In the Company of Liars by David Ellis

something”—the reporter touches her earpiece, then nods triumphantly—“yes, 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.” The newspaper headlines: PAGONE SPLURGES ON FRESH FRUIT . MURDER SUSPECT : “ I CAN ’ T BELIEVE IT ’ S NOT BUTTER !”
    She carries a hand cart with her to the small coffee shop inside the store. She finds him there, as she has every Sunday.
    â€œHey there,” Larry Evans says to her. He is dressed casually as always, a button-down shirt and jeans, baseball cap.
    â€œHey yourself.” 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 isn’t sure of the meaning but she can guess.
    â€œDon’t tell me the trial’s going well,” she says to him.
    â€œI think it is.” Larry moves in his seat with excitement. “I think you have them right where you want them.”
    â€œLike Butch Cassidy had ’em right where he wanted ’em.”
    â€œAllison.” Larry throws his hands up. “They say you were dumped by Sam and so you killed him? Come on. That’s all they can say? That’s weak.”
    â€œThe judge seems persuaded.”
    â€œWell, sure—I mean, without any response, it might seem convincing. But you have plenty to say in response.” There is a hint of challenge in what he is saying. He has come to learn how stubborn Allison can be. “You start your defense tomorrow, right?”
    â€œLarry.” Allison sighs. “They 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.”
    The prosecution’s 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 Dillon’s murder.
    Larry doesn’t have an answer, of course. He doesn’t 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.
    â€œTestify, Allison,” he says. “Tell them what really happened.”
    She smiles at him. “Larry, I want to win this case as much as you want me to win. I’m just trying to be pragmatic. Their case is solid. And I’m not going to testify, because that could just make things worse.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œI can’t—I really can’t get into that. Suffice it to say, I can’t testify.”
    â€œYou’re protecting someone,” he gathers.
    â€œI really—” Allison sighs. “I really can’t go there.”
    â€œYou still haven’t shown your lawyer what I wrote up for you, have you?” Larry shakes his head in frustration. “These—the prosecutors don’t have a clue, Allison. Either they haven’t figured out what I have or they don’t want to talk about it because it hurts their case. I’m guessing the former is true. They don’t know. Which means you can hammer them.”
    â€œYou know that what I tell my lawyer is off limits, Larry. That was the deal—”
    â€œOkay, okay. I don’t want to know what you tell him.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t get you, though. You’ve got a ticket and you won’t punch it.”
    Allison drinks her coffee and looks around at the shoppers, their happy-go-lucky lives and their silly, frivolous concerns.
    â€œSo all you’re going to say in your defense,” he asks, “is that some unnamed, unknown person connected to the bribery scandal killed Sam Dillon because they were