Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [88]
“Any new developments?” Lacey asked.
“Still hitting dead ends on the Drexel murder. Sorry, Lace. But I finally got a preliminary report on the plane crash investigation.”
“There was an investigation?” Lacey asked.
Ed responded with a quizzical glance and said, “Of course, Lacey. You think planes just crash and the FAA doesn’t insist on an investigation?”
“I’ve never crashed a plane before, so I wouldn’t know. My brother seems to think a plane can crash and become a distant memory in two weeks.”
Sheriff Ed seemed lost in thought until Lacey handed him his turbocharged coffee. “They got some DNA from the crime scene,” he said. “Testing it right now. But if there’s nothing to compare it to, a lot of good it does us.”
“Think it was just a random crash?”
“That’s not what my gut tells me.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
“That Holland was in the plane,” Sheriff Ed replied. “Unfortunately, we got no DNA to test it against.”
“I hate to argue with your gut, Sheriff, but there’s no way Holland was flying that plane.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I got a letter from him almost a week after the crash.”
“A letter from Doc Holland?”
“The man previously known as Doc Holland.”
“How come you never mentioned this before?”
“Must have slipped my mind.”
“What was in the letter?”
If the letter had mentioned only Hart, she would have told the sheriff the truth, but she couldn’t implicate Sook in a blackmail scheme.
“Oh, nothing important. Just a past-due notice on a bill.”
She wasn’t sure Ed bought that, but he didn’t press her further.
“Bring it by the office tomorrow, Lacey. That’s evidence.”
“Sure thing.”
“Take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
The sheriff was almost out the door when Lacey stopped him. She couldn’t figure out a delicate way to clear him in the Drexel murder, so she just spat it out. “Where were you between two and three a.m. the Sunday before last?”
“Are you hunting for my alibi, Lacey?”
“Just being thorough, Sheriff,” Lacey innocently replied.
Ed sighed. “The wife and I were driving home from our vacation lodge in the Sierras. You can call Lila and verify.”
As soon as Ed was out the door, Lacey called Lila to confirm, which she did after consulting her calendar. Lacey crossed Sheriff Ed and Lila off her list.
During the mid-morning lull, Darryl Cleveland showed up. It seemed like ages since Lacey had spied on him while he watched TV, but it was only two weeks ago. The scar on her arm would always make her think of that sad sight of Darryl sitting alone, watching a repeat of Cudgel. It would also make her think of slicing her arm open.
“What can I get you, Darryl?”
“Decaf double espresso,” Darryl replied.
“Are you sure?” Lacey asked.
“Yes,” Darryl sad.
Lacey couldn’t figure half of the town’s beverage choices. While Lacey firmly believed in freedom of choice, more often than not she wanted to tell them that they were ordering wrong.
“Long time no see,” Lacey said as she prepped Darryl’s drink. “Where you been?”
“Turtling.”
Lacey held her tongue again. She served Darryl his beverage and got to the point.
“So, Darryl, do you remember where you were the Sunday before last between two and three a.m.?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m helping the sheriff with his investigation of Hart Drexel’s murder.”
“Why would I kill Hart?”
“Not interested in motive right now. Can you provide an alibi?”
“My stepmom,” Darryl mumbled.
“She’ll corroborate?” Lacey asked.
“Uh-huh. Do me a favor, Lacey.”
“What?”
“Keep it to yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need the whole town knowing that I spend my Saturday nights watching TV with my stepmom.”
A few hours later, Lacey’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“It’s Brandy.”
“What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“In person. The Timberline. Two o’clock,” Brandy said.
The next thing Lacey heard was a dial tone.
Lacey arrived early. Rafael was drinking a beer and doing a crossword puzzle. Lacey sat a few barstools away from him, hoping to avoid any kind of conversation. Just seeing