Optical Delusions in Deadwood (43 page)

      “But Douglas doesn’t believe in demonology.” He’d made that crystal clear the other night.

      “No, but Douglas wanted the Carhart house. He said Lila overheard him offering to buy the place from Junior’s old man one night in the bar. Douglas claims Lila followed him to his car and ... uh ...” Cooper squirmed just a little and looked down at his feet, “seduced him.”

      In other words, she screwed his brains out.

      “Which I’d buy,” Cooper continued, “if Douglas didn’t have a history of seducing women himself.”

      “Do you think Douglas’ wife knew about any of this?”

      Cooper shrugged. “She does now.”

      “So, why did Douglas want the house so badly?”

      “He’d bought the other properties all around the Carhart’s place. He had big plans for the town of Lead in the form of a fancy resort overlooking the Open Cut, including a glass catwalk just like the one over the Grand Canyon. Only Mr. Carhart wouldn’t budge.”

      “That’s ironic,” I said.

      “Why’s that?” Reid asked.

      “Because when Millie killed her father, he was planning on selling the house to Douglas so he could run off with Claudette Perkins.”

      “Uncle Willis mentioned that yesterday,” Cooper said, his nostrils flared in a huff. “You should have told me about Claudette as soon as you found out.”

      “I didn’t realize you were still on the case. You basically told me the case was closed and I should mind my own business.”

      “It was—as far as everyone needed to know—and you should have listened to me.” Cooper squeezed the grips.

      “Had I listened, we probably wouldn’t be sitting here with those two locked up and the case solved.”

      “She has a point.” Reid took my side.

      Cooper growled, “Don’t you have a fire to put out somewhere?”

      “So, Millie killed her father as a result of the history of abuse and with Lila urging her on,” I said. “But why did she kill Junior? Was he abusive, too? Or was that Lila’s doing?”

      Cooper’s upper lip curled a little. “Millie claims she did it for love. She swears Junior was hurting Lila. That Lila would have bruises on her arms and cheeks the mornings after Junior drank.”

      “But Benjamin said Junior was a friendly drunk.”

      Cooper’s head cocked to the side, his eyebrows drawn. “Benjamin who?” 

      “Never mind.” I needed to protect my sources. “How do we know that Lila wasn’t faking those bruises just to get Millie to do her dirty work?”

      “We don’t, and we probably never will, now.”

      “So,” Reid chimed in. “Lila convinced Millie to kill her own father and brother?”

      When Cooper nodded, I asked, “Does that mean she’ll get a shorter prison sentence?”

      “I don’t know. That’s not for me to determine.”

      Good old irony. If Millie’s father had just tried to unload the property to Douglas and run off to Florida with Claudette a week or two earlier, he might still be alive. I’d still have my Bronco, Douglas would have the property he wanted, and Lila ... well, she could be dilly-dallying with demons.

      “So, we know Douglas wanted the property,” I said, “but do you know for sure whether he played any part in the Carharts’ deaths? What did Millie mean about his playing puppeteer?”

      “Millie said he used Lila, convincing her to seduce Junior and then to try to get to the old man, too. I’m figuring Douglas also put Lila up to seducing Millie, although Millie claims that Lila really loved her, that it wasn’t just an act.”

      Love was blind, apparently even from the backside of Coke-bottle lenses.

      “Douglas’ story about Lila is a bit different. He says Lila couldn’t get Junior to do what she wanted, which was to help her raise a demon, so she moved on to Millie.”

      Poor Millie, looking for love in all the demonic places.

      “Lila lied to Millie,” Cooper continued. “She told her if the Carhart men were eliminated, the house would belong to Millie. Then they could sell it to Douglas and run away together to Cancun.”

      “Why would Millie think the house would go to her and not Wanda?” Reid asked.

      “Millie said Lila showed her a copy of old man Carhart’s will that said the kids got everything. But what Lila apparently didn’t notice was that the will wasn’t finished yet. There was no final signature. Which meant that after they killed him, Wanda got it all, including the house, per the old will.”

      Reid leaned back and steepled his fingers. “But Wanda wasn’t interested in selling.”

      “Right,” Cooper said. “Not until they convinced her that her dead husband was haunting the place.”

      “And that’s where I came in. They needed a Realtor.” I had a feeling that Millie’s claim about being rejected by other real estate agents was a bunch of hooey.

      “Exactly, and it had to be a Realtor who was desperate enough to try to sell the house after having a murder-suicide occur there half a year earlier.”

      I wrinkled my nose at Cooper. “Desperate?”

      He grinned. “If the shoe fits.”

      “Bend over and I’ll see.”

      Chuckling, Reid said, “You won’t make it past the stick wedged up there.”

      Cooper shot Reid a squint. “Are you going to hop on her bandwagon every time?”

      “I like her tune.”

      “You’re just kissing her ass so she’ll help you with Zoe.”

      “Help you with Aunt Zoe how?” I asked Reid.

      He sprang to his feet. “You hear that? Sounds like a fire whistle.”

      I didn’t hear anything besides Cooper and that hand-grip thing.

      “Violet, try not to burn anything down for a while.” Reid squeezed my shoulder briefly. “Later, Coop.” I thought I heard him utter, “Big mouth,” as he closed the door behind him.

      Creak, creak, creak.

      I cleared my throat. “So, Douglas wanted the land and used Lila to get it. Lila wanted to wake up a demon, so she played along with Douglas and used Junior and then Millie to do her bidding. Millie was in love with Lila and killed off the family members she didn’t like so much to impress her girlfriend. Does that pretty much cover it?”

      “Yes.”

      “Where does Wanda fit into this mess?”

      “In spite of Millie and Lila’s attempt to frame her and then scare her with Carhart’s ghost, she doesn’t fit into it. Which leads me to one of the main reasons I asked you here. Who’s Prudence?”

      “Uh.” I grimaced. “Who?”

      “Wanda mentioned that Prudence was there in the house with you guys during the big showdown. She said Prudence told her to call for help during your fight with Lila.”

      “I didn’t see anyone else.” No lie there.

      Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “Wanda wanted me to give you a message from Prudence. Something about the power of the teeth.”

      The teeth had power? How could teeth have any power? “Hmm. Wanda must be suffering from post-traumatic stress. I don’t know anything about someone named Prudence or her teeth.”

      “Violet Parker,” those steely eyes held me prisoner. “If you’re lying to me, I’m going to lock you up for withholding evidence.”

      I had a gut feeling that he wasn’t joking. “Oh, you mean
those
teeth.”

      “Yeah.” He tossed the hand gripper on the desktop. “Those teeth. I want to see them.”

      “Fine.” He could have the teeth, but he wasn’t getting the book. “I’ll drop them off when I have a chance.”

      “You do that. Is there anything else you need to show me?”

      “That’s a loaded question.”

      He tilted his head to the side. “Anything having to do with this case? Anything about this Prudence woman Wanda keeps prattling on about?”

      “No.” Prudence was a ghost, if she even existed. It was hard to show him someone he couldn’t slap cuffs on. Besides, I was still digesting all this ethereal business myself, along with the facts that Doc and Wanda both knew Prudence’s name, Jane knew of the ghost woman’s slit throat, and Millie had refused to go up in the attic because of a dead old lady—which may or may not have been Prudence.

      Cooper’s desk phone beeped. He frowned and punched a button on it. “This better be good.”

      “Your uncle is here and threatening to come back there.”

      “I told you no visitors.”

      “He’s being rather insistent. Short of me arresting him, he seems to be unstoppable.” A crash and spew of curses sounded through the speaker, then there was a pause. “Do you want me to arrest him?”

      “No, she’s on her way out.” Cooper hung up the phone and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re done for now. Your ride is here.”

      I stood. “Have you heard anything back about the foot Layne found? Or that hand from Mount Roosevelt?”

      He frowned at me, the set line of his jaw giving the impression he’d locked it up tight. Then he surprised me with “Not yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

      I nodded and decided to get the hell out of there before he changed his mind about letting me go.

      “Don’t forget to bring me those teeth,” he said to my back.

      Harvey waited for me at the far end of the long hallway. “We’re leaving?” he asked.

      I kept walking right past him. “Immediately. My boss is waiting for me at work.” Unfortunately, that was the God’s honest truth per Jane’s phone message this morning, which had me almost as anxious as spending time in a small, enclosed space with Cooper.

      “I’ll drive you,” Harvey said.

      “It’s just a block or two away.”

      “Fine, then you can drive me.”

      “Harvey,” I paused and held the main door for him. “Have you forgotten that I am currently wheel-less?”

      “Not at all.” He took my hand and placed a set of warm keys with a smiley faced keychain in it. “Use it,” he insisted when I started to resist. “Just for now. You have kids. You need a vehicle.” He grabbed my wrist and led me into the sun-warmed parking lot. “I cleaned her up and gave her a waxing. She looks almost as good as new.”

      Pigpen’s hay and manure scent was gone, that was something. I smiled at the old coot and held up the keys. “Thanks for letting me borrow your ... what do you call it?”

      “Picklemobile.”

      “Right. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

      “Same place as you. I have an appointment with Doc this morning.”

     
Doc.
My heart panged at just the sound of his name. Shrugging off the pain, I pulled open the pickup door. I’d deal with that situation later.

      I climbed behind the wheel and started the Picklemobile. She smoked and burped, then sputtered to life. Harvey patted the dash and grinned. “That’s my girl.”

      “Anything I need to know about her?” I asked as we bounced out onto the street, her steering wheel shimmying in my hands.

      “She has a loose spring in her step, gets the farts every now and then, and wheezes when you stomp on the gas too hard. Other than that, she runs like a dream.”

      I pulled into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane’s and killed the engine. A loud boom echoed off the hills, making me jump and yelp. “What was that?” I asked, looking around.

      “I told you she farts.”

      Oh, Christ. My clients were going to love this.

      Harvey and I parted ways in the parking lot. I took a deep breath before stepping inside Calamity’s back door. Based on Jane’s somber tone in her message this morning, I had a feeling shit was about to spray forth from a large fan.

      “Violet,” Jane called to me as I passed her office door. I backed up and smiled in at her, pretending everything was hunky dory. “Come to my office as soon as you settle in. Bring Ray.”

      My stomach sank to my ankles. “Okay.”

      I didn’t bother with coffee.

      “Doc Nyce is trying to get hold of you,” Mona told me as I put my purse down on my chair. She walked over and placed a handful of Post-its on my desk calendar. “I think he’s a little anxious about seeing his house.”

      And something else, but I didn’t bother to elaborate for her. “Thanks, Mona.” He’d called almost every twenty minutes this morning.

      Her palm lightly squeezed my shoulder, making me look up. “You okay, Vi?”

      I patted her hand. “Yeah, thanks.”

      “That’s my girl.” She pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “Jane has something for you.”

      A pink slip? I winced. “I know.” I noticed Ray’s empty chair. “Where’s Ray?”

      The toilet flushed, answering my question.

      Ray strolled out as I headed down the hall to Jane’s office.

      “I’m surprised you didn’t burn the Carhart house to the ground, too,” he said, a smartass grin on his lips.

      I reached out and popped him in the nose ... in my fantasy land where dreams come true. In reality, I flipped him off and said, “Jane wants to talk to us.”

      “Oh, this is going to be good.”

      I followed him into Jane’s office, her signature floral perfume making me nauseated today.

      “Close the door,” she said, her painted lips ruler-straight.

      The click of the door echoed in my brain.

      “Have a seat,” she ordered. “Both of you.”

      Ray lazed back in the chair. “How’s the divorce going, Jane?”

      “Shut up, Ray,” she answered.

      I gulped. Something told me we weren’t going to join hands and sing
Kumbaya
anytime soon.

      “Violet.” She set down the pen. “Ray tells me you went behind my back and told Dane Nyce that he could live in his office until his house came available.”

      I sucked up my nervous-Nelly nausea and owned up. “That’s true. He had nowhere to stay due to the bike-rally crowd. It seemed like the right thing to do for my client.”

      “Yet you knew that was not allowed per his lease.”

      “Yes, I did.”

      I glanced at Ray, the tattletale. His grin fanned wrinkles over his tanned face. Fury burned in my veins, heating my core.

      “Well, while I don’t condone disobeying my rules, I do applaud your willingness to take such a risk in order to please a customer.”