Saxon stopped there for lunch. It was just 1:30 P.M. when he drove back into Iroquois. Emily having worked until 7 A.M., he knew she would still be asleep. He drove over to Ben Foley’s house and found the former mayor home. When they were settled with drinks in their hands, Saxon said, “I wouldn’t ask you to perjure yourself on the stand, Ben, but if there’s merely a police inquiry, would you furnish me an alibi for today?” The plumb lawyer examined him quizzically. “Depends. Who’d you kill?” “It would only be a forced entry and battery charge. I socked Larry Cutter on the jaw.” Foley looked pleased. “Did he go down?” “I knocked him colder than a carp. I suppose it was a childish thing to do, but I suddenly got fed up with him. I thought it was time he got pushed back for the way he’s been pushing me, then ran up against a rigged alibi if he tried to do anything about it.” “Sounds like poetic justice,” Foley agreed. “I wouldn’t mind telling a white lie, so long as it’s not under oath.
