Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [78]
The sound of another car in the driveway drained all the confidence out of Doug. Paul stayed in the kitchen as Doug went to the front door.
Paul overheard Sheriff Ed: “Jesus H., Deputy, what are you doing in here?”
“I was protecting the—” Doug said.
“We got a fresh murder here. Did you even secure the perimeter? No signs of AVD out front. Suspect could have come in on foot, still be nearby.”
“AVD?” Paul interjected.
“Abrupt vehicular departure,” Doug recited grimly.
Ed sent Doug out to case the woods. Then Ed reexamined the body and requestioned Paul, who repeated what he’d told Doug. After that, Paul was free to go.
Paul had left his phone on the seat of his truck. There was one new message: “Paul. Marv Babalato. I’m sorry about the confusion the other day. My brother and I have had a chance to talk things over and get our ducks in a row. We are prepared to make you a very generous offer, as well as an explanation of our interest in your property. Maximum transparency, no B.S. Give me a call.”
Whatever had the Babalatos so hot to buy the property could wait. For now, he just wanted to get out of there. Then he remembered the newspaper page in his sweatshirt pocket. He uncrumpled it and read through the listings. One in particular caught his eye: an attractive thirty-three-year-old woman named Laura Loomis. No cause of death was mentioned, but the last line got Paul’s full attention: She is survived by her loving husband, Dr. Matthew Egan of San Francisco.
Paul tried not to pull an AVD as he took off for the Tarpit to have a talk with his sister about her would-be boyfriend, who, if Paul remembered correctly, had told Lacey he was divorced, not grieving. At the coffeehouse he found Sook playing checkers with a ten-year-old kid. “Paul, help me. I’m dying of boredom here. No offense, kid.”
“King me,” his opponent said. Sook did.
“Where’s Lacey?” Paul asked.
“Lunch break,” said Sook. “I wasn’t invited. What’s up?”
“Be right back,” said Paul.
Paul went out to the sidewalk and called Lacey on his cell.
“Lace, it’s me. What do you know about Doc Egan’s wife?”
“Um, I think you have the wrong number.”
“What? Lacey, it’s Paul, your brother.”
“Nope. No Mrs. Golaberry here. Okay, good luck,” Lacey said, and hung up.
There was only one reason she’d respond that way. Paul ran to his truck and sped the half-mile to Doc Egan’s home office, just enough time to review the doctor’s recent bio: a. Lies about young wife’s death of unknown causes. b. Takes over the business of another doctor, who was being blackmailed and has now disappeared. c. Arrives in peaceful mountain town just in time for string of homicides.
Lacey’s car was parked outside Egan’s office. Don’t bust in, Paul told himself as he pulled up. Egan probably wasn’t dangerous unless he knew someone was onto him.
The reception area was empty, so Paul knocked on the door to the examination room.
“Doc Egan? Paul Hansen here. I’m looking for my sister.”
After a long moment, the door opened. Egan came into the waiting room, giving Paul a chipper look and a warm handshake. “Paul, good to see you. We’re just finishing up here. What brings you to these parts?”
“It’s Terry’s cousin Harry Lakes. He’s dead,” Paul said with a tremor in his voice. “I found him at Terry’s.”
“Good God!” Egan exclaimed.
“Are they sure he’s dead?” Lacey asked as she entered the waiting room.
“Bullet in the forehead,” said Paul. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Lace. I’m just a little shaken up. Sook told me you were here. I just needed to talk.”
After an awkward departure from the office, Paul and Lacey got into