Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [70]
“So what’d you do?”
“Excused myself to the restroom. But I hung a right through the kitchen, came out the other side, and hid where I could hear them. Jay told Marv he was fucking everything up again, just like with Hart.
“I went back around through the kitchen and came back from the bathroom. By the time I got to the table—literally a minute later—they were gone.”
“What about this . . . Louie Reed creep?” asked Sook.
“Also gone.”
“Great. One more suspect for Lacey’s list.”
“Let’s keep him to ourselves,” said Paul.
“Agreed,” Sook said, and drained his glass. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bed. I’m on the second-to-last chapter of Mascara Mayhem. It looks like Detective Nikki Maxwell may have finally met her match.”
Lacey woke up to an empty house, running late for her shift at the Tarpit. On her way to her car, she stopped, went back into the house, and took a quick look around. No gun. She called Paul’s cell phone, got his voicemail, and didn’t know what to say. She hung up.
“Ever hear of Mal and Mel Sundstrom?” Paul said to his new bodyguard as they eased off the highway onto the West Easternville exit.
“Doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m guessing they live in Easternville,” said Sook.
“You’re a natural,” said Paul.
“Been hanging out with your sister.”
Paul found the house number, pulled over, shut off the ignition, and turned to Sook. “Leave the gun, Hardcastle,” he said.33
“Who?”
“Just leave the gun.”
Sook slipped it into the glove compartment and they exited the vehicle.
On the front wall of the house were hand-carved wooden letters spelling out “The Sundstroms.” “Looks like this is the place,” Sook observed.
“Again, nicely deduced,” said Paul.
A tall blond woman in her late twenties answered the doorbell, two kids hanging onto her legs.
“Hi, I’m Paul Hansen, and this is my friend Sook.”
“I’m Ilsa,” the woman said cautiously through the black wrought-iron screen door.
“We’re looking for some of my parents’ old friends, Mal and Mel Sundstrom. Are they home?”
The woman looked defensive. “What’s this about?”
“My parents shared a cabin with your . . . with the Sundstroms.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“Wait,” said Paul. “My parents are dead. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to them.”
Ilsa shot him a hurt look. “Hang on,” she said. She closed the door and parked the kids somewhere in the house.
When she opened the door again, her tone had turned frosty. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I can’t help you. My parents had their problems, but they didn’t kill anyone.” She started to close the door.
Sook perked up. “Had their problems?” he asked.
“Halloween 1999,” she said. “They drove off a cliff. Freak accident.”
“Jesus,” said Paul. “So that means—”
“That we’re both orphans,” said Ilsa matter-of-factly. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Listen. I just found out that the night my parents died at the cabin, your parents were supposed to be there instead. And the car crash was only, what, two months later.”
“What are you saying?” Ilsa stammered.
“I mean, are you sure your parents’ death was an accident?” said Paul. Ilsa’s face went stiff.
Sook chimed in again. “What if someone was trying to kill your folks, but killed Paul’s by mistake?”
“This conversation is over,” Ilsa said, her voice trembling as she closed the door.
Paul and Sook were silent on the drive back to Mercer. Paul had forgotten all about getting Sook’s take on Lacey’s recent behavior, his initial motivation for bringing him along. While he still wasn’t quite ready to clear her as a suspect in the plant sabotage, now she was just his sister again. Paul was starting to feel that maybe everything that had happened since they found Hart was connected somehow—maybe Rafael was right. Maybe Lacey was right. In any event, their parents might have been accidentally murdered. And the murderer could still be out there, wondering if