Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [87]
I’m sorry about the coin toss, but it was fair—I even let you call it.
In the interest of productivity, I should remind you that it’s time to start sewing up loose ends. I’ll try to steer things in the right direction for you, but if you decide to take the wheel and run us off the cliff, well, there’s nothing I can do about that.
That said, I hope you don’t. I used to think that writing half a book would be easier than a whole one. I was dead wrong. Then again, if any of my top four had said yes, who knows?
Lisa
CHAPTER 27
That night, both Paul and Lacey dreamed about the land deal. In Paul’s dream, he was paid with Monopoly money; in Lacey’s, Big Marv kept passing her the check and then pulling it away at the last minute. Over coffee, neither sibling mentioned their dream. Trust had waned to the point that sharing even their subconscious seemed like a risky undertaking. When they were kids, they had the world in common. After their parents’ death, they drifted in different directions. And now, though they were living together again, they were worlds apart. Lacey wanted justice; Paul wanted to bury his head in the ground, run off with a maimed stripper, and live happily ever after.
“Have you seen Irving?” Paul asked, noticing that the cat’s food remained untouched.
“Not since yesterday,” Lacey replied.
“I’m worried,” Paul replied. “He never misses breakfast.”
“Relax,” said Lacey. “He’s a cat. They go missing all the time. Sometimes they find a new home and never come back. Sometimes they fall out of tall buildings and live. Sometimes they get hit by a car and die.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m not saying that Irving has come to an untimely end, I’m just saying he might.”
Lacey cleared the table and grabbed her car keys. “Have you called Big Marv to see if he’s going to counter Jay’s offer?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, if you have any spare time today, it might be something to consider,” Lacey said, knowing that her brother had only time to spare.
“I’ll get on it. Where are you headed?”
“I have a shift at the Tarpit,” Lacey replied, pulling the directory of suspects from her pocket. “I figure I can scratch a few names off the list while I’m at it.”
“The list just got shorter,” Paul said, taking the crumpled piece of paper from his sister and striking it several times over with a pen. “Wanda hosted a poker night. Six people can vouch for each other. Also, forget about Rafael, for both the Harry Lakes murder and the night the body was dumped for the second time.”
Paul returned the list to Lacey.
“Thank you,” she said. “What’s Rafael’s alibi?”
“Last Wednesday during the Harry Lakes murder he was getting a burrito.”
“Did anyone see him?” Lacey asked.
“I can go one better. He gave me the receipt.”
“Huh,” Lacey replied. “That’s preposterous. Why would anyone hang on to a burrito receipt?”43
“I don’t know,” Paul replied.
Lacey’s suspicion remained intact. “What was he doing the Saturday night of the body dump?”
“You won’t believe it,” Paul replied.
“I’m sure I won’t,” Lacey deadpanned.
“He was, um, having a romantic interlude with a certain older woman.”
“Do we know her?”
“Yes.”
“Spill it.”
“I think he’d like to keep it quiet.”
“Unless I know who it is, we have to consider Raf a suspect.”
“He’s not a suspect, Lace.”
“Then tell me.”
“Marybeth Monroe.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I warned you. Now you’re not gonna go verifying an alibi with Marybeth, are you?”
“Of course not,” Lacey replied. “Who’d make that shit up?” Lacey checked her watch. “I better go.”
“Wait, Lace. Are you planning on seeing Egan today?”
“Maybe. He’s supposed to set up a meeting with Doc Holland.”
“You should know something,” Paul said. “Egan isn’t who he says he is.”
“None of us are,” Lacey replied.
While Lacey was steaming milk and making shots of espresso, Sheriff Ed dropped in for his usual, only this time he ordered two shots of espresso in his regular old cup of coffee.
“You okay, Ed?” Lacey asked.
“Better than ever,” Ed replied, unconvincingly.
“You look tired.”
“If the Mercer crime rate