Dead Case in Deadwood (48 page)

"Bleck!" I rolled my eyes. "What’s on your
mind, old man?"

"Did I see Doc’s car in the drive last night?"

I nodded. He’d come over to have that date night with me. By
the time he’d arrived, both kids had gone to bed, exhausted from their first
couple of days back in school, so no questions had been asked. Well, except
when I’d kissed Doc goodnight on Aunt Zoe’s front porch and he’d asked what I
was wearing under my dress.

Unfortunately, Mr. Stinkleskine had been playing voyeur
again while taking his Chihuahua out for a late night potty walk. Doc had had
to settle for a chaste kiss goodbye sans a peep show.

I had a feeling our lunch date today would take place in his
back room with the door closed. I hoped so at least. I’d picked out my
underwear this morning with him in mind.

"Coop said Natalie is pretty upset about you two being
an item," Harvey said.

"Yep." My chest ached when I even grazed the
subject of Nat. I’d called her yesterday afternoon, leaving another apology on
her voicemail. She hadn’t called back, not that I’d figured she would.

Harvey’s bushy brows wrinkled as he stared at me. "How
are you doing?"

"I’m okay."

"You look like hell."

"You should see the other guy." He’d burned up and
floated away.

"I have, Rocky. Cooper has two black eyes in addition
to the broken nose."

"That was an accident."

He howled, scaring away a couple of crows. "First Doc
and then Cooper. Damn, girl, you must be feisty as a she-devil in the sack.
It’s no wonder Doc can’t keep his hands off you."

"That’s it." I cranked up the window. "We’re
done here."

"Call me later," he said through the glass.

"Why?"

"Because you owe me my weekly dinner deal and I am
cashing in on it tonight."

I left him standing there in a cloud of the Picklemobile’s exhaust.

Calamity Jane’s was empty when I arrived.

I started a pot of coffee and settled in at my desk, going
through the local MLS listings to see what was new in the Black Hills world of
real estate.

My phone rang.

"Calamity Jane Realty, Violet speaking."

"Hello, V," Cornelius said, sounding oddly
chipper. He must have had his protein shake already.

Since when were we on first name letter basis? I must have
missed that transition during one of his séances.

"So, do we have a hotel?" he asked.

Oh, crap!
I’d forgotten to let Cornelius in on our
victory over Ray. Although with George dead, winning the bid for the hotel had
lost all of the fizz and sparkle.

"Congratulations, Cornelius. Your offer was accepted.
We just need to wait for the paperwork to be finalized, and then you can start
tearing down walls or whatever else you plan to do with the old place."

"Excellent. You’re going to love what I have planned
for this haunt, Violet. It’s right up your alley."

What alley? I didn’t really have any alleys. If he was
talking about more séances, my alley was closed, barred, and blocked off until
further notice.

"Well," I weighed my words carefully to be
supportive, yet noncommittal. "I’m sure it will be an exciting venture."

"You’ll see," he promised, which felt more like a
threat. "Oh, I meant to tell you that I had a visit from a ghost last
night."

"You saw one?" I thought he only whispered to them.

"It came to me in my dream. Did I ever tell you that my
great grandmother was a renowned seer?"

"No, you didn’t." Why did his disclosure not even
make me blink?

"Anyway, the ghost last night was this little blonde
girl who asked me to give you a message."

"Really?" I waited, playing along, strumming my
fingers on my desk.

"She said she’d like to see you again."

Again?
"She did?" That was creepy, but it
was child’s play compared to the albino’s fun and games.

"Yes, but that’s not it," Cornelius said. "She
thinks you have pretty hair and wants you to have a tea party with her."

Wilda Hessler?
I gasped, my fingers froze.

No. Surely he didn’t mean Wolfgang’s dead sister.

No. It couldn’t be. That would mean Wolfgang hadn’t been
insane. Well, hadn’t been entirely insane. Anybody who’d grown up in a house
filled with so many garish clown decorations had to be warped.

Wait a second. This was Cornelius I was talking to, who took
pride in shocking those around him with his eccentricities. This dream of his was
just a weird coincidence. A lot of little girls were blonde, and tea parties with
Addy had been standard practice for me until last year. I was making something
out of nothing.

That had to be it.

Keeping in mind that he was a client with a lot of cash, I
said, "The next time she pays you a visit, tell her thanks, but no thanks.
I don’t do tea parties." Not after the Hessler Haunt.

"Okay," Cornelius said, "but I don’t think she’s
going to like that answer. I got the feeling she wasn’t asking, if you know
what I mean."

No, I didn’t, nor did I want to. "I’ll be in touch,
Cornelius. Goodbye." I hung up the phone before our conversation digressed
to stories of angry leprechauns and disgruntled trolls.

Returning to the MLS listings, I focused on real estate.
Jeff would need a home soon, and so would Cooper … and Harvey, if he’d stop
digging up bodies on his ranch.

I clicked through pages of old and new listings. While the
Mudder Brothers nightmare added a shadow to the bright spot on my horizon—the
sale of the Old Prospector Hotel—the fact that everything looked like it was
going to go through without a hiccup, had me humming under my breath.

Death and Cooper’s anger aside, everything was going to be
all right—my kids, my love life, my job. I hoped that in time, Natalie would
come to forgive me, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Her ability to hold grudges
rivaled Al Capone’s.

Two cups of go-go juice and a breakfast bar later, I heard
the back door creak open.

I heard the sound of boot heels clunking down the hall,
smelling Ray’s cologne before catching sight of him in my peripheral. His seat squeaked
as he fell into it.

I glanced over at him and did a double-take at the sight of
his pale skin and wide glassy eyes. His jaw hung slack, and his breathing
seemed heavier than usual, like he’d run to work this morning.

"What’s wrong with you?" I asked. Was he still in
shock from the Mudder mess?

"They found Jane." His voice sounded weak, sort of
washed out.

"Oh, no. Don’t tell me she went on a total bender."

What had her soon-to-be ex done now? Couldn’t the guy cut
her some slack? He’d gotten his cake in the form of a little blonde cupcake half
his age, plus Jane’s house. What else did he need? A golden fork to eat it
with?

Ray blinked, but his gaze still seemed unfocused. "They
found her up in Lead."

"Where? The Golden Sluice?" Under a barstool?

"No. The Open Cut."

"The Visitor Center? What was she doing there?" I
imagined her passed out on the front steps.

"No. You don’t get it, Violet." His use of my
actual name gave me pause. "They found Jane at the bottom of the Open Cut
mine."

"What?" I felt the blood drain out of my face. I
clung to my desk. "You mean she’s …" I couldn’t bring myself to say
it.

Ray nodded. "Jane’s dead."

The End … for now

Have you ever wondered if there is a story behind certain
characters or events in my Deadwood Mystery series?

Purple has always been my favorite
color, which explains Violet’s name and her purple cowboy boots. I’m also a big
fan of Elvis, Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, and young Clint Eastwood; and I
watch their films often.

* * *

I took a class on paranormal investigation and visited a
renowned haunted house, taking recordings and notes. The class was excellent, the
house was spooky, and the experience made great fodder for Cornelius in this
book.

* * *

In the first two books, Violet drives an old red Bronco,
which I based on a red blazer that my parents had for years. That old red
blazer "went where no man dared to go" and resulted in many wonderful
memories. Last year, it finally died, so I killed it off in the second book of
the series. It was my epitaph to the old beast. My parents also had an old
green truck that we called the Picklemobile.

* * *

Deadwood and Lead are real towns in the Black Hills full of
hard-working, friendly people. While my books and the characters within them
are fiction, some of the setting locations and history details are real.

* * *

I’m often asked, "Who would play the role of Violet? Doc?
Harvey?" While I have actors in mind for many of my characters, I have yet
to come up with the perfect actress to play Violet. However, I can’t look at
the actor Daniel Craig now without thinking
Hey, Cooper
.

Some of the wonderful benefits of writing and publishing
have been the friendship and support that have come along the way. With every
book I finish and prepare to share with the world, I am humbled by all those
who are willing to give their time and share their knowledge in exchange for a
simple smile and a "thank you." Following are just a few of those
people who have offered their help with this third book in the Deadwood Mystery
series.

I always start with thanking my husband because without him
I’d eat nothing but tomato paste and corn chips while writing. Not only does he
listen to me talk about my books 24/7, he helps me with brainstorming and
critiquing, he tells me it will be okay when I insist the sky is falling, and
he encourages me when I wonder if I can write yet another book.

Thanks to Corvallis Press for giving me another shot to woo
more readers.

Thank you to my agent, Mary Louise Schwartz of the Belfrey
Literary Agency. Here’s to even more books to come.

Thanks to my brother, Charles Kunkle, for being so easy to
work with to create cover art and illustrations.

Thank you to Mona Weiss for your help creating one of my
best covers yet.

Thanks again to my mom, Margo Taylor, for all of your help
talking up my books in the Black Hills, and to my brother, Dave Taylor, for
making sure mom stays out of trouble—ha! Thanks to my aunt, Judy Routt, and her
family for spreading word about my books in Northwest Ohio. And thanks to
Marilyn Smith for joining the publicity crew and helping me make headway in Arizona.

Thank you to all of my advance readers, editors, and
critiquers: Beth Harris, Wendy Delaney, Marcia Britton, Mary Ida Kunkle, Paul
Franklin, Jacquie Rogers, Jody Sherin, Renelle Wilson, Sue Stone-Douglas, Bill
Stone, Robin Weaver, Marguerite Phipps, Denise Garlington, Stephanie Kunkle,
Devon Chadderton, Joby Gildersleeve, Sharon Benton, Margo Taylor, Carol
Cabrian, Gigi Murfitt, Cheryl Foutz, and Cammie Hall.

Thanks to Mimi "The Grammar Chick" for your
editing and all of the crazy laughs. You’re wild!

Thanks to the super-kind reviewers who offered your time to
read and comment about this book; and to the awesome authors who gave me killer
quotes.

Thanks to the Deranged crew: Jacquie Rogers, Wendy Delaney,
and Sherry Walker for years of help with my writing. Thanks to Gerri Russell
and Joleen James for your weekly page-goals encouragement and thumbs up.

Thanks to Amber Scott for your friendship and career help.
Think BIG!

Thank you to my coworkers for always cheering me onward
through the pages. You make coming to work fun.

Thanks to Vickie Haskell for all of your help with shipping
ARCs and figuring out which actor to cast as Doc.

Thanks to Neil McNeill for your help with paranormal
investigating information.

Thanks to my family for all of your love and teasing.

Thank you to the awesome people of the Black Hills of South
Dakota for your wonderful support and promotional help as you waited for this
installment of the series.

And finally, thanks to my brother, Clint Taylor, for talking
up my books, and for running headlong right next to me into the
jellyfish-filled ocean off the Georgia coast when we were kids. Man, did we
learn a lesson that day.

"Masterful. That is the only word I could think of
to adequately describe Ann Charles' writing. Masterful storytelling. Masterful
suspense. Masterful humor. You name it, Ms. Charles has mastered it. And to
have such tension and mystery in a third book in a series? Like I said …
Masterful."

~Carolyn McCray, #1 Kindle Bestselling Author of
30
Pieces of Silver

"Pull on your purple
boots—Ann Charles will have you chewing your nails and laughing out loud at
Violet Parker’s latest mayhem!"

~Jacquie Rogers, Award-winning Author of
Much Ado
About Madams

"A must read! Ann
Charles possesses the rarest of rare talents—she combines laugh-out-loud funny
with suspense so intense you forget to breathe. 
Dead Case in
Deadwood
is absolutely superb."

~Robin Weaver, Author of
Blue Ridge Fear

"It is do or die time in
Deadwood for a certain notorious real estate agent, chicken whisperer, single
mom of twins and peanut butter fudge ice cream aficionado.
Dead Case in
Deadwood
delivers one of the most relatable heroines of today in this
blockbuster paranormal mystery series."

~Kriss Morton-Weekley, The Cabin Goddess Reviews

"Finally, Violet is
back! Once again she has thrown herself into another life threatening
situation … and that’s just her personal life. This series has it all, mystery,
thrills, romance and a few corpses."

~Lindsey Anderson of Reads, Reviews of a Tortured
Select-Soccer Hostage