Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (51 page)

He grinned, his gold teeth showing. “The ol’ gal isn’t going to know what hit her.”

“What do you mean?” Aunt Zoe asked.

“Doc’s gonna fix ‘er up this winter.”

I looked at Doc. “I thought you were just going to drive her while you stored your Camaro.”

“The Picklemobile has good bones.” He reached for the doorknob. “With a tune up and some muscle, she’ll be running smooth and sleek, too.”

“Reid knows his way around an engine,” Aunt Zoe said, then seemed to realize whose name she’d spoken and frowned about it. “If you need any help.”

“Doc spent a few years working in a garage,” I told her one of the few things I knew about his past, “fixing up old cars like his Camaro.”

“Good to know about Reid,” Doc told her, opening the front door. “I don’t mind company while I’m under the hood.”

“If we’re done flappin’ gums,” Harvey said, “I’d like to dig into them pork chops before I turn into a toothpick.”

Aunt Zoe led the way inside, Doc closing the door behind us. We were sitting around a serving plate of pork chops, a bowl of applesauce, and casserole dish of green beans when the doorbell rang.

“Coop’s here,” Harvey said, stabbing a chop.

“I’ll get it.” Doc left the room.

I grimaced at Harvey. “Why is
he
here?”

“I invited him.” Aunt Zoe dished me up a chop before taking one.

Criminy! Who else did she invite? Darth Vader? The shark from Jaws?

“Don’t go looking at me like that,” she said. “Cooper called this afternoon looking for you and Doc, saying he had news about the case.”

“Which one?”

“I didn’t ask. I mentioned pork chops for supper; he agreed. End of discussion.”

Cooper strode into the kitchen, his steely eyes zeroing in on me. “Hawke’s been trying to reach you.”

Harvey kicked out one of the kitchen chairs. “Where’re yer manners, boy? Set and light a spell. We can chew the fat after we fill our bellies.”

Doc returned to the seat next to me, glancing in my direction and then Cooper’s.

I took out my frustration about the bristly detective invading my sanctuary on my poor pork chop. Not even the blend of rosemary and thyme Harvey had used could calm me, but I stuffed my mouth full anyway.

Cooper washed his hands at the sink and then joined us, settling in between his uncle and Aunt Zoe. We dug in, forks clinking on plates the only sound for a minute or so.

“Whose Pilot is that?” Cooper spoke first, pouring himself more lemonade from the pitcher on the table.

“Mine,” I told him between bites, wondering if he were just curious or making a mental note for future parking ticket opportunities. “I got it today.”

“I’ve heard good things about those vehicles, especially when it comes to snow and ice. Low mileage?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How’s it handle on curves?”

“Easy.” I shot Doc a confused look. Had I somehow slipped into another dimension, one where Cooper hadn’t been built as a cyborg?

“How’s the cab? Plenty of head room?”

“Doc fits in it just fine.” I narrowed my gaze at him. “So does my hair.”

Doc cleared his throat meaningfully, sending me a raised eyebrow while sipping from his glass.

“Leather interior?” Cooper asked, not taking the bait.

I lowered my fork. “What in the hell are you doing, Cooper?”

He looked up from the piece of chop he was slicing off, his gaze bouncing around the table before returning to me. “I believe I was asking about your new vehicle.”

“What’s your motive?”

“I believe they call this ‘making small talk’ at most tables.”

I guffawed. “Since when do you and I make small talk?”

“Violet,” Aunt Zoe warned. “You’re being impolite to my guest.”

I pointed my fork at Cooper. “Your guest has a history of throwing me in jail.”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “I only did that once.”

“So far,” I tossed my fork on the table. “Can you blame me for being suspicious of his Trojan horse rolling into my headquarters?”

“Relax, Parker. I’m not here to interrogate you tonight.”

“Prove it.”

He chewed on his pork chop while squinting back at me. Sitting back, he swallowed. “How?”

“Why does Hawke want to talk to me?” Before he could answer, I added, “and don’t give me any of that ‘police business,’ bullshit.”

Cooper shrugged, slicing into the last of his pork chop. “I told him our story.”

“
Our
story?” Aunt Zoe turned to me. “You told him about …” she trailed off, glancing Cooper’s way with a worried brow.

“Not
that
story,” I assured her. Doc and I had been careful to keep Aunt Zoe and my history out of our discussion earlier at the hotel. “The detective is talking about the one that explains how he found the missing body in the mine out at Harvey’s.”

Doc grunted his disapproval of Cooper’s tale, a much quieter version of his reaction outside the hotel when the three of us had discussed how Cooper would break the news about finding the body to the police chief.

“How far did you puff up the truth?” Harvey dished himself a second helping of applesauce. “Eat yer beans, boy.”

Cooper stabbed a bunch of green beans. “Parker led us up to the mine using her medium abilities.”

“What medium abilities?” Aunt Zoe asked.

“The ones Nyce used during the séance to get Grandpappy to talk through Parker.”

Aunt Zoe’s focus moved to Doc. “Telepathy?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“How deep does this go with you, Doc?” she pressed.

“Almost four decades worth,” I answered for him.

“Our story is why Hawke wants to talk to you,” Cooper continued, digging into more beans. “He’s skeptical.”

Doc shook his head. “I still think you should have used me instead of Violet.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You and I both know that my career can handle the psychic stigma better than yours.”

“I don’t give a damn about my career. You don’t need this yoke on top of everything else you’re carrying right now.”

“Well, I give a damn about your career.”

“Why?”

Because if his business tanked, he might want to move on to the next town … without me. I’d rather throw my career to the wolves. But pride held my tongue when it came to the truth. “Because you’re helping a lot of people with their nest eggs, and that’s more important than me selling houses.”

His gaze called
bullshit
, but he didn’t say anything.

“Taking the fall again, huh?” Aunt Zoe said, not looking happy about my decision, either.

Too bad. It was my choice. “Besides, Jerry’s an ace at spinning this kind of stuff. If the rumors spread, I’ll squeeze into some black leather getup, glue on fake eyelashes, and sport one of those Ghostbuster proton guns for another billboard photoshoot.” That was one good thing Jerry had taught me since he had taken over Calamity Jane Realty—just about anything could be spun to work in my favor, even if I didn’t like the way the tables turned.

“Not to mention,” Cooper added, “Parker already told Hawke she was a medium. This story enforced her charade when she was talking to ghosts in front of him.”

Doc looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. “When did you do that?”

I shot Cooper a glare for telling on me. “Nat and I were messing with Hawke that day Cooper dragged us out to the ranch to search the barn and outbuildings.” I scratched at a drop of dried milk stuck to the edge of the table, keeping quiet about my performance in the morgue. “Did the chief buy our story, Cooper?”

“He’s hard to read, but I’m not one to tell tall tales. Now that we have the body back, there’s not much else for him to do but take my account for what it is.”

“So,” Aunt Zoe spoke to me, “your story is that you were hired for your medium abilities to do what exactly?”

“Grease Grandpappy’s jaws,” Harvey interjected, even though he wasn’t in on the original brainstorming.

“Get some specifics on how and when the victim died, why the body was left in the safe, and where the body was stashed after it was moved from Mudder Brothers.”

“What did you concoct for how he died?” she asked.

Cooper answered. “The victim was stabbed to death by a psychotic transient who cut off his face and bit off his fingertips postmortem.”

“Which was sort of true,” I said.

I had a feeling none of those body parts would ever be found, either, making figuring out who the poor guy was even harder. Not for the first time, I wondered if there were someone somewhere waiting for him to return home—a wife, parents, children? I pulled back from that vortex before it could suck me in too deep. It was better to keep thinking of him as a faceless victim, literally. Was this how Cooper lived day after day? Keeping emotional investments at bay? If so, it was no wonder he rarely cracked a smile after so many years in this business.

“What did the chief say about Violet’s role in this?” Doc asked. “Does he want to interrogate her directly?”

“He’s leaving further interrogation to the detective in charge of the case.”

Which was why Detective Hawke wanted to talk to me.

“What did you say was the motive for the killing?” Aunt Zoe asked Cooper.

“There was no motive. The transient was not mentally sound. Why else would he slice off pieces of the guy and leave him in a safe in my uncle’s barn?”

Doc draped his arm over the back of my chair. “Are they going to form some kind of manhunt for the killer?”

“That depends.”

“On what?” I asked.

Cooper leveled his gaze on me. “On how detailed your description of the transient is when Hawke interrogates you further.”

Shitballs. I rubbed my temple, starting to realize how much I’d thrown myself to the wolves to protect Doc’s career.

Doc reached under my hair, his fingers stroking my neck, calming. “We’ll practice what you need to say.”

“You’ve done this before, too?” I asked him.

“Multiple times.” He looked across at Cooper. “Besides interrogating Violet, how else will Detective Hawke be pursuing what he needs to wrap up this case?”

“He plans to go to Slagton to see if anyone has information on the victim or the transient.”

“Slagton?” I glanced toward old man Harvey, who was busy sneaking Oreos from Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar. “You think they’ll let him make it back out alive?”

“I hope so since I’m going with him.”

“Don’t be carryin’ yer brains in yer coat pocket ‘round them whangdoodles, boy.” Harvey spoke through the cookie crumbs on his beard. “I don’t want ya endin’ up as buzzard bait.”

“Grandpappy mentioned the victim had escaped from the whangdoodles.” Cooper stirred his lemonade, his face hardening. “Someone back there has information on this guy, and I’m going to find some answers, damn it. This John Doe deserves an identity before we close this case.”

“If yer headin’ to Slagton with Hawke, does that mean the clown pulled ya back on the case?”

“For now. Hawke wants my help since I know the area better. He’s still in charge, though.” His teeth were mostly gritted during that last line.

“Did anyone ask about the shotgun?” I asked, wondering where Cooper had stashed what was left of it.

“Hawke did. I told him Grandpappy told you the transient took the shotgun with him.”

We all sat there in silence for several beats, exchanging frowns and worried brows.

I sneezed again, cursing. The last thing I needed with this shit getting deep and sticky was a freaking cold. With Detective Hawke sniffing for trouble, we had to keep our stories consistent or this house of cards would fall all over the place.

“The chief is worried.” Cooper broke the silence.

“About the transient?” Doc asked.

“About outsiders.”

“Right.” Doc tapped his fingers on the table. “They’ll turn this into an even bigger clusterfuck.”

I looked from Doc to Cooper. “What outsiders?”

Cooper spoke first. “The FBI and the press.”

“More wasps in the outhouse,” Harvey grumbled.

“More like hornets. Damn it!” I slammed my palm down on the table, making the plates bounce and rattle.

Aunt Zoe patted my arm.

“How am I supposed to take care of the family business with all of this going on?” I asked her. “I’d have better luck playing hide and seek in the middle of a dry lakebed.”

“Violet Lynn,” she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “We’ve been doing this for centuries without the general population having a clue … and so have the others.”

“Doing what?” Cooper asked.

Harvey shushed him.

Aunt Zoe continued, her gaze unwavering. “Most people can’t grasp what they see as reality. Take the White Grizzly. It was known as a legend, passed down from one generation to the other. Not truth, only legend.”

After Natalie had left with the kids, I’d filled in Aunt Zoe about last night. She’d disappeared into the attic shortly afterward, hollering out a “Be safe!” through the attic door as I headed out the front door.

“Don’t let this Detective Hawke or any of the other piss-ants coming and going distract you from your task. You’re strong enough to handle this and much more.”

The phone on the wall rang.

“I hope you’re right,” I said, standing to answer it.

“What task?” I heard Cooper ask as I lifted the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Violet?” a familiar, Lurch-like voice asked.

I whipped around, locking eyes with Doc and then Cooper. “Eddie Mudder, is that you?”

Cooper froze, his glass mid-air.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

“Me? I need to be asking you that.” I hit the speaker phone button. “Where are you, Eddie? The cops are asking around about you. Your cousin is worried something happened.”

“I’m fine. I panicked that night the big ghoul came to the morgue right after you left. It took the body.”

“What big ghoul?” Mr. Black? Or had he seen the thing from the cemetery? “The one who knew George?”

“No, this one was different, bigger. It had wider shoulders, a white Mohawk, and a creepy lurching walk.”

Wasn’t that just marvelous news? There were even bigger albinos than Mr. Black and his twin. Criminy. Wait … a white Mohawk?