The Alibi

“Normally, an innocent person is nervous and edgy,” Smilow said.

“Our lady doctor hardly blinks,” Steffi told him. “No hem-hawing. No throat clearing. No fidgeting. She answers each question directly.”

Hammond said, “I’m surprised Frank is letting her answer at all.”

“He doesn’t want her to. She insists. She has a mind of her own.”

Following Smilow’s thoughtful gaze, Hammond finally turned his head. He could see only a partial profile, but even that had a profound effect on him. His first impulse was to smooth back th

e strand of hair that had curled against her cheek. The second was to grab her and shake her angrily, demanding to know just what the hell she was up to and why she had dragged him into it.

“What do we know about her?” he asked.

Even Smilow appeared impressed as he rattled off a long list of credentials. “Besides being published twice in Psychology Today, she’s often asked to lecture, specifically on the study she conducted on panic attacks. She’s considered an expert on the subject. A few months ago, she talked a man off a window ledge.”

“I remember that,” Hammond said.

“It made the newspaper. The man’s wife credits Dr. Ladd with saving his life.” Referring to his notepad, Smilow added, “Her personal life is personal. All we know is that she’s single, no children. Frank is pissed. He says we’ve got the wrong person.”

“What else is he going to say?” Steffi remarked snidely.

Trying to appear impassive, Hammond said, “She seems like a woman who’s got it all together.”

“Oh, she’s together, all right,” Steffi said. “You couldn’t melt ice on her ass. Once you’ve talked to her, you’ll see what we mean. She’s so cool, she’s practically bloodless.”

How little you know, Steffi.

“Ready for the next go ’round?” She and Smilow moved toward the door.

Hammond hung back. “Do you want me to go in?” They turned, surprised.

“I thought you’d be chomping at the bit to get your first crack at the murderess,” Steffi said.

“It remains to be seen whether or not she’s a murderess,” he said testily. “But that’s not the point. The point is that since you’re here, we outnumber Smilow. I don’t want him to think that we’re monitoring him.”

“You can address me directly,” Smilow said.

“Okay,” Hammond said, looking at the detective. “Just so we’re clear, my coming over here was Mason’s idea, not mine.”

“I got the same lecture on peaceful coexistence from Chief Crane. I can tolerate you if you can tolerate me.”

“Fair enough.”

Steffi expelled a deep breath. “So ends round one of the pissing contest. Now can we please get down to business?”

Smilow held the door open for them. Hammond let Steffi precede him. Smilow entered behind him and closed the door, cramming too many people into such a small space. There was hardly enough room for Smilow to squeeze past Hammond on his way to his desk. “Are you sure you won’t have something to drink, Dr. Ladd?”

“No, thank you, Detective.”

To Hammond, hearing her voice was as stirring as if she had touched him. He could almost feel again her breath against his ear. His heart was a hard, dull thudding against his ribs. He could barely breathe. And, dammit, it was all he could do not to touch her.

Smilow made the superfluous introductions. “Dr. Ladd, this is Special Assistant Solicitor Hammond Cross. Mr. Cross, Dr. Alex Ladd.”

She turned her head. Hammond held his breath.

Chapter 16

“Special Assistant Solicitor Cross can tell you where I was and what I was doing Saturday evening, can’t you, Special Assistant Solicitor Cross?”