Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [30]
If she were in full disclosure mode, she might have mentioned that Hart always had a thorn in his side when it came to Doc Holland. In fact, whenever Hart needed minor medical attention, he’d visit the osteopath in Emery rather than drive a mile to Holland’s place. If Lacey asked about it, Hart would always change the subject in the special way that only he could.
“Thank you for your time,” said Sheriff Ed.
“You should look for the woman who smells like some kind of flower,” Lacey said.
“I think that’s all for now, Lacey,” Sheriff Ed quickly replied, getting to his feet.
Lacey remained seated.
“Why do you think they took his head?” she asked.
“Too soon to tell,” the sheriff replied. “Let me walk you out.”
Lacey noticed the sheriff’s weary tone and slumped posture as he walked her out of the building. He looked as tired as she felt. She figured he’d been up all night. She wondered what theories he had been hiding from her.
“Will you call me if you hear anything?” Lacey said as she got in her car.
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” Ed replied as he returned to the station.
Paul, deciding he’d better secure his alibi for the night in question, drove twenty miles to Tulac and knocked on Brandy Chester’s front door.
“Paauul,” Brandy squealed when she saw her beau. “Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting? I would have made you a tuna casserole.”
Paul had once made the mistake of complimenting Brandy’s signature dish. Truth was, he found it almost inedible, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Since then, she made the meal whenever she knew he was stopping by. That’s when Paul’s surprise visits commenced. Brandy and Paul embraced in the doorway; then he followed the woman in pink into her pink abode.
Aside from the white carpet, which was stained from years of abuse, Brandy’s home looked like it had been decorated by a deranged ballerina. For the first few weeks they were dating, Paul wore sunglasses inside, but slowly he got used to it. Truth was, he liked Brandy. She had a good heart. A heart of gold, you might say. They’d met at Olmstead’s Hardware when Brandy asked for his help finding the right screw.
Brandy was big-boned, full-lipped, and blond all over. She was the kind of woman who was always bleaching something. Brandy began most of her sentences with “Back when I was dancing . . .” although you could tell from her frame that she was never a Rockette. Three years ago, Brandy’s career was sidelined by a pole-dancing injury, which is far more common than you might expect. The accident left her with a permanent limp. Paul never minded the limp. In fact, he found it rather fetching.13
Brandy prepared a grilled cheese sandwich while Paul explained his need for an alibi. It didn’t require too much explaining. Brandy agreed as if people asked her for an alibi every day.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll tell the cops I made you a tuna casserole and we had a cozy night in watching Mythmatch.”
“Let’s first make sure we know which episode was on that night,” Paul replied.
“You think of everything,” Brandy said, smothering her man with a kiss.
Lacey swung by the Timberline after her interview with Sheriff Ed. Hart used to kill hours at this place. He and Tate were tight. Lacey had never liked the man, but she figured she should give him the news.
She went straight back to the office and knocked twice on the closed door.
“Enter,” said the gravelly voice on the other side.
Lacey caught Tate in his undershorts and T-shirt.
“I would have waited until you put some clothes on,” Lacey said, averting her gaze.
“My clothes are at the laundry-mat.”
“All of ’em?”
“If you must know, Lacey,” Tate impatiently replied, “my woman kicked me out with the shirt on my back. Those clothes got to be washed sometime.”
Lacey noted that Tate’s couch was made up as a bed.
“What about your underwear?” Lacey asked. “Doesn’t that have to be washed?”
“I bought another pair of shorts. Now what can I do for you, Lacey?”
“Hart’s dead.”
“Your Hart?”
“He’s not mine anymore. Or anybody’s.”
“What happened?”
“Murdered.”