under way."
"Very clever."
"I thought so," she said with a cheeky smile.
He nodded down at the revolver she had aimed at
him. "Is that it?"
"Of course not. Do you think I would be so stupid
as to use the same gun twice? When I returned the
one I used to shoot Pettijohn, I pilfered another. Just
in case."
"As we speak, Basset is spilling his guts. He's a repentant
man with a guilty conscience."
"It'll be my word against his. They'll never trace
these weapons to me. I didn't sign the log and neither
did he. Basset could be making up wicked stories
about me because he holds a grudge."
"Smilow asked you to go easy on Basset's daughter."
"And I did the first time. It's not my fault she was
busted again. Her hearing is scheduled in a few
weeks."
"What did you promise Basset?"
"That I'd be lenient in my recommendation to the
judge."
"Or?"
"Or sweet Amanda would get the book thrown at
her. It was up to him."
"You drive a hard bargain."
"When I'm forced."
"And you felt forced to kill Pettijohn?"
"He double-crossed me!" she exclaimed in a shrill
voice that Hammond had never heard before. Steffi
had lost touch with reality.
"I spied for him," she was saying. "Counseled him
on legal maneuvers that would snare his rivals but
leave him inside the law. Barely, but inside nonetheless.
He told me he was going to use the goods on
Preston to ruin both of you. Get you out of there com
pletely and install me in the top seat. But then he reneged."
Her eyes turned hard. "He saw a better use for Preston's
involvement, and that was to coerce you. He
thought he could use that as leverage to get you to
come around to his way of thinking. He thanked me
for my time and trouble, but asked why he should settle
for second best, when he could get the best lawyer
on his side."
"So you came here that afternoon to kill him."
"I was out of options, Hammond. I had played by
the rules and they weren't working for me. Since
joining the office, I had worked the hardest, strived the hardest, but you were going to get the job, just as
you'd gotten the last one.
"Pettijohn came along and offered me an advantage.
For once, I would be the one with the edge.
Then, when the reward was in sight, the son of a bitch
yanked his support out from under me.
"I had experienced disappointments before, but
none that crushing. Every time I looked at him, I
would be reminded of what a chump I'd been. A
gullible female, which is probably how he saw me. I
couldn't tolerate being that susceptible and having
him lord it over me. Something inside me snapped, I
guess you could say. I simply couldn't let him get
away with it.
"He broke the news to me over the telephone, but I
insisted on a face-to-face meeting. I showed up a few
minutes early for our appointment, and when I saw him sprawled on the floor, my first thought was that
someone had robbed me of the pleasure."
"Alex, maybe."
"I didn't know anything about Alex Ladd. Not
until that Daniels character gave us her description-- and I was sweating bullets when I faced him in that
hospital room. I was afraid he'd finger me to Smilow.
I hadn't seen him in the hotel, but I couldn't be certain
that he hadn't seen me. Anyway, when he described
Ladd, I couldn't believe my good fortune.
There was actually a suspect. And then when Trimble
turned up, I started believing in guardian angels," she
said with a laugh.
"You made the attempt on her life."
"That was a mistake. I shouldn't have trusted anyone
else with the job."
"Who was he?"
"Someone who drifted through the justice system
a few months ago. I had him on an assault and battery.
His lawyer pleaded him out. I thought that having
someone like him on standby might prove useful
one day--maybe I had a premonition that my alliance
with Pettijohn might end badly." She
shrugged.
"Anyway, I let the guy plead out of incarceration.
But I kept track of him. He was willing to slit her
throat for a measly hundred dollars. But he blew it.
Skipped town with the fifty I gave him as a down
payment. He didn't even report in to me that night."
She slapped her forehead with her palm. "Silly
me. I didn't connect your mugger with my assassin
until I discovered that Alex Ladd was alive and well."
"You were afraid she had seen you Saturday afternoon
in Pettijohn's suite."
"I thought it was a distinct possibility. From that
first interrogation, I sensed she was holding something
back, and was afraid that she had recognized
me and was waiting for the perfect moment to spring
her secret knowledge. I must admit I was rather taken
aback to discover that the secret she was harboring
was you. When did you meet her?"
He refused to answer.
"Oh, well." She sighed softly. "You're right. I
suppose it doesn't matter, although it shattered my
ego to know that you could so easily move from my
bed to hers. And, of course, I understand her attraction
to you. It wasn't hardship duty to sleep with
you. I would have even if Pettijohn hadn't suggested
pillow talk as a good source of information."
She hefted the pistol. "I don't hate you, Hammond,
although I'd be less than honest if I said I
didn't resent your achievements and the ease with
which you come by them. It's just that, now I've
come this far, you're the last obstacle. I'm sorry."
"Steffi--"
She fired the pistol into his chest.
Steffi turned and hurried across the parlor. She
pulled open the door. On the other side of it stood De
tective Mike Collins and two uniformed policemen,
pistols drawn.
"Hand over the weapon, Ms. Mundell," Collins
said. There was no underlying joke in his voice now.
One of the policemen stepped forward and took the
pistol from her loose grasp. "You okay?" Collins
asked.
Hammond was watching her face when she turned
her head, her mouth going slack with astonishment.
Kevlar had saved him, although he was going to have
a bitch of a bruise to go along with the other injuries
he had sustained this week.
"You tricked me?"
Collins was reciting her rights, but her attention
was on Hammond.
"I figured it out last night. Smilow and I had a conference
before daylight. I told him everything. Everything.
So we staged all this. I was pretending to
gather evidence against him, but actually he and I
have been working together today. He's the one who
suggested you might get worried when I shared leads
with you, leads that pointed to you. He urged me to
wear a wire. Also the vest. On both counts I'm glad I
took his advice."
She was practically bristling with hatred. He found
it hard to believe he'd ever been lovers with her. But
it was with a degree of sadness that he said, "I knew
you regarded me as your rival, Steffi, but I didn't
think you would try to kill me."
"You've always underestimated me, Hammond.
You've never given me enough credit. You never
thought I was as smart as you."
"Well, apparently you're not."
"I'm smart enough to know about your affair with
Alex Ladd," she shouted. "Don't even attempt denying
it, because I've got proof of your being in her bed
this week!"
Hammond hitched his chin at Collins, who turned
her around and nudged her through the open door.
Turning her head, she yelled at him over her shoulder,
"That's what I'll beat you with, Hammond. Your
affair with this woman. Talk about poetic justice!"
There was a soft laugh of self-deprecation behind
Alex's voice. "I was expecting you, but I didn't hear
you come in, Detective."
"We don't know who or when Steffi might strike.
I checked the back of the house and came in through
the rear door. That lock still isn't fixed. You should
have it repaired immediately."
"I've had more pressing matters on my mind this
week."
"Hell of a week."
"To say the least."
He knelt to help her pick up the scattered papers.
She thanked him as she gathered the materials back
into the folder.
"I couldn't help but overhear," he said. "Hammond
told you about Basset?"
"Yes."
"Pretty damn smart of Hammond to figure it out."
"But not long before you did. He told me that
when he shared his suspicion with you early this
morning, you admitted that it had crossed your mind
that Steffi might be involved."
"It had, but I didn't follow up. Frankly because I
was so glad Pettijohn was dead." He looked her in the
eye. "Dr. Ladd, I never really thought you were the
killer. I'm sorry about some of the questions."
She accepted the apology with a small nod. "It's
hard for us to back down once we've taken a stand. I
was a viable suspect, and you didn't want to be
wrong."
"More than that. I didn't want Hammond to be
right."
An awkward silence fell between them. It was relieved
when his cell phone chirped. "Smilow."
He listened. His face remained expressionless.
"I'm on my way." He disconnected. "Steffi shot
Hammond. He's okay," he said quickly. "But he got
her to admit on the wire that she killed Pettijohn.
She's in custody."
Alex didn't realize how anxious she had been until
pent-up tension ebbed out of her and she sank into a
chair. "Hammond's all right?"
"Perfectly."
"So it's over," she said softly.
"Not quite. He's holding a press conference in half
an hour. Can I offer you a lift?"
CHAPTER
39
Because the temporary Charleston County Judicial
Building had such limited space, Monroe
Mason had asked if his press conference could be
held downtown in city hall. His request had been
graciously granted.
Out of respect for the man who had served the
community so well for so long, many, who typically
rushed headlong toward the weekend at five o'clock
on Friday afternoon, had congregated to hear the formal
announcement of his retirement.
That's what they had come to hear.
They got more than they bargained for. A head
start on the weekend didn't seem such a sacrifice
when rumors began to circulate about what had transpired
in the same hotel suite where Lute Pettijohn
had been found dead less than a week ago. One of the
solicitor's own staff had been arrested for the murder.
The room was already crowded when Hammond
entered behind Mason and the rank and file of the
County Solicitor's Office. Even Deputy Solicitor
Wallis, looking gray and ravaged by chemotherapy,
had found the strength to attend. Only Stefanie
Mundell was absent as they took seats on the dais.
The first row of spectator seats was occupied by
reporters and cameramen. Behind them were three
rows reserved for city, county, and state officials, invited
clergymen, and assorted dignitaries. The remainder
of the folding chairs were for guests.
Among them were Hammond's parents. His
mother returned his hello nod with a cheerful little
wave. Hammond also acknowledged his father, but
Preston's visage remained as stony as those gracing
Mount Rushmore.
That morning, Hammond had called Preston with
the deal he had referenced to Bobby Trimble. It was
this: He would recommend to the attorney general
that no charges be brought against his father if Preston
would testify against Trimble.
Of course that was tantamount to Preston's admitting
to his own knowledge of the terrorist activities
that had taken place on Speckle Island. He had separated
himself from the venture, but not in time to relieve
him of culpability.
"That's the deal, Father. Take it or leave it."
"Don't issue me an ultimatum."
"You admit your wrongdoing, or you go to jail
denying it," Hammond had stated with resolve. "Take
the deal."
Hammond had given him seventy-two hours to
think it over and discuss it with his solicitor. He was
betting that his father would agree to his terms, an intuition
strengthened when Preston's hard stare wavered
and he looked away first.
Was it too much to hope that his father was experiencing a twinge of conscience? Although there
would always be chasms they couldn't cross, he
hoped they could find reconciliation on some level.
He wanted to be able to call him Dad again.
Davee was also there, looking like a movie star.
She blew him a kiss, but when a reporter poked a microphone
at her and asked for a comment, Hammond