Free Heads You Lose by Lisa Lutz Page A

from the basement. She put them in the back of his truck.
    “Lacey, what are you doing?”
    Lacey ignored her brother and reentered the house, exiting once again with two more plants. Paul followed her as she put them in his truck bed.
    “Lacey. Talk to me,” Paul said, as if his sister had turned into a zombie. She didn’t look right.
    “I just called the cops,” Lacey said in a monotone. “Leave now while you can. I’ll tell the sheriff you’re staying with Terry at the lookout tonight. Go,” she said, tossing him the keys to the truck.
    “Lacey, what’s gotten into you?”
    “The dead body is Hart Drexel. I’m not moving him again.”

NOTES:
     
    Dave,
    Back to you. Seven chapters in and we finally know who our dead body is. I’m sure I’m stating the obvious, but now would be a great time to start figuring out who killed him and why.
    I really wanted to bring the Babalato brothers into the mix, but all I could think about was family counseling and meds and that didn’t fit in with moving the plot forward.
Lisa
     
    Lisa,
    I wasn’t expecting the leisurely detour into romantic comedy territory, but I enjoyed it. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for Lacey and the hunky doctor. Maybe a quirky gay neighbor?
    With regard to suspects and plot advancement, I’m not saying I have it all perfectly mapped out, but I assure you there’s plenty up my sleeve. Remember how I came up with the haberdasher gambit to get the fop out of Zurich? You never saw it coming, and it saved the whole first half of the script.
Dave
     
    P.S. We didn’t die, did we?

CHAPTER 8
     
    “Have you lost your mind?” Paul said in a furious whisper. “Call the cops first , then decide what to do? Did you ever think to maybe talk it over with me? I know it’s three a.m. and you’re scared. But did it occur to you that maybe we should get our stories straight?”
    Lacey looked woozy and focused at the same time. “Here’s the story ,” she said. “My ex-fiancé is dead in our driveway. The end. This has to stop.”
    “ You have to stop. It’s like you’ve been trying to get us deeper into this mess ever since it started.”
    “I’d love to chat. Fact is, the cops are on their way,” Lacey said wearily. “Do you want to help me load up the rest of the plants or not?”
    She had a point. Paul shook his head and returned to the basement. He put the cops’ ETA at twenty minutes. This time of night, first on the scene would likely be Deputy Doug Lund.
    Thirteen minutes later they’d hauled out all the plants, as well as a few Tupperware containers full of finished product, but there was no way they could dismantle the lights and water lines. Neither of which was illegal, but still. Terry had taught Paul to never relax about attention from the law. Even if the sheriff’s department seemed to turn a blind eye, you never knew when higher authorities would decide to assert their power. Just ask anyone who was allowed to open and operate a dispensary in L.A. just so they could be brutally raided by the Feds after building a thriving business.
    Paul had designed the room so it could be taken down completely on a day’s notice. The best they could do was sweep up, take all the tools and soil amendments, and pile everything into the truck with the plants. He ran to the barn for a tarp, realizing on the way that the only one he’d find was the one they’d wrapped the body in three days ago. That wasn’t so bad. The tarp was one more thing they didn’t want to be here when the cops started poking around. Not something Lacey would have thought of.
    He called her over to the truck and they unfolded the tarp. They both gagged as the smell jumped out from it. They stood on opposite sides of the truck bed and passed the rope back and forth until it was firmly in place. Paul looked at his watch.
    “Okay, it’s three thirty-eight,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lace. But I think it’d be awesome if the person