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A bit melodramatic, but it was a start. “Forensics came back today with no conclusive evidence from the fabric found in the wastebasket, other than the fingerprint of an old gangster.”
“Then there you have it. Find your gangster, find your killer. Simple enough.” He rose from the chair to get a bowl, a spoon and a carton of milk from the fridge before joining her back at the table.
“It would be, if the man were still alive. He’s been dead for decades, so it’s useless. But I took a closer look at the evidence today. The fabric looks like it came from a blue silk tie with a diamond weave.” She waited for some reaction from him, but he didn’t even flinch.
“It was your tie, wasn’t it?” she pressed. “The one I bought you for the gala.”
Liam started to pour the cereal, but she reached forward and dragged the bowl away. “Why was your tie at the crime scene, Liam?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I imagine it fell out of my jacket pocket.”
“How? When?”
No response. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. It irritated the crap out of her. “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to walk out that door and head straight to Captain Thompson and tell him what I know.”
Genuine surprise flashed across his face. “You haven’t told him?”
“Not yet.” Because she was batshit crazy. It went against all her training to withhold information like this, but she needed answers before she could decide what to do. “You know, my dad might think you’re a great guy, but your pretty-boy wiles don’t fool me for a second. Right now, I’m your best bet in helping you prove your alibi, but I’m on the edge here, Liam. Talk to me.”
He leaned forward as if he were going to divulge a very important secret. “So, you think I’m pretty, then?”
She slammed her hand on the kitchen table. “This is not a game, dammit! Tell me why your tie was at the crime scene.”
The teasing humor evaporated from his face and all that was left was pure, masculine arrogance. “I suppose it could’ve fallen out of my pocket when Margaret asked me for sexual favors in the hallway of her house.”
Cora frowned and shifted in her seat.
“Yes, I believe that’s when it happened. Margaret shoved me against the hall table and thrust her tongue into my mouth.” He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “Or was it, the tongue first, and then the shove? Anyway, she tore my jacket off and begged me to take her hard and fast, up against the wall—”
“Liam,” Cora interrupted. “I don’t need details on your sex life.”
“But you said you wanted every detail, no matter how small.” His expression was all choirboy innocence but the wicked gleam in his eyes ruined it.
“Just go on,” she said impatiently.
Liam stretched to rub the back of his neck, his muscular arms flexing. How the hell did he stay so fit? She’d never seen him go to the gym, but maybe he did. Maybe he lifted weights on the sly with his gym rat buddies. Maybe he did all sorts of things nobody knew about. What did she really know about him, anyway, other than what her dad had told her?
“All right.” He regarded her with stone-cold sincerity. “I believe the tie fell from my jacket pocket when I went to pick her up for dinner. The killer must’ve come across it during the struggle with her husband and used it to finish him off. That’s the only scenario that seems plausible to me.”
“And the motel story? The ATM mugger?”
“All true,” he said wearily. “Margaret had already started drinking when I picked her up that night. At dinner, she drank even more, and by the time we left the restaurant, she was half-gone. The motel was a snap decision. Once we got in the room, she sent me to the corner store to get...” He suddenly grew very interested in reading the Lucky Charms box. “Things.”
“Like what?” Cora noted the high color that bloomed across his cheekbones. Was he talking about condoms? He couldn’t possibly be blushing. Guys like him didn’t blush. They were too busy sauntering and smoldering.
“Tell me the rest. You were heading to the convenience store.” She rolled her hand, prompting him to continue.
“I didn’t go inside. I chose to lie on the street bench and look up at the stars instead.”
“It was cloudy on Saturday night,” she pointed out. “The stars weren’t visible.”
“Yes, I noticed that after I lay down. I was just relaxing for a bit, but then I heard the scuffling and that’s when I saw the old man being attacked.”
“So, you helped the man get his wallet back, but never actually saw the attacker’s face, even though you fought him?”
“It was too dark. He ran off, and I needed to make sure the old man was okay. Afterward, I went back to the motel room and dozed in the chair until morning. Then I drove Margaret home, and that’s when we saw the lineup of police cars. That’s it. That’s everything.”
He had no witnesses to prove he was there, and a weak alibi that sounded too convenient, but Cora wanted so badly to believe him. But something still felt off, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something. She was filled with conflicting emotions, and they weren’t only directed at Liam. She’d never wavered in her responsibilities as a police officer. She’d grown up with her father on the force, and the law was like their religion. After her mother died, her father was forever teaching Cora about codes of honor and safety and rules, and a million other things he hoped would keep his daughter safe. Then along came Liam, and now here she was withholding evidence just to protect him. And she barely knew him! God, what was happening to her?
