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."