The Alibi (59 page)

"Anyway, when I heard that Pettijohn had been murdered,

I believed the worst."

"You thought I had killed him," Hammond said.

"That he eventually had died from my assault."

"Right. And I continued believing that until--"

"Until you heard that he had died of gunshot," he

said. "That's why you were so shocked to learn the

cause of death."

She nodded. "The two of you didn't struggle?"

"No, I just stormed out."

"Then his stroke must have caused him to fall."

"That would be my guess," Hammond said. "The

cerebral thrombosis caused him to black out. He fell

against the table, causing the wound on his forehead."

"Which I couldn't see. I didn't realize how bad his

condition was. For the rest of my life, I'll regret that

I didn't do something," she said with genuine remorse.

"If I had called for help, it probably would

have saved his life."

"Instead someone came in after you, saw him

lying there, and shot him."

"Unfortunately, Frank, that's right," she said.

"Which is partially why I haven't used my alibi."

"And why I came here tonight," Hammond said.

The attorney divided a puzzled glance between

them. "What have I missed?"

Alex was the one to explain. "Thanks to Smilow's

thoroughness, and now the media, everyone knows

that I was in Pettijohn's suite last Saturday afternoon.

But the one person who knows with absolute cer

tainty that I did not shoot him is the person who actually

did."

"And that person made an attempt on Alex's life

last night."

Frank's jaw went slack with disbelief as he listened

to Hammond's account of their encounter in the

alley.

"Alex was his target. He was no ordinary mugger."

"But how do you know it was Pettijohn's killer?"

Hammond shook his head. "He was only a

hireling, and not a very accomplished one. But Lute's

murderer is accomplished."

"You actually think you've solved the mystery?"

Frank asked.

Hammond said, "Brace yourselves."

He talked uninterrupted for another quarter hour.

Frank registered shock, but Alex didn't seem all that

surprised.

When he finished, Frank expelled a long breath.

"You've already spoken to hotel personnel?"

"Before coming here. Their statements bear out

my hypothesis."

"It sounds plausible, Hammond. But, my God. It

couldn't be more difficult, could it?"

"No, it couldn't," Hammond admitted.

"You're going out on a limb with a chain saw in

your hand."

"I know."

"Where do you go from here?"

"Well, first of all, I want to make damn sure I'm

right." Hammond turned to Alex. "Other than me, did

Pettijohn mention any other appointments? I know

that he had another scheduled for six o'clock. I just

don't know with whom."

"No. He only told me about his meeting with

you."

"On your way to the suite, did you see anyone in

the elevator or in the hallway?"

"No one except the Macon man who later identified

me."

"And when you took the stairs, you didn't see anyone

in the stairwell?"

"No." He looked at her hard, and she added,

"Hammond, you're placing your career on the line

for me. I wouldn't lie to you now."

"I believe you, but our culprit might not. If it's believed that you saw something, it really doesn't matter

if you did or not."

"To the killer, she's still a threat."

"Which would be unacceptable. Remember the

crime scene was nearly immaculate. This isn't a person

who leaves loose ends untied."

"So what do you suggest?" Frank asked. "Around-the-clock

bodyguards for Alex?"

"No," she said adamantly.

"That's what I would prefer," Hammond said.

"But reluctantly I agree with Alex. First of all, I know

her well enough to know that she wouldn't stand for

it, and that arguing about it would be futile. Second,

guards, or anything out of the ordinary, would be like

a red flag."

"How long do you need, Hammond?"

"I wish I knew."

"Well, that open-ended time frame makes me very

nervous," Frank said. "While you're gathering evidence,

Alex is at risk. You should take this up

with. .."

"Yeah," Hammond said, reading Frank's unspoken

thought. "Who do I take it up with? At this point,

who do I trust? And who would believe me? These

allegations would sound like sour grapes, especially

if anyone learned that Alex and I are lovers."

" 'Are'? You mean you've been together since Saturday

night?" Their expressions must have given

them away. "Never mind," Frank groaned. "I don't

want to know."

"As I was saying," Hammond continued, "I've got

to do this myself, and I've got to work quickly." He

laid out his plan to them.

When he finished, he addressed Frank first. "Do I

have your sanction?"

The lawyer pondered his answer for a long moment.

"I'd like to believe that people associate my

name with integrity. That's what I've worked toward,

anyway. This is the first time I've ever deviated from

the rule of ethics. If this ends in disaster, if you're

wrong, I would probably come through it with no

more than a reprimand and a blemish on an otherwise

impeccable record. But, Hammond, it's your throat.

I'm sure you realize that."

"I do."

"Furthermore, I don't give it a snowball's chance

in hell of working."

"Why not?"

"Because in order for it to work, you must confide

in Steffi Mundell."

"I'm afraid that's a necessary evil."

"The very word I would have used."

Just then Hammond's pager beeped. He checked

the number. "Don't recognize it." Ignoring the page,

he asked Frank if he had any questions.

"Are you serious?" the lawyer asked facetiously.

Hammond grinned. "Cheer up. Wouldn't you just

as well be hanged a sinner as a saint?"

"I'd rather not be hanged at all."

Hammond smiled, but then he turned away from

Frank and addressed Alex. "What are your

thoughts?"

"What can I do?"

"Do?"

"I want to help."

"Absolutely not," he countered adamantly.

"I caused this mess."

"Pettijohn would have been murdered last Saturday

whether or not you had ever met him. As I've explained,

it had nothing to do with you."

"Even so, I can't just stand by and do nothing."

"That's exactly what you'll do. It can't appear that

we're in league together."

"He's right, Alex," Frank said. "He's got to work

it from the inside."

Eyes filled with anxiety, she said, "Hammond,

isn't there another way? You could lose your career."

"And you could lose your life. Which is more important

to me than my career."

He reached for her hand. She took his and

squeezed it. They stared into one another's eyes until

the silence became heavy and uncomfortable.

Frank delicately cleared his throat. "Alex, you'll

stay here tonight. No argument."

"I agree," Hammond said.

"And you'll go home." The stern order was directed

toward Hammond.

"Reluctantly I agree to that, too."

"The guest room stays ready, Alex. Second bedroom

to the left of the landing."

"Thank you, Frank."

"It's late, and I've got a lot to think about." Frank

headed for the study door, where he paused and

looked back at them. He was about to speak, arrested

himself, then finally said, "I was about to ask you

both if last Saturday night had been worth it. But your

answer is evident. Good night."

Once they were alone, the silence became more

uncomfortable, the ticking clock on Frank's desk

more ponderous. There was a tension between them,

and it wasn't entirely because of what might happen

tomorrow.

Hammond was the first to speak. "It doesn't matter,

Alex."

She didn't even have to ask what he was referring

to. "Of course it matters, Hammond." He reached for

her, but she evaded him, stood up, and moved across

the room to stand before a bookcase filled with legal

tomes. "We're deluding ourselves."

"How so?"

"This won't have a happy ending. It can't."

"Why not?"

"Don't be naive."

"Trimble is garbage. It's ancient history. I knew

about all that last night when I told you that I love

you." He smiled. "I haven't changed my mind."

"Our love affair started with me playing a dirty

trick on you."

"A dirty trick? That's not how I remember last Saturday

night."

"I lied to you from the start. That will always be

in the back of your mind, Hammond. You'll never

completely trust me. I don't want to be with someone

who is constantly second-guessing everything I

do, and gauging the truthfulness of everything I

say."

"I wouldn't."

She smiled, but it was a sad expression. "Then you

wouldn't be human. I'm a scholar of human emotion

and behavior. I know the lasting impact that events in

our lives have on us, the injuries that other people inflict,

sometimes deliberately, sometimes without

meaning to. I see the result of those injuries every day

in my sessions with patients. I've suffered them myself.

It took me years to get myself emotionally

healthy, Hammond. I worked hard to get free from

Bobby's influence. And I did. With God's help I did.

That's why I'm able to love you the way--"

"So you do? Love me?"

In an unconscious gesture, she raised her hand and

touched her heart. "So much it hurts."

His pager beeped again. Cursing softly, he

turned it off. The distance between them seemed

wide, and he knew that it would be inappropriate to

cross it tonight. "I want to kiss you."

She nodded.

"And if I kissed you, I'd want to make love to

you."

Again she nodded, and they exchanged a long,

meaningful stare.

"I love making love to you," he said.

Her chest rose and fell gently. "You should go."

"Yeah," he said huskily. "As you know, I've got to

get up very early tomorrow." His brows came together

in a steep frown. "I don't know how it will

play out, Alex. I'll be in constant touch. You'll be all

right?"

"I'll be all right." She gave him a reassuring smile.

He started backing out of the room. "Sleep well."

"Good night, Hammond."

"Dammit!" Loretta Boothe glared at the coin-operated

telephone as though willing it to ring. Twice

she had paged Hammond after getting no answer on

either his home or cell phones. The telephone re

mained stubbornly silent. She checked her wristwatch.

Nearly two. Where the devil could he be?

She waited sixty seconds longer, then plunked another

coin into the phone and dialed his house again.

"Listen, asshole, I don't know why I'm chasing

around in the middle of the night covering your ass,

but for the umpteenth time, I left that fucking fair

with a material witness in tow. Please advise ASAP.

He's antsy and I'm running low on charm."

"Ms. Boothe?"

She hung up and called, "Coming!" to the man riding

shotgun in her car.

At first he had been eager to talk about the case

and news of Alex Ladd's arrest. Then, when she told

him that he could very well be called as a material

witness, he had begun to backpedal in double time.

He had said he didn't want to get involved. He

wanted to be a good citizen, but. . .

It had taken hours of cajoling and all her powers

of persuasion to get him to commit to cooperating.

But she didn't trust his commitment. At any moment

he might have a change of heart and bolt, or

conveniently develop a mental block and forget

everything he remembered about last Saturday.

"Ms. Boothe?"

Flipping her middle finger at the pay phone, she

returned to her car. "Didn't I tell you to call me

Loretta? Want another beer?"

"Now that I've had time to think about it..." Indecision

rearranged his features. "I just don't know if

I want to get involved. I could be wrong, you know.

I didn't get that good a look at her."

Loretta reassured him again, thinking all the

while, Where the hell is Hammond?

FRIDAY

CHAPTER

35

Steffi drew up short when she opened her office

door and found Hammond on the other side of it,

fist raised, about to knock.

"Got a minute?"

"Actually, no. I was just--"

"Whatever it is, it can wait. This is important." He

backed her into the office and closed the door.

"What's up?"

"Sit down."

Quizzical, she nevertheless did as he asked. In the

time it took her to get seated, he had begun pacing the