The Alibi

Just then Hammond’s pager beeped. He checked the number. “Don’t recognize it.” Ignoring the page, he asked Frank if he had any questions.

“Are you serious?” the lawyer asked facetiously.

Hammond grinned. “Cheer up. Wouldn’t you just as well be hanged a sinner as a saint?”

“I’d rather not be hanged at all.”

Hammond smiled, but then he turned away from Frank and addressed Alex. “What are your thoughts?”

“What can I do?”

“Do?”

“I want to help.”

“Absolutely not,” he countered adamantly.

“I caused this mess.”

“Pettijohn would have been murdered last Saturday whether or not you had ever met him. As I’ve explained, it had nothing to do with you.”

“Even so, I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do. It can’t appear that we’re in league together.”

“He’s right, Alex,” Frank said. “He’s got to work it from the inside.”

Eyes filled with anxiety, she said, “Hammond, isn’t there another way? You could lose your career.”

“And you could lose your life. Which is more important to me than my career.”

He reached for her hand. She took his and squeezed it. They stared into one another’s eyes until the silence became heavy and uncomfortable.

Frank delicately cleared his throat. “Alex, you’ll stay here tonight. No argument.”

“I agree,” Hammond said.

“And you’ll go home.” The stern order was directed toward Hammond.

“Reluctantly I agree to that, too.”

“The guest room stays ready, Alex. Second bedroom to the left of the landing.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“It’s late, and I’ve got a lot to think about.” Frank headed for the study door, where he paused and looked back at them. He was about to speak, arrested himself, then finally said, “I was about to ask you both if last Saturday night had been worth it. But your answer is evident. Good night.”

Once they were alone, the silence became more uncomfortable, the ticking clock on Frank’s desk more ponderous. There was a tension between them, and it wasn’t entirely because of what might happen tomorrow.

Hammond was the first to speak. “It doesn’t matter, Alex.”

She didn’t even have to ask what he was referring to. “Of course it matters, Hammond.” He reached for her, but she evaded him, stood up, and moved across the room to stand before a bookcase filled with legal tomes. “We’re deluding ourselves.”

“How so?”

“This won’t have a happy ending. It can’t.”

“Why not?”