“Did you leave then?”
“I could tell that she meant it. She was yawning. So I said, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’?”
“What happened next?”
“She said, ‘Okay, let’s talk tomorrow.’?”
“And what did you do then?”
“I gave her a hug and a kiss and went home.”
“What time did you get home?”
June jumped in. “We were in the bedroom. I looked at the clock. It was exactly eleven-fifty-one.”
A look of annoyance came over Parker’s face. “Alan, do you agree? Was it around eleven-fifty-one?”
“No, I think it was a little later.”
“It was exactly eleven-fifty-one,” June interjected. “As I told you, I was looking at the clock when Alan came in.”
There was a pause, and then Lester Parker turned to the Crowleys. “I wonder if you would mind waiting outside. The best way I can help Alan is if I hear the facts directly from him.”
When the door closed behind them, Parker said, “Alan, we have attorney-client privilege. Nothing you tell me will be shared with anyone. In any way shape or form, did you either hit Kerry or push her in the pool?”
“Absolutely not.” Alan’s expression and body language were fiercely defensive. “How would you feel if everyone in town thought you were a murderer?” he burst out. “How would you feel if your parents were so sure you were going to get arrested that they hired a hotshot lawyer to defend you? How would you feel if your girlfriend, who you really loved, got murdered?”
Alan’s lips quivered. Lester Parker studied Alan. He had heard many defendants plead their innocence and could often detect who was lying and who was telling the truth. He was still reserving judgment on Alan Crowley as he prepared to offer a defense for him.
“When did you learn that Kerry was dead?”
“About noon on Sunday. I was outside mowing the lawn and my cell phone was in the house. When I went in to get a bottle of water, I could see there were a lot of messages and texts. I read one of the texts and found out what happened. As I was reading the message, a detective came to the house and asked me to go down to Hackensack with him.”
“Did you tell him exactly what you’re telling me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Alan, it must have been very scary for you to go down to the Prosecutors Office and get videotaped. Did you say anything in that interview that was not true?”
Alan hesitated.
“It’s okay, Alan,” Parker said. “You can tell me.”
“I told the detective I stayed at the restaurant with my friends the whole time and then I went straight home from there. I didn’t tell him I went to see Kerry on the way home.”
“Okay. Sunday morning you wake up. I understand your parents left early to play golf. You mowed the lawn until the detective came and you went with him to Hackensack. Did you go anywhere or talk to anyone after you got back from Hackensack and before your parents got home?”
Alan was silent for a moment. Parker put down his pen and said gently, “Alan, the only way I can effectively help you is if you are honest with me.”
“When I got back from Hackensack, I was freaking out. I needed somebody to back up my story that I went straight home from Nellie’s.”
“So what did you do?”
“I called one of the guys I was with. The two other guys were at his house. I asked them to back me up that I stayed at Nellie’s as late as they did.”
“Do you know if they’ve spoken to the police?”
“Yes, they have.”
“Okay.”
Alan gave Parker the names of his three friends and their contact information.
Alan said, “Look, I know I panicked, and I screwed up. And I know that by lying, I’ve made it worse. What can I do to start making things right?”
Parker looked directly at his client. “There are two things you can do. From now on, aside from your parents and me, talk to no one about the case. If anyone contacts you, refer him to me.”
Alan nodded.
“The other thing you can do is when you go home, tell your parents what you just told me. They’re going to find out anyway, so let’s get that difficult discussion behind us right away.”
26
In the morning at breakfast Steve announced that he was coming home early and he and Fran were going to the movies. Fran had not yet come down from their room. Over a quick second cup of coffee he said to Aline, “I think I need to get your mother out of the house. I told her that last night after Detective Wilson left, and she agreed. She’s so fixated on the idea that Alan Crowley murdered Kerry that she’s telling that to everybody she speaks to. I told her that until there is real proof, we have to keep an open mind. But even after all that Detective Wilson told us about the man who sold Kerry the beer, she is still fixated on Alan’s guilt.”
Steve carried his empty coffee mug over and placed it in the sink. “One night every week a theater in Norwood is running the old classics. Greer Garson is still one of your mother’s favorite actors. She’ll enjoy seeing Random Harvest on the big screen. It starts at five o’clock, and then I’ll take her out to dinner. Do you want to join us for the movie, dinner or both?”
“Thanks, Dad, but I’ll pass. I want to catch up on some stuff at school. I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way home.”
? ? ?
The next day at school was a little easier than the one before. Aline had always been good at remembering names and faces. After she passed one of the students in the hallway, she remembered that she had seen her before and where it was. This was the girl who had been standing across the street from the church when the Mass for Kerry was over. I wonder why she didn’t come in, Aline asked herself.
She was in her office until six. She had left her door partially open and Scott Kimball looked in. “Obviously working late again,” he said.
“A little,” Aline replied.
“Is there any chance that when you’re ready to wrap up, you’ll have dinner with me? I know I asked you only yesterday, but the question just popped into my head. You know, it might be a nice change.”
“Are you tempting me with the French restaurant you were talking about?”
“Absolutely.”
Then my answer is “Oui.”
They laughed together.
Aline declined Scott’s offer to ride with him and instead took her own car to La Petite restaurant. Scott had told her he lived in Fort Lee. Driving her back to pick up her car at school would take him way out of his way.
On the way over, she started to have second thoughts. She berated herself for agreeing to go to dinner with him. She went over in her head why it was foolish to alter the business relationship of two faculty members who worked in the same school. Just this once, she told herself, absolutely just this once.
She began to relax at the restaurant. La Petite turned out to be every bit as good as Scott had promised. In the three years she had taught at the International School in London, it had been easy to take the train through the Chunnel to Paris. It was a trip she had made every few months while she lived in England. She would stay at a small hotel on the Left Bank that overlooked Notre Dame Cathedral. She made regular visits to the Louvre and other museums, as well as boat trips on the Seine.
Along the way she had developed a passion for French food. At the same time she had perfected her natural gift for languages. Her goal was to become fluent in French and to speak it without an American accent. When their waiter introduced himself with a French accent, she saw an opportunity to practice.
Scott then surprised her by following her lead. His command of French was very good, but his American accent was clearly discernible.
After listening to the specials, they gave their orders. As they sipped the Bordeaux Scott had chosen, he said, “I took a semester in France when I was in college. It was a program where I took courses in French and lived with a French family.”
“Total immersion?” Aline asked.