The Real Mrs. Price by J. D. Mason Page A

restaurant called Belle’s, trying to focus as much of his attention as was humanly possible on his meal. Had he really signed on for this? Lucy hadn’t hired him to help solve a mystery. She’d hired him to referee a catfight. Her sole purpose in coming here was to claw out Marlowe Price’s eyes over some conniving asshole who didn’t deserve either one of them.
    â€œI’ll be leaving in the morning,” he finally said.
    Roman had made arrangements to rent a car in town and drive back to Dallas on his own.
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t.”
    â€œThere’s nothing for me to do here, Lucy. The police are investigating a murder, and even they don’t have anything to go on, not even a body that they can positively identify.” The woman was disappointed, but she was wasting good money on a hopeless cause. “You want me to do what? Find Ed Price? Confirm that that’s his body they found in that car? You can listen for that on the evening news, and as far as me finding him, hell. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
    â€œWith her, Roman,” Lucy argued.
    He shook his head in disgust. “She doesn’t know where he is.”
    â€œHow do you know? You didn’t even ask her.”
    â€œHow could I when you were busy accusing her of stealing your husband?” he said, using air quotes around your husband for emphasis.
    â€œI didn’t mean to do that,” she said, frustrated, tossing her napkin on the table. “Ed certainly doesn’t deserve that kind of consideration.”
    â€œWell, regardless,” he said, wiping his mouth and tossing his napkin on the table, too, “after seeing what happened to her on the news last night, I doubt she’ll be talking to anybody from this point on.”
    â€œThat was insane,” Lucy said reflectively. “I can’t imagine … that whole mob-mentality thing was crazy to watch.”
    He wanted to believe that she really was just that naïve because the truth was ugly.
    â€œDo you think she killed him, Roman?”
    He thought about it before just blurting out an answer. “Too many things just don’t add up to me to point a finger at her,” he explained. “Like, how would she get a man out there by herself? And how’d she get back home if they drove out there in that car and she set it on fire?”
    â€œYou don’t think the police have thought about those things?”
    He shrugged. “I hope they have. It’d be unfortunate for her if they’ve chosen to ignore the obvious just to get a scapegoat, but it happens.”
    â€œSo just as a hypothetical, if that’s not Ed they found in that car, who could it be?”
    He stared back at her. “I have no idea, Lucy. All I know about this case is what you’ve told me and what I’ve read. All of Ed’s secrets disappeared with him.”
    â€œI still think that he could’ve left a few with her.”
    He found her expression and her tone interesting. “Like what?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said, quickly recovering. “I’m just thinking out loud.”
    Was she? From their first meeting, Roman had always believed that Lucy was reluctant to tell him everything that she knew about her husband. It was that old gut instinct that he’d always had and relied upon that made him feel that way.
    â€œWhat are you really looking for, Lucy? And don’t tell me that you want to find out the truth about your husband’s death or whatever. I think it’s more than that.”
    Before she could answer, Roman turned his attention to the door and immediately recognized the man who’d pulled Marlowe from that mob yesterday outside of the police station coming into the restaurant and taking a seat at the bar. The dude was huge, at least six four, two forty, maybe two fifty, dark, and bald. A man like him stood out in a crowd without even