In the Company of Liars

ONE DAY EARLIER
SUNDAY, MARCH 28

Larry Evans scribbles on his notepad. “And why do you think it was so successful?” he asks. “April Showers?”

“Oh.” Allison looks over Larry’s head at the shoppers in the grocery store. “I think women readers liked a strong female character. A character with warts, bumps, flaws, just like any other person. Yet, April wasn’t threatening to men, I don’t think. They liked her, too. She was funny. She was feminine. She didn’t mind having a door opened for her.”

“I liked her. I loved that book.” Larry smiles. “By the way, what’s your favorite book?” he asks. “Best thing you ever read?”

Allison shrugs, as if there were so many from which to choose. In fact, she has an answer at the ready, but it’s not a book. She remembers the character, because Allison herself played the role in college theater. Nora Helmer, wife of Torvald, identified principally in her life as such-the flighty wife, the mother, when in fact it was her strength that held everything together, her courage that saved Torvald’s life, his lack of courage that finally propelled her to leave him.I have been performing tricks for you, Torvald. That’s how I’ve survived. You wanted it like that.

The way I am now, I’m no wife for you.

Larry seems to be observing her, probably notes the change in her expression. He makes a point of glancing at his watch. “I don’t mean to monopolize your time here with background.”

“No, that’s fine.” Allison waves a hand. “These subjects are far more enjoyable than what most people want to talk about these days.”

Larry puts down his pen. “I’ll tell you something, Allison, if I may.” Larry bites his lip. He has a way about him, a low-key approach. She imagines his rugged looks and easy demeanor play well with the female population.

“You may,” she says.

“I think you’re innocent.”

“Oh.” Allison laughs, an outburst closer to dismay than joy.

“No, I mean-I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it. I just don’t see it in you.”

Allison smiles. “Larry, we met about-what-six weeks ago? We’ve spent all of maybe twenty hours together. You don’t know me.”

“I’m a good judge of people. Plus, I’m no lawyer, but-well.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“But what?”

Larry shakes his head. “I was going to say, the evidence looks pretty thin to me. Like it just doesn’t say very much. They have evidence that you were there. Your hair, the earring, the broken nail. Sure. And yes, Sam’s blood was found on your sweatshirt. But if you and Sam were seeing each other-”

Larry looks at Allison, as if he were a ten-year-old who just cussed in front of his mother.

“I’m not saying you were or you weren’t,” he quickly qualifies.

Allison, of course, has denied having a romantic relationship with Sam to the police, and she has made no public statement on this subject. The police got it out of Jessica when they questioned her, which puts Allison in a bit of a pinch. Larry Evans, ever the diplomat, has tried to keep away from the sensitive topics in their discussions. He doesn’t want to poke the bear.

“This is all I’m saying, Allison. That stuff-the hair and fingernail and earring and blood-just means you were there at some time. It doesn’t mean you were there on the night he was murdered.”

“His blood just happened to be on my sweatshirt?”

“Oh, it wasn’t like a significant blood spatter or anything,” Larry says. “So yes. People bleed sometimes. I had a girlfriend once, cut her lip and I ended up with her blood all over my shirt.” He shrugs. “I’m just saying. All of these things could happen in a different setting. Not when he was murdered.”

“They say I went back to the house at one in the morning the night he was murdered,” Allison replies.

“They say acar that looks like yours-a Lexus SUV-drove to his house then.”

“Who else would be driving my car?”

“Assuming it was your car.”

“Yes, assuming it was my car.”

“Who else would be driving-” Larry grunts a laugh. “Do I have to spell it out?”

Allison shakes her head in frustration. “I’m the only one with keys to my car, first of all. And they have me barging into Sam’s office the day before, shouting at him. And the office aide overheard Sam dumping me.And ”-she raises a finger-“they have me returning home at two in the morning, with dirt on my face and hands.”

“You meanJessica has you returning home at two in the morning with dirt on your face and hands.”

Allison draws back. “I’m not enjoying this conversation.”

Larry Evans leans forward, his eyes narrow. “You know what I think about this conversation, Allison, if I may say so?”

She waves a hand, still fuming.

“I think you’re trying very hard to convince me that you’re guilty.”

Allison looks away, not ready with a response, but something hot and creepy invades her chest. “Why all this talk about Jessica?” she asks.

Larry equivocates, raising his hands, cocking his head.

“Is this coming from your source in the department?” she demands. This has been Larry Evans’s primary chit in their deal, the source in the police department, from whom he would feed Allison nuggets of information.

“They’re wondering about the chronology of events that night,” Larry admits. “It’s standard procedure, from what I’m told. They do a timeline. And they fit their witnesses on that timeline. What can they say about Jessica? She says she was at your house at-what was it-eight?”

“Eight-thirty,” Allison whispers.

“Okay, but what about before that? She says she was studying back at Mansbury College, but there’s no corroboration for that.”

Allison takes Larry’s hand. “Tell me everything, every single thing, they’re saying about Jessica.”

“That’s it, Allison. I’m not saying she’s a suspect. They’re just trying to tie everything up, and Jessica is a big piece.She’s the one who says you were away from the house on the evening Sam Dillon was murdered,she’s the one who says you had dirt on your hands and your face,she’s the one who says you were wearing that sweatshirt with Sam’s blood on it, andshe’s the one who says you admitted having an affair with Dillon when you denied that fact to the police. So she matters to them a great deal. It’s a circumstantial case, we all know that, and she’s the biggest link. So my guy there, he was just saying, when your best witness against a suspect is her daughter, there’s going to be some concern.”

Allison cringes. “But they’re not saying she was a suspect.”

“No,they’re not.”

Allison glares at Larry.

“Hey.” He raises his hands. “I’m just a reporter. But my job is to look at facts. So I’m supposed to believe that you went to his house, bludgeoned him, an earring fell out, a nail broke, a hair fell out, and you got a little blood on your sweatshirt.”

Allison doesn’t answer.

“A sweatshirt that says ‘Mansbury College,’ by the way.”

“She gave me the sweatshirt,” Allison insists. “It was mine. Just because she’s a student at Mansbury, that means no one else could wear a sweatshirt with the school name?”

Larry Evans smiles. His eyes drift from hers. “No,” he concedes. “Of course, it could have been your sweatshirt. That doesn’t mean the story washes.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Thisis ridiculous,” Larry agrees. “What is ridiculous is whatever it is you’re doing. She’s close with her father, you’ve told me. Her father was in trouble. He was being investigated by the feds. Maybe Sam Dillon knew something. He was a threat to your ex-husband. Which made him a threat to someone who loved your ex-husband.” Larry takes a breath. “Look, I don’t know your daughter, Allison. But it makes sense. She worked at Sam Dillon’s office, right? She was close to all of this.”

“Jessica didn’t murder Sam,” Allison says.

“Oh, okay.” Larry falls back in his seat, waves a hand at her. “Youdid, right? You beat him over the head, accidentally left some evidence behind, and some evidence on you.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Why is that-” Larry Evans messes with his hair, shakes his head absently. “Allison,” he says, leaning close now, his hand trembling, “who wears expensive platinum earrings with a sweatshirt?”

Allison jumps out of her chair, spilling the remnants of her cup of coffee, knocking Larry’s notepad to the floor. She moves quickly from a walk to a run out of the grocery store.