Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“So, not Alice?” I asked Al as we stood on the cracked asphalt outside of Lypsnk.
The neon-pink-and-blue lights from the mural of vibrantly colored lips lit up behind him.
The bass from the karaoke inside was so loud that I felt it in my teeth, but it couldn’t drown out the sound of Liz Cullen sobbing in the back of Al’s truck.
“You bet Alice,” Al snorted, tipping his oversized hat back until it nearly fell off his head. “Just not for killin’. Those vintage teacups were the ones lifted from the Tough Nickel. She admitted it right out. Said she’s got a problem. A klepto through and through.”
I didn’t tell Al how I already knew about her secret “sessions” in the woods. Tex had mentioned he was treating her for them.
“And she did set that fire,” Al continued, waving his hands around in the air like some sort of backwoods wizard. “Said she was terrified her DNA was all over those massage tables where Tex did all the voodoo on her. She thought if she burned the camp, she’d burn away any connection to the crime.”
“It’s not voodoo, Al. It’s wellness,” I corrected, though I knew it was like talking to a brick wall.
“You call it what you want, but it was a sloppy arson, and that necklace Tucker found in the smolder was the smoking gun.” Al sucked in a deep breath and looked down his nose at me. “I suppose you were right for once, yellin’ about it being her jewelry.”
“So what’s next for her?” I asked, looking toward the dark silhouette of the Daniel Boone National Forest.
“She’s lookin’ at shoplifting and arson,” he said matter-of-factly, hoisting his pants up by the waist. “Now, I’ve gotta get out of here and call the governor. He’s been wearing Agnes out on the dispatch line the past few days, and I expect he’ll be more than happy to finally take Tara home.”
I watched him walk away, keeping the secret of the governor’s affair with Liz to myself. Like any good Southerner, I knew some things were better left swept under the rug.