Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [97]
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Lacey said.
“Excuse me?”
“I think Doc Holland killed my parents.”
Lacey sunk down in the leather chair and felt a sharp pain in her gut. She was out of theories other than the one that placed Doc Holland behind everything. And if Doc Holland couldn’t be found, then how would the murders ever be solved? She explained to Ed everything she knew about the WINO killings. She couldn’t tell if Ed believed her or not; all she could see was another layer of exhaustion settling over his features. For the first time since all this murdering began, Lacey started to believe that justice would never be served.
Lacey got to her feet and was heading out the door when she heard Deputy Doug mumbling to himself. She closed the door for privacy and whispered.
“Sheriff, what about Doug?”
“What about him?”
“Does he have an alibi for the nights in question?”
“Lacey, Doug’s not your killer.”
“Does he have an alibi?” Lacey insisted.
The sheriff consulted the back of his brain and said, “Sweetheart, you’re pulling at straws here. Doug was working. I bet we even got him on video surveillance.”
“Then why is he acting so suspiciously?” Lacey asked.
“Because, and let’s keep this between you and me, he’s off his meds.”
“Meds?” Lacey asked.
“Doug has some issues.”
“Sheriff, do you think it’s wise to hire an unstable man to carry a gun and act as town deputy?”
“I don’t see anyone else applying for the job, do you?” the sheriff asked.
“What am I supposed to do now?” Lacey asked.
“Take your money and run?” Ed suggested.
Lacey was starting to think that was a good idea. She rushed out of the station, hoping to avoid engaging Doug in any conversation, but that was a fool’s dream.
“Where’s the fire?” Doug said.
“I have to get to the store before it closes.”
“The store? Likely story.”
“We’re out of milk.”
“What do you need milk for?” Doug asked.
“Um, coffee?” Lacey replied, backing toward the door.
“Save your lies for the amateurs,” Doug said.
“Excuse me?” Lacey replied.
“You drink your coffee black.”
“And cereal.”
“Ever try orange juice? Works just fine in a pinch.”
“Okay. See you later, Doug,” Lacey said, practically racing out of the office.
When Lacey returned home, she started packing. If she couldn’t find the murderer, she’d have to leave town soon. At least before Big Marv learned that his land was made of plain old dirt.
Later that evening, she heard the front door unlock and the sound of feet scuffling and unbridled laughter traveling through the house. Paul and Brandy entered with an open bottle of champagne.
Paul shouted Lacey’s name. Then Brandy echoed him. Lacey sheepishly entered the living room.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Brandy chugged straight from the bottle, then passed it to Paul, who took another healthy gulp.
“We’re celebrating,” Paul said, offering the bottle to his sister.
“What are we celebrating?” Lacey asked.
“Show some manners,” Brandy said to Paul as she scavenged the kitchen for a proper glass. There were no champagne flutes to be found, so she grabbed a coffee mug and drained the bottle into it.
Brandy passed the mug to Lacey.
“We’re engaged,” Paul said.
“Engaged?” Lacey asked, as if she didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
“Yeah, we’re gonna get hitched,” Brandy replied.
“Show her the ring,” Paul said.
Brandy flashed something that could only have come out of a gumball machine, made from plastic and an unidentifiable metal that would eventually turn her finger green.
“Nice ring,” Lacey said.
“We have to go to Redding for the real thing,” Paul replied, waiting for his sister to say something nice.
Lacey could feel all eyes on her, so she said the only thing she could.
“Congratulations.”
Lacey then