Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [101]
“Look, Ed. I know you don’t want me poking around anymore. If you can just help me out with one little detail, I promise I’m done.”
Ed didn’t answer, so she continued. “What have you found out about the Babalato brothers?”
Ed took some time, apparently deciding whether to answer. “I don’t know what the Babalatos were doing during Egan’s murder. But they alibied up for Harry Lakes.”
“Can I trouble you for the details? It’d help put my head to rest.”
“Jay was at a class in Japanese tree trimming—icky somesuch.”
“Ikebana?”
“That’s it. And Marv was at bread-making class. He brought me a loaf of pumpernickel the next day. Not bad at all.”
“Doesn’t that sound a little suspicious to you?”
“Next time I hear something that doesn’t sound suspicious, I’ll let you know. Fact is, the alibis check out. Both brothers got sent to anger management a few months ago after they started a fight at a basketball game. The classes are part of their therapy. I talked to both of their course instructors personally. So there’s no way either brother could have committed the Harry Lakes murder. And the night Hart’s body turned up on your doorstep, the whole We Care staff was trying to track down a patient who was trying to break into Mapleshade. One of these days I’m going to have to look into that place.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you’ve got a few other things on your plate right now.”
“You could say that. We’re starting to run low on suspects. Way it looks now, the killer might just end up being the last man standing.”
Lacey had no answer for that.
The Holland–Egan revelations were having the opposite effect on Paul, reviving his belief that the murders could be solved—as well as his desire to find out who’d killed Terry. After Lacey had left, he’d told Brandy he had an important errand. The least he could do was check out his friend’s house again, newly armed with the knowledge of the doctors’ true identities.
Outside Terry’s, a sagging X of police tape across the front door was the only sign of trouble. Paul slipped in through a back window. The room where Harry had been killed had been entirely cleared out. All the papers and journals and recordings were gone from the rest of the house, too. No more mysterious scribblings to puzzle over or clippings to decode. Still, Paul was glad he’d come. The Puma hadn’t been forgotten. On his way back to his truck, Paul checked the mailbox in the driveway, just in case delivery to the address hadn’t been canceled.
There were two envelopes inside, a big FedEx one curled around a standard-sized one. He opened the smaller one first. It was another “final” notice for Harry from the parole department, this one forwarded from his Jirsa address, up near the Oregon border. Establishing a forwarding address with the post office was a very strange move for a wanted man, Paul thought. He’d never been to Jirsa, but he was starting to feel like a road trip was in order.
The FedEx envelope was addressed to Terry and postmarked Los Angeles. Paul opened it and started reading.
Dear Mr. Jakes,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a contestant on the upcoming Survivor: Tokelau. We have been unable to reach you at the phone number you provided. Please call us at your earliest opportunity to discuss . . .
Paul laughed and then started crying a little. He stuffed the letters into his jacket pocket and walked back to his truck. He had a killer to find.
NOTES:
Lisa,
While you’ve been occupying yourself with petty killings and misdirections, I’ve been laying out a precisely calibrated—yet surprisingly sturdy—solution just underneath the surface. Unfortunately, I’ve been prohibited from executing it to completion. I can’t say I’m optimistic about your chances of doing so, now that I’ve removed all the obvious possibilities. Good luck writing your way out of this one.
I can’t say it’s a peace offering, but I do have a parting gift for you, too. The perfect title occurred to me back when I lost the coin toss: Heads You Lose.
Dave
Dave,
Heads You Lose sounds