Building Blocks of Murder (8 page)

“It’s not the way I feel; it’s a fact. He’s a bottom feeder who deserves what’s coming to him.”

“Jason, you don’t really mean that,” Lacy said softly.

Jason pulled in a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. “No, I don’t really mean that. Still, though, he’s not on my list of favorite people.”

“I bet there are a lot of people who will be crossing him off their Christmas card lists this year,” Lacy said, frowning.

Jason laughed. “Ah, Lacy, don’t let this go to your head, but your innocent mind and Miss Priss attitude are good for me.”

“Miss Priss?” Lace repeated, outraged.

“Forget it. Let’s say goodbye now before the warm fuzzies go away and we start fighting again. Later, Red.”

Before she could reply, he hung up. Almost as soon as she closed her phone, it rang again. This time it was another roofer, telling her he couldn’t do the promised estimate until the stop-work order was removed.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” she assured him. “Stupid Ed McNeil,” she yelled as she tucked the phone back in her pocket, startling the man walking beside her so that he jumped and moved away from her.

Head down in embarrassment now, she started walking, and then her phone rang again. This time she smiled when she heard the tone, knowing it was Tosh.

“Hey,” she said. “Took you long enough to call me back.”

“I was supposed to call you back?” Keegan said.

“Are you using Tosh’s phone?”

“How else was I supposed to get your number? Is it okay that I called?”

“Of course,” she said. “I just thought it was Tosh. How is he?”
Why hasn’t he returned my call?

“Stuffy and boring. He’s ditching me tonight for some church thing.”

“It’s Wednesday night; I think that’s just church,” she said.

“You Protestants and your overconsumption of church. What’s the big deal about going once a week? We Catholics had the system perfected until Martin Luther came along and ruined it.”

“You’re arguing with the wrong protestant,” she told him. “I’m not a card-carrying member of anywhere.”

“You don’t go to Tosh’s church?” he asked, surprised.

“Sure I do. I wouldn’t want to hurt Tosh’s feelings. But I’m sort of on the fringe of things. The real power players are my grandmother’s group of friends. I call them the blue-hair mafia. You don’t want to mess with them.”

“Sounds scary,” Keegan said. “I hope Tosh is safe here.”

“Tosh knows how to handle the geriatric set,” Lacy assured him. “He has special skills.”

Keegan laughed. “You mean he’s a suck-up. I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Don’t give him more reason to be upset with me,” Lacy said, only half joking. Why did it feel like Tosh was now dodging her?
 

“So, are you free tonight?” Keegan pressed.

“Sure, I guess. What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise. I’ll pick you up at six.” With that, he hung up.

“Doesn’t anyone say goodbye anymore?” she asked, causing yet another passerby to look at her in alarm. “I have got to stop talking to myself,”
she muttered, putting her head down once again and heading to her car before remembering she didn’t have one.

It’s been a busy day, and you’re overwhelmed,
she reassured herself.
You’re not actually crazy; senility won’t settle in until much later in life.
With that comforting thought in mind, she began the long walk home.

When Lacy arrived home and saw her grandparents sitting close together on the couch, their heads almost touching as her grandfather’s arm rested on her grandmother’s shoulders, Lacy remembered what Tosh had said. Was it time to move out of her grandmother’s house? The thought of being on her own was nearly as painful as the thought that her grandparents might resent her presence.

They turned to her with welcoming smiles, but she felt paranoid now, as if she were intruding on their alone time. “I’m going out tonight,” she proclaimed, lest they get the idea that she was going to hang out in the living room and badger them.

“All right, dear,” her grandmother, ever the loving encourager, said with a smile. “That sounds nice. Which one are you seeing tonight?”

Lacy winced. Why did she have to make is sound like Lacy had a string of beaux, just waiting for her to choose them? “I’m going out with Tosh’s brother, Keegan. He’s visiting from
Chicago
.”

“How nice,” Lucinda said with a vague smile. Lacy knew that if push came to shove, Tosh would be her grandmother’s choice for her. He was, after all, her pastor. What grandmother didn’t dream of seeing her granddaughter married to a nice, wholesome pastor? Though the “wholesome” image didn’t always fit Tosh. He was a bit of a rogue cleric, in Lacy’s opinion.

“What do we know about this Keegan boy?” her grandfather asked, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studied Lacy.

Lacy smiled. “He’s very nice. He runs his family’s construction company, and he looked at the Stakely building for me today. He thinks we should use solar panels and make part of the roof a garden.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Mr. Middleton admitted begrudgingly.

“You’ll like him,” Lacy assured him.

“I’m sure we will,” Lucinda said. “After all, he’s
Pastor
Underwood’s brother.”

Mr. Middleton smiled at her in the same amused way that Tosh and Jason often smiled at Lacy. “Don’t you know when one kid goes good in a family, the other usually goes bad, Lucy?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Lacy didn’t mention that Tosh was probably the bad one in this scenario. He hadn’t told her exactly what was in his wild past before he sewed his oats, but she guessed it was fairly epic.

“Oh, Tom, I’m sure he’s a nice young man, or Lacy wouldn’t have anything to do with him,” Lucinda assured him, patting his arm.

“That’s so,” Mr. Middleton agreed. “Our Lacy’s sensible.” They turned beaming smiles of approval on Lacy who smiled awkwardly at being caught in the sudden spotlight. What did people do when they weren’t able to bask in their grandparents’ love? Her thoughts turned to Jason and something he had once said to her.
Not all of us have grandparents standing by, waiting to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives.
Was he really all alone in the world?

“Lacy, are you okay, dear?” her grandmother asked.

Lacy snapped back to attention and gave her grandparents an unconvincing smile. “Long day.” She edged farther into the room and sank into the chair across from the couch. “I went to Jason’s trial today. It was a smear campaign. Ed McNeil brought up a lot of garbage from his past.” Her eyes met those of her grandfather as silent communication passed between them. This was the baggage he had been referring to from Jason’s past, the reason he was a survivor.

Her grandmother, who believed all the world’s ills could be solved with sugar, stood and bustled to the kitchen to retrieve a treat for Lacy. Or maybe she simply sensed that Lacy wanted a moment alone with her grandfather.

“Was it as bad as Ed McNeil made it sound?” Lacy asked.

Mr. Middleton sat back with a weary sigh. “It was probably worse. I can’t believe he brought all that up. That man is a devil.”

For the first time, Lacy let herself feel all that she had been holding back. Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I didn’t know. I wish I could go back to being ignorant, to thinking Jason’s life was perfect.”

“No one’s life is perfect, Lacy. Our trials and tribulations shape us into who we are; it’s what shape you turn into that counts, and I think Jason’s turned out pretty well. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lacy said, nodding as she sniffled. “He’s such a hard-working perfectionist. And he’s so…” she trailed off, realizing the direction of her thoughts and how they must sound to her grandfather. “Well, he’s a good guy,” she finished lamely.

“I think so, too,” her grandfather agreed with a benevolent smile. His eyes glazed as he stared blankly at the television, remembering. “It was hard back then, knowing what he was going through and seeing how hard he worked to keep it hidden from his friends. There are some kids you don’t forget for one reason or another. Jason was one of those. I’m glad to see his life is on track.” He snapped back into focus and looked at Lacy. “I’m glad he has you.”

“I’m not sure he does,” Lacy admitted. “Sometimes it seems like we’re on our way to becoming good friends, and sometimes we can’t stop fighting for two minutes.”

Mr. Middleton’s only reply was a sort of knowing smile that made Lacy turn away to avoid blushing.

“Peanut butter cookies,” Lucinda announced by way of greeting as she entered the room. She shoved a small plate in Lacy’s hands and stepped back.

“Thanks, Grandma,” Lacy said. She picked up one of the cookies, only intending to take a polite bite so as not to hurt her grandmother’s feelings, but as her thoughts swirled, she kept picking at the cookies until she had unwittingly eaten the entire plate.
Great,
she thought.
I can practically hear myself getting fatter.
“I think I’ll go for a run before Keegan gets here.” She stood, carrying her plate into the kitchen on her way to her room.

The weather was somewhere between crisp and warm with the spicy scent of falling leaves permeating the air. It was only September, but the leaves seemed to be dropping earlier this year. Or maybe it was just Lacy projecting her gloomy mood on the rest of the world. At least now she wasn’t drenched in sweat every time she went for a jog, however. Spring and fall were the only brief windows of time where running was even slightly tolerable. Then came summer and winter where she was either freezing or melting, adding to her misery as she pounded the pavement.

As she suited up and began to jog, Lacy tried, really tried, to let her mind go and allow the endorphins to take over. Other people found running to be a stress reliever. Why shouldn’t she? But as she took each step, all she could think was how much her lungs burned, how the cookies now sat like lead in her stomach, how she wanted more cookies as soon as she arrived home, how she must look to passersby in her mismatched spandex that did nothing to stop her from jiggling in all the wrong places. And no matter how hard she tried, she could never seem to find a smooth stride. Instead she ran with a herky-jerky motion as if she were an injured soldier trying to flee from a live grenade. One leg always seemed to drag a half step behind the other, forcing her stomach to twist at an unnatural angle as she tried to bring it even again.

By the time she arrived home, she was exhausted, gross, and ready for another shower. She had just finished applying her mascara when Keegan knocked on the front door. She heard the politely muttered words exchanged between him and her grandparents and exited her room with a smile.

“Wow,” Keegan said, standing with a smile of welcome as she entered the room. “You look awesome, Lacy.”

“Thanks,” she said. She waved a cheerful goodbye to her grandparents as she followed Keegan to his car. “Where are you taking me?”

“Wait and see,” Keegan said, his chipper smile firmly in place.

“What is it with the people in your family, Keegan? Is no one ever in a bad mood?”

Keegan laughed, glancing at her in his peripheral vision. “Sure we are. I suppose we’re too entrenched in our sturdy
English
Underwood heritage. You know—keeping a stiff upper lip, and all that.” He glanced at her again. “With red hair and green eyes you’re pretty much Irish, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Lacy said. “I recently found out my mother’s adopted. I don’t know much about my biological grandmother’s family. Maybe she was Irish; she had strawberry blond hair and green eyes, too.”

Keegan smiled. “You’re touchy about having red hair. That’s too bad; you’re a beautiful woman, Lacy.”

Lacy blinked through the front windshield, taken aback by his matter of fact tone. “Uh, thanks,” she said.

The drive was short, so there was no time for awkward silence before they arrived at their destination. “Here?” Lacy asked, staring up uncertainly at her new building. Had Keegan not noticed the dirt, grime, and rodent droppings everywhere? She had a hard time not wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Trust me,” Keegan said. “I’m going to help you make peace with your new living space.”

“That sounds ominous,” Lacy said. She watched as Keegan unloaded an actual picnic basket from the back of his car before she followed him into the building and up the stairs to the roof. “Um, Keegan, I might not have mentioned this before, but heights and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keegan threw over his shoulder, which apparently meant he wasn’t going to worry about it. He held the door of the roof for her, smiling coaxingly when she hesitated. “C’mon, Lacy. You’re with a professional roofer; I won’t let you fall.”

“All right,” Lacy agreed, hesitantly edging away from the door. Keegan spread a blanket on the roof—disconcertingly far from the doorway—and began setting out food containers.

“Did you make all this?” Lacy asked, hunger overcoming her natural reticence at being four stories off the ground.

“I did,” Keegan replied, humming absently as he dug in the basket for utensils and plates.

Lacy sat back, watching. Keegan and Tosh were both happy, settled people, but she felt somehow more at peace with Keegan. Maybe it was because she didn’t have the pending pressure of trying to make a decision about the future of their relationship. Keegan didn’t want anything from her but friendship. Did he? Her anxiety grew as she watched him unload crystal flutes and real silver. What man went to so much trouble for a woman he wasn’t interested in? But he wouldn’t be interested in her if Tosh was interested in her, would he? With a sinking feeling, her thoughts turned to her sister, Riley, always wanting what Lacy had.

Her head tipped to the side, studying Keegan as he worked. He paused in his setup to return her inspection.

“What’s that look for?” he asked. “Are you analyzing me, Lacy?”

“Maybe,” Lacy replied.

“Tell me what you find out. You could save me some time.” At last he sat, unfurling his napkin with a flourish.