Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (12 page)

What about Cooper?

Cooper … Hmmm. Doc and I had told our secret about playing patty-cake with other worldly beings to the detective a couple of weeks ago, but Cooper hadn’t said a peep to me about that conversation since he’d walked away that night. How would he react if I told him Jane was back? Would he laugh? Or would he understand what her return could mean in figuring out how and why she’d ended up in the bottom of Homestake Mine’s ?

I needed to let that one sit on the back of my tongue for a while and see if it started tasting bitter.

“I think they’re coming to blows in there,” Doc’s voice interrupted my internal debate.

Feeling numb inside, I lowered my hands to peek at him over the top of my fingertips. The yelling and slamming of drawers had intensified. It was no wonder Doc had heard it downstairs while he cleaned up after supper.

Dear Lord, what must he be thinking, especially after the way Addy and Layne had misbehaved during supper when they hadn’t been giving us the silent treatment. I wouldn’t have been surprised midway through our grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup if Doc had grabbed his keys and disappeared in a puff of exhaust.

He leaned against the door jamb, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. “Are you up to refereeing the rematch of Hulk Hogan versus ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage going on in there? Or would you like me to give it a shot?”

My hands slid the rest of the way down my face in surprise. He wanted to help? “You’re willing to risk life and limb by entering that room?”

“I’ve faced off with scarier beings.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t rabid.”

That made him chuckle.

I stood, hesitant. I didn’t want him to feel like I was pushing him into a daddy role, but on the other hand I was curious how he would handle this situation.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

It felt like we were taking a big step here in our relationship. As much as I wanted to turn it into a full-on leap, I was afraid that he might realize I was wanting it to be a leap and instead stumble back a few feet.

Frickety-frack, this boyfriend-girlfriend crap was tough. Some days, playing cat and mouse with albino-like killers seemed so much simpler.

Doc’s gaze searched mine. “Are we still talking about me breaking up a fight?”

His question told me plenty. I crumpled up the does-he-love-me-enough-to-help-raise-my-hellions daisy I’d been playing with in my head and nodded a little too hard. “Yeah, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m asking you to be something you’re not … well, something that you don’t want to be … I mean, maybe you do want to be it, but not necessarily right now, here, with me … at least not at this very moment … in time.”

He raised one eyebrow, his lips quivering on the edge of a smile. “Are you done tiptoeing through that minefield?”

I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him. “Shut up and go deal with my kids.”

He bowed and then grabbed my pillow and tossed it back at me. “I’d be happy to, my lady.”

Right then Addy let out an ear-clanging scream, sounding like Linda Blair while a priest branded a cross onto her forehead.

Doc glanced down the hall. “I think so, anyway.” Concern creased his face when he looked back at me. “Should I take some holy water with me?”

I nodded. “Grab a priest while you’re at it.”

“Will do.” He pushed off the door frame and disappeared from view.

Meanwhile there I sat, wincing, wondering how fast this was going to go south.

I heard the bathroom door close.

Silence followed.

Twisting my hands together, I waited for my two banshees to start shrieking at Doc. For him to come back and ask me to return the key to his house.

All was still.

What did that mean?

I eased out of my bedroom and stole down the hall. Maybe I should press my ear to the bathroom door to make sure all were still alive inside. Halfway there, the house phone rang downstairs. The extension in Aunt Zoe’s bedroom trilled a split second later. I sped past the bathroom door and detoured into her room.

“Hello?” I flicked on the lamp next to her bed, comforted by the exotic fragrance of her favorite perfume lingering in the room.

“Violet Parker?” said a deep, deep voice I didn’t quite recognize. The guttural way he said my name made goosebumps pop up on my arms.

“Yeah?” My reply was heavy with trepidation. Maybe being Violet Parker right then was a bad idea.

“There’s a viewing Thursday evening for the late Ebenezer Haskell.”

“Another Haskell died?” Sheesh, that family had been prolific in death lately. They needed to start a punch card. After ten stiffs they’d receive a free casket.

“Be at Mudder Brothers for the viewing.”

“Who is this?” Had somebody given my phone number to a local obituary hotline?

“Do not park in the parking lot.”

There was no way this was a legit phone call. “Cornelius, are you messing with me?”

“Dress in disguise.”

This definitely had to be Cornelius. Only he would find it amusing to play Trick-or-Treat at a funeral parlor. “Like with a fake moustache and a clown wig?”

“Make sure to hide your hair and face.”

My hair? Cornelius rarely commented on my hair, except for that time he had confused me with a poodle wearing sunglasses advertised on the side of a bus. Maybe it was Cooper. The detective had some weird fixation with my hair and not in a good way like Wolfgang. Wait, Wolfgang’s obsession with my hair had been pretty twisted, even if he’d told me repeatedly how beautiful it was.

“What do you have against my hair?”

“Do not talk to anyone at the viewing.”

This was beginning to sound a lot more like Cooper by the second, all bossy and emotionally detached. “Can I bring a friend?”

“That would be a bad idea.”

“Even if it’s Natalie?” I tested, figuring I’d get some reaction to her name if it were Cooper.

“You must come alone.”

No hesitation or change in tone. Hmm. “Who is this?”

“You will receive further instructions tomorrow night.”

Maybe it was Detective Hawke. He’d found a new way to get me alone so he could badger me with more silly questions while he clicked his stupid-ass pen.

“Listen, I’m not going to that funeral parlor unless you tell me who you are.”

“Someone who’s concerned about your welfare.”

The voice was deeper than Hawke’s, though. Maybe he was using one of those voice changers. “That sounds like a corny line from a movie. Try again.”

“Someone who fears for your son’s life.”

I almost swallowed my tongue along with his reply. “That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

The line went dead.

“Hello?” I tried anyway.

Game over.

Holy crap!

I raced back to my bedroom, phone still in my hand, passing my two kids in the hall on the way. “Get to bed, Addy.”

“I am, Mother,” she said to my back. “And don’t worry; Elvis is all locked up like a prisoner in the basement.”

“Don’t talk back, Adelynn Renee.” I grabbed Layne by the shoulder and stared down at his face, making sure all freckles were still where they belonged. “What happened to your ear?” It had a scab on it, fresh from the looks of it.

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” I tried to turn him so I could see it better.

He tugged free of my grip. “Quit babying me, Mom.”

Don’t mind me, I thought, watching his stiff shoulders disappear into his bedroom. I was just trying to keep him alive and breathing.

Where was Doc? I checked the bathroom on the way to my bedroom, finding it empty. He probably went back downstairs. I needed to tell him about that phone call, but before I let panic take the reins, I wanted to check on something.

I tossed the house phone on my bed and grabbed my cellphone from the dresser, dialing Cornelius’s number. Amazingly, he answered on the first ring. “I said I wanted a wake-up call at nine-oh-three a.m., not p.m.”

“Cornelius, this is Violet.”

“Violet who?”

“You know which damned Violet.”

“Ah, yes, the one with a temper.”

Detective Hawke must have been whispering in his ear. “Did you just call me?”

“Should I have?”

“Just answer the question,” I bit out.

“Have you taken your pills tonight, Violet?”

“Cornelius, did you call me a moment ago or not?”

“Not.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Did you speak with your tall—”

I hung up on him, not in the mood to chit chat about loud, dead neighbors.

I punched up Cooper’s number.

“This better not be about another dead body, Parker.”

It sort of was, being that I’d just been ordered to attend another Haskell funeral, but I didn’t want to get into that with the detective until he’d answered my question.

I heard the low rumble of conversation in the background, along with the clinking of glasses. It sounded like he was at a bar. “Did you just call me?”

He scoffed. “Contrary to what you think, this world does not revolve around you.”

“Whatever. Did you call me or not?”

“Although with that hair of yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if it rivaled the moon in gravitational pull.”

If only I could reach through the phone and hit him upside the head with a beer bottle. “Just answer the fucking question.”

“No.”

“Who is that?” I heard a female ask.

Was that Natalie? It didn’t sound like her voice. It was smokier and more sexpot-ish like Doc’s psycho ex-girlfriend, Tiffany Sugarbell. Tiffany also happened to be a rival agent with a realty company out of Spearfish, and I wouldn’t put it past that bloodthirsty bitch to try to steal Cooper and his house away from me as payback for my winning Doc’s affection.

“A pain in my ass,” Cooper answered whoever it was. “What makes you think I called?” he asked me.

“None of your business.” I hung up on him. Damn, that had felt good!

That left Detective Hawke. I hesitated, my finger hovering over his number still located in the received calls queue from the last time he’d called and harassed me with questions. Screw it, I had to know.

“Hawke speaking,” he answered almost instantly.

“This is Violet Parker. Did you just call me?”

“No, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

I hung up on him, too. Striding over to my window and back, I chewed on my knuckles. Then I saw the other phone next to my pillow. I grabbed it and hit the automatic callback button. It rang and rang and rang.

“Come on,” I whispered, back to pacing.

“Yeah?” Someone finally answered.

“Who is this?”

“Jim.”

“Jim who?”

“Jim, the sucker who’s blowing his savings on a goddamned slot machine that won’t pay out. Who’s this?”

I could hear the bells and dings of a casino in between Jim’s huffs. Whoever had called me must have used a payphone. “This is gambler’s anonymous, Jim. What casino are you in?”

“I don’t know. The one with Gold in the name. Why? Did my wife call you?”

Crap, it wasn’t Cornelius’s hotel. Who in the hell had called me? “No, your banker did. Go home to your wife, Jim, and take her some flowers while you’re at it.” I hung up the phone and tossed it back on my bed.

Now what?

I knew the answer to that—I was going to have to don my funeral attire Thursday night, including a hat and veil this time. Just the thought of that wall of one-way mirrors in Mudder Brothers made me shiver. Who would be watching me from the other side?

“Your kids are in bed waiting for you to say goodnight,” Doc said from the hall. When I looked over at him, his expression sobered. He stepped into my room. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone called me while you were with the kids.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” I gave him a quick replay, doing my best imitation of a deep, scary voice.

“Violet, you’re not going to Mudder Brothers alone.”

“I can’t take Nat or Harvey. People in town know who they are.” Not to mention I’d been there before with them. I dropped onto my bed, my legs feeling wobbly now that I’d accepted my fate.

“True.” He sat down next to me, taking my clammy hand in his, warming it. “But I doubt anyone will know who I am.”

“Doc, it’s a funeral parlor.” The potential for ghosts aplenty was huge.

“I know.”

“A waypoint for the dead. Possibly lots of them.”

He squeezed my hand. “Right now, I’m more concerned about the living.”

* * *

Wednesday, October 24th

The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. Cooper’s name showed on the screen. I groaned and sent it to voicemail, in no mood to do any mental jousting before I’d downed some caffeine.

Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. The pillow next to me was empty except for an indent. Doc had been lying on the bed next to me reading that damned book of Jerry’s last night when I’d fallen asleep. Where was he now?

I climbed out of bed, heading for the window. His Camaro was still parked in the drive.

Out in the hallway, I could hear the sound of Doc’s low voice echoing up the stairwell. The smell of coffee brewing floated along with it. I followed both down to the kitchen and found him leaning against the counter, talking on his cellphone.

He held his finger to his lips when I entered the room and then pointed at his phone.
Cooper
, he mouthed.

“Sure, I’ll let Violet know as soon as I talk to her. She’s going to want to know why, though.”

He listened, his face giving away nothing, so I went over and poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Are you double-checking stories or do you think you missed something last time?”

Nice try, Doc, but I doubted the pissy detective would say anything other than his usual mantra about “police business.”

“Really?” Doc replied. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

What!?
I set my mug down and crossed my arms, glaring at Doc’s phone. No fair. I was the one who saw the dead guy, not Doc. How come Cooper wouldn’t share with me?

“Oh, it’s definitely still on for tonight,” he told Cooper. “It’s Reid’s turn to bring the beer, right?”