Dead Case in Deadwood (25 page)

It did.

Dang it! I hit the answer button and whispered, "What?"

"I knew you were there," old man Harvey said. "What
are you doing?"

"Knitting a quilt in front of the TV."

"You’re such a lousy liar. You don’t ‘knit’ quilts.
Besides, I’m looking out your neighbor’s front window right now, and your
Aunt’s place is dark."

He must be using Miss Geary’s home phone. That explained the
strange phone number.

"How is Miss Geary tonight?" I tried to distract
him.

"Horny. I think her estrogen pills need some adjustin’.
Twice during Jeopardy is enough. I sent her off to microwave some popcorn so I
could hear the final question."

There were times when being around Harvey made me wish I
could scrub my memory cells on a washboard with some lye soap. "Then why
are you calling me?"

"Doc’s looking for you."

My heart sat up and wagged its tail. It was sad, truly.

Why didn’t Doc call me? Why go through Harvey? The dirty
bird wasn’t my personal secretary.

"He is?" I tried not to sound like I just found
out the boy of my dreams had a crush on me.

"Well, he didn’t say as much."

Ahh. Damn Harvey for baiting me, and double-damn me for biting
his hook.

"But something was buggin’ the boy last night when we
were at the Golden Sluice. He finally caved when I leaned hard enough."

"And?" I was still dangling from that stupid hook.

"He said he needed to talk to you."

Oh, hell. What did that mean? "Did he mean to talk to
me about the weather or something else?" Like never wanting to kiss me
again.

"I don’t know. I didn’t ask. There is some stuff men
just don’t talk about."

"Bullshit. You tell me all about your women."

"Yeah, but you’re a girl. You like to hear about all of
that emotional mumbo jumbo."

Not really. "You talk about sex, too."

"That’s just for the fun of watching your cheeks turn
pink."

I growled in my throat. "Remind me of the purpose of
this phone call."

"I need to know where you are."

"Why?" Was Doc wondering?

"I’m your bodyguard, remember?"

"Right."

"There was a viewing at Mudder Brothers tonight. We
missed out on another chance to sneak around the place."

No
we
hadn’t. "Maybe next time."

The Adams Museum’s clock chimed, announcing the hour. In the
still of the evening air, the ringing sounded much closer than the two blocks
separating me from the old building.

"Hold up!" Harvey said. "I know those chimes.
You’re at Mudder Brothers right now, aren’t you?"

I hesitated, not wanting to tell him the truth and risk him
joining me. But if I tried to lie, he’d think I was up to no good and be correct,
and then he’d race down here, anyway.

"I am, but you can’t come down here."

"Why not? You need me."

"You need to catch that final Jeopardy question,
remember?"

"I already missed it."

"Harvey, all I’m doing is looking in the garage windows,
and then I’m coming right home."

"Is Natalie with you?"

"No."

"I don’t like this at all."

"There’s nothing to worry about. Like I said, I’m just
peeking, I swear, nothing else. I’ll be home before you know it, and then you
can come over and tell me more sex stories that make my cheeks turn pink."
Or not.

"Okay, but hurry your ass up. The lady of the house
just waved at me from the kitchen. She has that look in her eye again, and I
don’t think my fishin’ tackle can take much more cranking."

I winced. "Goodbye, Harvey."

I hung up and took another look over at Mudder Brothers to
make sure the coast was still clear.

With my hand partially covering the flashlight’s beam, I
zig-zagged up along the base of the tree-lined hillside that led clear up to
Mount Moriah cemetery, snapping twigs and breaking branches along the way. This
route allowed me to approach the funeral parlor from the backside. At the edge
of the trees, I tripped over a small stump and landed nose-down in the tall,
scraggly weeds.

Cheese and crackers! A gaggle of brain-starved zombies would
have been quieter. I sat up, brushing myself off, swallowing some Black Hills
dust. Luckily, I’d ended up with just a few stinging scratches on my palms for
all of my klutziness.

I squat-ran to the pine tree closest to the steel back doors,
squinting in the darkness at the light fixture above the back door. Was it a
motion sensor light? I couldn’t remember noticing that detail last week when
Natalie and I had been watching Ray and George back here.

I picked up a pinecone the size of a Bingo ball and tossed
it in the general direction of the light.

The light stayed off.

Maybe that wasn’t big enough.

I picked up an egg-sized rock and threw it. But my aim went
askew. The rock clunked against one of the two steel back doors, about two feet
below the light.

Shit!

I squatted behind the tree, my breath held.

Nobody came to see who was knocking. Thank God!

Should I try a bigger rock?

Should I go back home and wait until I had Natalie by my
side?
Scaredy cat!

The garage was just twenty yards away. I could sprint across
the drive, and if the light came on, just keep on running all of the way back
to the Picklemobile.

Sure. No problem. I could handle this.

Wait! Did something just move in the shadows behind the
garage?

I wrangled a grip on my imagination.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I ran across the
asphalt, trying to keep my boot heels from clomping.

Darkness shrouded me the whole way.

Leaning against the side of the garage, I peeked around the
corner at the light. It wasn’t on a motion sensor. Excellent. Now what?

I scooted over to the garage window, stood on my tiptoes,
and peered into the darkness on the other side of the glass. I couldn’t see a
single thing. It would have been considerate of the Mudder boys to leave a
night light on for peeps like me.

After another glance around me to make sure I was still
alone, I held the flashlight against the glass. A counter covered with boxes
big and small ran half the length of the far wall. I tried to read the labels,
but I was too far away with bad lighting.

At the other end of the counter, a couple of wheeled-gurneys
sat parallel to each other like taxis waiting for their turn to rush to the
next death.

I shined the light the other way. Floor-to-ceiling shelving
held a bunch of shiny stainless steel trays, buckets and funnels of various
sizes, and shallow baskets full of long skinny instruments. Next to the big
shelf was a cupboard about the same size, the doors padlocked shut.

On the floor in front of the locked cabinet was a thick
steel basket that looked rusted. I could see several odd shaped black pins
sticking out of the top. Some of the pins were pointed; some had metal balls
instead at the ends. The pins appeared to be several inches long, the balls a
little bit smaller than the bingo balls Natalie was probably pulling from a cage
at that very moment.

Mixed with the pins in the basket were several rusty-looking
small steel rectangles with rounded corners. They look like tea party plates.

Plates … like something a surgeon would screw into a skull
to hold it together. My focus returned to the pins with the balls on the end.
Could those be from the remains of—e
www! Yuck!

The sound of the funeral parlor’s steel door thumping shut almost
made me pee my pants right there on the spot. I switched off the light and
pinned my back against the side of the building, listening while taking shallow
breaths.

Footfalls hitting the asphalt came closer.

Shit, shit, shit!
I did my best impression of paint, plastering
myself to the wall in the darkness. My heart played the bongo drums in my
throat.

I heard several beeps, then the creaking of hinges and another
thump of a door shutting.

Someone had gone inside the garage.

Light blared suddenly from the window next to me.

My feet tingled in my boots, ready to run as far and fast as
necessary to save my ass. I stayed still, resisting the urge to give them free
rein.

With just a step and a lean, I could get a well-lighted
glimpse inside the room.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

God damn it, Harvey!
I knew from experience he wouldn’t
give up. I needed to shut the damned thing off.

I plucked it from my pocket. A glance at the screen turned
into a double-take.

It wasn’t Harvey calling. It was Doc!

Something crashed on the other side of the wall.

The phone vibrated again.

Damn it. I really wanted to talk to Doc. But I had this
whole spying thing I was a little busy with at the moment.

Another crash reverberated through the wall.

Who was in there and what were they doing? Throwing bodies
around?

The phone buzzed again.

I caved, sliding along the wall away from the window.

"Hello?" I whispered.

"Violet?" Doc’s voice sounded hesitant.

"Yes?"

"Why are you whispering?"

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t exactly want to
announce that I was sneaking around in the dark outside the Mudder brothers’ garage
at that very moment.

"I’m not in a cell phone friendly zone." No lie
there.

"You want me to hang up?"

"No!" I said a little too loud. I glanced around
in the shadows, and then dropped my voice again. "No, I want to talk to
you about the other night."

"Before you go any further," Doc interrupted me, "I
need to say something first."

I didn’t like the sound of that. "Okay."

The light coming from the window went dark. I covered the
earpiece of the phone, muting Doc’s voice just to be safe. I couldn’t hear
anything from the other side of the wall.

Whoever had been in the room was either gone, or had heard me
and was standing in the dark listening. I waited another couple of seconds, and
then held the phone back up to my ear.

"… leaving you alone," Doc was saying.

Leaving me alone? Was he really breaking up with me over the
phone? Right now? In the middle of my attempt to sneak a glimpse of a
crematorium?

"Wait! No."

"What?" Doc asked.

"I swear, I had no idea he was going to have us there
to talk to ghosts."

"Are we even sharing the same conversation, Violet?"

"Yes. No." I covered my other ear as a loud, rattling
and clattering sound passed by on the street in front of the funeral parlor.
Someone was losing a muffler. When the vehicle moved on, I said, "I don’t
know. What were you saying again?"

Silence came through the line.

"Doc?" I whispered. "Are you still there?"

"Yes," he said, but he didn’t sound thrilled about
it.

The door to the garage thumped shut again. The sound of
shoes hitting asphalt rang clear in the night.

I peeped around the corner of the building, catching sight
of Eddie Mudder’s silhouette walking toward his new pickup.

Something crashed in the trees behind me.

What was that?

I couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

"Violet," Doc’s voice reminded me that I was still
pressing the phone against my ear. "Where are you right now?"

I checked in on Eddie—he was looking my way.

Jerking back, I flattened myself against the back wall
again. Crap!

"I can hear you breathing, Violet," Doc said.

Double-crap! I didn’t dare say a word.

"Fine," Doc said. But his tone sounded anything but
dandy. "When you’re ready to stop playing games, Violet, come and see me."

He hung up on me.

Fuck!

The growly sound of Eddie’s truck cranking to life made me
wilt in relief. I could hear his stereo cranking out some organ-heavy riff
through the closed windows.

When I looked around the corner, Eddie’s red taillights were
coming right toward me. Pulling back, I waited as he shifted into gear and
rolled off. I counted to ten and checked to make sure the coast was clear. Much
more of this sneaking around and I’d have to add adult diapers to my spy kit.

As my breathing slowed, I realized how dark and quiet it
seemed behind the garage.

Extra dark.

Unusually quiet.

I reached for my flashlight, covering the face of it, and
clicked it on.

A twig snapped close behind me.

Spinning around, I raised the light, spotlighting a grizzled
face.

I sucked in breath.

"Gotcha!"

"God damn it, Harvey," I growled under my breath
and snapped the old bugger’s suspenders. "You scared the bejeezus out of
me."

His two gold teeth gleamed in the flashlight’s beam. "Anyone
ever tell you that you’re lousy at sneakin’ around in the dark?"

"I was doing just fine before you crept up on me."

He snatched my flashlight away and shut it off. "If you
were good at this, you would’ve heard me comin’."

I had heard something crash earlier, but I hadn’t wanted to
let my imagination wander while tip-toeing around alone in the dark outside a
funeral parlor.

"And I suppose you’re a real pro at it." I whispered.

"Damned straight."

I grabbed my flashlight back, catching a whiff of something
sweet with a hint of lemon. I sniffed in his direction. "What’s that
smell?"

"I got carried away with the lemon meringue."

My stomach gurgled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything
since lunch with Mona. "I love Miss Geary’s pies."

"I’m not talking about pie. This was some of that
homemade love gel."

Before he could explain in greater detail, I told him, "No.
Don’t tell me." I didn’t want him to ruin all future lemon meringue pies
for me. "Let’s get out of here."