Read Online The Deep Blue Alibi by Paul Levine - Free Book Online Page A

his kiss, the warmth of the sea breeze … so many sensations bombarding her.
    Bare-chested and barefoot, like a preppy Tarzan, Junior led his visitors up a flagstone path toward the house, Casa de la Sol, according to a tasteful sign embedded in the wall of coral boulders.
    “Dad told me how beautiful you are,” Junior said, “but wow. I’m at a loss for words.”
    “That’s so sweet.” She was aware of Steve next to her, could feel his discomfort.
    “And a big-time lawyer, too. Wow.”
    “Wow” seeming to be a key component in Junior’s verbal arsenal. Okay, so he was never valedictorian at Pinecrest, but he was voted Most Popular. And now that he’d turned into this bronzed Adonis, all she could think was, Well, being a National Merit Scholar isn’t everything.
    “All these years …” Junior said, letting it hang there.
    “Yes,” Victoria said.
    “Do you remember Bunny Flagler’s costume party at La Gorce?”
    She smiled at the memory. “You were Zorro. I was Wonder Woman.”
    “We sneaked out to the eighteenth green.”
    “And the sprinklers came on.” Victoria laughed. Remembering spiked punch, an Eagles cover band, and sloppy kisses in the humid night.
    Steve cleared his throat, the sound of a dog growling. “I once went to a costume party as David Copperfield.”
    “Great magician,” Junior said.
    “The Dickens character,” Steve corrected him.
    “Oh, right.”
    “He was an orphan, like me.”
    “You weren’t an orphan, Uncle Steve,” Bobby said.
    “But I wanted to be.”
    “Why?” Junior asked.
    “Not sure you’d understand,” Steve said. “You live in Casa de la Sol. I grew up in Bleak House.”
    “Maybe it just needed some decorating,” Junior said, and Victoria’s spirits sank. Had the literary reference sailed by him like a catamaran in a gale? But then, Junior laughed and let them know he’d been joking. “Sometimes I wish I had a Dickensian upbringing. Builds character, don’t you think?”
    “Didn’t work with Steve,” Victoria said.
    How about that, Steve the Slasher? The hottest boy at Pinecrest can go toe-to-toe with you.
    The elevation climbed slightly as the flagstone path curled around a stand of coconut palms. “Steve, you move like an athlete,” Junior said.
    “You staring at my ass?” Steve shot back.
    “No, I mean it. The way you walk. Graceful-like.”
    “Uncle Steve played baseball at U of M,” Bobby announced, proudly.
    “See,” Junior said. “I can tell.”
    Victoria took stock of the moment. There was Steve, pissy as a skunk, and there was Junior, exuding charm. Guileless and confident. So much to like about him.
    “Uncle Steve still holds the record for stolen bases in playoff games,” Bobby continued.
    “Wow,” Junior said. “Ever play in the College World Series?”
    “Yeah, but I don’t brag about it.”
    ” ‘Course not,” Bobby said. “You got picked off third in the championship game.”
    “Really? That’s hard to do, isn’t it? Getting picked off third base, I mean.”
    “Bad call,” Steve defended himself. “I got in under the tag.”
    “But Uncle Steve caught hell,” Bobby added. “Bottom of the ninth. Probably cost the ‘Canes the title. That’s why they call him ‘Last Out Solomon.’ ”
    “Thanks a lot, kiddo,” Steve said.
    “That’s too bad, Steve,” Junior said. “I had no idea.”
    It struck Victoria then. That “move like an athlete” stuff. Junior had set Steve up. He had intended to draw out the most humiliating moment of Steve’s life.
    “I had no idea”? Hah. You knew exactly what you were doing.
    Meaning he’d researched Steve. And her, too, she supposed. Meaning also that there was far more to grown-up Junior than his suntan and amazing pecs.
    “I like solitary sports,” Junior said, as they neared the house. “Maybe it’s because I’m an only child.”
    “I wish I were,” Steve said.
    “Then I wouldn’t be here, Uncle Steve,” Bobby said.
    “Good point. I withdraw the