somethingââthe reporter touches her earpiece, then nods triumphantlyââyes, Bob, we can now confirm that Allison Pagone has decided to go with the sugarless gum Trident as her breath freshener, baffling experts who had predicted cinnamon Altoids.â The newspaper headlines: PAGONE SPLURGES ON FRESH FRUIT . MURDER SUSPECT : â I CAN â T BELIEVE IT â S NOT BUTTER !â
She carries a hand cart with her to the small coffee shop inside the store. She finds him there, as she has every Sunday.
âHey there,â Larry Evans says to her. He is dressed casually as always, a button-down shirt and jeans, baseball cap.
âHey yourself.â There is a cup of coffee, black, awaiting her. She takes a sip and receives a jolt.
Larry Evans gives her the thumbs-up. She isnât sure of the meaning but she can guess.
âDonât tell me the trialâs going well,â she says to him.
âI think it is.â Larry moves in his seat with excitement. âI think you have them right where you want them.â
âLike Butch Cassidy had âem right where he wanted âem.â
âAllison.â Larry throws his hands up. âThey say you were dumped by Sam and so you killed him? Come on. Thatâs all they can say? Thatâs weak.â
âThe judge seems persuaded.â
âWell, sureâI mean, without any response, it might seem convincing. But you have plenty to say in response.â There is a hint of challenge in what he is saying. He has come to learn how stubborn Allison can be. âYou start your defense tomorrow, right?â
âLarry.â Allison sighs. âThey have so much evidence against me. Physical evidence. A motive. An alibi that blew up in my face. I have an answer for all of that? I have smoke and mirrors. My defense is one giant diversion tactic.â
The prosecutionâs case rested on Friday, after three days of damning evidence. It gave the news outlets the weekend to play over all of the proof implicating Allison in Sam Dillonâs murder.
Larry doesnât have an answer, of course. He doesnât know how this all played out. Even Larry, the optimist, the one who has rallied to her cause, cannot explain away the evidence placing Allison at the scene of the murder, or her argument with Sam beforehand, to say nothing of the alibi fiasco.
âTestify, Allison,â he says. âTell them what really happened.â
She smiles at him. âLarry, I want to win this case as much as you want me to win. Iâm just trying to be pragmatic. Their case is solid. And Iâm not going to testify, because that could just make things worse.â
âHow so?â
âI canâtâI really canât get into that. Suffice it to say, I canât testify.â
âYouâre protecting someone,â he gathers.
âI reallyââ Allison sighs. âI really canât go there.â
âYou still havenât shown your lawyer what I wrote up for you, have you?â Larry shakes his head in frustration. âTheseâthe prosecutors donât have a clue, Allison. Either they havenât figured out what I have or they donât want to talk about it because it hurts their case. Iâm guessing the former is true. They donât know. Which means you can hammer them.â
âYou know that what I tell my lawyer is off limits, Larry. That was the dealââ
âOkay, okay. I donât want to know what you tell him.â He lets out an exaggerated sigh. âI donât get you, though. Youâve got a ticket and you wonât punch it.â
Allison drinks her coffee and looks around at the shoppers, their happy-go-lucky lives and their silly, frivolous concerns.
âSo all youâre going to say in your defense,â he asks, âis that some unnamed, unknown person connected to the bribery scandal killed Sam Dillon because they were
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
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