“I was home by nine,” you said. “You can check my building’s log.”
“Your alibi,” Marlow said, tapping the photo. “It’s beautiful, really. Three witnesses, a parking receipt, a latte timestamp. Almost too clean.” Bad Liar
Marlow stared at you for a long, dry minute. Then he pushed back his chair, gathered the photograph, and walked out. “I was home by nine,” you said
Marlow leaned forward. His cologne was cheap, aggressive. “Here’s what I think. I think you’re a very good liar. But good liars leave no trail. You left a perfect one. Which means either you’re innocent — or you wanted me to find exactly this.” “I was home by nine