A/N: another new story. I hope everyone likes it; I'm pretty excited about it myself. Read and review, and most importantly…enjoy! (Sarcasm is a gift of which I am proud)
DISCLAIMER: unfortunately I don't own Gone with the Wind, though words can't describe how much I wish I did. The only things I own are the plot of this story and any new little characters inserted in it, all products of my own imagination, I promise.
All He Needed Was an Alibi
Rhett Butler was in a predicament.
It wasn't often that he found himself in situations quite as sensitive as this one. He was a gambler, a risk-taker for sure, but he had never before had so much at stake. For the past two months, he had consumed himself with work. He had buried himself in it; he was so immersed in work that there were actually small gaps of time when he didn't think of Scarlett at all. He was through with her. He was tired of seeing her face crestfallen and hurt in his dreams, and he was tired of hearing her pitiful cries echoing in his mind. It had been two months and he couldn't escape her yet.
He had distanced himself physically, retreating to the coast of Charleston. If he wasn't around her she couldn't melt away his anger with a smile. His pride wouldn't run the risk of being cast aside at her glance.
He had tried to distance himself emotionally as well, through his work, but now he would no longer deny the absolute truth: he was in very big trouble.
It had started normally enough. Mr. Edwards was a typical business client. He acted like all of his normal business associates, never overly friendly, but his pleasantries seemed sincere. He had chalked the lack of friendliness up to the fact that Mr. Edwards was a Yankee and simply wasn't used to the societal values of southerners. They had conducted their business and had soon parted ways. Mr. Edwards, a Yankee by his accent and the aforementioned mannerisms had headed back north to his hometown in New York and Rhett remained in Charleston, staying in a small house he had built in a secluded section of town several blocks from the main streets of Charleston. It was a nice change from the busy Peachtree Street residence.
A week after he had seen this fellow board his northbound train, Rhett was sitting behind the large desk in his plush office when he was startled by a knock at the door. Quickly moving the decanter of gin out of view, he called out a, "Come in," and sat up a little straighter in his chair.
A tall man with graying hair walked in from the hall and stood in front of Rhett's desk.
"Mr. Edwards. I thought you'd returned home. What can I do for you?"
"Well Mr. Butler, there are several things you can do for me, but let's begin with the easiest. First, my name is not Alistair Edwards. It is James Anderson, and I am here on the behalf of the United States Government."
"The government? Perhaps you have the wrong man. I've no business or trouble with the government."
"No? Well, it has business with you, Mr. Butler. It has been called to our attention that a large portion of the Confederate Treasury has been misplaced. Upon further questioning, it has come to our attention that you, Mr. Butler, are at the root of this loss."
Rhett's mind was swirling quickly as he tried to remain in control of the situation. He dearly wished he hadn't had quite so much to drink; it was really beginning to cast a murky shadow throughout his thoughts. He would have to feign innocence, develop a cover up, anything to keep himself away from the clenching paws of this man. Trying to think quickly, his mind kept returning to Scarlett's face. Over and over again she had feigned innocence, employed trickery to inadvertently bring his life crashing down around him. How had she done it all those times? Was he really that much of a fool that a smile and a twinkling eye could melt his judgment? He would rather not think that was the case.
Scarlett! How had he not thought of her earlier? Well, he had, but not in the right way. She was the perfect alibi, and could very likely be used to his advantage. If she had ensnared him, he didn't doubt that her presence would have a similar effect on this Mr. Anderson.
"Mr. Anderson, again I feel that you must be mistaken. I'm nothing more than a simple family man; I've nothing to do with embezzlement, of that I can assure you. My wife wouldn't stand for it!" he said, supplying a laugh for added effect.
Mr. Anderson frowned, causing wrinkles to appear on his overly large forehead. He stood in silence for a moment, and then peered at Rhett's left hand. It was devoid of jewelry. A small smile returned to his face, one of supreme intelligence.
"I didn't know you were a family man, Mr. Butler. Where, may I ask, is your ring?"
Rhett was now thankful for the small piece of gold he carried in his pocket. This made up for all of the times he had cursed that band, wished it upon the hand of any other man, even Ashley Wilkes himself. And now, ironically enough that piece of gold he so despised was going to save him. Pulling his wedding band out of his pocket, he handed it to the balding man in front of him whose wrinkles had once again returned. "It's a little snug. I've been meaning to have it fixed, but haven't had the time. You know how that goes I'm sure," he replied, loving the look he had put on Anderson's face. Picking up the ring as if it were vile, Mr. Anderson gave it a look and handed it back to its owner.
"Family man or not, Mr. Butler, the face remains that you have stolen from the United States Government, an act which cannot be tolerated and you shall find one that is severely punishable by the law."
"I have no doubts that such an atrocious crime would go unpunished," he inserted, thinking and speaking quickly. "But I am guilty of no such act—"
"Regardless of how you plead, Mr. Butler, I will be making the final decision on my own. For the next three weeks, I will stay as a guest in your home and conduct a thorough investigation on this situation. I trust there will be no objections to this? Or do you have something to hide?"
"No, no, nothing to hide. You will be welcome in our home for as long as you see fit. My wife and I will be glad to accommodate you."
"Good. I have more business to conduct before I begin the investigation so I shall be arriving at your house in the early evening one week from today. I know the address," and with those last remarks James Anderson left Rhett Butler's office and boarded the train heading towards Savannah, Georgia.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind Anderson, Rhett heaved a sigh and sunk into his chair. He had much work to do, and for the first task he would surely need his drink back. Reaching for the bottle that lay underneath the confines of his desk, he thought of the first task ahead: getting Scarlett to Charleston.
After careful consideration, he decided it would be best to send her a telegram. It would offset his seeing her in person, a job he would need all the extra time he could glean to prepare for, and it would leave little room for objection. After several minutes of thought, he was satisfied with, "Scarlett, you are needed in Charleston. Stop. Come right away. I will answer questions later. Stop. Rhett."
Sending the draft with an assistant, Rhett left the office building and returned to the small house he was occupying in Charleston. Scarlett was bound to disapprove of the small dwelling, a thought which gave him a small bit of satisfaction. He hated to admit it, but the thought of seeing Scarlett again had him more nervous than he was comfortable being. He found the fact easier to deal with if he repeated the phrase, "She's just an alibi," in his head. He only hoped it would do any good to keep his heart from going buttery when he saw her again.
A/N: I hope you all liked the first chapter. Give me some feedback so I know whether or not you're interested in me continuing this story. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and for those of us unlucky enough to still be in school a nice break!