Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (23 page)

“What does this have to do with Ms. Beals?”

Crud. Of course he wouldn’t let my slip of the tongue slide by him. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“If you think you can undermine the police by getting Ms. Beals to somehow skirt the law on your behalf—”

“Quit your squealing, Wilbur.” I cut him off mid-rant.

“Who’s Wilbur?”

Oh, yeah. He didn’t have kids. “The pig from
Charlotte’s Web
. You know, the well-known children’s book.” When he didn’t reply, I added, “It’s hard to make fun of you when you don’t understand my insults.”

“Don’t drag Ms. Beals into your fuckups, Parker.”

“Sheesh! You need to take a vacation or something, mellow out, and have someone extract that rod of iron rebar from your anal cavity while you’re at it.”

“Me? Who was the one slamming shots of tequila last night, all wound up about a little girlie ghost?”

“I’m not ashamed of being a big scaredy cat.” His mention of last night’s disaster reminded me of something. “So, uh, did you go home with Tiffany after we left?”

“Where I sleep is none of your concern.”

“Whatever. I’m going to hang up now, Detective, and cross my fingers that I don’t have to hear your voice for at least a week.”

He sighed. “With that kind of attitude toward your clients, it’s a wonder you make any sales.”

“Client? Oh, right. That.”

“Yes, that. Instead of moving outside of the city limits this winter, I have my uncle and his harem of women shacking up with me.”

“I’m trying, Cooper, but I can’t control the market.”

“I know.”

“In the meantime, I know a wonderful ranch house in the country you could move into temporarily. It comes with four bedrooms, two baths, and various body parts scattered around the property.”

“Real funny, Parker. Now leave me alone so I can do my damned job.”

He hung up on me.

I was in no mood for that today. I hit the redial button.

“What now, Parker?”

“Just this!” I hung up on him.

Then I turned off my ringer. After sending Natalie a quick heads-up text, telling her that Hawke was now in charge of the ranch investigation, I stuffed my phone in my underwear drawer and went to wash away the bitterness left behind after talking to Cooper via a long, hot shower.

The rest of the day passed quickly. While I made my way back from hangover hell via liquids and sleep, the kids entertained themselves by arguing over movies, toys, and bathroom visitation rights. Doc texted a few times, making sure I was alive and well. He was working down in Hill City for the day, and didn’t figure on being home until later tonight. I told him about Natalie hanging out with me and extended an invitation but didn’t figure he’d show. I couldn’t blame him after last night’s disaster.

Not to mention that whole thing about my coming from a family of killers business. He hadn’t taken me seriously when I’d told Cooper and him that I was a killer. That was too bad, because I’d rather have the truth out in the open than still be sitting on it, waiting for it to crack wide and swallow me whole.

Natalie showed up at the house around suppertime, bringing her mom’s famous taco casserole. Her parents had been like a backup set to mine. They still tried to take care of me whenever they could, and I loved them dearly for it.

Her lunch with Detective Hawke had gone swimmingly, as in she’d spent an hour swimming in his bullshit while getting nowhere on any front that helped with our many problems. He’d boasted about being the lead on Harvey’s ranch situation to her, and when she’d tried to find out if there was anything new with that, he digressed into his history of being the lead in many cases, going on and on in mundane detail about each until stabbing a fork in her own forehead seemed like the best plan of escape.

After the kids went to bed, we settled onto the couch with two spoons and a tub of peanut butter fudge ice cream between us. I texted Doc but didn’t hear back, so I called and left a message. Maybe he was still down in Hill City, working from a hotel room. It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t gone home while on a job.

It was after eleven when Aunt Zoe’s phone rang. I practically vaulted off the couch in my haste to get it before the kids woke up.

“Hello?”

“Violet Parker?” It was a woman’s voice. The number on the phone had a weird area code. Oh, please don’t be the highway patrol from another state with bad news about Aunt Zoe.

I gripped the phone tighter. “Yes?”

“You need to come to Mudder Brothers right now.”

All of the spit in my mouth dried up. “Why?”

“Someone has a very important message for you.”

“What message?”

“I have no idea.”

If this truly was the highway patrol, someone needed to school them on how to deliver this kind of news. “Is it a bad message?”

“Lady, I just said I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t you think that if you call me this late at night with an important message you should have an idea what the message entails?”

“Listen, I was told to call and tell you to go to the garage ASAP. The door will be unlocked. My work here is done.”

The garage? That was where they kept the bodies on ice. “Who is this?”

The line went dead.

I hit redial and got some wasted woman who couldn’t remember the name of the bar where the payphone I’d called was located and proceeded to tell me about her lousy ex-boyfriend.

“Who called?” Natalie asked from the kitchen doorway.

“My mysterious caller from the other night had one of his lackeys contact me.”

“So what did this lackey want?”

“I’m supposed to go over to Mudder Brothers garage, sneak inside, and wait.”

“The morgue? When?”

“Tonight.”

“Nope. That isn’t going to happen.”

I worried my lower lip with my teeth.

“Please tell me you’re mangling your lip because it itches, not because you’re seriously considering going.”

“You could watch the kids for me.”

“Bad idea.”

“What if I call Doc and have him meet me there?”

“Better idea.”

I tried Doc. It rang and rang until I got a message that his voicemail was full, so I hung up. “He’s not answering.”

“Try your other bodyguard then.”

I did. Harvey’s phone sent me straight to voicemail, which usually meant he was busy with a lady friend. “No luck there, either.”

“Shit.” She wrapped her arms around her midriff, hunching her shoulders. “I don’t think you should go, Vi. Not alone.”

“If I don’t go, I won’t find out who or what is threatening Layne’s life.”

“If you do go, you could lose yours.”

“I don’t get that feel from this guy.”

“Are you some kind of seer of the future now?”

I wouldn’t exactly put me in that category, but my gut said I needed to go. “Maybe.”

“What about Detective Cooper? You could have him meet you there.”

“Have you been smoking crack? Absolutely not.”

“Why not? Because he took your tequila shots away?” She pointed at me. “You still haven’t told me why you were drinking last night.”

I waved her off. “If Cooper catches wind of me at Mudder Brothers, he’ll have me arrested.”

“I’d rather have you in jail than dead. There has to be someone else you can take. What about Detective Hawke?”

“Now you’re just being a silly nilly.”

“Try Doc again.”

I tried. Still no answer, only the message about his voicemail being full.

Why was his voicemail full? That seemed odd.

“This is a really bad idea, Vi. Like the queen of bad ideas.”

“What’s the king?”

“When you decided to have sex with Rex a decade ago.”

She had a point there. Instead of sleeping with him, I should have just shot him in the nuts and called it good.

Hey, that had given me an idea! “I’ll be right back,” I told Natalie and raced down the basement stairs. Elvis was sleeping on a pillow bed in her cage. I took a closer look. Was that the pillow missing from my bed? Then I remembered why I was down here and left the pillow investigation for another time.

Aunt Zoe’s shotgun shells were stacked high on a shelf in an old cupboard. I grabbed a box and took the stairs two at a time.

“What are you going to do with those?” Natalie asked when I showed them to her.

“Grab Aunt Zoe’s shotgun and take both with me.”

“Okay, I’m changing my answer. You taking a loaded shotgun into Mudder Brothers’ makeshift morgue at midnight is the king of worst ideas ever.”

“I’m not going to load it, just have the shells in my pocket if I need them.”

“Vi, do you hear yourself? This is the sort of stupid stuff that blonde bimbos in those slasher horror flicks try.”

“I’m not a blonde bimbo. I do know how to load and shoot a shotgun, remember?”

“Of course. I’ve gone shooting with you. But I really don’t think you should do this alone, not with the freaky stuff that went down at Mudder Brothers before. You’re like a wounded baby wildebeest stumbling into a lion’s den.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “You really need to stop watching those nature documentaries with Layne.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “I know, but the footage is so amazing.”

“Here’s an idea—how about I take you with me?”

“What about the kids? We can’t leave them here alone.”

“I mean on my phone.”

“Huh?”

“We do that speak-n-see thing where we talk back and forth while looking at each other in real time.”

“So you take me in the morgue with you while I sit here at the kitchen table?”

“Exactly. Then I’m not completely alone and you can contact the cops if anything goes wrong.”

“Like you ending up as a new resident in the morgue.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. That still seems risky.”

“Who are you and what did you do with the daredevil version of my friend?”

“I’m cool with being a daredevil, but I don’t have kids. Maybe I should go.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you. He wants me.”

“You could just wait until the next call.”

“Nat, if someone is out to hurt my son, I want to know who, damn it!”

“Fine! Go do something incredibly stupid. See if I care.”

“Fine, I will.” I started out of the room.

“But take me with you on your phone!”

“I’d be happy to.” And I meant that. I wasn’t relishing going into a morgue at midnight on my own, but if I truly carried the DNA of a killer, then I should be able to handle hanging out with dead people.

Five minutes later, I borrowed Natalie’s pickup, since it was far more of a stealth vehicle than the Picklemobile, and was on my way. Aunt Zoe’s gun was stashed under the seat along with a chef’s knife from the kitchen as a backup weapon, a box of shotgun pellet-filled shells was in my pocket, and Natalie’s face was on my cellphone reiterating how harebrained this idea was.

I parked behind the Rec center. The rest of the lot was empty, but I took a shadowed spot far from the orange street lights as an extra precaution. I sat there with the engine ticking, gearing up to step inside a building that housed the dead—and not the wispy, chain-rattling kind.

“I don’t think you should take the shotgun, Vi.”

I stared down at my phone where Natalie sat all warm, safe, and comfy in my aunt’s kitchen. “That’s easy for you to say, you’re staying topside during this mission.”

“I offered to go.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to blow your own toes off.”

“You know I’m a fine shooter.”

“Yeah, but how are you in dark, tight spaces when someone or something is rushing you?”

What would be rushing me in a morgue? The answers my imagination came up with made me gulp. “This may surprise you, Nat, but you’re not helping me here.”

She made chicken sounds into the phone.

“I’m not a chicken.”

“That’s not me. Elvis somehow escaped her cage. She just popped out through the flap in the basement door.”

“Don’t you let that damned bird near my bedroom.”

“I’ll tell you what. If you leave your aunt’s shotgun in the pickup, I’ll keep my eye on Elvis.”

“Okay, sheesh. I’ll leave the gun behind, but I’m taking the chef’s knife.”

“Good. Now get going already if you’re going to do this before you pee your pants just thinking about it.”

I stuffed her in my coat pocket and grabbed the knife from under the seat, trying to hide it against the length of my body as I eased through the shadows toward Mudder Brothers garage. I crossed my fingers that Cooper didn’t cruise by with a spotlight. I was pretty sure he’d arrest me without bothering to read me my rights for tiptoeing through the shadows in a hoodie while wielding a big ass knife.

Something fluttered off to my left up in the pine trees that covered the hillside. I quickened my steps, too scared to shine the flashlight toward the trees, more afraid of what I might see than getting ambushed from the side. I tried to keep Layne in the forefront of my thoughts as I tiptoed along the back of the garage, his safety my motivation to keep going instead of turning around, running back to Natalie’s truck, and locking myself inside.

There were no vehicles in the Mudder Brothers parking lot. I stalled outside the door to the garage, listening, wondering if I were being set up by one of my white-haired, bulbous-eyed enemies. The night felt soupy with silence. A car cruised up the road every so often, the passengers coming and going with no worries about the frozen dead people inside the garage I was about to enter.

A horn honked in the distance, making me jump.

“Are we there yet?” Natalie asked from my coat pocket.

I pulled my phone out. “Shhhhh.” I flipped the view to focus on me, holding my flashlight under my chin so she could see my face.

She flinched back from the screen. “Stop that,” she scolded. “I’m freaked out enough as it is.”

She was freaked out? That was rich. “Keep your lips shut or I’ll mute you. I’m going inside now.”

“Where’s the love?”

“In my pocket, which is where I’m putting you again.” I stuffed her away.

I turned the doorknob. It was unlocked, as the caller had said it would be. The door opened with a raspy sounding creak, like someone had used sand instead of oil on the hinges. As soon as I stepped into the room, I picked up the faint odor of formaldehyde. Then again my brain may have been conjuring up the smell for effect. It was often an asshole like that.