“He has some of his own.”
“Such as?”
“His love for his sister and his hatred for Lute Pettijohn.”
Recalling the condensed story Davee had told him the night before, he asked, “What do you know about that?”
“Same as everybody knows. Margaret Smilow was one sick ticket. Bipolar, I think. Smilow was a protective older brother. When she fell hard for Lute Pettijohn, Rory disliked the idea from the start. Maybe he was jealous of the new protector in his sister’s life, or maybe he simply saw Pettijohn’s true colors when everybody else was blind to them. For whatever reason, Rory disapproved of the marriage.”
“I understand they had some violent quarrels.”
Loretta harrumphed. “One night Rory and I were investigating a convenience store holdup and murder. He got paged to call his sister immediately. Margaret was hysterical and begged him to come right then. He was so upset, we turned the crime scene over to our backup team, and I drove him.
“Hammond,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief, “by the time we got there, she had totally wrecked that house. Hurricane Hugo didn’t do that much damage. There wasn’t a piece of glass that wasn’t broken. Not a pillow that wasn’t ripped open. Not a shelf that hadn’t been swept clean. You couldn’t walk across the floor for all the debris.
“Apparently she had discovered that Pettijohn had a girlfriend. When we got there, Margaret was in the bathroom holding a straight razor to her wrist and threatening to kill herself. Smilow sweet-talked her out of the razor. He called her doctor, who was kind enough to come over and medicate her. Then Smilow had me drive him to Pettijohn’s rendezvous.
“Long story short… he barged in and caught this gal sitting on Lute’s face. He and Pettijohn each got in a few good punches before I intervened. I had to physically restrain Smilow because nothing I said was getting through. I honestly believe that if I hadn’t been there to wrestle him down, he would have killed Pettijohn that night. I’ve never seen a man—or woman—that enraged.”
Her eyes narrowed and she tapped the ugly Formica with a jagged, dirty fingernail. “And till the day I die, I’ll believe that’s what Rory Smilow holds against me. To the world he reveals this bloodless persona. He comes across as being unfeeling. Cold. Passionless. But I witnessed him being as human as the next man. More human than the next man. He lost control. That’s why he couldn’t tolerate having me around every day as a reminder.”
Hammond didn’t question her veracity. For all her flaws, he had never known Loretta to lie or even to embroider a story. “Why did you tell me this?”
“Just throwing out some possibilities.”
“Possibilities? You think Smilow killed Pettijohn?”
“All I’m saying is that he could have. I don’t know about opportunity, but he for damn sure had motivation. He never forgave Lute for Margaret’s suicide. And these aren’t just the delusions of an old drunk, either. Your friend Steffi thought of it, too. I overheard her bring it up that night at the hospital. She remarked on how much Smilow would enjoy seeing Pettijohn die.”
“What did Smilow say?”
“He didn’t confess, but he didn’t deny it.” She chuckled. “Not in so many words, anyway. As I recall, he turned the tables and dumped the deed on her.”
“On Steffi?”
“He broached the idea that Pettijohn might have been paving her way into Mason’s office when he retires.”
Hammond laughed. “Smilow must’ve been having an off night. If Lute was doing someone a favor, why would they kill him?”
“That’s what Steffi came back with, and the conversation died there. Besides, he was only being provoking because Steffi was of the opinion that Davee had rid the world of Pettijohn.”
“Davee was her first suspect. But now she’s got someone else in her crosshairs.”
“This Dr. Ladd?”
Nodding, Hammond passed her an envelope containing some advance money. “If you drink that—”
“I won’t. I swear.”
“Find out what you can on Alex Ladd. I want the skinny as soon as you can get it to me.”
“This may sound presumpt
uous—”
“And I’m sure it is.”
Ignoring him, Loretta continued. “Has she been arrested?”