Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [24]
Lacey slipped off the table, took the bloody sweatshirt from the edge of the table, and tossed it in the trash. Contemplating the bandage on her arm, Lacey tried to figure out how she could hide the accident from Paul. She was not in the mood for his questions.
“Doc, I’m cold. Do you have a shirt I can borrow? One with sleeves?”
Lacey waited on the front porch while Doc Egan locked up. He handed her a baseball jersey, which she pulled on over her T-shirt. It just covered the last strip of tape on her forearm.
The drive to the Hansen home was silent, minus Lacey’s terse directions.
“Here,” she said, as they approached the home. One light as usual was on in the living room, punctuated by the flicker of a television set.
“Looks cozy,” the new doc said.
“Hmm,” Lacey replied.
“You should take the painkillers I gave you before bed. It’s going to smart in a few hours.”
Lacey opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Doc.”
As Lacey strolled up the steps to the house, Doc Egan shouted, “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Don’t forget to pick up your car.”
“Right.”
Inside, Paul stared with rapt attention at the TV screen. It was an act. They both knew it. Under normal circumstances, Paul would have asked Lacey where she had been. But neither said anything, because one was tired of delivering lies and the other was tired of hearing them.
“Night, Paul,” was all she said.
As predicted, Lacey woke up in the middle of the night with her arm burning. She grabbed two Vicodin from her dresser drawer and walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. As she gulped the water, she heard a car pull up in front of their house and stop. She looked at the clock: 3:12 a.m. Adrenaline pumping, she tiptoed over to the window. Just before she parted the curtains, the car screeched away.
Lacey opened the front door and turned on the porch light. She walked a few paces toward the curb. That’s when she saw it. Lacey raced inside the house and shook her brother awake.
“He’s back,” she said.
Paul stood over the even riper corpse.
“Who is doing this to us?” she asked.
“I think we can rule out Darryl, since he’d probably think to remove his family heirloom. Is it still there?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s keep him out of it.”
Both siblings held their breath as Lacey aimed the flashlight and Paul bent down to remove the wristwatch. Something familiar caught Lacey’s eye. While Paul gazed into the distance, devising another plan, Lacey knelt down and lifted up the sleeve on the corpse. Just a few inches above the wrist, she found an amateur tattoo of a four-leaf clover.
Lacey got to her feet, took a deep breath, then choked on the stench and turned away. She silently handed Paul the flashlight and strode back into the house. Five minutes later, she returned carrying two of Paul’s marijuana plants from the basement. She put them in the back of his truck.
“Lacey, what are you doing?”
Lacey ignored her brother and reentered the house, exiting once again with two more plants. Paul followed her as she put them in his truck bed.
“Lacey. Talk to me,” Paul said, as if his sister had turned into a zombie. She didn’t look right.
“I just called the cops,” Lacey said in a monotone. “Leave now while you can. I’ll tell the sheriff you’re staying with Terry at the lookout tonight. Go,” she said, tossing him the keys to the truck.
“Lacey, what’s gotten into you?”
“The dead body is Hart Drexel. I’m not moving him again.”
NOTES:
Dave,
Back to you. Seven chapters in and we finally know who our dead body is. I’m sure I’m stating the obvious, but now would be a great time to start figuring out who killed him and why.
I really wanted to bring the Babalato brothers into the mix, but all I could think about was family counseling and meds and that didn’t fit in with moving the plot forward.
Lisa
Lisa,
I wasn’t expecting the leisurely detour into romantic comedy territory, but I enjoyed it. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for Lacey and the hunky doctor. Maybe a quirky gay neighbor?
With regard to suspects and plot advancement, I’m not saying