“If Harvey is everyone’s mole, I guess that’s a possibility. But, honestly, Hammond, he acted surprised and pleased that I was including him on my investigation.”
Nodding, he indicated the letter-size envelope beneath her right hand. “Let’s have the scoop.”
She opened the envelope and removed several folded sheets of paper. From what Hammond could tell, they were typewritten notes. By now Loretta had reviewed the information so many times, she had practically memorized it. She referred to the typewritten data only to verify specific dates.
“Impressive,” he murmured as she enumerated Alex Ladd’s scholastic accomplishments, most of which he already knew. Any relief he felt, however, was short-lived.
“Hold on. I haven’t got to the good stuff yet.”
“By good, do you really mean bad?”
“She doesn’t have as impressive a record in Tennessee.”
“What happened there?”
“What didn’t?”
She then told him what Harvey Knuckle had mined from unmineable juvenile records. It didn’t make for easy listening. By the time Loretta finished, half an hour had passed and Hammond was wishing he hadn’t drunk any whiskey that evening. He was fairly certain he was going to see it recycled. Now he understood what Alex had meant last night about his being disi
llusioned, about explanations being painful. She hadn’t wanted to share, and now he knew why.
Loretta replaced the sheets of paper in the envelope and triumphantly handed it to him. “I didn’t find the link between her and Pettijohn. That remains a mystery.”
“I think—thought,” he amended, “that she was too classy to have any link to Lute. Apparently I was wrong.”
He slid the envelope and its incriminating contents into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. His dejection wasn’t lost on her. “You don’t seem very excited.”
“I couldn’t have asked for more thorough coverage. You should feel very good about the way you pulled yourself together and came through for me. You more than made up for past mistakes. Thanks.”
He scooted to the end of the booth, but Loretta reached across the table and seized his hand. “What is with you, Hammond?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I thought you’d be over the moon.”
“It’s good stuff, no question.”
“And it only took me two days.”
“Can’t complain about the short turnaround, either.”
“It definitely gives you something to work with, doesn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
“So why do you look so goddamn glum?”
“I guess I’m embarrassed.”
“By what?”
“This,” he said, tapping his jacket outside the breast pocket. “It indicates that I’m a lousy judge of character. I honestly didn’t think she was capable of…” His voice trailed off, leaving his complete thought unspoken.
“Alex Ladd, you mean?” He nodded. “You think she’s innocent? That Smilow is barking up the wrong tree? Has she come up with an alibi?”
“It’s weak. She says she went to a county fair in Beaufort. No corroboration.” It seemed lying came easily now. Even to trusted friends. “Anyway, in light of this information, an unsubstantiated alibi seems academic.”
“I could—”