The Alibi

And then he charitably graced her with a return smile.

Nervously she looked away. Her hand flew to her throat, where she played with the silver beading on the collar of her shirt.

“Bingo,” Bobby said to himself as he settled his tab with the bartender.

He came up from behind her, so she didn’t see him until he said, “Excuse me. Is someone sitting here?”

Her head came around with a quick snap. She gave away her delight with the widening of her eyes, which she then tried to cover by being flirtatious. “Now there is.”

He smiled and joined her at the small table, intentionally bumping her knees with his, then offering a quick apology. He asked if he could buy her a drink, and she said that would be awfully nice of him.

Her name was Ellen Rogers. She was from Indiana and this was her first time in the Deep South. She loved it except for the heat, but even that had a certain charm. The food was divine. She complained of gaining five pounds since she’d been in Charleston.

Although she could have stood to lose fifteen, Bobby said gallantly, “You certainly don’t need to watch your weight. I mean, you have a terrific figure.”

Slapping his hand, she demurred. “I get plenty of exercise at work.”

“Are you an aerobics instructor? Personal trainer?”

“Me? Goodness gracious, no. I’m a middle school teacher. English grammar and remedial reading. I probably walk ten miles a day, going up and down those halls.”

He was from the South, she observed correctly. She could tell by his soft drawl and the melodic pattern of his speech. And southern people were so friendly.

Smiling, he leaned toward her. “We try, ma’am.”

He proved it by inviting her to dance. After they had gyrated through several songs, the DJ played a slow dance. Bobby pulled her against him, apologizing for being so sweaty. She said that she didn’t mind at all. Sweat was manly. By the end of the dance, his hand was riding her ass and no way was Miss Ellen Rogers in doubt that he was aroused.

When he released her, her cheeks were red and she was flustered.

“I’m sorry about…” he stammered. “It’s… Lordy, this is embarrassing. I haven’t held a woman… If you want me to leave you alone, I’ll—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Miss Rogers gently. “It’s only natural. It’s not like you could control it.”

“No, ma’am, I couldn’t. Not with holding you close against me.”

She took his hand and led him back to the table. It was she who ordered another round of drinks. Midway through them, Bobby told her about his wife. “She died of cancer. Two years ago in October.”

Her eyes misted. “Oh, how awful for you.”

Only recently had he been able to go out and start enjoying life again, he told her. “At first I thought it was good we didn’t have kids. Now I sorta wish we had. It’s lonesome, you know, being all by yourself in the world. People aren’t supposed to be alone. It goes against nature.”

Her hand crept beneath the table to give his thigh a sympathetic pat and then stayed there.

Jesus, I’m good! Bobby thought.

* * *

Hammond was standing on the other side of the shower curtain.

“You scared me half to death!” Alex gasped. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in? How long have you been here?”

“You scared me, too.”

“Me? How?”

“I figured out why you’ve been lying. You’re afraid of Pettijohn’s killer.”

“It occurred to me that I might be in jeopardy, yes.”