The Alibi

by Sandra Brown

  “You were lucky the man survived. If he had died, it could have gone a lot worse for you.”

  Hammond had heard the rest of the story from Loretta. Trimble went to prison. Alex received a probated sentence which included mandatory counseling and foster care.

  She was placed with the Ladds. The couple loved her. For the first time in her life she was treated well, shown affection, and taught by example how healthy relationships worked. She thrived under their care and positive influence. They officially adopted her, and she took their name. Whether the credit belonged to the late Dr. and Mrs. Ladd or to Alex herself, her life underwent a one-hundred-eighty-degree turnaround.

  By Bobby Trimble’s own admission, he resented her good fortune.

  “I went to prison, but Alex got off scot-free. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t the one flashing those guys, you know.”

  “Is that all she did? Flash them?”

  “Now, what do you think?” Trimble scoffed. “At first, yeah. But later? Hell, she was whoring, plain and simple. She liked doing it. Some women are just made for it, and Alex is one of them. That’s why, even with this psychology thing she’s got going for her, she misses doing it.”

  “What do you mean, Bobby?”

  “Pettijohn. If she didn’t miss whoring, why did she take it up again with Pettijohn?”

  Alex shot to her feet and cried, “He’s lying!”

  Chapter 29

  Frank Perkins said, “I’ve never heard anything so preposterous.” The lawyer motioned for Alex to stand. “Bobby Trimble is a lying, immoral thief who shamelessly exploited his half-sister in her youth, and is using her now to worm out of a rape charge. Make that a bogus rape charge, devised by you to encourage this fabrication. Such manipulation is beneath even you, Smilow. I’m taking my client home.”

  Smilow said, “Please don’t leave the building.”

  Perkins bristled. “Are you prepared to charge Dr. Ladd now?”

  Smilow looked inquiringly at Steffi and Hammond. But when neither of them voiced an opinion, he said, “There are a few matters left for us to discuss. Please wait outside.”

  Hammond took the coward’s way out and didn’t even glance at Alex before the solicitor escorted her from the room. His expression would have underscored the precariousness of her situation. The chips were definitely stacking up against her. It didn’t bode well that she and Trimble were former partners in crime, and they hadn’t been petty crimes. Except for a medical miracle, the stabbing victim would have died.

  After years of separation, she and Trimble had reunited mere weeks before Lute Pettijohn was killed. Young Alex had been the lure that enabled Trimble to fleece their victims. Alex had a home safe full of cash. The implications were brutal.

  Hammond’s pain medication had worn off hours ago. To keep a clearer head he had refrained from taking more. His discomfort must have been obvious, because as soon as Perkins showed Alex out, Steffi turned to him. “You look like you’re on the verge of collapse. Are you in pain?”

  “It’s tolerable.”

  “I’ll be happy to get you something.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t fine. He dreaded hearing Smilow’s take on Bobby Trimble’s statement and what it meant to their case against Alex, but he had no choice except to give the homicide detective the floor and hear him out as he summarized the information.

  “Here’s the way it went down. Last spring, Bobby Trimble got in a barroom fight in some hick town. He came out on top of the fracas. One of Pettijohn’s talent scouts, so to speak, witnessed the brawl and recommended Trimble for the job on Speckle Island where they needed a heavy.”

  “To put the squeeze on landowners who didn’t wish to sell.”

  “Right, Steffi. Pettijohn was trying to buy up the entire island, but he met with a resistance he didn’t expect. The landowners had inherited the real estate from slave ancestors who were deeded the property by their previous owners. Generations have worked that land. It’s all they know. It’s their legacy and heritage. It’s more important to them than money, which is a concept that Lute couldn’t grasp. Anyway, they didn’t want their island ‘developed.’ ”

  “Pettijohn might not have developed it,” Steffi surmised. “He probably wanted only to acquire it, let it appreciate for a few years, then turn around and sell it for a nifty profit.” She turned to Hammond. “Do you have anything to contribute?”

  “You two are doing fine. I haven’t heard anything yet that I disagree with. A cockroach like Trimble isn’t above strong-arming hardworking people who wish only to be left alone to live their lives. His tactics were probably much worse than he made them out to be.”

  “They were,” Smilow said. “My investigator reported cross burnings, beatings, and other Klan-type activities. Trimble organized the thugs who did the deeds.”

  “Jesus,” Hammond said with disgust.

  Was it even conceivable that his own father had been involved in such atrocities? Preston had claimed to be unaware of Pettijohn’s terrorism. He had said that when he learned of it, he had sold his partnership. Hammond hoped to God that was true.

  Referring back to Bobby Trimble, he sneered, “And this is our reliable character witness?”

  Ignoring that editorial comment, Steffi said, “Trimble claims he realized the error of his ways and refused to do any more of Pettijohn’s dirty work. More likely he simply got tired of it. That island doesn’t offer many amenities. It couldn’t have been nearly as exciting as his emcee job at the strip club.”

  “Lute was a stingy bastard,” Smilow said. “He wouldn’t have paid Trimble that much. Not too many places on Speckle for Bobby to wear his fancy clothes, either.”

  Steffi referred to the handwritten notes she’d taken. “And didn’t he refer to the island people as being stubborn? Maybe he wasn’t very successful at arm-twisting. Pettijohn might have become dissatisfied with his performance and threatened to fire him.”

  “In any case, Trimble was a disgruntled employee whose boss was bending the law and who coincidentally had a lot of money.”

  “In other words, extortion waiting to happen.”

  “Exactly. The blackmailing scheme made good economic sense,” Smilow observed with a wry smile. “Trimble figured he was working way too hard when he could get a lot more money out of Pettijohn by threatening to reveal what was happening over on Speckle.”

  “Do you believe Pettijohn ordered Bobby to hurt those people? Beat them up? Set fires? Or was Bobby elaborating?”

  “I’m sure some of it was exaggerated,” Smilow said. “But if you’re asking me if I think Lute was capable of nefarious tactics like that, the answer is yes. He would go to any lengths to get what he wanted.”

  “Whatever he was doing, it must have been bad, because he agreed to pay Bobby one hundred thousand dollars cash to keep quiet about it.”

  Smilow picked up the story again. “But in Bobby’s own words, he ‘wasn’t born yesterday.’ Lute capitulated almost too quickly to his demands. Bobby was mistrustful of the haste with which Lute had agreed. Collecting the cash was risky business. Even Bobby is smart enough to figure out that he could have been walking into a trap.”

  “Enter his sister.”

  “Half-sister,” Hammond corrected. “And she didn’t ‘enter.’ ”

  “Okay, he looked her up and recruited her.”

  “He found her on a fluke. He spotted her picture in the Post and Courier.”

  No doubt Alex rued the day she had signed on as a volunteer to help organize Worldfest, a ten-day film festival scheduled in Charleston each November. A seemingly innocuous newspaper write-up and an accompanying group photo had exposed her to her nemesis.

  On the recording Trimble had said, “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Alex’s picture in the newspaper. I read the names twice before I realized she must’ve changed hers. I looked up her address in the phone book, staked out her place, and sure enough, Dr. Ladd was my long-lost half-sister.”r />
  Hammond said, “Until he saw that write-up, he didn’t even know she lived in Charleston. After years of hiding from him behind her new identity, she was not pleased to see him.”

  “Or so she claims,” Steffi said.

  “If he were your brother, would you be happy to have him reappear in your life?”

  “Maybe. If we’d been successful partners before.”

  “Partners my ass. He used her sexuality in the worst imaginable way, Steffi.”

  “You believe she was an innocent?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Hammond, she was a whore.”

  “She was twelve!”

  “Okay, she was a young whore.”

  “She was not.”

  “She granted sexual favors for money. Isn’t that the definition of a whore?”

  “Children.” Smilow’s quiet rebuke put an end to their shouting match. He gathered a stack of written materials into his case file and passed it to Hammond. “That’s everything you need to take to the grand jury. They meet next Thursday.”

  “I know when they meet,” Hammond snapped. “I’ve got some other cases pending. Can’t this wait a month, until they meet again? What’s the rush?”

  “You have to ask?” Smilow said sardonically. “I have to tell you the importance of this case?”

  “All the more reason to make sure we’ve got it sewed up before the grand jury hears it.” He grappled for another argument. “You made Trimble a sweet deal. A measly purse snatching. One night in jail, max. He’s probably laughing his ass off.”

  “Your point being?”

  “Trimble might have killed Pettijohn, and is using his sister as a scapegoat.”

  Smilow thought about it for a second, then shook his head. “There’s no evidence placing him at the crime scene, whereas physical evidence puts Alex Ladd in the room with Pettijohn. Daniels’s statement puts her there at the estimated time of his death.”

  “Frank Perkins could easily fudge that time frame. And you’ve got no weapon.”

  “If we had the weapon, I would charge her today,” Smilow said. “As it is, remind the grand jury that Charleston is surrounded by water. She could have dumped the gun at any time Saturday evening.”

  “I agree,” Steffi said. “We could search till doomsday and not find that pistol. You really don’t need it, Hammond,” she said confidently.

  He dragged his hand down his face, realizing for the first time that he hadn’t taken time to shave that morning. “I’ll have a hard time selling them on her motive.”

  “That’ll be a breeze,” Steffi argued. “You’ll have Trimble’s testimony about her past.”

  “You’re dreaming, Steffi,” he said. “It happened more than twenty years ago. But even if it had happened yesterday, Frank will never permit it to come out during trial. He’ll argue her juvenile record’s irrelevance, and any fair judge will rule it inadmissible. The jury will never hear that shit. If by some legal maneuvering on my part it is ruled admissible, I’m not sure I would use it. It could have the opposite effect and work against us.”

  Smilow’s eyes narrowed on Hammond. “Well, Mr. Prosecutor, maybe you’re representing the wrong side. You’re ready to throw up any and all obstacles to this case, aren’t you?”

  “I know what can happen in court, Smilow. I’m only being realistic.”

  “Or cowardly. Maybe Steffi should alert Mason that you’ve developed cold feet.”

  Hammond withheld an obscene comeback. Smilow was deliberately provoking him, and an angry outburst would give him exactly what he was hoping for. Instead he spoke very quietly. “I have an idea. Why don’t you dispense with all the legal ways to win a conviction? Let’s see, what underhanded methods could you use? I know.” He snapped his fingers. “You could withhold exculpatory evidence. Yeah, you could do that. It wouldn’t be the first time, either, would it?”

  Smilow’s very clean-shaven jaw knotted with rage.

  “What are you talking about?” Steffi asked.

  “Ask him,” he said, never taking his eyes off Smilow. “Ask him about the Barlow case.”

  “If you weren’t already banged up—”

  “Don’t let that stop you, Smilow.”

  “Guys, cut the crap,” Steffi said impatiently. “Don’t we have enough to worry about without you two slapping each other with gloves?” She turned to Hammond. “What were you saying about Ladd’s juvenile record working against us?”

  Several seconds passed before Hammond pulled his eyes away from Smilow and focused on Steffi. “As Dr. Ladd was listening to the Trimble recording, you only had to watch her face to see how much she detests him. The jury will be watching her, too.”

  “Though maybe not as closely as you.”

  If she had jabbed him with a hot poker, he couldn’t have reacted more fiercely. “What the fuck?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Something,” he insisted angrily.

  “Just an observation, Hammond,” she replied with maddening calmness. “You couldn’t take your eyes off our suspect today.”

  “Jealous, Steffi?”

  “Of her? Hardly.”

  “Then keep your snide remarks to yourself.” He cautioned himself not to go too far down that track or he might not be able to get safely back. He picked up the topic where they’d left off. “Trimble is slime. He even offended you, and you’re not easily offended. His testimony will repulse women jurors.”

  “We’ll coach him on what to say and how to say it.”

  “Have you ever seen Frank Perkins on cross-examination? He’ll flatter Trimble into expounding on some of his chauvinistic theories. Trimble will be too vain to see the trap. He’ll orate himself right into it, and we’ll be sunk. It would be tough for me to sell a jury on the notion that Dr. Ladd—and you can bet Frank will line up a legion of character witnesses—was in cahoots with a guy like him.”

  Steffi thought on it for a moment. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say she’s as pure as the driven snow. When her criminal half-brother showed up with his blackmail scheme, why didn’t she immediately report him to the authorities?”

  “Association,” Hammond replied. “She wanted to protect her practice and her reputation. She didn’t want all that garbage from the past dredged up.”

  “Maybe, but she could have called his bluff and threatened to sic the cops on him. Or she could have ignored him until he gave up and went away.”

  “Somehow I don’t think he would be that easy to ignore. He would have kept hacking away at her, threatening to expose her to her patients, and friends, and the community. They weren’t empty threats. People are always willing to believe the worst about someone. Patients entrust her with their problems. Would they continue that trust if they heard what Bobby had to tell them? No, Steffi. He could have inflicted some serious damage, and she knew it.

  “She’s made a name for herself professionally. Established herself as an expert on acute anxiety disorder. She’s admired and respected. After the years it took her to work through God knows how many hang-ups from her childhood and construct her life, she would do just about anything to protect it.”

  “That’s our case!” Steffi cried excitedly. “You’ve just nailed it, Hammond. Bobby threatened her with exposure if she didn’t go along with his scheme. In order to get rid of him, she agreed to collect the blackmail money. Something went awry inside that hotel suite, and she had no choice but to kill Pettijohn.”

  Too late, Hammond realized how ill-chosen his words had been. Steffi was right. He had just made his case. “It might work,” he mumbled.

  “What other explanation is there for her being in that hotel suite with Lute Pettijohn? She certainly hasn’t offered one.”

  That was the rub. Hammond could waltz around it all he wanted, but his fancy footwork always brought him back to that. If Alex was totally and completely innocent of any wrongdoing, why had she gone to see Pettijohn that afternoon?

  Smilow headed for the doo
r. “I’ll tell Perkins that the grand jury is hearing our case next Thursday.”

  “Why don’t you just arrest her?” Steffi asked.

  The thought of Alex spending any time in jail sickened Hammond, but he thought it wise not to voice any more protests.

  Thank God Smilow did it for him. “Because Perkins would cry foul and force us to charge her before incarcerating her. He’d have her out on bail within hours anyway.”

  “He’s right, Steffi,” Hammond said, feeling as though he had been granted a reprieve. “When she’s charged, I’d rather have a grand jury indictment behind it.”

  Smilow left, giving his office over to them.

  Steffi looked at Hammond sympathetically. “Are you sure you’re up to preparing the case? Whether you admit it or not, this mugging took a toll. You’ll probably feel even worse over the next several days when the real soreness sets in. I’ll be glad to take over this responsibility for you.”

  On the surface it sounded as though a concerned colleague was offering to do another a favor, but Hammond wondered if the gesture was entirely unselfish. She had wanted the case and probably resented his getting it.

  Beyond that, her offer could also be a carefully laid trap. After her innuendo about his being unable to take his eyes off Alex, he was wary. If Steffi was entertaining even the hint of a notion that he was attracted to Alex, she would be watching him like a hawk. Everything he said and did would be filtered through her suspicion. If she discovered that his attraction went much further than even she suspected, it would be disastrous for both him and Alex. He couldn’t be obvious about favoring their suspect.

  On the other hand, Steffi’s offer could be wholly unselfish, her concern genuine. She had every right to be angry and upset with him because of the breakup, but she hadn’t let that compromise their professional interaction. He was the one with the hidden motives.

  Chagrined, he thanked her for the courteous offer. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got a week to recuperate. I’m sure by next Thursday, I’ll be back to normal and raring to go.”

  “If you change your mind…”