“I know who killed Lute.”
Hammond’s statement shocked Alex and Frank Perkins into silence, but it lasted no more than a few seconds before each began firing questions at him. Primarily, Frank wanted to know why Hammond was here in his home study instead of at the police station.
“Later,” Hammond said. “Before we go any further, I must hear Alex’s account of what happened.” Turning toward her, he leaned forward. “The truth, Alex. All of it. Everything. Tonight. Now.”
“I—”
Before she could speak, Frank held up his hand. “Hammond, you must think I’m an idiot. I will not allow my client to tell you a damn thing. I want no part of this clandestine meeting you have forced me into. You have behaved in the most reprehensible, irresponsible, unprofessional—”
“Okay, Frank, you’re not a priest, remember?” Hammond said. “You’re not my Sunday school teacher, or my daddy, either. Both Alex and I have acknowledged how inappropriately we’ve handled this.”
“A peach of an understatement,” Frank remarked drolly. “The consequences of your intimacy are potentially disastrous. For all of us.”
“How are they disastrous for you?” Alex asked.
“Alex, less than five minutes ago, you admitted to doing everything within your power to get Hammond into bed with you. If you have any defense at all, your being with Hammond that night is it. But how effective will that testimony be in light of your background according to Bobby Trimble?”
“How can that be held against me? It’s behind me. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m me.” She looked from him to Hammond. “Yes, every ugly detail of Bobby’s statement is true. With one exception. I never went beyond letting them look at me.”
She shook her head emphatically. “Never. I safeguarded a small, private part of myself, in case my hope for a better way of life was ever realized. There was a line I would not cross. Thank God I had that kernel of self-preservation.
“Bobby exploited me in the most despicable way. But it took years for me to stop blaming myself for my participation. I believed that I was intrinsically bad. Through counseling and my own studies, I realized that I was a classic case, an abused child who felt that I was responsible for the mistreatment.”
She smiled at the irony. “I was one of my first cases. I had to heal myself. I had to learn to love myself and consider myself worthy of others’ love. The Ladds were instrumental. They had left me a legacy of unconditional love. I came to understand that if they could love me, being as basically good and decent as they were, I could bury the past and at least accept myself.
“But it’s an ongoing therapy. Sometimes I have lapses. To this day, I ask myself if there was something I could have done. Was there ever a time when I could have stood up to Bobby and resisted? I was so afraid that he would abandon me as my mother had, and I would be entirely alone. He was my provider. I depended on him for everything.”
“You were a child,” Frank reminded her gently.
She nodded. “Then, yes, Frank. But not the night I placed myself in Hammond’s path and hoped that he would respond to me.” Turning to him, she said with entreaty, “Please forgive me for the damage I’ve done. I was afraid of just this, of what has happened. I did not kill Lute Pettijohn, but I was afraid of being accused of it. Afraid of being considered guilty because of my juvenile record. I went to Pettijohn’s hotel suite—”
“Alex, again I must caution you not to say anything more.”
“No, Frank. Hammond is right. You need to hear my account. He needs to hear it.” The lawyer was still frowning his concern, but she didn’t heed the silent warning.
“Let me go back a few weeks.” She told them about Bobby’s sudden and unwelcome reappearance in her life, how he had shared with her his scheme to blackmail Lute Pettijohn. “I cautioned Bobby that he was way out of his league, that he would do well to leave Charleston and forget this ridiculous plan.
“But he was determined to see it through, and equally determined that I help him. He threatened to expose my past if I didn’t. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I was afraid of him. If he had been the same loudmouthed, arrogant, unsophisticated Bobby that he’d been twenty-five years ago, I would have laughed at his threats and called the police immediately.
“But he had acquired some etiquette, or at least he affected good manners and social decorum. This new Bobby could more easily insinuate himself into my life and decay it from the inside. He did in fact appear at a lecture, passing himself off as a visiting psychologist, and my colleague never questioned his authenticity.
“Nevertheless, I called his bluff and told him to leave me alone. I suppose he got desperate. In any event, he contacted Pettijohn. Whatever Bobby said to him must have made an impression, because he agreed to pay one hundred thousand dollars in exchange for Bobby’s silence.”
“No one who knew Lute Pettijohn will believe that, Alex,” Hammond said quietly.
“On that I agree,” Frank added.
“I didn’t believe it myself,” Alex said. “And apparently Bobby wasn’t entirely convinced, either, because he approached me again, this time insisting that I be the one to meet Pettijohn and collect the cash. I agreed to.”
“In God’s name, why?” Frank asked.
“Because I saw it as an opportunity to rid myself of Bobby. My idea was to meet Pettijohn, but instead of collecting the cash, I was going to explain the situation and urge him to report Bobby’s extortion to the police.”
“Why not go to the police yourself?”
“In hindsight, I see that would have been the better choice.” She sighed. “But I feared the association with Bobby. He had boasted about his escape from a loan shark in Florida. There were numerous reasons I wanted to stay one step removed from him.”
“So you went to the Charles Towne Plaza at the appointed time.”
“Yes.”
“You couldn’t call Pettijohn on the telephone?”
“I wish I had, Frank. But I thought that meeting him in person would make a stronger impression.”
“What happened when you got there?”
“He was courteous. He politely listened as I explained the situation.” She sat down on the edge of the love seat and stroked her forehead.
“And?”
“And then he laughed at me,” she said shakily. “I should have known the instant he opened the door that something was out of kilter. He wasn’t surprised to see me, although he should have been expecting Bobby. But I didn’t realize that until later.”
“He knew you were coming, not Bobby, and he laughed at your story.”
“Yes,” she said forlornly. “Bobby had called ahead and told Pettijohn I was coming, told him that I was his double-crossing partner, warned him that I would probably concoct a sob story, one guaranteed to make him feel sorry for me, before luring him into bed and creating my own chance to blackmail him for more of a prize than Bobby was asking.”
“I didn’t give that son of a bitch enough credit,” Hammond muttered angrily. “Trimble doesn’t look that smart.”
“He’s not smart,” Alex said. “Just crafty. Bobby’s got more gall than sense, and that makes him dangerous. When he sees an opportunity, he takes risks that no intelligent person would consider taking. He also knows the advantage of striking first.
“Nothing I said convinced Pettijohn that I wasn’t part of some devious grand scheme involving sex and blackmail. He suggested that I not squander the opportunity. As long as we were there, and I had my heart set on taking him to bed… You get my drift.”
“He came on to you?” Frank guessed.
“I resisted, of course. Knocked his arm aside. I’m sure that’s when the clove got on his sleeve. I’d spiked the oranges with them that morning. A speck must have still been on my hand. Anyway, I spurned him, and he got angry and began issuing his own threats, specifically that he had an appointment with a prosecutor from the County Solicitor’s Office. Hammond Cross.” She glanced at him. “He said no doubt you would be interested in Bobby’s and my scam.”
After a moment, she continued, “I panicked. I saw my carefully reconstructed life falling apart. The Ladds, who had placed such confidence in me, would be disgraced. Doubt would be cast on my credibility, rendering my studies worthless. Patients whose trust I had won would feel betrayed.
“So I ran. In the elevator I started shaking uncontrollably. When I reached the lobby level, I went into the bar looking for a place to sit down, because my knees felt ready to buckle.
“But when my panic subsided, I realized what an irrational reaction it was. In seconds, I had regressed to where I’d been when Bobby had controlled my life. There in the bar, I came to my senses. My juvenile record was decades behind me. I am a respected member of my community. I’m acclaimed in my field. What was I afraid of? I had done nothing wrong. If I could convince the right person that once again my half-brother was trying to exploit me, I possibly could get rid of him forever. Who better to make a believer than—”
“Hammond Cross, assistant county solicitor.”
“Correct.” She nodded up at Frank. “So I returned to the room on the fifth floor. When I got there, the door to the suite was ajar. I put my ear to it, but couldn’t hear any conversation. I pushed it open and looked in. Pettijohn was lying face down near the coffee table.”
“Did you realize he was dead?”
“He wasn’t,” she said, drawing a shocked reaction from both men. “I didn’t want to touch him, but I did. He had a pulse, but he was unconscious. I didn’t want to be caught with him in that condition when my former partner in crime was blackmailing him. So once again I virtually ran from the suite. This time I took the stairs down. We must have just missed each other,” she said to Hammond. “When I reached the lobby, I spotted you leaving the hotel by the main doors.”
“How did you know me?”
“I recognized you from your media exposure. You looked very upset. I thought—”
“That I had attacked Pettijohn.”
“Not attacked. I thought you had punched out his lights, and that, if your meeting had gone anything like mine, he probably deserved it. That’s why I followed you. Later, if Pettijohn filed a complaint against Bobby and me, if I was implicated in a crime, who better to have as my alibi than the D.A., who himself had had an altercation with Pettijohn?” She looked down at her hands. “Several times Saturday evening, I began to feel guilty about what I was doing, and tried to leave you.”
She glanced at Hammond, who guiltily looked up at Frank, who was scowling at him like the gatekeeper of hell.
“By Sunday morning I was very ashamed and left before Hammond woke up,” she told her lawyer. “That evening Bobby came for his money—there was none, of course. But to my astonishment he congratulated me for killing our only ‘witness.’ ”
“You didn’t know until then that Pettijohn was dead?”
“No. I had listened to CDs on the drive home, not to the car radio. I didn’t turn on the TV. I was… was preoccupied.” After a brief, tense silence, she said, “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 certainty 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 remained 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?