“Believe me, Sandra, I’d much rather be home with my family than here asking you questions. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’re out of here. Now tell me about Sunday evening.”

She shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. I was watching the movie at the 126, like most everybody else. Probably fifty people saw me there.”

“Did you leave the bar at all during the film?”

“Yeah, I went out to grab a smoke and enjoy a little peace and quiet for a few minutes. I’ve seen the movie before. Did I hop in my car and go slice and dice Gordon Brink? No, I didn’t. I mean, that’s what this is all about, right? That’s what you want to know?”

“What time did you get home?” Darrell continued, focused on Sandra’s alibi. This time, he was asking the questions. I wondered if he thought I’d go too easy on Sandra because we were both women in what the rest of the town considered men’s jobs.

“I don’t remember. One o’clock. Two. By that point, I was pretty wasted.”

“Did anyone see you leave?”

“Ricky,” Sandra replied, with a sharp glance at me. “He was still there. He’s always there.”

“Did you have a babysitter for Henry?”

“Yeah. That cute Davis girl. Kelli. She was asleep on the sofa when I got home. Henry was in bed. I didn’t wake either of them up. In the morning, I made breakfast for the three of us, and Kelli went home.”

“So Kelli can’t confirm what time you actually got back home?” Darrell asked.

Sandra sighed. “No, I guess she can’t. You got me, Darrell. Do you want to put the cuffs on me now?”

Darrell softened a little. We were all tired, and nobody wanted to be doing this on Christmas Day. “I’m sorry, Sandra, but we’re talking about a murder, and you’ve got a hell of a reason to dislike the man who was killed.”

Sandra stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray. “Dislike him? Yeah. That’s for damn sure. Kill him? No. That would be stupid. I’m about the last person in town who would want to see Gordon Brink dead. Me and the other girls at the mine have been waiting years to get our day in court, and we finally, finally had it in sight. And now this. I know what happens next. The mine asks to have the trial pushed back because their lead attorney croaked, and they need more time to get someone else up to speed. Meanwhile, there goes another year of my life. So do I give a shit about a bastard lawyer like Brink getting killed? No. Good riddance to the scumbag. But believe me, I’d have given him a kidney if it meant keeping my trial date.”