.

Chef Pascal quickly lumbered over to check for a pulse. He looked back at the crowd and started hyperventilating.

He held his fingers to Nigel’s neck a few more seconds. Waiting. Hoping. Pressing.

But there was nothing. Chef Pascal’s face fell and with it his hope.

Nigel, Jamie was sure, was dead.

A low moan emanated, not from Nigel’s wife, who sat in a state of shock on the other side of the table, but from Chef Pascal. “No, no, NOOOOOOO, not again!”

Talk about bad luck.

Cliff offered Jamie his hand to pull her up. His hand rested softly on her lower back as Jamie stood rooted to the ground taking in the scene, ears ringing, sirens wailing in the distance racing their way, and all her brain could spit out in that moment was that nobody got a chance to try the duck.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Freeze-Out

CLIFF

Disoriented from the blast and then from the fact that he had been on top of Jamie Frisco’s body moments ago, Cliff felt a little dizzy. He pulled on his earlobe, willing his hearing to come back. His ears had blown out. He helped Jamie up, steadied her, then put a finger in his right ear to jiggle it, and was harangued into the hallway that led to the restrooms. Cliff looked over, registered who it was, and stumbled along, surprised at the strength of Amber’s grip on his bicep as she urgently ushered him down the narrow hallway to the backroom.

“If there’s shit going down, I know a safe place to hide,” she said.

Cliff blinked and still slightly dazed said, “Wait. Where are we going?”

“Follow me.”