The Alibi

“Who tried to leave? Twice. Twice I tried to leave, and both times you came after me, begging me to stay with you longer. Who followed who from the fair? Who stopped and—”

“Okay,” he said, slicing the air with his hands. “But that hard-to-get act is the strongest turn-on there is, and women have known it since creation. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Yes, I did,” she exclaimed in a raised voice. Then she clasped her hands at her waist and searched his face with tearful eyes. “Yes, I knew what I was doing. And you’re exactly right. At first I just wanted to… make contact with you.”

“Why?”

“Insurance.”

“In other words, to establish an alibi.”

She cast her eyes downward. “I didn’t know I was going to like you,” she said softly. “I hadn’t counted on the chemistry between us. I started feeling badly about using you. So I tried to get away from you. I didn’t want you to be compromised because of an association—even a brief one—with me.

“But you came after me. You kissed me. After that…” She lifted her eyes to his again. “After that kiss, my initial reasons for meeting you ceased to matter. At that point I just wanted to be with you.” She brushed tears off her cheeks. “That is the truth. You can believe it or not.”

“Why did you need an alibi?”

“You know I didn’t kill Pettijohn. You said so in the elevator.”

“Right. So I repeat, why did you need an alibi?”

“Don’t ask me, please.”

“Just tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to think…” She paused and drew a deep breath. “I just can’t, that’s all.”

“Has it got something to do with the man?”

The question took her aback. She blinked rapidly. “What man?”

“I traced you here Sunday night. I saw you with a man in a Mercedes convertible, approximately twelve hours after you left my bed.”

“Oh. Sunday night? That was… an old friend. From college. He was in Charleston on business. He called and invited me out for a drink.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because part of my job is to detect lies and liars, and you’re goddamn lying!”

She pulled herself up straight and crossed her arms at her waist. “We should just as well let this be the end of it. Now. Tonight. This is an impossible situation. Your career is at stake. I don’t want the responsibility of wrecking it. And I certainly don’t want to be with someone who thinks I’m a liar.”

“Who… was… he?”

“What does it matter who my friends are, when your friends, Steffi and Smilow, are itching to charge me with murder?”

“Is it any wonder that I don’t believe you when you continue to avoid answering the simplest question?”

“They’re not simple questions,” she shouted. “You have no idea how difficult they are. They dredge up things I would rather forget, that I’ve tried to forget, that have haunted—” She stopped, realizing she was about to reveal too much. “You can’t trust me. All the more reason for you to leave now and not come back. Ever.”

“Fine.”

“As long as we were in bed—”