The Last Alibi

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the cramped interrogation room. Detective Lucas Kane leaned against the table, his eyes fixed on the man across from him. Nathan Reilly, mid-forties, impeccably dressed, looked every bit the successful attorney he was—except for the slight tremor in his hands.

“Mr. Reilly,” Lucas began, his voice steady, “you were the last person to see Madeline Grove alive. Care to explain why your alibi doesn’t hold up?”

Nathan scoffed, brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. “I already told you. I was home all night. Alone. Watching TV.”

“Right. And yet,” Lucas said, tossing a photo on the table, “a traffic camera caught your car parked near the Grove residence at 11:23 p.m. Care to revise your story?”

Nathan’s jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure. “I went for a drive to clear my head. So what? That’s not a crime.”

“No,” Lucas agreed, pulling out another photo, this one of a shattered vase lying in a pool of blood. “But this might be. Madeline’s blood is all over her living room. And your fingerprints? All over this vase.”

Nathan’s facade cracked for a moment—a flash of panic in his eyes before he leaned back in his chair. “That proves nothing. I was there earlier in the day for a client meeting. She offered me tea; I handled the vase. That’s how my prints got there.”

Lucas nodded slowly, as though considering the excuse. “Tea at eleven o’clock in the morning, huh? And the vase, on the opposite side of the room from where her tea set is. That’s a long stretch, even for a lawyer.”

Nathan shifted in his seat, his confidence waning.

“What happened, Nathan?” Lucas pressed. “Did you lose your temper? Did she threaten to expose you?”

Nathan’s head snapped up, his expression sharp. “Expose me? What are you talking about?”

Lucas smirked faintly. “Come on, Nathan. We found her laptop. It’s not hard to connect the dots. She was compiling evidence—emails, financial records—proving you embezzled money from her firm. She was going to ruin you.”

Nathan’s fists clenched, his voice rising. “She had no right! I built that firm. I made her a success. And for what? To watch her turn on me?”

“So you killed her.” Lucas’s words were calm, cutting through Nathan’s anger like a blade.

“No!” Nathan barked, slamming his hand on the table. “I—I didn’t mean to. She came at me, accusing me, calling me a thief. I tried to leave, but she grabbed me. I—I shoved her. The vase… it just happened.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Lucas pushed a recorder closer to Nathan.

“Thank you, Mr. Reilly. That’s all I needed to hear.”

Nathan’s eyes widened, realizing his mistake. “Wait, no! That’s not what I—”

Lucas stood, pocketing the recorder. “You have the right to remain silent, Nathan. I suggest you use it.”

As he walked out of the room, the ticking clock seemed louder, each second sealing Nathan Reilly’s fate.