Dead Case in Deadwood (33 page)

A chunk of bark broke off.

"—crap-weaseling, punk-ass—"

The top half of the branch splintered.

"—prick!"

The end of the branch broke off and went flying into the
underbrush.

"And stay the fuck away from
my
kids!" I
yelled after it.

Huffing, I strode back to where the Picklemobile sat idling,
waiting for me to regain my senses. I brushed my hands off on an old rag Harvey
kept in the glove box and shifted into reverse, whipping the old pickup around
in a cloud of dust.

My cell phone rang as soon as the front tires hit pavement
again.

I didn’t even look at the screen. "Yes?"

"What are you doing for lunch?" Doc asked.

His deep voice smoothed some of my neck bristles. "Already
did it."

"I figured. What are you doing now?"

"Just some relaxation therapy."

He was quiet for a moment. "Something piss you off this
morning?"

Not something, but rather someone. Make that several
someones. First there was Ray, then Cornelius, then Ray again, then Cooper, and
finally the grand finale—a piece of shit from my past whom I’d released from
any paternal or financial obligations almost a decade ago with my lawyer’s help.

I kept it simple, though, since I was driving down a steep
hill and had no branches within reach. Plus, if I didn’t talk to anyone besides
Cooper about Rex Conner, maybe the jerk would fade back into my past.

"Ray turned in a higher offer today for the hotel,"
I told Doc. "His client outbid mine by fifteen thousand."

"That’s not much," he said. "Surely your
client can come back with more than that. Didn’t you say he’s paying in cash?"

"Yep, cash. And you’re right, he can. But the problem
isn’t where he’ll get the money, rather what I have to do in order to get him
to agree to use it."

"What you’ll have to do? He’s not expecting you to
sleep with him is he?"

"No. Not that." I laughed. It came out harsh and cold
sounding, like a frigid wind. "God, I wish it was just that."

"Oh, really?"

"Well, no, not really, but at least sleeping with a
client is something I know how to do."

"And you do it quite well, I must say," Doc said.
I could hear the grin in his tone. "What does Mr. Planet of the Apes want
you to do?"

"Prove the hotel is haunted."

"And how are you of all people going to manage that?"

"I’m going to channel a ghost for him."

His silence stretched on for long enough that I thought I’d
lost him. "You still there?"

"What aren’t you telling me, Violet?"

Oh, boy, the list was long and the day still young. "A
lot," I admitted. "Will you just fill me in quick on what a channeler
person does and I’ll tell you everything else later?"

"No."

"What? Last night you said you’d help me."

"Ah, so that’s why you came over and had sex with me."

"No, of course not." As if I needed a reason. "Last
night had nothing to do with Cornelius and everything to do with you and the
smoldering looks you were giving me."

"I don’t smolder."

"You definitely do, but in a sexy way, not like you’re mad—well,
sometimes you are mad at me, but …" I trailed off before I ended up
cramming any more of my boot in my mouth. "Anyway, it’s a huge turn on."

I pulled into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane’s. "Doc,
will you please just give me a couple of parlor tricks I can do tonight?"

"What’s tonight?"

"Another séance."

I thought I heard a growl come through the line. Maybe it
was just thunder. "Where are you right now?"

"Pulling into the parking lot behind your office."

"Good. Cruise by my back door. I’ll be right out."

I did as he said. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the Old Prospector Hotel."

"Why?"

The back door to his office opened. Doc climbed into the
passenger side, slamming the door behind him. He looked damned fine in his dark
maroon shirt and khakis, but I preferred him in a towel. Or sans towel.

I tucked my phone in my purse. "Why are we going to the
hotel?"

"To find out what’s in that place before you subject
yourself to another nightmare." His focus dipped to my dress and slipped
clear down to my boots, his eyes darkening.

"See, now you’re smoldering at me again."

"This isn’t a smolder," he said, pointing at his
face. "It’s straight-up lust. What are you wearing under that dress?"

"I’ve never had a man so curious about my underwear."

"I’m sure you have, he just wasn’t asking out loud."

I turned back out onto Sherman Street and headed for the
hotel, passing him a quick frown. "Doc, I don’t want you to do this."

I wasn’t dressed to catch him if he keeled over onto me
again. Although, the boots were an improvement over my mule sandals.

"You said you wanted my help."

"I do." But I didn’t want him to suffer
psychologically because of me. "I just want you to teach me a little about
how to channel. I mean, should I just pretend to talk to some ghost, or should
I scrawl out freaky words, like that woman in
The Changeling
?"

When I glanced over at him, he was staring out the front
window. "How much do you want this sale?"

"Enough to pretend I can talk to dead people."

"Before I can help you, I need to find out what’s in
that hotel."

"Does that mean you think Cornelius is legit?"

"No, although that is a possibility."

"Then why do you have to find out about any ghosts?"

"Because I think
you
might be legit."

I scoffed in good humor. "Legitimately insane, sure."

"Violet, do you know what you are?"

Was he serious? "A single mother who has a hankering
for peanut butter fudge ice cream, John Wayne movies, and …"
you
, "soft
couches."

He didn’t smile back. "That’s you on the outside, but
what about who you really are and what you’re doing here?"

"I think I’m going to need some tequila in me to continue
with this conversation."

"Fine." Pointing at the hotel looming in front of
us, he said, "But for now, we need to know what we’re dealing with in
there."

"Can’t we just make something up? I’m great at playing
charades."

He shook his head. "I’m not risking you running into
Wolfgang again."

"You mean Kyrkozz."

"Especially Kyrkozz." He sounded serious, which
made my upper lip sweat.

I swung into the parking lot and shut down the Picklemobile.
The backfire scared off a bunch of crows hanging out on the hotel’s roof.
Good—the scene was creepy enough this afternoon with the storm clouds that now
darkened Deadwood’s doorstep. The black birds acting as the hosts for the
haunted hotel were overkill.

Doc reached for the door handle. I caught his arm before he
shoved open the door.

"Doc."

He looked at me, waiting.

"Why don’t we just go to the library and look up some
dead people?"

Creases formed at the corners of his eyes. "As much fun
as that sounds, I’d rather just run into them here."

I still held his arm, not wanting to let go just yet. "But
what if there is more than one?"

"You say that as if you believe in ghosts now." One
dark eyebrow lifted. "Do you?"

I sputtered and stuttered, which pretty much summed up my
answer.

"Well," he said, grinning, "it appears that I’m
making progress on that front."

"I don’t know what to believe when it comes to you."

"Are we talking only about ghosts here?"

No. "Mostly."

He took my hand and laced his fingers through mine. "Here’s
how this is going to go. We’ll head inside, take the stairs up to the third
floor, and see if whatever I noticed the other day is still hanging around. If
not, we’ll drive over to the library and figure out how you can convince
Cornelius the place is worth more money without turning you into a morally
corrupt sideshow freak."

It sounded like a solid game plan, but I did have the hair
for the freak job, if needed. One question bobbed to the surface. "And if
something is on that third floor?"

"Then the channeling performance you put on tonight
will be based on truth, and the only thing at risk will be your reputation."

"And my job."

"Right. That, too." He winked at me, a smile
curling the corners of his mouth. "I could start paying you for sex."

"Wow. So romantic. Be still my beating heart."

He laughed and kissed the back of my hand. "I’d quote a
sonnet, but after last night, I fear I’d fall short of your wonderful
Shakespearean monologue."

"Oh, God, don’t remind me." Every time I tried to
play Don Juan-
ita
, I ended up chasing windmills like Don Quixote. "That
reminds me, I need to reimburse you for that window."

"No you don’t." He let go of my hand, which stuck
to his a little. He sniffed his palm. "Violet, why do you have pine sap on
your hand?"

Because of Rex ‘the bastard’ Conner, but now was not the
time to talk about him—if ever. "I don’t know. I must have picked it up
somewhere this morning."

Without further ado, I exited stage left. Or was that stage
right?

Anyway, Doc met me at the tailgate. We crossed the lot to
the hotel’s double glass doors. He pulled open one of them for me to lead the
way, but before I could, Tiffany came striding out.

I stumbled backwards into Doc, shocked to see his ex-girlfriend
up-close and personal all of a sudden. He caught me, and I righted myself
before Tiffany could sniff out anything funny going on between us. This close
to the sale, with Ray playing his games, I needed her on my side, not pissed
because I was frequenting Doc’s bed.

If Tiffany was surprised to see us, she hid it like a pro
behind her starlet sunglasses and red lipstick.

"Doc!" She nudged me aside to plaster herself
against him in what some might call a hug. To me it looked more like she was
trying to become another layer of skin.

Then the bitch kissed him on the cheek.

Then I tackled her and cut off all of her long, stupid red
hair with a pair of blunt kindergartner scissors … .

In reality, I just clasped my hands together and looked up Main
Street with a big, undoubtedly ridiculous-looking smile tacked onto my mouth.

"What are you doing here?" I heard her ask him,
her voice all smoky sexy. I wondered what she’d sound like trying to talk
around my socks.

"Violet is showing me the hotel."

I looked around then, fake smile still stuck in place. "Hello,
Tiffany."

Tiffany assessed me from head to toe, her gaze lingering on
my hair. "Violet, yes, there you are. It’s always nice to see you."

She could at least try to mean it. And here I thought we’d
bonded the last time we’d talked and would be swapping cookie recipes by
Halloween.

She leaned in closer to me and whispered loud enough for Doc
to hear, "The hair looks good, but you could stand a little shorter dress
for this client. Doc is a leg man."

My eyes jolted to his, an image of Tiffany’s bare legs
wrapped around him burning into my brain. Fury combined with humiliation, lighting
me up like a Molotov cocktail, the flames singeing my neck and cheeks.

"Oh, really?"

Doc shook his head. His lips looked like they were
struggling to hold down a smile.

The bastard seemed to actually be enjoying this public
display of torture.

Tiffany stepped back from me, her gaze fawning on Doc again.
"She’s showing you the hotel, huh? You’re not actually thinking of buying
it, are you?"

"It’s a possibility."

Her laughter tinkled, like a dog pissing on my leg. "Not
much of a possibility, anymore, right, Violet?"

"He knows about my other client," I told her.

"So does Ray." Her lipstick-outlined smile lost
some of its luster. "He’s sure sunk his teeth into this one. I haven’t
seen him so motivated to make a sale in years."

"I bet."

"He even offered to take me to dinner at The Wild
Pasque if I’d move the deadline on your window to make a second offer to
twenty-four hours instead of forty-eight."

"He’s pretty excited." The rat bastard!

The Wild Pasque was Deadwood’s fanciest joint. The cloth
napkins alone probably cost more than any of the dresses I had in my closet to
wear there. Ray wasn’t screwing around, anymore. He wanted me gone, gone, gone,
and then some.

"How does that work in your office?" Tiffany
asked. "If Ray gets the sale, what do you get?"

Fired.
"The opportunity to sell something else
to my client."

"Right, Mr. Curion. That man is such an interesting
character." She shook her head, her expression amused as if she were
enjoying a private joke. "You should be able to find something else
suitable, I’d think. I have several listings in Sturgis and Spearfish if this
falls through."

"Thank you." I think I meant that, too.

Thunder boomed loud enough that I felt it in my chest.

"Well, I should get going before we get drenched,"
she said and patted me on the arm like I’d already lost the game. Then she
moved toward Doc, but before she could clutch him in her arms again, he
sidestepped and reached for the door.

"See you later, Tiffany," he said and motioned for
me to step inside. "After you, Violet."

Feeling slightly battered after that encounter, I avoided
looking at Doc when I strode through the open door. I didn’t stop and wait for
him, just aimed for the elevator and took swings at my inner doubt demons along
the way.

I pushed the button for the elevator, but Doc grabbed me by
the elbow and led me along beside him to the stairwell door.

Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten how the game plan went for a moment
thanks to Tiffany’s interruption.

Doc closed the door behind us and sniffed.