Page 4 of Alibi for Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #2)

Chicago, Illinois

“I realize it’s late,” Victoria Colby-Camp, the head of the agency said. “But—” she gazed at her most trusted associates around the long conference table “—we have to make a decision before any of us go home for the weekend.”

Steve Durham smiled. Victoria was never one to mince words.

Nor was her granddaughter, Jamie. She’d come on board just six months ago, and already she was doing a stellar job.

Jamie was so much like her grandmother. It was clear to Steve and everyone at the agency how very proud Victoria was to have Jamie at her side.

Tonight’s after-hours meeting was about the two open investigator slots.

The agency’s clientele list continued to grow, and actually they needed to add at least five.

But it was difficult to find the caliber of investigator this agency employed.

The Colby’s longstanding reputation was one of the reasons Steve had decided to become a part of the agency.

Lucky for him he had started right out of law school.

Victoria had personally sought him out and offered him a position.

She’d explained that one of his professors at Northwestern had called to say Victoria needed to have a look at Steve.

He’d been damned surprised and extremely humbled by the recommendation.

According to Victoria, his background in law enforcement made him uniquely qualified as an attorney, in her opinion.

Steve was grateful. He had five years at this agency so far and hoped for many, many more. It was an honor, really, to work with Victoria.

He scanned the faces around him. Working with people like Ian Michaels, Nicole Reed Michaels, Simon Ruhl and Victoria’s son, Jim, was an opportunity he’d never expected.

He glanced at the young woman seated next to Victoria.

Jamie held her own with the very finest the agency had to offer.

She had proven very quickly that she deserved to be the leader of the agency—in training of course.

She represented the next generation of this agency and represented it well.

And then there was Lucas Camp—Victoria’s husband—who was a legend in his own right. Just knowing him was a privilege.

Steve genuinely appreciated that his work here was not confined to the typical corporate or financial legal business of being an attorney.

He was more like one of the investigators, but his job was to advise and steer any investigator who might find themselves in a tight situation, legally speaking, out of trouble.

It was the perfect combination of practicing law and putting it into action in the field.

“I’m in agreement,” Ian Michaels spoke up. “Jamie and I have interviewed both candidates, and we’re more than pleased with what we’ve seen.”

“The two are a perfect fit,” Jamie agreed with a nod of her blond head. She smiled. “I wish we could find two or three others so qualified.”

Good news for the two candidates, for sure. Those gathered around the table weren’t impressed by anything less than outstanding performances.

Jim Colby spoke up next. “On separate occasions, I was accompanied in the field for a day, first with Chance Rader and then with Billie Jagger. I was also impressed with their bearing and communication skills. I say let’s do it.”

There was a whole barrage of other requirements for agency investigators that included self-defense skills and the use of weapons.

Every investigator was as fully trained as any police officer on the street.

From time to time, a case required those skills, and the Colby Agency never let down a client.

All looked to Steve then. “I have thoroughly reviewed the backgrounds of both candidates, and I’m fully satisfied we should move forward with offers of employment.”

“Very well.” Victoria smiled. “Jamie, if you will relay the good news so that our new investigators don’t have to spend their weekends in suspense.”

Jamie stood. “I’ll make those calls now.”

Victoria rose from the head of the table. “And I will get home to the celebration dinner Lucas is preparing.”

Victoria and Lucas were celebrating the birth of another grandchild.

Lucas’s son, Slade, and his wife, Maggie, had just brought home a new baby.

This was number three for the couple and a bit of a surprise since their others were fourteen and twelve.

Life had a way of tossing out those little surprises.

Fortunately, in this case, all were pleased.

By the time Steve closed up his office and headed for the elevators in the lobby, everyone else was gone. They all had families waiting at home. Busy weekends ahead, no doubt.

He tapped the call button and waited for a car to return from the lobby.

Behind him the agency phone started to ring. He glanced at his watch. Half past seven. Since the office was closed, the call would go to the answering service, where it would be appropriately routed.

Indeed, the ringing stopped, so he stayed put at the elevator doors, waiting. When the ringing began once more, he couldn’t ignore it. He crossed to the receptionist’s desk and picked up the handset.

“The Colby Agency.”

The silence on the other end suggested the caller had either given up and disconnected or that the call had gone directly to the answering service after that second ring.

Oh well, he had tried.

“Hello.”

He’d had the handset headed toward its cradle and scarcely heard the faint word. “This is the Colby Agency.” He rested the handset against his ear once more.

“I know it’s late.” The voice was a woman’s. She released a breath. “I really thought you’d be closed, and I’d be able to leave a message.”

His initial thought was to ask if she preferred that he direct her call to voicemail. Some matters were of such a private nature that a client might wish to say them to the voicemail rather than to a person, a stranger, first.

Before he could suggest as much, she spoke again. “I’m glad you’re not.” There was a hesitation, then, “I think I might be in trouble.”

Her confidence was building, and his curiosity was doing the same. “Would you like to make an appointment to come into the office?”

“Well, I’m… I’m actually looking for Steve Durham. Can I leave a message for him?”

Interesting. “No need. You’ve got him. This is Steve.”

The woman lapsed into silence once more.

“How can I help?” he prodded. The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. Since he was on the office phone, he couldn’t go for it. He’d call another when this conversation was finished. There was no reason to rush. Unlike his colleagues, he had no one waiting at home.

“You might not remember me,” she said, the hesitation back. “My name is Allie Foster.”

Recognition flared instantly. A smile spread across his face. “Allie, yes, I remember you. Of course I do. If not for your brilliant mind, I might never have managed pre-cal.” Wow. Talk about a blast from the past.

The damned class had given him nightmares. At the time, he’d told himself it didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to college anyway, but his mother had insisted he take all the right classes in case he changed his mind later.

His mother was a very smart lady.

“Yes. That was a tough semester, but you got the swing of it by second semester.”

The smile in her voice told him she had relaxed a bit. “Are you in Chicago now?” How long had it been? Sixteen years? Fifteen for sure.

“No. I’m… I’m still in Woodstock living in my grandparents’ house.” A strained laugh followed. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m not sure this can wait.”

“I understand.” He checked his watch. “I could be there in just over an hour. Why don’t I drive out? If you haven’t had dinner already, I could pick up takeout and we’ll catch up. Figure out the situation.”

The whole idea came out in such a rush, he felt walloped by the force of it.

But, for some strange reason, he sensed it was the right thing to do.

Maybe it was the hint of desperation in her tone or just the fact that she reminded him of the good old days.

Whatever the case, he wanted to help. Her return to silence suggested he’d maybe pushed a little with the idea.

“Or we could wait for you to come to the office on Monday. I’m good with either plan, Allie.”

“I’m not sure waiting is a good idea. If you could come now…that would be great.” She exhaled a big breath. “But that’s so much trouble. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I do not mind at all. In fact, I insist.” His lips twitched with another memory.

Her grandfather showing him how to change a tire.

Steve had borrowed his father’s little project car—a two-seat convertible—without permission that hot summer day to impress a girl who wasn’t impressed with him at all.

Never was. He’d gotten a flat right in front of the Foster home.

Allie had watched the tire-changing session from the window and then the porch, but she’d been too shy to come out and say hello.

The next year, his pre-cal teacher suggested Allie as a tutor.

It had taken some time, but she had eventually learned to relax in his presence.

“Good,” she said with relief. “Great, I mean. Do you remember the address?”

“I do. You up for Chinese, or would you prefer Mexican?”

“You choose.”

“Chinese it is. See you in an hour or so.”

“Okay. Thanks, Steve. Really, thank you so much.”

“No thanks necessary. I owe you, Allie Foster.”

He placed the handset back in its cradle and called another elevator car. This late the traffic wouldn’t be so bad.

There was a great Chinese place on the way.

He smiled. Allie Foster. How many times had he thought of her over the years? Several. Why had he never called or dropped by to see her? Asked her to dinner? He should have kept up with her. She was a really nice person.

This was the perfect opportunity for him to make it up to her for all the times she or her family had helped him out.

Foster Residence