A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (57 page)

Doc strolled into the kitchen, his face clean shaven, his boxer briefs and bare chest covered with jeans and a black thermal. I couldn’t decide which I preferred.

He handed me a thick book.

I looked down at it. Make that
the book
, as in the family history book that had gone missing while I was sick.

“Where did you get this?”

“Layne called while I was shaving. He wanted me to check for a library book under his bed. He’d forgotten it’s due today.”

“Why didn’t he call me?”

“He did, but you didn’t answer.”

My phone was still up in my bedroom. I held the book close to my chest. “This was under his bed?”

Doc nodded. “Is that what Zoe was talking about?”

“Yes.” So Layne had it all along. Cripes, how much had he read? Did he have any clue it was our family line?

“We’ll find out after he comes home,” Doc told me, apparently reading my mind. “You should probably put that somewhere safe.”

“Right,” I said and disappeared into the laundry room for a few seconds. When I returned, Harvey looked at me with raised brows, but I shook my head.

“What’s going on, Coop?” With his coffee in hand, Doc took the chair across from the detective. “I thought you were heading out to the shooting range this morning to blow off some steam.”

“I am but I needed to swing by and pick up Natalie. She owes me a trip to the range.”

“Food first, then guns,” she said, joining him at the table. “I should shower, too, or you may feel like shooting me.”

Cooper watched her take a drink from her mug before turning back to Doc. “I also need to talk to Parker about something.”

“Did you look at Rosy’s offer?” I’d dropped it off at the front desk of the cop shop Tuesday afternoon in a manila envelope with his name on it. He’d been busy in a meeting and I was happy not to bother him.

He shook his head. “I’ll get to it later today or tomorrow. She gave me plenty of time.”

A week to be exact, due to the holiday. So, if not Rosy’s offer, then what? “If this is about Katrina King, I plead the Fifth.” I stirred sugar in my coffee, needing to sweeten up if Cooper was staying for breakfast.

“It’s not.”

“You mean Detective Hawke didn’t send you here to threaten to put me in jail for Katrina’s murder?”

“No. Dominick Masterson has written up a statement that clears your name, sharing information that ties Katrina in with some shady dealings in the past, listing several possible suspects who might have wanted to take her out of the picture.”

That gave me pause. “And how are Dominick and you going to explain his exit from the Opera House in September and subsequent absence until now?”

“We’re still working on that mess of yours.”

I subdued the urge to snap back at him by pouring coffee down my throat.

In my silence, Cooper continued, “Something else happened that saved your ass when it comes to Katrina’s death.”

“What’s that?” Doc asked.

“I learned this morning that the war hammer disappeared in transit. It never made it to the lab for further examination.”

I fell into the seat next to Doc. “What? How?”

“That’s what I came to ask you.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” I lowered my coffee cup. “I was with Doc all day yesterday and the night prior.”

“I know that, but Detective Hawke has a different idea.”

“What? He thinks I hijacked it during transport?”

“No. He suspects one of your henchmen swiped it for you.”

“I have henchmen? Damn, if I’d known I had henchmen working for me, I would’ve had them help with getting the kids back and forth to school, bullying Ray when he was being an extra big asshole, and threatening Rex to leave town.”

“Cute, Parker, but Hawke is determined to pin something on you, so try to keep your nose squeaky clean for a while.”

“There you go again, obsessed with my nose.”

“At least I’m kind enough not to break yours.”

“Do I need to put ya both in separate stalls for breakfast?” Harvey asked, threatening us both with his spatula after setting down a stacked plate of waffles.

“Sorry,” I told the old buzzard as he dropped a couple of pieces of bacon on my plate. “I’d just like to enjoy a day without the police crawling up my ass.”

“Great, tell Coop that, not me.”

I turned to our not-so-friendly detective with a sigh. “Is there anything else you needed to tell us, Cooper?” I asked in my nice Realtor voice.

He fidgeted with his fork, which was unusual behavior for the gritty detective. He looked up at me and then Doc. “I have a question for you two.”

“About last night?” Doc asked.

He shook his head. “About ghosts.”

That was more Cornelius and Doc’s department than mine, but I kept my lips closed.

“I went into work extra early this morning and found something.” He hesitated, his gaze concentrating on his fork.

I looked at Doc, who shrugged back. He prompted. “What’d you find?”

“A prisoner in one of the jail cells.”

I lowered my cup of coffee. “It wasn’t Cornelius was it?”

“No.” He set down his fork. “The guy had a rope around his neck. When I asked him where he’d gotten the rope, he walked into the wall.”

“Was he drunk?” Natalie asked.

“You don’t understand. He didn’t walk into the wall and fall down, he walked
through
the wall and disappeared.”

In the silence that followed, Cooper’s steely gaze dared each of us to challenge him.

Doc spoke first. “Last night, you said a wind came out of nowhere and knocked you down.”

Cooper nodded.

“That wasn’t wind, Coop. I’d opened the door to help Violet escape the trap Wilda had set, only Violet wasn’t the only one to use that door.”

“What are you saying, Nyce?”

“While we are all born with the ability to see beyond our everyday world, not everyone develops that ability.” He raised one finger. “Some of us are born with our sixth sense cranked all of the way up from the get-go, which was my case.” He raised a second finger. “Some know they have the ability but need to work at it, building the muscle if you will, before they can see.”

“Like Cornelius?” I asked.

“I guess, but I don’t know his full history.” Doc raised a third finger. “And some people get blasted wide open by an event in their lives—it could be spurred by extreme stress, by a near-death experience, or by a particularly powerful ghost.”

Cooper set his fork down, his gaze locked on Doc. “You’re saying that a ghost blasted me open when it knocked me down?”

“Maybe.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” I mused. In this case, there were two women—Wilda and her mom.

Child killer
, I heard Mama Hessler’s accusation in my head. Chills peppered my back.

“Shut up, Parker.” To Doc, he said, “And that’s why I saw what could’ve been the prisoner who hung himself in that jail cell years ago?”

“Possibly.”

“Could you be any more ambiguous?”

“Sure, if you’d like to have a longer, more detailed discussion on psychic abilities and using your sixth sense, I’ll make your head spin.” Doc grinned at Cooper’s curses. “Time will tell for you, Coop. Until then, all you can do is keep your mind open to the possibility that you may not be seeing or hearing or sensing something real in the usual sense of the word.”

The doorbell rang before Cooper could swear some more. Natalie hopped up to get it since she was closest to the door.

At the sound of her cry of surprise, I lowered my fork. I was in the midst of standing to go join her when my brother came striding into the kitchen with Natalie on his heels, her face split by a wide smile.

Quint had a cherry pie in one hand and a long, brown paper package in the other. He set the pie on the table and the package on Nat’s empty chair, and then shucked his coat and hung it over the back of the chair. “I brought you some get-well pie, outlaw Curly Bill,” he said, using the nickname he’d given me as kids after we had watched a show about Tombstone.

Everyone stared at him in surprise, including me. I hadn’t seen Quint in months. His dark, wavy hair was longer than usual, brushing his collar. He looked more buff in his T-shirt than I remembered, but his smile was as infectious as ever.

Natalie took his coat, poking him in the ribs playfully and giggling when he tickled her back, the same screwing around type of fun they’d shared since childhood. Cooper watched with a masked expression, but his eyes soaked up the whole show, his face rigid.

When Natalie took Quint’s coat to the other room, Quint glanced around the table, his eyes alight with questions when they settled on me. “Are you going to give me a hug hello or just sit there with your pie hole hanging open?”

“I’m gonna pop you in your pie hole, knucklehead,” I said and rushed into his open arms, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. He smelled good, like fresh air and laughter-filled memories. “I can’t believe you’re here in Deadwood.”

“Aunt Zoe said you really wanted some pie, so I thought I’d share it with you.” He glanced over my head. “But it looks like you already have company.”

I made introductions, saving Doc for last. “And this is Doc Nyce. He and I are …” I searched for the appropriate word.
Boyfriend and girlfriend
sounded juvenile and lovers seemed too dramatic.

“Playing doctor,” Harvey supplied.

“More like playing house,” Natalie said, her face alight as she focused on Quint. She’d been in our lives so long Quint was practically her brother, too.

“Ahh,” Quint shook Doc’s hand. “Now it makes sense.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

He released Doc’s hand and crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze still locked on Doc. “Aunt Zoe told me that you weren’t feeling well but not to worry because you had a doctor making house calls.”

Doc’s face turned a shade of red under Quint’s scrutiny. “Yes, well, I’m happy to report your sister is in excellent form.”

Harvey hooted, smacking the table.

“Good.” One of Quint’s eyebrows rose. “And you’ll make sure she stays that way, right?”

“I’ll do my best,” Doc said, giving me a look that made my heart almost as happy as the sight of that cherry pie. “But she does tend to run headlong into trouble now and then.”

“Only now and then?” Quint winked at me. “You must be out of practice, Curly Bill.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and hauled him over to the chair next to me. “Join us for breakfast. I want to hear all about your latest adventures.” It would be refreshing to hear about something besides ghosts, murders, and all of the other gruesome topics ruling my life lately.

“What’s this?” Natalie asked him, holding up the package he’d left on her chair.

“It’s for Violet.”

“That’s heavy.” She passed it to Doc, who handed it to me. His eyes narrowed slightly when they met mine.

I hefted it. Something about it felt familiar. “What is it?” I asked Quint. “It’s too heavy to be another pair of purple boots.”

He chuckled. “Isn’t one pair enough?”

“No,” Doc answered before I could.

I winked at Doc and started unwrapping the package. “What did you bring me? It’s too early for Christmas.”

Quint dished up a waffle on the plate Natalie handed him. “It’s not from me. I found it on the front porch.”

I froze in the midst of tearing off the thick paper. My gaze met Doc’s and then Harvey’s. “You did?”

“It was leaning against the wall under the doorbell.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket. “This was next to it.”

My name was written across the front, the handwriting familiar. I tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper.

If you want to survive,
Scharfrichter
, try not to lose this again.

“What’s it say?” Doc asked.

I gulped. “Happy Thanksgiving,” I lied, not wanting to drag my brother into my messy life if I could help it, and handed the paper to Doc to read for himself.

Cooper apparently sniffed out my anxiety. He lowered his cup, his eyes on the prize. “What’s in the package, Parker?”

I had a feeling I knew the answer, but didn’t want to find out if I was right. “How about we finish breakfast. I’ll open it later.”

“Come on, have at it,” Quint said, stuffing a piece of waffle into his mouth, appearing none the wiser to my acting. “Now you have me curious.”

With a frozen smile, I tore off the rest of the paper and exclaimed in mock surprise at the contents.

“Is that real?” Quint took the war hammer from me, touching the pointed tip.

I was pretty sure it was, especially since the last time I’d seen it that very point had been buried in Katrina King’s chest.

Quint’s pocket rang. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. “It’s Jeff Hughes.”

“Jeff from high school?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He handed the war hammer to me and scooted back from the table. “I need to take this. I’ll be a minute or two,” he said and headed into the dining room. “Hey, Jeff,” I heard him say, and then the front door creaked open and thudded closed.

With Quint out of earshot, I held up the war hammer. “Did anyone see the stork who left this baby on the porch again?”

Doc lifted the war hammer out of my hands, taking a closer look at it. “The leather’s been cleaned and the point sharpened.”

Natalie aimed her fork at it. “That thing is going to come in handy, you wait and see.” She winked at me and said in a sing-songy voice, “
Ex’srays arcay
.”

I shot her a warning look, glancing over at Cooper to see if he’d picked up on her Pig Latin translation of “Rex’s car.”

“Goddammit, Parker.” Cooper shoved his plate away, apparently too busy being pissed off to have heard Natalie’s words. “If Detective Hawke finds out that weapon is back in your possession, you’re seriously fucked.”

“You got a flood of trouble comin’ yer way, girl. Five foot high and risin’.” Harvey picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, his eyes gleaming. “Looks like yer gonna need bigger waders to keep yer powder dry.”

The End … for now