Page 94 of The Alibi Club

Holly seemed to be trying especially hard, which was saying something for someone who could only be radically honest. “Rick, love, you’re useful in many ways.”

Rick looked crestfallen. “Really? I wasn’t a pawn like the rest of you? I was just some stiff willing to fill a seat on a blind date?”

“We can’t see Lorna’s entire plan,” Jamie kindly offered. “Until we ask her.”

Rick nodded glumly and carried on driving until he reached their destination then pulled the car over into a parking spot in front of the gastropub where the Dinner for Six office resided above. He parked, while Holly patted his thigh, and then put money in the parking meter lest the Redondo Beach Parking Authority descend like vultures.

All of them piled out onto the street, raced up the stairs to the door of Dinner for Six, keen on confronting Lorna Gray. But much to everyone’s astonishment except Jamie’s, who knew a woman this calculating would never be caught unaware, the office was deserted.

Through the clear glass door, they could see the furniture was gone, the sign removed, leaving only some wire and hooks on the walls. They could just spy a giant corkboard on the far conference room wall that looked like a police evidence board with each of their pictures and red string all leading to a graphic of a table in the center. At the top of the board was a picture of Duncan Reeves.

“I knew she wouldn’t be here,” Jamie said. “She’s way ahead of us.”

Cliff stood there, hands on hips, and said, “There’s one more place to look.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Quiet Getaway

CLIFF

Vanderlip Airfield in Torrance was located just ten minutes east of the office of Dinner for Six. It could accommodate a wide variety of single-engine planes and a small but exclusive fleet of private jets. It had undergone an extensive renovation after the city of Torrance sold Zamperini Airfield to a private investor, the Vanderlip Consortium, which pivoted to catering to the elite private jet-setting crowd, which turned out to be much more lucrative than teaching commoners how to fly Cessnas.

The Vanderlip Consortium overhauled the interior to make it more upscale, leaning into the elegance and luxuriousness required of the rich and famous. They added spa-inspired bathrooms with imported white statuary marble and gleaming fixtures, a five-star restaurant serving things like butter-poached scallops with cherry gastrique and bitter greens, and a craft cocktail bar that overlooked the airfield.

Cliff had told the crew that Lorna had a business card from Vanderlip Airfield, which he had seen by accident after going over her security assessment. “It stuck with me because I once took flying lessons there,” Cliff said. “But when I asked her about it, she was dodgy. Said she’d never fly in a small plane, that they were dangerous. But she said she knew a pilot who flew in and out of that airfield.” An exclusive airfield was exactly the place to go to get out of town after masterminding the heist of the century.

It had been two days. She could already have flown the coop. Probably had.

“It’s just a hunch,” he said. “If she’s not there, she’s in the wind and we’ll never find her.”

This sobering news hit the singles squad oddly, as the collective energy had been bubbling along as they got to the bottom of the mystery. Having a purpose such as this bonded them even tighter, the way some people do when trapped in an escape room. Working as a team felt good, highlighting each of their talents. (Rick was great at trivia, Holly an excellent navigator, Kyle could hack into the flight plans at the airfield, and Shannon searched for Lorna Gray’s other aliases.) This quest fostered and deepened the interpersonal relationships between the couples as well. No one said it, but this chase could not end without answers.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Vanderlip Airfield, where valet parking cost fifty dollars, Rick said, “I’ll self-park. Meet you inside.”

Cliff led the pack as they walked briskly into the small but well-appointed terminal. He scouted the area. There were a total of four gates, two on each side of an expansive bar with a few tables adorned with linen tablecloths and gold art deco lamps. The vibe was relaxed and dimly lit, like an upscale lounge at the Waldorf Astoria, and the tables looked out onto the airfield.

Jamie picked up a menu at the hostess stand. “Hmm. You can get fresh Kumamoto oysters flown in daily.”

Rick joined them just in time to look over Jamie’s shoulder at the menu. “And a tomahawk steak for three hundred and fifty dollars. Jesus.”

Holly said, “I wonder who the chef is.”

Jamie scanned the crowd. There was a total of fifteen people inside the terminal, some nursing cocktails at the bar, other reading the Robb Report from the plush reclining chairs lined up near the windows. There was only one woman in sight accompanied by two bored, moody teenagers. Jamie moved closer to get a better look. She was plump, blond, wearing a hat with the Lone Star Flag on it. The woman turned and Jamie saw her face. It was not Lorna.

The group fanned out in pairs searching for their elusive target, understanding that she may be traveling incognito. She was nowhere to be found.

They met back at the bar, frustrated. “I checked under each stall of the nicest airport bathroom I have ever seen,” Holly said. “Could eat off the floor.”

“I checked the men’s room, too. Nothing. Agree with the floors,” Rick said.

Kyle scanned the upcoming flight logs online. “Most of these flights are going to Dallas or New York. Except one.”

“Which one?” Cliff asked.

“There’s a flight going to Monterey Bay. Leaves in ten minutes. Gate 4.”

The group moved toward Gate 4. They peered around the room to see if any passengers were headed in the direction of the flight. No one was.