Peter knocked on Clint’s door and entered. Clint looked up from where he sat on the couch; there was a box on the coffee table, papers spread out all around and a laptop in front of him. As Peter came closer he recognized the box as the one he’d gotten from his lawyers.
“What’s going on?”
Clint waved him over. “Look what I’ve found. There was a copy of the security tapes from the day Layla died, and I went through it. Alan left the building half an hour before you did and came back one hour before.”
“So if the fingerprints match, this means we can narrow down his leaving them within an hour of the murder. I mean there were a lot of other people coming and going of course too throughout the day, so hardly legally meaningful but to convince just one person…”
Peter pulled out the remote controller in the plastic bag and dropped it on the table next to the laptop. “There’s your fingerprints.”
Clint looked down at it for one long moment. “Officially I have no idea where you got this. I hope we’re both clear on that.”
“Alright then.” He picked up the bag. “I’ll send it to my friend to compare with the ones in the file.”
“Thank you.” Peter nodded and left. As he shut the apartment door behind him he hesitated and then pulled out his cellphone and dialed Holly.
Holly reminded herself she had known things couldn’t stay the way they had with both Peter and Alan. She had sensed it at the party. But Alan’s reasoning had been unexpected to say the least. The idea that if Peter truly were guilty it might endanger herself had never actually occurred to her, and now confronted with the idea she felt a little stunned.
She had never truly believed Peter was guilty but…was she so sure now? Alan was obviously convinced. She knew Alan had been in LA back then, he might know more about situation then she did. She clasped her hands and leaned her forehead against them. It felt as if everything kept happening, and she just wanted a break to catch her breath, think things through, sort it all out.
She could hear Alan moving around in the kitchen. Part of her wanted to go talk to him but she wasn’t entirely certain whether he was angry at her or not.
Her cellphone rang and she pulled it out of her purse. She checked the number. It was Peter. She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the accept button and then abruptly she switched the phone off.
She left the cellphone on the couch and stood up, heading into the kitchen. Alan had started getting dinner ready. She didn’t say anything but simply smiled at him and briefly held his hand. Neither brought it up for the rest of the evening.