making another dive under his desk. “Anyway, he swears he didn't, and that's all I need to know as a public defender.”
“It was a drapery cord that was used?” I asked.
Alvin nodded. “About two feet long. I can probably plea-bargain the homicide charge down to man two, but your cousin wants me to get him off because he insists he didn't kill Carol. Maybe you could help talk him into a plea.”
I was dubious about that, and said so. “I tried to find out this morning if there were any other suspects,” I wenton, “but Ronnie nodded off and I didn't get an answer. Do you know of anyone else who might have wanted to kill Carol?”
Alvin let out a big sigh, his shoulders slumping. “There's the daughter, Kendra, who found her. Do you know anything about her?”
Vida nodded. “Yes. She was illegitimate. Her adoptive parents seem to be involved in some domestic dispute. Not with her, but with each other.”
“Really?” Alvin seemed interested. “How did you find that out?”
The reaction further eroded my confidence in Alvin Sternoff. Vida, however, explained about the disturbance at the Addison home the previous night. “We just happened to drive by. It was most fortuitous.”
“I guess,” Alvin said, regarding Vida with a trace of awe. “Anything else you've learned?”
“Not yet,” Vida said smugly, “but we will.”
“We met the neighbor, Maybeth Swafford,” I said. “She's convinced Ronnie did it, but her story doesn't ring quite true.”
“Really?” Again, Alvin seemed surprised. “In what way?”
“Have you interviewed her?” I asked, wondering exactly what Alvin had done on Ronnie's behalf.
“Yes. Of course,” Alvin said hastily, giving his knuckles a painful whack on the desk. “Ouch. Excuse me. May-beth said she heard them fighting and then Ronnie left and there wasn't another sound out of the apartment until Kendra arrived and found the body.”
“Is Maybeth a credible witness?” I queried, wondering if Alvin would survive our meeting, let alone the trial.
He shook his head. “She won't hold up very well under my cross-examination.”
“That's good,” I said. “Who have you got for character witnesses?”
“Um…” Alvin riffled some more papers, losing a few in the process. “A couple of Ronnie's drinking buddies.”
“But not able to give him alibis?” I asked.
With regret, Alvin shook his head. “One of them, Bobby Markovich, was out of town the night of the murder. The other, Rick Dietz, was home with his girlfriend. Ronnie's boss will testify for him under duress.”
“So Ronnie was employed,” Vida put in. “What did he do?”
“He drives truck for a roofer named Garvey Lang out in Lynnwood,” Alvin replied. “Lang has a wood yard, too. Ronnie mostly makes deliveries.”
“Why is Mr. Lang reluctant to be a character witness?” Vida inquired.
Alvin looked apologetic. “I guess Ronnie isn't the most reliable employee. He actually works part-time, but Lang said that he didn't always show up when he was supposed to. He would have let him go, but he said he felt sorry for Ronnie. He seemed like such a… loser.”
“That,” I said, “is my impression.”
“Sorry,” Alvin said. “I mean, he's your cousin. I don't want to disrespect him.”
“Don't worry about it,” I said. “As I explained to you on the phone when I was still in Alpine, Ronnie's side of the family and my side weren't close. If he weren't so pathetic—and such a loser—I wouldn't be here.”
“Right.” Alvin grabbed a pencil and jiggled it up and down. “I see plenty of losers in this job, and I've only just begun. It's kind of discouraging. Yikes!”
Somehow, he'd managed to impale his left hand with the pencil. Alvin checked to see if he'd drawn blood, then apologized once more. I asked him about priors, having gotten the impression from Ronnie that this wasn't his first arrest.
“Little stuff,” Alvin replied, sucking on his hand.
“One assault, five
“It was a drapery cord that was used?” I asked.
Alvin nodded. “About two feet long. I can probably plea-bargain the homicide charge down to man two, but your cousin wants me to get him off because he insists he didn't kill Carol. Maybe you could help talk him into a plea.”
I was dubious about that, and said so. “I tried to find out this morning if there were any other suspects,” I wenton, “but Ronnie nodded off and I didn't get an answer. Do you know of anyone else who might have wanted to kill Carol?”
Alvin let out a big sigh, his shoulders slumping. “There's the daughter, Kendra, who found her. Do you know anything about her?”
Vida nodded. “Yes. She was illegitimate. Her adoptive parents seem to be involved in some domestic dispute. Not with her, but with each other.”
“Really?” Alvin seemed interested. “How did you find that out?”
The reaction further eroded my confidence in Alvin Sternoff. Vida, however, explained about the disturbance at the Addison home the previous night. “We just happened to drive by. It was most fortuitous.”
“I guess,” Alvin said, regarding Vida with a trace of awe. “Anything else you've learned?”
“Not yet,” Vida said smugly, “but we will.”
“We met the neighbor, Maybeth Swafford,” I said. “She's convinced Ronnie did it, but her story doesn't ring quite true.”
“Really?” Again, Alvin seemed surprised. “In what way?”
“Have you interviewed her?” I asked, wondering exactly what Alvin had done on Ronnie's behalf.
“Yes. Of course,” Alvin said hastily, giving his knuckles a painful whack on the desk. “Ouch. Excuse me. May-beth said she heard them fighting and then Ronnie left and there wasn't another sound out of the apartment until Kendra arrived and found the body.”
“Is Maybeth a credible witness?” I queried, wondering if Alvin would survive our meeting, let alone the trial.
He shook his head. “She won't hold up very well under my cross-examination.”
“That's good,” I said. “Who have you got for character witnesses?”
“Um…” Alvin riffled some more papers, losing a few in the process. “A couple of Ronnie's drinking buddies.”
“But not able to give him alibis?” I asked.
With regret, Alvin shook his head. “One of them, Bobby Markovich, was out of town the night of the murder. The other, Rick Dietz, was home with his girlfriend. Ronnie's boss will testify for him under duress.”
“So Ronnie was employed,” Vida put in. “What did he do?”
“He drives truck for a roofer named Garvey Lang out in Lynnwood,” Alvin replied. “Lang has a wood yard, too. Ronnie mostly makes deliveries.”
“Why is Mr. Lang reluctant to be a character witness?” Vida inquired.
Alvin looked apologetic. “I guess Ronnie isn't the most reliable employee. He actually works part-time, but Lang said that he didn't always show up when he was supposed to. He would have let him go, but he said he felt sorry for Ronnie. He seemed like such a… loser.”
“That,” I said, “is my impression.”
“Sorry,” Alvin said. “I mean, he's your cousin. I don't want to disrespect him.”
“Don't worry about it,” I said. “As I explained to you on the phone when I was still in Alpine, Ronnie's side of the family and my side weren't close. If he weren't so pathetic—and such a loser—I wouldn't be here.”
“Right.” Alvin grabbed a pencil and jiggled it up and down. “I see plenty of losers in this job, and I've only just begun. It's kind of discouraging. Yikes!”
Somehow, he'd managed to impale his left hand with the pencil. Alvin checked to see if he'd drawn blood, then apologized once more. I asked him about priors, having gotten the impression from Ronnie that this wasn't his first arrest.
“Little stuff,” Alvin replied, sucking on his hand.
“One assault, five
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