Bouquet of Lies Part 17

"That's her real name?"

"That's what she goes by. Could be a play on words."

"Ya think?"

It was a lousy neighborhood and Lacey really didn't think it wise to leave her Spyder unattended. From the driver's seat, she stared at the Hotel Pamela across the street, the fleabag in the photo. Built in the thirties, it had no obvious upgrades. If Texas Chainsaw hadn't lived on a farm, he might have liked this place. Tiffany was either inside or roaming somewhere doing her thing.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." Lacey drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

People pa.s.sed by and she wasn't keen on how they ogled the car. She'd been there for two hours. It was time to go. She would have to come back using some other mode of transportation. Also, she wanted to be home when Edward returned from his four o'clock with the maggot.

Lacey stretched out on the library couch, the one that wasn't spotted with blood, and placed the photos she got from Stark face down on her stomach. She had stared at them long enough. The verdict was in and no amount of staring at photos was going to talk her out of it.

If only Stark had told her more. He knew more, she was convinced of it. One-hundred thousand sure didn't go far these days. Inflation was a b.i.t.c.h.

She sighed and turned her head to stare at the dark red stain on the rug. "Well, Daddy. Did you see your killer? Was Mom really here?" Her eyes followed the footprints that went every which way. Too bad Darla's psychic was a phony. It would be nice to get some answers. Where were the cops when you needed them?

She suddenly felt lonely and in need of a friend. Courtney was always good for commiseration and a laugh. She called her on the cell and gave a quickie update of the day.

"It's morbid to hang out in that room. Tell me again, why haven't you called in the cleaners?"

"I don't know. I keep thinking if I stare at it hard enough I'll see something."

"That the police missed? With all their CSI gadgetry?"

"On TV they care. In real life, not so much. There're lots of murders to solve and I haven't heard anything."

"Not even from Dan-the-Man?"

"Not a peep."

"Because he's all about the ethics?"

"I don't know what he's about. He confuses me. I try not to think about him. I'm protecting my heart."

"Uh-oh. Serious heart stuff. Sounds like a job for Mighty Friend." Courtney liked old cartoons. "Dan-the-Man and I should talk."

"Here she comes to save the day!"

"I mean it. Give me his number."

Lacey chuckled. "And what are you going to say?"

"I don't know. Something like, 'You break'a her heart, I break'a your neck.' How does that sound?"

"Like a plan. A bad plan, but a plan. And my heart is fine. I really like him, more than I've liked anybody in a long time. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I know nothing about him. Except he's too principled for his own good. Or maybe my own good."

"There's something to be said about immorality."

"Depravity. Wantonness. Tearing one's clothes off and having at it." She saw Dan in her mind's eye, so staid and rock solid and s.e.xy and moral. She could make fun, but she liked that moral streak in him.

"Yeah," said Courtney. "The more I think about it, the more I think you're better off without him. You're too different."

Courtney's tone was light, but the words sort of stung. If Dan was all about ethics and they were too different, what did that say about her? That she was like Maggot? The thought sent a s.h.i.+ver through her soul. Give me an exorcism. Quick! It was time to stop discussing the ravis.h.i.+ng Officer O'Donnell.

"So I'm staring at b.l.o.o.d.y footprints and waiting for Edward," Lacey said.

"And changing the subject."

"And changing the subject. I've stared at the photos Maggot gave me until I'm blue in the face."

"Nice color. You should take the stage in Vegas."

"It's Mom."

"Lacey, I know you and Darla come from the same gene pool, but don't go off the deep end on me."

"I'm convinced."

"Why would your father and grandfather say she was dead if she isn't?"

"I don't know. But I bet Maggot does. If I could screw up my immorality and make a payment plan, he'd tell me. But there's something to be said for principles."

"Even if he weren't disgusting?"

"Even then."

"Maybe you and Dan-the-Man are alike."

Lacey smiled. Then she frowned. "You should see the neighborhood where she lives. It's to die in. Literally."

"I'll pa.s.s."

"So you won't give me a ride, even if I change my tune and tell you it's like Bel Air?"

"Lie to me? Where are your ethics? I think it's time to call in the cops."

"Nope. Not yet. I need to check it out. What if it's not her? You think they'd clue me in? And if it is, she could run and I'd never get to interrogate."

"Valid points."

"Extremely valid . . ." Lacey heard her sister coming down the stairs, singing. She laughed.

"What?" Courtney asked.

"Darla. She's in love. It's adorable."

"Love? This is the first I've heard. Who's the lucky fella?"

"Randy."

"Randy? Your Randy?"

"He's not mine. I gave him up for better or worse. Remember?"

"You took a vow?"

"Yes. And I wore black. Walked down the aisle. The whole bit."

"And didn't invite me?"

"Sorry. It was sort of spontaneous. Didn't invite anybody."

Darla appeared in the doorway with the cautious look of a toddler wary of strangers. In a thin, frightened voice she called, "h.e.l.lo? Mom?"

"Oh, jeez. Courtney, I'll talk to you later." Lacey sat up and put the phone away. "No, Darla. It's me."

Darla stepped inside, but just barely. "What are you doing in here?"

"I was talking to Courtney. Come sit." She moved the photos to the floor and slid them under the couch.

"Uh." Darla took a couple of steps and stalled.

"There are . . ." No ghosts in here, Lacey almost said, but thought better of it. "Heard you singing."

"So?"

"So it was nice."

Darla moved around the couch and sat next to her sister. "I hate this room. It's scary. Now it's scarier and I hate it more."

"I know. But you're in high spirits today. The das.h.i.+ng Randy?"

"Don't make fun."

"Darla, I always make fun."

"Well, don't. Not about him. He's wonderful. And he's taking me out again tonight."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Really?"

"I've always wanted you to get out of the house. You know that. I happen to think Jake is better for you-"

"What?"

"What, what? He likes you. Always has."

"He likes you."

"As a friend. You were always the special one."

Darla sat speechless. Then she said, "I think Randy loves me. I love him."

"Wow . . . wow." Lacey felt like she'd been slugged. This Randy-Darla thing was moving like a bullet train. Her motherly instincts surfaced and she wanted to tell her sister to slow down. She was only seventeen-a sheltered seventeen who read too many romance novels and put herself in the place of the heroine instead of living her own life. But she couldn't say that, could she? Because now that Darla was seeing Randy, she was living her own life. It was a Catch-22.

She looked at her sister, green-eyed and innocent. If only she could put the brakes on for her. Randy was so commitment-minded, so possessive. Darla needed to experience more of life, more boyfriends than just one before she got serious. She saw the intent look on Darla's face and knew she couldn't tell her that. Not with the way Darla had been acting toward her lately. Defensive and distrustful. Almost like they were enemies. She choked back all words of advice.

"Okay. Love. Got it." She squeezed her sister's hand and smiled and Darla halfway smiled back. Light from the window caught the chain around Darla's neck. The locket was under her s.h.i.+rt. In one swift grab, Lacey lifted it from concealment.

Darla quickly put her hand on Lacey's hand. "What are you doing?"

"I need to see Mom's picture."

"How-" Darla stared, dumbfounded.

"Yes, I know about your locket. I used to have one just like it."

Darla let go and her mouth dropped. "You did?"

"Lost it. I thought maybe this was mine when I saw it in your room way back when, but ah . . ." Lacey opened it and stared at the photograph of their mother. Mentally, she compared it to the woman in Maggot's photos.

"But what?"

"Have you ever taken out the picture?"

Darla shook her head.

Lacey removed it and showed Darla the initials D.B. were engraved in the gold. "Mine had my initials."

Darla looked confused. Then she looked mad. "All this time you knew!"

Lacey shook her head. "I always thought Grandmama Harriet gave them to us."

"No! Mom did."

"Mom the ghost? Or Mom the person?" Lacey stared at the photo. "What is it you believe now?"

Darla s.n.a.t.c.hed the locket and the picture and stood. "What do you care?"

"Stop acting like you hate me. I care. I care a lot. And I happen to think that you were right. Mom's alive."

Darla c.o.c.ked her head. "She is?"

"I need to confirm it." And not with a psychic. "But I'm fairly certain."

Darla's expression softened. "You believe me now? That I saw Mom in this room? That she killed Dad."