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“How?”
“More on that later. For now, suffice it to say that I was close to turning my findings over to a grand jury.”
“I assume Pettijohn wanted to make a deal.”
“Right.”
“What was he offering in exchange?”
“If I reported back to the A.G. that there was no case to be made, and let Lute carry on his business as usual, he promised to support me as Monroe Mason’s successor, including sizable contributions to my campaign. He also suggested that once I achieved the office, we would continue to have a mutually beneficial arrangement. A very cozy alliance which would have enabled him to continue breaking laws and me to look the other way.”
“I gather you turned him down.”
“Flat. That’s when he brought out the heavy artillery. My own father was one of his partners on the Speckle Island project. Lute produced documents proving it.”
“Where are those documents now?”
“I took them with me when I left.”
“They’re valid?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Frank was no dummy. He figured it out. “If you proceeded with your investigation of Lute, you’d be forced to bring criminal charges against your father, too.”
“That was the essence of Lute’s warning, yes.”
Alex’s face was soft with compassion. Frank said quietly, “I’m sorry, Hammond.”
He knew the commiseration was genuine, but he waved it aside. “I told Lute to go to hell, that I intended to uphold my duty. When I turned my back on him, he was screaming invectives and issuing threats. The temper tantrum might have brought on the stroke. I don’t know. I never turned around. I wasn’t in there for more than five minutes. Max.”
“What time was this?”
“We had a five o’clock appointment.”
“Did you see Alex?”
They shook their heads simultaneously. “Not until I got to the fair. I was so pissed off at Pettijohn, I was in quite a temper when I left the hotel. I didn’t notice anything.”
He paused to take a deep breath. “I had planned to go to my cabin for the night. On the spur of the moment I decided to stop at the fair for a while. I saw Alex in the dance pavilion and…” He looked from Frank to her, where she was seated on the love seat, listening intently. “It went from there.”
The room grew so silent that the ticking clock on Frank’s desk sounded ponderous. After a time, the lawyer spoke. “What did you hope to accomplish by coming here and telling me this?”
“It’s been weighing heavily on my conscience.”
“Well, I’m not a priest,” Frank said testily.
“No, you’re not.”
“And we’re on opposite sides of a murder trial.”
“I’m aware of that, too.”
“Then back to my original question: Why did you come here?”
Hammond said, “Because I know who killed Lute.”
Chapter 33
