Page 162 of The Alibi

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“I think you know.”

Knuckle’s prominent Adam’s apple slid up, then down the skinny column of his neck. His hard swallow was audible. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t the vaguest.”

“You lied to Loretta Boothe,” Hammond said, playing his hunch. “Didn’t you?”

Harvey tried to disguise his guilty nervousness with petulance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

> “What I’m talking about is five-to-ten for computer theft.”

“Huh?”

“I could get you on several counts without breaking a sweat, Harvey. That is unless you cooperate with me now. Who asked you to check out Dr. Alex Ladd?”

“Pardon?”

Hammond’s eyes practically nailed him to the office door behind him. “Okay. Fine. Get yourself a good defense lawyer.” He turned.

Harvey blurted, “Loretta did.”

Hammond came back around. “Who else?”

“Nobody.”

“Har-veee?”

“Nobody!”

“Okay.”

Harvey relaxed and wet his lips with a quick tongue, but his sickly smile folded when Hammond asked, “What about Pettijohn?”

“I don’t know—”

“Tell me what I want to know, Harvey.”

“I’m always willing to help you, Mr. Cross, you know that. But this time I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Records, Harvey,” he said with diminishing patience. “Who asked you to dig up Pettijohn’s records? Deeds. Plats. Partnership documents, things like that.”

“You did,” Harvey squeaked.

“I went through legal channels. I want to know who else was interested in his business dealings. Who asked you on the sly to go into his records?”

“What makes you think—”

Hammond took a step nearer and lowered his voice. “Whoever it was had to come to you for information, so don’t stall, and don’t try and bullshit me with that phony innocent, quizzical expression, or I’m liable to get angry. Prison can be tough on a guy like you, you know.” He paused to let the implied threat sink in. “Now, who was it?”

“T-two different people. At different times, though.”

“Recently?”

Harvey nodded his head so rapidly his teeth clicked together. “Within the last couple of months or thereabout.”

“Who were the two?”

“D-detective Smilow.”

Hammond kept his expression unreadable. “And who else?”


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