Dead Case in Deadwood (41 page)

"I know. You told me already. It was one of your weirdo
neighbors from Slagton. The one who took care of the cemetery."

"I was wrong. The chew marks on his nose and cheeks threw
me off."

"Eww!" I shivered in revulsion.

"You think that’s bad, you should have seen what the
critters did to the eyes and tongue."

"Ack! Stop. We just finished eating." I threatened
to plug my ears.

"Anyway," Harvey knocked my hands back down, "Cooper
had an artist produce a rough sketch of what the man looked like based off what
was left of him."

Natalie and I both leaned in closer. "And?" I
nudged.

"He was the owner of the funeral joint in Belle Fourche."

"The owner of the funeral joint …" I whispered. "Just
like George Mudder."

"Aye," Harvey said.

"Aye?" Natalie frowned at him. "What are you,
Scottish now?"

"Amber likes it when I talk dirty to her with a
Scottish brogue. I kind of get stuck in that mode."

Come on! There was too much sex going on in this little
town, and not enough involving Doc and me.

"Do you think George has any connection to the corpse?"
I asked Harvey.

"If he did," Natalie surmised, "Eddie could
have gotten rid of the evidence during the autopsy."

"Aye, that was my thought, too."

I elbowed him. "Knock off the Scottish crap." It
conjured images of him in a kilt and suspenders sans his boxers that had no
business in my brain. "We need to get back into that funeral home."

Harvey nodded, combing his beard with his fingers.

"Why?" Natalie asked.

"To see what’s in the crates," I told her. And to
see the records room again—I hadn’t forgotten about Doc’s prostitute ghost. I
had a dead girl to find on paper.

"There’s another viewing tomorrow night." Harvey
said. "I’ll run decoy."

I shook my head. "If Cooper catches wind of you at
Mudder Brothers, he’ll arrest me on suspicion alone."

Harvey and I both turned to Natalie.

"No," she said. "I’m going to go home now and
live my quiet life." She hoisted herself up into her pickup and slammed
the door.

I leaned in through the open window. "Come on, Nat.
Please."

"No. Definitely not."

"I’ll let you borrow my black velvet bustier."

"Nope. My boobs don’t look as good as yours in it."

"How about my purple cowboy boots?"

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "Can I wear
them bull-riding at The Blue Outlaw down in Rapid?"

The Blue Outlaw bar was known for three things—rowdy crowds,
unisex bathrooms, and the hanky panky that happened when the two were mingled
and too much beer added to the mix. The idea of my boots touching the floor in
those bathroom stalls made me grimace. The leather would need to be
professionally cleaned and the bottoms resoled. Was Natalie’s company at Mudder
Brothers worth that price?

The flashback of those love bite bruises on Jane’s shoulder
sealed the deal. Ray was up to no good. It was time to put a stop to his
bullshit.

At my nod, Natalie grinned. "Sweet! I get to keep them
for a month, too," she decided. I nodded again. "Bring them with you
tomorrow night."

Doc would be less than thrilled to hear his favorite boots
were out on loan. Oh, well, for all I knew, it might take me a month to woo him
into touching me again.

Natalie started her truck. "And this time, if Cooper threatens
to take us to jail, you have to show him your cha-chas. My tattooed ass is on
hiatus."

"Aye!" Harvey’s gold teeth showed. "Now that’ll
give Coop’s wee bits a fine heft."

Thursday, August 23rd

A fox had gotten into the chicken coop. At least that’s what
Aunt Zoe’s kitchen looked like this first back-to-school morning. Feathers even
floated in the air thanks to a very excited and agitated Elvis, who Addy wisely
shooed outside before I turned the damned bird into a Kentucky Fried variety.

While I herded the kids through their bathroom routines,
playing drill sergeant in order to get them into their clothes, Aunt Zoe packed
lunches and prepared breakfast. With a few growls and whines, we all fell back
into the roles we’d established during the last school year.

I dropped both kids off at school, watched them until they
stepped through the doors, then made a beeline to the Tin Cup Café for a
much-needed punch of caffeine. Only after I had caramel-flavored coffee flowing
through my system did my pulse flutter into its usual chaotic rhythm.

I pulled into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane’s and
gaped at the empty parking spots. Where was everyone? No Mona or Ray, no Jane
or Doc. I pulled out my cell to check the time. Was I that early? Not at all. I
was actually ten minutes late.

The voicemail notification on my cell phone might explain
what was going on. I checked the caller. It was Doc. He’d called this morning
during the get-ready-for-school bedlam.

I shut off the Picklemobile. The tailpipe’s goodbye salute
scared a couple of crows from a nearby pine tree. I played Doc’s message as I crossed
the parking lot.

"Violet, call me when you have a moment." His tone
was all business, no love.

Damn it. I glared at my phone. I hated it when he left that
kind of message.

Well, Doc would just have to wait for me to get inside and
sit down. If he planned to knock the wind out of me, I was not going to land on
my ass.

The lights were on inside Calamity Jane’s, but Jane’s office
was dark, the door still closed and locked. Someone had been in this
morning—there was fresh coffee in the pot. I caught a hint of Mona’s jasmine
perfume, but that could just be permanently embedded in the walls. No smell of
Ray’s Stetson whatsoever, thankfully, since I was beginning to associate it
with the urge to hit someone in the face with a cream pie, and that was such a
waste of good cream.

I’d expected a call from Mona all day yesterday. I’d even
called her late last night, waking her up, to ask if she’d heard if Ray and
George had upped their offer. Between yawns, she’d said he hadn’t come in all
day, nor called in.

I’d figured this thing with Jane might be a little awkward,
but Ray usually thrived on discomfort. Plus, this was an excellent power play
over me. Waiting for the backlash from it had me chewing my knuckles.

When I pulled out my chair, I found a piece of paper sitting
on my seat with a pink Post-it note stuck to it. Mona’s handwriting on the pink
note gave away the author.

Ray never showed up or submitted another offer. This came
in from Tiffany this morning. Looks like we might have a hotel on the Sales
Pending board soon! Back this afternoon—in Spearfish all morning. You can reach
me on my cell.

Mona

I fell into my seat, holding the acceptance letter with the
signature of Tiffany’s client. Then I jumped back up and whooped with victory,
spiking an imaginary football off Ray’s empty desk. When the burst of glee ran
its course and I stopped spinning and grinning, I sat down on top of his desk
and frowned out the front window at the passing traffic.

Something was up. This win was way too easy. Ray must be
playing some kind of dirty trick. Maybe sleeping with Jane was all part of his
diabolical plan to get rid of me in spite of the hotel sale. Maybe he knew
something about Cornelius that I didn’t. Maybe … .

My cell phone rang. I hopped off Ray’s desk and grabbed the
phone.

The screen showed Doc’s name and number. Falling into my chair,
I answered with a little bit of hesitation, still gun-shy after our last
parting. "Hello?"

"I almost called you last night," Doc said without
introduction.

Why? To say what? I took a calming breath, leaning back in
my chair. I asked myself what the cool, leather-clad Olivia Newton-John version
of Sandy would say to Danny Zuko while she took a hit off her cigarette.
Tell
me about it, Stud.

"What stopped you?" I asked in a voice I hoped
sounded sultry.

"Cornelius."

I sat up in my chair and stubbed out my imaginary cigarette.
"What? Why? Did you run into him yesterday?"

"No, I didn’t, thank God. I’m not prepared for a second
meeting yet."

What did that mean?

"I decided not to call you," Doc continued, "because
I figured you’d want more of an explanation about what happened at the séance."

Silly man. I’d rather he’d called even if it was just to
talk about the weather. I’d envisioned him at home drawing a mustache on my
picture and throwing darts at it. Doubts and anxieties had made for dark clouds
on my horizon during the picnic at Pactola Dam, which had me periodically cursing
under my breath.

How could I have allowed him to burrow this deeply under my
skin so fast? One of us needed to be the adult in this relationship and fess up
to some feelings soon.

I opened my mouth to take the first step and tell him I’d
missed hearing his voice, but then my tongue got shy and stuck with the easy
stuff. "What’s your explanation?"

"Well, after trying to analyze what happened to me in
that room, the things I was sensing and visualizing, I came up with three
possibilities."

I waited, my eyes closed to give him my full attention.

"The first is that the Old Prospector Hotel is full of
ghosts, and only one or two usually come out at a time, like with our adventure
in the stairwell."

"That sounds like the setting to a kickass movie."

"Right. The second is that Cornelius’s chanting really
works, and he has the ability to communicate with ghosts. Although, from what I
could tell, he seemed oblivious to them, just drawing them into the room, where
they turned on me as soon as they realized I could sense them."

Cornelius was legit? The possibility seemed farfetched what
with all of Cornelius’s eccentric fanfare, but so did Doc meeting a prostitute
in the stairwell, and yet I was willing to swallow that horse-pill of a
concept. "What is the third possibility?"

"That you were the one channeling the ghosts."

I laughed out loud. "I highly doubt it was me. I’m a
dud, remember?"

"I don’t believe that entirely. That whole Kyrkozz
event from the previous séance still has me scratching my head."

"You’re forgetting about another possibility," I
told him.

"Which is?"

"That you are responsible for channeling the ghosts."

"I thought about that, but I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"Because I’ve been playing this ghost detection game
for years, and that was the first time I’ve ever experienced a rush of so many entities.
The dead are usually loners."

He’d been dealing with the ghost visions for years? One of
these days, I was going to make him tell me his whole story from the beginning.

I picked up a pencil and tapped it on my desk calendar. "When
you say a ‘rush’ of entities, how many are we talking?"

He hesitated, the line quiet for several seconds. "You’re
not going to believe me."

"Give me a chance. I’m trying here."

"From what I can determine, I was rushed by thirteen
different entities within a few seconds, including the prostitute I met in the
stairwell earlier."

I stopped tapping. "Thirteen? How could you tell?"

"It took me most of yesterday to sort it all out, but I
wrote down the different pieces of memories I experienced as the entities
passed through me along with the unique essences that came with each. Then I sorted
through flashes of images to distinguish individual beings. When I was finished,
I had ended up with thirteen."

"You mean you relived thirteen different dying moments
within seconds?"

"Yes."

Christ. That explained the total loss of control for him,
including his badger-like grip on my thigh. "It’s no wonder you passed
out."

"Passed out? Yeah, about that, I have a strong
suspicion I was knocked out before I could pass out. You should see my
black-eye."

Wincing, I scratched at a spot of dried coffee on my
desktop. "Sorry about that."

"Apology
not
accepted. I’m going to need you to kiss
it better first."

I savored his peace offering, wishing he was close enough to
touch. "I’m your Huckleberry."

"I also have two other big bruises that are going to
need your attention. And after you finish with those …"

"I’ll take care of the rest of you," I finished
for him. "I’ll bring my favorite flavored lip gloss."

"What flavor are we talking about here?"

"Cherry." I lowered my voice to a purr-level. "How
about I show you the magic trick I can do with my mouth?"

I heard him suck in a breath. "Damn, Boots. You
shouldn’t say that kind of stuff to me while I’m standing around in public."

"Where’s ‘public.’"

"Rapid City, near the airport."

Airport? "You flying somewhere?"

"No, just going through a client’s financials onsite
today."

"Good. When can I see you again?"

"I’ll call you tonight after I get home."

Taking a deep breath, I leaped. "Or you could come over
and watch a movie with me."

Silence filled the line. I heard the rumble of a plane engine
in the background.

I was about to ask if he was still there when he said, "What
about Natalie?"

"She’s no longer staying with us. It’s just me and the family."

"Addy and Layne might get ideas about us."

I smiled at the idea that an
us
might exist.

"I’ll explain that you’re my friend and I want to hang
out with you. We’ll start there and see where this goes."

"Aren’t you worried the kids might say something to
Natalie?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m going to tell Natalie the truth."

Another plane engine rumbled through the line, filling a
second bout of silence.