The Alibi

“Thank you for coming, Harvey. It’s good to see you.” Before he could bolt, which he appeared to be on the verge of doing, Loretta grabbed his arm and dragged him toward a booth. “Welcome to my office.”

Still jittery, he propped his wet umbrella beneath the table, readjusted the lapels of his jacket, and pushed his eyeglasses up his long, narrow nose. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom and he had gotten a better look at the other customers, he shuddered. “You’re not afraid to come here alone? The clientele appear to be the dregs of society.”

“Harvey, I am the clientele.”

Abashed, he began stammering an apology.

Loretta laughed. “No offense taken. Relax. What you need is a drink.” She signaled the bartender.

Harvey folded his delicate hands on the table. “That would be nice, thank you. A short one. I can’t stay long. I’m allergic to secondhand smoke.”

She ordered him a whiskey sour and a club soda for herself. Noticing his surprise, she said, “I’m on the wagon.”

“Really? I had heard you… I had heard otherwise.”

“I’ve had a recent conversion.”

“Well, good for you.”

“Not so good, Harvey. Cold turkey sucks. I hate it.”

Her candor made him laugh. “You always were a straight shooter, Loretta, and you haven’t changed. I’ve missed seeing you around. Do you miss the P.D.?”

“Sometimes. Not the people. The work. I miss that.”

“Are you still doing some private investigating?”

“Yes, I’m freelancing.” She hesitated. “That’s why I called and asked you to meet me.”

He moaned. “I knew it. I said to myself, ‘Harvey, you’re going to regret accepting this invitation.’ ”

“But your curiosity got the best of you, didn’t it?” she teased. “That and recollections of my ready wit.”

“Loretta, please don’t ask me for a favor.”

“Harvey, please don’t be such a goddamn hypocrite.”

Officially he was a county employ, but his computer access also allowed him to delve into city and state records. He had so much information at his fingertips, he was frequently approached by people willing to pay handsomely to know their co-workers’ salaries, or such. But Harvey refused to be part of anything unethical or illegal. To anyone who came to him trying to wheedle a favor, he was irritatingly adamant in his refusal.

That’s why Loretta’s blunt statement shocked him. He blinked rapidly behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

“You’re not the good little boy you would have everyone believe.”

“How altogether boorish of you to remind me of my one little indiscretion.”

“The only one I know about,” she said intuitively. “I still think you pulled the plug, so to speak, on that asshole who hassled you at the Christmas party. Come on, now, Harvey, fess up. Didn’t you retaliate by scrambling all his programs?”

He pursed his lips.

“Never mind.” She chuckled. “I don’t blame you for not confessing, but your secret would be safe with me. In fact, I like you better for showing a weakness. I can identify with human frailty.” She wagged her finger at him. “You love the thrill you derive from occasionally breaking the rules. It’s how you get your rocks off.”

“What horrid terminology! Furthermore, it’s untrue.” Despite his public avowal to be a teetotaler, he quaffed his drink and didn’t object when she ordered another round.

As a policewoman working overtime in county records one night, she had caught Harvey Knuckle in his superior’s office, scrolling through his personal finance files and sipping from his secreted bottle of brandy.

The little man had been mortified to be caught red-handed doing the very thing he vowed never to do for someone else. Barely able to contain her laughter, Loretta had assured him that she had no intention of tattling and had wished him good luck on his treasure hunt.

The next time she approached him needing a favor, Harvey didn’t hesitate to grant it. From that night on, whenever she needed information, she went to Harvey. He never failed to produce. She had been tapping that valuable resource ever since.