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“The case?” she repeated with ridicule. “There is no case.”
“I think there is.”
“Do you actually intend to pursue this?”
“I know it won’t be easy. Smilow isn’t a favorite among CPD personnel, but he’s feared and respected. No doubt I’ll encounter some resistance.”
“ ‘Resistance’ is putting it mildly, Hammond. If you investigate one of their own, you’ll never have the cooperation of another city cop.”
“I’m aware of the obstacles. I realize what it’s going to cost me. But I’m determined to go through with it. Which should give you some indication of how firmly I believe that I’m right.”
Or how besotted you are with your new lover, she thought. “What about Alex Ladd and the case we’ve made against her? You can’t just throw it out, make it disappear.”
“No. If I did, Smilow would smell a rat. I plan to proceed. But even if the grand jury indicts her, we can’t win the case we have against her. We can’t,” he said stubbornly when he saw that she was about to object. “Trimble is a smarmy hustler. A jury will see right through his cheesy veneer. They’ll think his testimony is self-serving, and they’ll be right. They won’t believe him even if he occasionally tells the truth. Besides, how many times has Dr. Ladd earnestly denied that she did it?”
“Naturally she’s going to deny she did it. They all deny it.”
“But she’s different,” he muttered.
Even knowing about his affair with the psychologist, Steffi was dismayed by his unshakable determination to protect and defend her. She studied him for a moment, not even trying to hide her frustration. “That’s it? You’ve told me everything?”
“Honestly, no. I checked some things out last night, but the evidence isn’t concrete.”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t want to discuss them now, Steffi. Not until I’m certain that I’m right. This is a precarious situation.”
“You’re damn right it is,” she said angrily. “If you won’t tell me everything, why tell me anything? What do you want from me?”
* * *
The last person Davee Pettijohn expected to come calling that morning was the woman suspected of making her a widow.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
Sarah Birch had led Dr. Alex Ladd into the casual living room where Davee was having coffee. Even if the housekeeper hadn’t announced her by name, Davee would have recognized her. Her picture was on the front page of the morning newspaper, and Davee had seen last evening’s newscasts before her troubling, clandestine meeting with Smilow.
“I’m receiving you more out of curiosity than courtesy, Dr. Ladd,” she said candidly. “Have a seat. Would you like coffee?”
“Please.”
While waiting for Sarah Birch to return with an extra cup and saucer, the two women sat in silence and assessed one another. The TV cameras and newspaper photographs hadn’t done Alex Ladd justice, Davee decided.
After thanking the housekeeper for the coffee and taking a sip, Alex said, “I saw your husband last Saturday afternoon in his hotel suite.” She indicated the sections of the morning edition scattered about. “The newspaper write-ups subtly suggest that Mr. Pettijohn and I had a personal relationship.”
Davee smiled wryly. “Well, he had a reputation to uphold.”
“But I don’t. There’s absolutely no basis for that implication. Although you’ll probably think I’m lying if my half-brother ever testifies against me.”
“I read about him, too. In print Bobby Trimble comes across as a real asshole.”
“You flatter him.”
Davee laughed, but as she watched the other woman’s face, she realized that the topic wasn’t pleasant for her. “You had it rough as a kid?”
“I got past it.”
Davee nodded. “We all bear scars from childhood, I guess.”
