Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [60]
“An architectural consultant is coming in next week to investigate.”
“Next week?”
“That’s as soon as we could get him. Anything else I can help you with?”
“I didn’t do it,” Lacey said.
“Do what?” Sheriff Ed asked.
“I didn’t kill Hart and I didn’t kill Terry, in case you were wondering.”
“Lacey, I don’t suspect you.”
“Well you should,” Lacey said.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Objectively, I benefit from both of their deaths. There’s that life insurance policy from Hart, which I didn’t know about, but still. And then Terry bequeathed that land back to us. Plus, I was the only witness to the collapse. So, I could see how I would be a suspect, but I’d really like to save you the trouble of investigating me. Because, seriously, Ed, I didn’t do it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Ed replied.
“How do you know?” Lacey replied.
Sheriff Ed sighed and sank back in his chair. “Because, Lacey, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You never had a violent streak or even much of a temper against anyone besides that brother of yours. Also, in my experience, women don’t usually chop off heads.”
“That’s very sexist of you, Ed.”
“I knew you were going to say something like that.”
“Since you’ve ruled me out as a suspect,” Lacey said, “I’d look at Big Marv if I were you. He wanted Terry’s land, and Deena is a notoriously bad negotiator. I’m sure he thought Terry was going to leave everything to her.”
The sheriff’s intercom buzzed. Deputy Doug’s voiced boomed into the office.
“The missis is here.”
“Send her in,” Sheriff Ed replied.
Lacey got to her feet. “I’ll be in touch,” she said.
“Remember, Lacey. We all have our jobs to do. While I appreciate your assistance, I’ve got this investigation under control.”
“Have a nice day, Sheriff.”
Lacey passed Ed’s wife, Lila, in the hall. They had the kind of acquaintance that required only a smile and the nod of a head. Lila left a scent in the air that Lacey found strangely familiar—some specific floral fragrance she couldn’t name. As Lacey passed the front desk, Doug got to his feet again. Lacey didn’t even look at him this time as she aimed for the door.
“So . . . uh, Lacey,” Doug said, “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
Lacey turned around and looked at Doug. “It’s a small town. We can’t escape each other.”
Lacey didn’t notice the look of hope vanish from Doug’s face. She was about to turn around again, but that scent stuck in her nose.
“Do you smell that?” Lacey asked.
“Smell what?” Doug replied, fighting the urge to check his armpits.
“Her perfume. What is it?”
“Oh that,” Doug said. “It’s lilacs. She always wears it. I guess ’cause her name is Lila. Although, it’s not exactly the same . . .”
Lacey was out the door before Doug could finish his sentence.
Knowing that the sheriff and his deputy were safely ensconced in headquarters, Lacey broke several traffic laws on her way to Betty’s place. If anyone was clued in to the Mercer gossip mill, it was Betty. Lacey double-parked in her friend’s driveway, ran up the steps, and rapped her knuckles on the door until they stung.
“Good Lord, Lacey. Do you have to pee?” Betty asked, when she finally answered the door.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought a woodpecker was trying to break in.”
“Who smells like lilacs?” Lacey asked.
“Would you like to come inside?” Betty asked.
“No. I just want to know who smells like lilacs all the time.”
“Lila Wickfield.”
“Did you know?”
“I heard rumors.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because there were so many rumors about Hart, I didn’t know where they began or ended and whether it was true or false.”
“You think the sheriff heard these rumors?”
“Maybe,” Betty replied.
“Interesting,” Lacey said, letting these facts unscramble in her head.
“You don’t honestly think that Ed had anything to do with Hart’s murder.”
“I don’t know,” Lacey replied, “but he just moved a few notches up my list.”
Lacey returned home and tried to sleep off her investigative hangover. The phone woke her just as she was nodding off.
“Lacey?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Matthew.”
“Who?”
“Matthew Egan.”
“Not ringing