Alibi
1969
L
ow dark clouds raced over a steel sea toward Barkley Cove. The wind hit first, rattling windows and hurling waves over the wharf. Boats, tied to the dock, bobbed up and down like toys, as men in yellow slickers tied this line or that, securing. Then sideways rain slammed the village, obscuring everything except the odd yellow form moving about in the grayness.
The wind whistled through the sheriff’s window, and he raised his voice. “So, Joe, you had something to tell me?”
“Sure do. I found out where Miss Clark will claim she was the night Chase died.”
“What? Did you finally catch up to her?”
“Ya kiddin’? She’s slipperier’n a damn eel. Gets gone ever’ time I get near. So I drove over to Jumpin’s marina this morning to see if he knew when she’d be coming next. Like everyb
