A Way With Murder

The man-in his late thirties-had a square jaw and predator eyes. His sleeves were rolled up enough to show strong forearms and hands. At six-two, he was bigger than River expected, better looking too.

River bypassed the leather chair in front of the lawyer’s desk, instead walking to the window, looking down for a beat, then back at the lawyer.

“I’m not really here about a legal matter,” he said.

“No?”

“No. Does the name Charley-Anna Blackridge mean anything to you?”

A beat.

“No.

“No?”

“No.”

River raked his hair back.

“Let me help your memory,” he said. “I’m talking about the Charley-Anna Blackridge you went to San Francisco with four months ago.”

The lawyer didn’t move.

Then he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and said, “What’s your connection to her?”

“Nothing, just a friend,” River said. “She got murdered last weekend.”

The lawyer nodded.

“I know.”

River walked over and sat on the edge of the desk.

“Are you the one who did it?”

“Wow, that’s quite a question.”

“Yes it is.”

61

Day Two

July 22, 1952

Tuesday Afternoon

Alabama showed up late afternoon, tapped a Camel out of Wilde’s pack, lit it and handed it to him. Then she sat on the edge of the desk and dangled her legs. “I talked to Mitchum point blank and asked him where he went after he left the El Ray Club,” she said. “He said he left with a woman and they spent the night at his hotel.”

Wilde blew smoke.

“Who?”

“He wouldn’t tell me her name,” Alabama said. “He said she was a lawyer and she made him promise to be discrete.”

“So, no name?”

“No but he was telling the truth,” Alabama said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I could tell, that’s how.”

“Well, that’s an interesting story.”

“Why?”

He told her about getting a call from the bartender, Michelle Day, who gave him the name of Gina Sophia, a lawyer at Jackson amp; Reacher. “I went over to her office to get the story straight from the horse’s mouth. She left the club with him and was with him all night. She even knew about his pinup-plane tattoo, so there was no question we were talking about the same man.”

Alabama jumped off the desk, turned around and shook her hips.

“You hate it when I’m right,” she said.

Wilde nodded.

“Luckily it doesn’t happen that often.”

“Actually it happens more than you know.”

“I’m not sure it happened this time, to be honest with you,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, Mitchum was at the El Ray Club the night Charley-Anna got murdered,” he said. “He also frequented Dollface in New York, where Brittany Pratt was the night she got murdered.”

Alabama wasn’t impressed.

“No one says he was there that night,” she said. “Two people went to the same club on occasion, big whoop de do. As far as Denver goes, Mitchum was with the lawyer all night. That means case closed, end of discussion, done deal.”

“Maybe not,” Wilde said.

Alabama shook her head in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about is that maybe the lawyer was lying. Maybe she’s in cahoots with Mitchum and she’s giving him a false alibi.”

Alabama wrinkled her face.

“You don’t quit, do you?”

Wilde got up, walked to the window and looked down. A hillbilly song came from the radio of a car sitting outside.

Wilde flicked the butt out the window, tapped another stick out of the pack, set a book of matches on fire and lit up from the six-inch flame.

He turned to Alabama.

“Find out if Mitchum and the lawyer, Gina Sophia, knew each other before the night in question. If they did, she’s giving him a false alibi. If she’s giving him a false alibi, it’s because he needs one.” A beat then, “Don’t let him know you’re looking into it. Don’t let him know that you know the lawyer’s name. Any questions?”

“One. Are you crazy?”

Wilde nodded.

“I am but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” he said. “The more I think about it, if she went to the club so she’d be in a position to give him an alibi, that means they had to set it up beforehand. That means she’s not just giving him an alibi after the fact, she was in on the alibi from the start, meaning she’s more in the nature of co- conspirator.”

“Why would she?”

“I don’t know,” Wilde said. “In fact, the more I think about it-”

“You already thought about it more.”

He smiled.

“Right, now I’m thinking about it more a second time, and what I’m thinking is that maybe she’s not giving him an alibi at all. Maybe he’s the one who’s giving the alibi. Maybe he’s giving it to her.”

“Are you saying she’s the killer?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Alabama shook her head in wonder.

“Do me a favor, will you?”

He nodded.

Sure.