The Original Alibi (Matt Kile) (11 page)

“So you like him, don’t you, Charles?”

“Above all others, Mr. Kile. General Whittaker is my employer and, as I said, we maintain that relationship. We are also friends for life and he has never wavered in that commitment.”

“How is he doing? His health I mean. Is he able to keep up some of his favorite activities and hobbies?”

Mackie came out from around the bar and started toward our table. I held up my hand, palm out. He did an about face and headed back behind the bar. I also noticed he had been staying away from Axel. In prison you learn to be aware of who is watching who, before deciding whether or not to approach. Mackie knew Axel was watching Charles and me, so he stayed at the end of the bar away from Axel.

“The general’s condition is deteriorating rather quickly now. The last six months he has been forced to curtail pretty much all his activities. The last to go was his target rifle shooting. He loved that and used to shoot regularly with Karen and Eddie and Cliff. Sometimes I would participate as well.”

“Who is the best shot?”

“In the old days, before Cliff joined us, the general. Cliff had been a Marine sniper so he shot rings around the rest of us. Karen nearly always finished next, although she preferred handguns, followed by Eddie. Well, except for when I joined in, then I would come in behind Karen and ahead of Eddie. Along that time, Eddie lost interest and no longer tried all that much. In my five years of service away from the general I became quite a marksman, but that’s one of those skills you use or you lose. We haven’t had a family shooting competition in nearly a year, but just the other day the general mentioned we needed to do it again. However, I doubt he will try to do so.”

“Your thoughts on Karen?”

“What specifically do you wish to know, Mr. Kile?”

“Whatever comes to mind. Again, please be candid.”

“Conventions don’t control her actions. In that way she is like her mother. I see a pleasure in the general whenever she is near. I should add that Karen got straight A’s in college and is quite disciplined in her intellectual pursuits. My comments were more on her personal side.”

“Do they spend much time together, she and the general?”

“Karen dines with the general, whatever he is eating, most nights. Eddie joins them perhaps once a week. She spends in the aggregate about a day a week with him on his investments. They play chess a couple times a week. She swims with him whenever he wishes, which has been seldom these past months.” Charles smiled and I asked what brought it on. “When she beats him at chess, the general is conflicted. He remains very competitive and fancies himself an excellent chess player. Yet, at the same time, he is tickled and proud of her for having beaten him. He will talk about it to me off and on for days.”

I dunked my last bite of my beef dip and asked, “What about Eddie? Is he capable of having killed Ileana Corrigan? I know this is not easy, but no one knows the characters in this drama as well as you. I value your opinion.”

“The characters in this drama, a little of your novelist side, Mr. Kile?” We shared a chuckle before Charles began to answer. “Eddie has lived a soft life. Everything paid by the general, including a liberal spending allowance. He was a strong young man, good high school athlete. The general did not want him to go into the military, not after he lost Eddie’s father in Desert Storm. Eddie has never really worked. In my day, we would call him a playboy, a womanizer. Then he met Ileana. It would seem she tamed him. They became engaged. She turned up pregnant. Then, well, you know.”

I motioned to Mackie to bring us two more drafts before asking, “I don’t see the general as the kind of man who would raise a boy soft. Why did he?”

“The general raised his son, Eddie’s father, Ben, quite differently. He required Ben take a part time job in high school. Ben was raised around military people and talk, and wanted nothing more than to follow in his father’s footsteps. Ben joined the army and had reached the rank of captain when he was killed in Desert Storm. The general anguished over whether he contributed to his son dying in ‘91 by bringing up the boy to be rugged and encouraging him toward the military. My guess is that doubt led to his handling Eddie exactly the opposite. The general has never said that to me in so many words, but I believe it to be correct.”

“You spoke earlier of your great fondness for the general. Do you like Eddie?”

“Not particularly. He’s spoiled, of course. And he does not speak to or of the general in the manner he should. He has so far squandered the advantages of his life. I suppose his life is what men often say would be the ideal: enough money, no work, lots of liquor and women. Truth is most of us would not want that life. Eddie has it and seems to like it. I find life without an absolute dedication or clear purpose shallow and superficial. Men should be committed to something above all else.”

Mackie brought our fresh beers and took our plates and empty glasses.

“I ask again, could Eddie have killed Ileana?”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Kile. He seems never to be out of control, never to be angry. Everyone likes him, not much respect, but he has polished his social graces. Until Ileana’s death and his arrest, Eddie had never dealt with anything tough or hard or demanding in his life. I have to think killing someone would be all of that. No. I don’t think so. The general has never believed Eddie guilty, and I know no better judge of men.”

“Does the general like Eddie?”

“Ah. That’s a hard one. The general is disappointed in the choices Eddie has made. He has waited for Eddie to take his life in some direction. When he was a boy, we hoped he might become a doctor, an engineer, whatever. In college, he drifted, took quite a few legal classes and psychology. Whatever happened to interest him without concern for a degree or career. For years, the general has encouraged Eddie to contribute his time to some worthy cause, but none of that has taken hold. Eddie is happy being Eddie. Things have always gone as Eddie wanted them to go. Well, except for the devastation of losing his fiancée. He loved Ileana and needed treatment for depression for nearly a year.”

“When did Cliff join the staff?”

“About thirteen years ago, something like that. Karen came to live with us first. Her coming was part of the general’s reason for increasing the size of the staff. My duties also expanded to helping the general with some of his non-investment business matters. This made me less available as a driver and the general had become less capable of driving himself.”

“I’ve only seen Cliff once from a distance. He looks around fifty. How was he chosen?”

“That requires a bit of back story. First, Cliff is forty-five, but you’re correct, in the face he looks older. He’s a hard drinker but exercises vigorously. His focus is on his legs and gut and stamina, like a boxer trains. For years, the general had covered the costs of keeping five old soldiers, badly disabled men from his command, in a home. When the last one died, the general assigned me to find Cliff, the last soldier’s son. He had gotten into drugs and started running with a motorcycle gang. The general put him in rehab, with Cliff’s consent of course. After that Cliff continued weekly therapy for some time. He’s the general’s driver and takes care of the five vehicles used by the family and myself. He also cares for the pool and spa and oversees the work done by the landscaping service.”

Charles also told me the best time to catch Cliff at the house without his expecting me would be tomorrow midday. That Cliff had to take one of the cars into the dealer in the morning, but should be back by around noon. As for Eddie, he was a wisp of smoke that drifted in and out, but Charles agreed to call me when Eddie was home and looking like he wasn’t headed out.

“So,” I asked, “what’s your opinion? Who killed Ileana Corrigan?”

“The wisest thing I can say is that the general has a good man on that job, so I expect we shall finally find out.”

Chapter 12

I started the morning at the home of Robert and Melanie Yarbrough, the retired couple who had reported seeing Eddie Whittaker at Pea Soup Anderson’s restaurant in Buellton on the night of his fiancée’s murder. She was taller than her husband. Robert was stockier. Melanie had more hair, but they were tied as to who had more gray hair. I got to their house a few minutes after nine-thirty.

I would have arrived earlier except Axel wanted to talk about the case and be brought up to speed on what I had learned from Charles during our lunch at Mackie’s. And I wanted his read from watching Charles. That took about an hour. While we talked, I gave Axel another assignment. He had done a lot of computer work for the Warden and developed quite a reputation in prison as a computer guy, not so much as a technician, but a researcher for the warden. His assignment: dig into the retired middle school principal who also claimed to have seen Eddie in the restaurant. I told him for now to restrict his inquiries to the Internet. Later, based on what he learned or didn’t we’d decide how to proceed. I was hoping he’d find that former Principal Flaherty had some nasty habit which could have been used to leverage him into lying about seeing Eddie.

Robert and Melanie Yarbrough were each dressed in warm robes, sitting on their front porch, having coffee and sharing the newspaper. Their home faced east so they were enjoying the warmth provided by the morning sun. I introduced myself and we exchanged Merry Christmas greetings, and then I told them I was working on the death of Ileana Corrigan. The moment I mentioned her name, Melanie Yarbrough’s eyes got big, and she grasped the front of her robe as if it a cold breeze had sneaked inside. They had not forgotten the incident in the slightest. After a few more pleasantries I won’t bore you with, I dove into the water, so to speak. Well, my entry was more like a cannonball than a dive. I wanted to measure the size of their emotional splash.

“It’s been eleven years, folks. I know you lied about seeing Eddie Whittaker in Buellton. I just don’t know why you did. You are lawful citizens, honorable people. Why would you cheat justice and possibly help a murderer go free?”

“We saw him, Mr. Kile,” Robert Yarbrough said. “Just as we swore we did.” After he said it, he looked at his wife.

“We saw him, Mr. Kile. Just as my husband said.”

“The murder of this young woman, Ileana Corrigan remains unsolved. The murder of her unborn child remains unsolved. Neither mother nor child will rest easy until their killer is brought to justice. Folks, please, consider how you would feel if Ileana were your daughter and you were approaching yet another Christmas without knowing what happened.”

Neither of them said a word, but their body language screamed their discomfort. That and the numerous glances each made toward the other. Had they been telling the truth they would have resented what I said. Instead, it made them nervous and uncomfortable.

“Perhaps I should come back later and bring Ileana’s parents with me, the grandparents of the unborn child.”

They were ready to crack, but for now were holding firm. Their eyes flittered, their gazes everywhere but upon my eyes. Their claws dug into the lie that had lived for so long, hanging on desperately.

“Look at me! Damn it!” I hollered. “Look me in the eyes.” I sat still until they each had. “You are both grandparents. You have a grandson named Bobby. Can you imagine, just for a moment, enduring Bobby being murdered and the killer not being found for over eleven years. Imagine your living with that grief. That wound open. Come on!”

Melanie Yarbrough broke first. She covered her eyes and cried. Her husband slid his chair close so he could reach over and hold her. Her sobs temporarily drowned out by the scrape of the metal legs of his chair against the concrete porch. “Robbie, I can’t do this. I can’t do it any longer. This lie … I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry. We must tell the truth. Please?”

Robert Yarbrough patted the top of his wife’s hand. With his open palm against her face, his thumb gently wiped the stream of tears staining her cheek. “You’re right, Mel. The time has come. It should have come long ago.” They clutched each other’s hands and turned toward me, their eyes now on mine, looking for understanding, for forgiveness. Robert cut the core out of their lie.

“We never saw Eddie Whittaker in Buellton. We were told to drive up there and have dinner in that restaurant. We were to be there at nine at night and to stop and buy gas for the car on the outskirts of town as we left. Once we heard of the arrest, we were to go to the police and swear we dined in the Pea Soup, leaving around nine-thirty. And that we had seen Eddie Whittaker in the restaurant when we left.”

“We were to use a credit card to pay for the dinner,” Mrs. Yarbrough said, “and for the gas on our way out of town.” Robert nodded as if he had just recalled that part of their charade.

“And that’s what you did?”

“Yes,” she said while her husband nodded his head, his lips drawn tight; his eyes down.

“Why? How much money were you paid?”

“No, no. We received no money. We would not do such a thing for money, Mr. Kile.”

Until then I had been standing up. I leaned back against their wooden porch railing. “Then why?”

“Can we go inside?” Mrs. Yarbrough asked. “I’m getting chilled sitting here. It’s probably just the stress. Please?”

Mr. Yarbrough stood up. “Of course dear, Mr. Kile, please come inside. There is more you need to know.”

Their home was pleasant. Clean, neat, and big enough for two, and nicely furnished.