Mike’s first stop when he left the station house was at the garage where Jim Oliver worked.
“Mr. Oliver,” he said when he found the man working on an older Ford. “I’m Detective Harris. I’d like to have a few words with you.”
Oliver nodded, muttering, “If this is about Irene’s murder, I had nothing to do with it. I had an alibi.”
“I’m aware of that,” Mike replied. “At the moment I need to know where you were last night.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’m investigating another murder and one of the witnesses said they saw the car that was involved. They got part of the license plate number and it matches the one on your car,” he lied.
“Humph. And probably twenty other cars, too.”
“True, and I’m going to be talking with their owners as well.”
Oliver looked as if he wanted to tell Mike to get lost. The
