Texas! Lucky (29 page)

Devon and Lucky's eyes met as they considered the possibility. "She's got a point," Devon said. "They certainly were peeved at you."

"But they've got ironclad alibis."

"Lies," Sage retorted succinctly. "They've terrorized people into lying for them."

Lucky gnawed his lower lip as he thought it through. "It wouldn't be too smart to confront them. We promised Pat there would be no more trouble. Besides," he said with a grin, "I might not come out alive if I have another fight with Little Alvin."

"So, what are you thinking?" Devon asked.

"Little Alvin is as strong as an ox and meaner than Satan, but he's no mental giant."

"I agree. Jack Ed would have masterminded the fire."

"So let's use Little Alvin's cerebral weakness to our advantage."

"How?" she asked.

Lucky leaned back in his chair and slapped his thighs with satisfaction. "With the thing I do best. A con."

* * *

As they pulled up in front of the rusty mobile home, Devon nervously wet her lips and asked, "How do I look?"

"Plumb mouth-watering." Lucky switched off the Mustang's motor.

She tipped up the lenses of her dark glasses. "With this?" Sage had done an excellent job of painting on a black eye, using her vast array of eye shadows and shading crayons.

"Even with that." He was tempted to lean across the car's console and kiss her. But glancing at the windows of the mobile home, he realized Little Alvin could be watching them.

"You'll have to open your own door." He vaulted over the driver's door and headed for the trailer without giving her a backward glance. He knocked loudly on the front door of the trailer, then bawled over his shoulder at her. "Hurry up, will you?"

She moved into place beside him and muttered out the side of her mouth. "Macho Pig."

The whispered words were barely out of her mouth when the front door was opened with such impetus, the entire building rocked on its concrete-block platform.

"What the hell do you want, Tyler?"

With admirable aplomb, Lucky stood his ground and growled back. "First off, I want to be invited inside."

"What for?"

"I'll tell you when I get inside."

"When bore hogs grow teats. Get the hell off my porch."

Little Alvin tried to slam the door in their faces, but Lucky caught it before it closed.

"We either come in now alone, or come back later with Sheriff Bush. Then the decision won't be left to you."

Alvin regarded Lucky suspiciously, then gave Devon a lecherous leer. "Would the little lady like to come in by herself?"

"The little lady would not," said Lucky, grinding his teeth.

Alvin cursed, then turned inside and indicated with his head that they should follow. Lucky was about to step aside and let Devon go first, when she gave him a slight shove as a reminder that he was supposed to be portraying the role of a heel.

The place was a pigsty. It was furnished cheaply and littered with the debris of numerous meals and a collection of empty liquor bottles and beer cans. The only decorations were centerfolds that had been cut out of the crudest men's magazines and taped to the walls.

One look at those and Lucky felt Devon stiffen beside him. Just to be ornery, he walked over to one and studied it at length, murmuring an "hmm" of approval. He didn't wait for an invitation to sit down, but sprawled on a sofa. Taking Devon's hand, he dragged her down beside him and threw an arrogantly possessive arm around her.

"Whaddaya want?" their host asked.

"A cold beer would be nice. One for me and one for her," Lucky replied, jerking his head down toward Devon.

Scowling, Little Alvin lumbered into the adjacent kitchen and returned several moments later with three beers. After handing them theirs, he sat down across from them in what was apparently "his chair." There was a greasy spot on the headrest and worn spots in the upholstery where his behind fit into the seat and on the cushion where his feet rested when it reclined.

"Well?" he asked belligerently, after taking a sucking swig from his can of beer.

"Pat Bush gave me twenty minutes to make a deal with you."

Little Alvin barked a laugh. "You gotta be crazy, Tyler. I ain't making no deal with you about anything."

"I told you he wouldn't do it," Devon muttered.

"And I told you to keep your mouth shut and let me handle this," Lucky snapped, shooting her a threatening glance. "He may be dumb, but he's not stupid."

"Now just a damn—"

Lucky interrupted. "You want to hear this or not? Because every minute that you sit here shooting off your fat mouth is one minute you come closer to spending time in federal prison."

"For what?"

Devon laughed. Lucky frowned with impatience. "For what?" he repeated scornfully.

"Look, Alvin, cut the crap, all right? They've got enough evidence on you guys to send you to jail … even without a trial."

They saw a chasm open up then in his armor of insolence. His smug grin faltered. "What do you mean? What evidence?"

"Evidence, okay? There's not enough time to detail it all."

"When are you going to tell him about the paper?" Devon whined.

Lucky cursed, acting as if she had distracted him. "Will you put a lid on it and give me time to get this other business over with first?"

At the prearranged signal Devon removed her sunglasses and revealed her black eye. "I don't care about that stupid fire. You said—"

"What about the evidence the sheriff's got?" Little Alvin asked anxiously, cutting into their lovers' spat.

"Let me handle
my
business with the man first, okay? Then we'll get to yours." Lucky turned back to Alvin and lowered his voice. "She looked so damn good in the place, you know? Now…" He flung up his hands in exasperation. "Might have ended up better for everybody if you'd got her that night instead of me. Anyway, where was I?"

"The evidence they've got on me," Alvin squealed.

"Oh yeah, well, they're keeping the files officially closed. All I know is that Pat promised to pick up Jack Ed first, but who knows how long that might take? He could arrive any minute now." For good measure he glanced over his shoulder through the ratty curtains at the window.

"They're picking up Jack Ed?" Sweat popped out on Little Alvin's porcine face.

"As we speak. You know what a weasel that little s.o.b. is. He'd rat on his own mother. Lord only knows what he's gonna tell them about you. Probably that the fire was all your doing."

Little Alvin Cagney made a whimpering sound like a toddler who'd momentarily lost sight of his mother and lunged for the door. Anticipating that, Lucky was right behind him, catching him by the collar and hauling him back.

"We're here to help you, Alvin."

"You think I was born yesterday, Tyler?"

"If you turn state's evidence, you'll get a lighter sentence. Otherwise, you're history."

"Liar." Little Alvin twisted and turned, trying to work himself free. Lucky hung on tenaciously. "Why would you come to warn me, Tyler?"

"I wouldn't. But Pat would. He needs one more piece of evidence to nail Jack Ed. Since he knew we were coming to see you on this other matter, he asked me to offer you a deal. Real decent of him, wasn't it? See, everybody knows that Jack Ed was the brains behind the arson, but they can't prove it."

"Th-that's right," Little Alvin stammered. "Hell, I wasn't even thinking straight that night. You had kicked my nuts up to the back of my throat. But Jack Ed said—"

"Save it," Lucky hissed. "Give all the details to Pat when he gets here, things like where Jack Ed got those flares."

"His sister's garage," he babbled. "Her husband works for the highway department. Jack Ed said they'd think you did it because you carried flares—"

"I said save it. I'm not interested. When they find the flares, they're sure to find the gas cans, too."

"Yeah. We got them out of his brother-in-law's gar—"

"I said save it for Pat." He pushed Little Alvin back into his chair. The football lineman was quivering, a hairy blob of perspiring ectoplasm.

"Now that that's out of the way, will you see to my business?" Devon asked in a petulant tone.

Lucky blew out a breath. "Sure, sure. Get him something to write with."

"Write? Write what?" Alvin's eyes darted warily between Devon and Lucky.

"Did you read in the newspaper about her old man being in prison?"

Dumbly, Alvin nodded.

"Well, he accused her of taking up with me long before the night of the fire. He claims we'd been seeing each other even before he went to the pen. If the prison guards hadn't restrained him…"

Gesturing toward her black eye. Lucky trailed off ominously. "Anyway, could you just jot down a statement that I picked her up in the place? That it was just an accidental meeting."

"Sure, sure. I can do that."

"Good. I don't give a damn what her old man thinks, but she kept nagging me about it. You know how women are." Devon handed Alvin a piece of paper and a pencil. "While you're doing that, I'll call Pat on his mobile phone. I hope we're not too late. I'll tell him you're ready to talk. Right?"

"Right, right," Little Alvin agreed eagerly. "My folks warned me not to trust Jack Ed."

"They were right," Lucky said sagely. "When it comes to brains, you can't even compare you two." He clapped Alvin on the shoulder as though they were old friends. "His brother-in-law's garage, huh? I don't even want to know where he lives."

"Off Route Four. By that big grain silo." Lucky looked at Devon over the top of Alvin's head and smiled.

Chapter 18

T
hey laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces and they kept collapsing against each other. "By the time Pat got there, Little Alvin was blubbering like a baby about the atrocities inflicted on celebrities like him in prison. I always suspected that underneath his meanness he was nothing but a chicken-livered coward. Now I know it's true."

The Tylers were gathered in the living room. Chase, Tanya, Laurie, and Sage were the enthralled audience.

"I actually started feeling sorry for him," Devon said.