The Alibi by Sandra Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

murdered."
     
    "That's my job, Mrs. Pettijohn, whether you like it
    or not."
     
    "Well, I don't like it." Then, dismissing her as no
    one of significance, she turned to Smilow. "I'm
    happy to answer your questions. What do you want to
    know?"
     
    "Where were you this afternoon between five and
    six o'clock?"
     
    "Here."
     
    "Alone?"
     
    "Yes."
     
    "Can anyone vouch for that?"
     
    She moved to an end table and depressed a single
    button on a desk telephone. The housekeeper's voice
    came through the speaker. "Yes, Miss Davee?"
     
    "Sarah, will you come in here, please? Thank
    you."
     
    The three waited in silence. Fixing the prosecutor
    with a cool, contemptuous gaze, Davee fiddled with
     
    the single strand of perfectly matched pearls that she
    wore around her neck. They had been a coming-out
    gift from her father, whom she both loved and hated.
    Her therapist had suggested that they were a symbol
    of her mistrust of people, due to her father's unfaithfulness
    to his wife and daughters. Davee didn't know
    if that was true or if she just liked the pearls. Whatever
    the case, she wore them with everything, including
    the short shorts and oversize white cotton shirt
    she had on this evening.
    Davee had inherited her live-in housekeeper from
    her mother. Sarah had been working for the family
    before Clancy was born and had seen them through
    all their tribulations. When she came into the room,
    she shot Smilow and Steffi Mundell a hostile glance.
    Davee formally introduced her. "Ms. Sarah Birch,
    this is Detective Smilow and a person from the
    County Solicitor's Office. They came to tell me that
    Mr. Pettijohn was found murdered this afternoon."
    Sarah's reaction was no more visible than Davee's
    had been.
    Davee continued, "I told them that I was here in
    the house between five and six o'clock and that you
    would back me up. Isn't that right?"
    Steffi Mundell nearly blew a gasket. "You
    can't--"
    "Steffi."
    "But she's just compromised the interrogation,"
    she shouted at Smilow.
    Davee looked at him innocently. "I thought you
    said I wasn't being interrogated, Rory."
    His eyes were frosty, but he turned to the housekeeper
    and said politely, "Ms. Birch, to your knowledge
    was Mrs. Pettijohn at home at that time?"
    "Yes, sir. She's been in her room resting nearly all
    day."
    "Oh, brother," Steffi muttered beneath her breath.
    Ignoring her, Smilow thanked the housekeeper.
    Sarah Birch moved to Davee and enveloped her
    hands between her own. "I'm sorry."
    "Thank you, Sarah."
    "You all right, baby?"
    "I'm fine."
    "Anything I can get you?"
    "Not now."
    "You need anything, you just let me know."
    Davee smiled up at her, and Sarah ran her hand affectionately
    over Davee's tousled blond hair, then
    turned and left the room. Davee finished her drink,
    smugly eyeing Steffi over the rim of her glass. When
    she lowered it, she said, "Satisfied?"
    Steffi was seething and didn't deign to respond.
    Crossing to the liquor cart again, Davee asked,
    "Where is the ... where was he taken?"
    "The medical examiner will perform an autopsy."
    "So funeral arrangements will have to wait--"
    "Until the body is released," Smilow said, finishing
    for her.
    She poured herself another drink, then when she
    came back around asked, "How did he die?"
    "He was shot in the back. Two bullets. We think he
    died instantly, and may even have been unconscious
    when the shots were fired."
    "Was he in bed?"
    Of course Smilow knew the circumstances of her
    father's death. Everybody in Charleston was well apprised
    of the scandalous details. She appreciated
    Smilow for looking a little pained and embarrassed as
    he answered her question. "Lute was found on the
    floor in the sitting room, fully dressed. The bed
    hadn't been used. There was no sign of a romantic
    rendezvous."
    "Well, that's a change, at least." She drained her
    glass.
    "When did you last see Lute?"
    "Last night? This morning? I can't remember. This
    morning, I think." Davee ignored Steffi