Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [43]
“No. I was turtling hard back then.”
“I thought we talked about that.”
“Sorry. I was keeping to myself, mostly. It was around the time Loretta got diagnosed with cancer. I wasn’t paying attention to much else.”
“Sorry, Sook. I forgot it was around then.”
An awkward silence started to take shape, but Lacey put it out of its misery.
“So, if Tate’s a dead end, where should I look next?”
“Maybe nowhere. You ever think about giving this thing a rest? Why don’t we play a game of gin rummy,” Sook suggested.
“I regret spilling my drink on Big Marv,” Lacey said, ignoring Sook’s suggestion. “It would be nice to have a friendly conversation with him. I guess there’s no turning back. Maybe I can break into his office in the middle of the night.”
“Lacey, you’re talking crazy. It’s one thing messing with no-pants Tate. But Big Marv is all bite. That man don’t even bother barking.”
While Lacey was lost in thoughts of breaking and entering, Sook walked over to his bureau, withdrew a shoebox, reached under a mass of old photos, and pulled out a handgun. He passed it to Lacey, holding it by the barrel.
“You know how to use this, right?”
Lacey’s uncle Duke had taught her to shoot during a visit right after their parents died. But when Paul started growing pot, he established a no-guns policy. It was the one part of Terry’s advice he’d ignored as he set up the business. There’d been enough death in his life already. Lacey hadn’t held a revolver in her hand since she was seventeen. But she most definitely knew how to use it.
“I remember,” Lacey replied.
“For emergencies only,” Sook said, returning the shoebox to the drawer.
While Lacey cradled the gun and imagined herself in a movie-style shootout, Sook rummaged through the other drawers of the bureau, tossing socks and faded T-shirts onto the floor.
“What are you looking for?” Lacey asked.
“My teeth,” Sook replied.
“Excuse me?”
“This might surprise you, but these alabaster marvels are dentures. My real teeth I keep in a bag in my dresser. Only they’re missing.”22
“Why would you keep your old teeth?” Lacey asked.
“I don’t know,” Sook replied. “Maybe I was hoping for a windfall from the tooth fairy.”
On the road back from Mapleshade, Lacey’s mind cycled through the grab bag of useless information she’d acquired. Tate had only one pair of pants. Sook saved his old teeth and lost them. And, of course, there was that one juggernaut of a clue—Merganser, Inc.—courtesy of Hart’s mom.
It occurred to Lacey that this crime was keeping her tethered to Mercer. She’d have to step up her investigation if she was ever going to get out. Without any other ideas up her bandaged sleeve, Lacey decided to pay another visit to the new doc, angling for more information.
“Lacey,” Doc Egan said. “How nice to see you.”
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
Lacey strode directly into the office and parked herself on the examination table.
“Are you feeling all right?” Doc Egan asked.
“I’m fine. I’d like my stitches out now.”
“It’s too soon.”
“It looks like my skin is sticking together just fine.”
Lacey ripped off the bandage to show the doc his handiwork.
Doc Egan swabbed the stitches with alcohol and said, “Eight days. That’s the rule. You have six more to go.”
“Okay. Whatever,” Lacey replied, quickly giving up.
There was another reason for her visit. Unfortunately, she was too worn out to orchestrate a subtle transition to the point of it.
“I accidentally got a piece of Doc Holland’s mail.”
“How did that happen?” Doc Egan asked.
It was a fair question, since they lived miles apart. Lacey had to think hard and fast for an answer.
“Hansen. Holland. I think we’re the only H’s in town,” she said, surprised by her skillful prevarication.
“I see,” Egan replied.
“So, maybe you could give me his forwarding address and I’ll pass it along.”
“Or you could leave the letter with me and I’ll forward it to him.”
“I’d feel more comfortable taking care of this matter myself,” Lacey said.
Egan found Lacey’s persistence equal parts bizarre and amusing.
“Maybe we can come to