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Singles lurked on the perimeter of the floor, checking out their prospects, assessing their competition, trying to appear neither too obvious nor too desperate to link up with someone.
Loretta noticed that there were a lot of military personnel in the crowd. Young servicemen, with their fresh shaves and buzz haircuts, were sweating off their cologne, ogling the girls, and swilling beer.
A beer sure would taste good. One beer? What could it hurt? Not for the alcohol buzz. Just to quench a raging thirst that a sugary soft drink couldn’t touch. As long as she was here, she could show Dr. Ladd’s photo around, too. Maybe someone in this crowd would remember her from the weekend before. Servicemen always had an eye out for attractive women. Maybe one had taken a shine to Alex Ladd.
Telling herself she wasn’t rationalizing just to get near the beer-drinking crowd, and wincing from the sandal straps cutting into her swollen feet, Loretta limped up the steps of the pavilion.
Chapter 32
When Frank Perkins opened the front door to his home, his welcoming smile slipped, as though the punch line to a promising joke had turned out to be a dud. “Hammond.”
“May I come in?”
Choosing his words carefully, Frank said, “I would be very uncomfortable with that.”
“We need to talk.”
“I keep normal business hours.”
“This can’t wait, Frank. Not even until tomorrow. You need to see it now.” Hammond removed an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to the attorney. Frank took it, peeped inside. The envelope contained a dollar bill. “Aw, Jes—”
“I’m retaining you as my lawyer, Frank. That’s a down payment on your fee.”
“What the hell are you trying to pull?”
“I was with Alex the night Lute Pettijohn was killed. We spent the night in bed together. Now may I come in?” As expected, the declaration rendered Frank Perkins speechless. Hammond took advantage of his momentary dumbfoundedness to edge past him.
Frank closed the front door to his comfortable suburban house. Quickly recovering, he came at Hammond full throttle. “Do you realize how many rules of ethics you’ve just violated? How many you tricked me into violating?”
“You’re right.” Hammond took back the dollar bill. “You can’t be my lawyer. Conflict of interest. But for the brief time that you were on retainer, I confided something to you which you’re bound by professional privilege to keep confidential.”
“You son of a bitch,” Frank said angrily. “I don’t know what you’re up to. I don’t even want to know, but I do want you out of my house. Now!”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said that I spent—”
He broke off when the open archway behind Frank filled with people who were curious to see what the commotion was. Alex’s face was the only one that registered with Hammond.
Frank, following the direction of Hammond’s stare, mumbled, “Maggie, you remember Hammond Cross.”
“Of course,” said Frank’s wife. “Hello, Hammond.”
“Maggie. I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Actually, we were having dinner,” Frank said.
One of his nine-year-old twin sons had a smear of what looked like spaghetti sauce near his mouth. Maggie was a gracious southern lady who had descended from valiant Confederate wives and widows. The awkward situation unfolding in her foyer didn’t ruffle her. “We’ve just now sat down, Hammond. Please join us.”
He glanced first at Frank, then at Alex. “No, thanks, but I appreciate the offer. I just need a few minutes of Frank’s time.”
“It was good to see you again. Boys.”
Taking each twin by a shoulder, Maggie Perkins turned them around and herded them back to where they had come from, presumably an informal eating area in the kitchen.
Hammond said to Alex, “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Frank was kind enough to invite me to dinner with his family.”
“Nice of him. After today, you probably didn’t feel like being alone.”
