Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (8 page)

Layne popped up from the table and got the phone. “Hello?” He listened, then held the phone out to me but looked at Natalie. “Tell
Violet
it’s one of her boyfriends.”

I shoved my chair back, snatching the phone from him. “Get your shoes on right now,” I spoke in a harsh whisper.

“Whatever!” he echoed his sister and ran from the room.

I was really beginning to hate that word. I covered the mouthpiece and yelled after him, “Whatever me again, young man, and I’ll ground you ‘til Christmas.”

“They were such a happy, peaceful family.” Natalie sounded as if she were narrating a
Twilight Zone
episode.

I pointed the phone at her. “Keep it up and I’ll sic Coop on you.” I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“That’s Detective Cooper to you, Parker.” The sound of Cooper’s voice on the line made me cringe.

“Iya … um … oops?”

“On whom are you going to sic me?”

“Uhhhh …” my wide-eyed gaze hit Natalie. I pointed at the phone and then pushed up on the end of my nose so it looked like a pig’s snout.

“What?” She lowered her cup, squinting at me. “I don’t see anything in your nose.”

And here a moment ago she’d been so brilliant with Elvis’s hit songs.

“Natalie.” I came clean with Cooper.

“What about Ms. Beals?”

The topic of discussion made a pig snout face back at me before sipping her coffee.

“She’s here and that’s who I’m going to sic you on.”

Natalie froze with her cup to her lips, her big doe eyes staring right into my bright headlights.

There was silence at the other end of the line for a few ticks of the clock. I heard the creak of his chair and some shuffling sounds. “Good. That’s good.”

Natalie snapped back to life, aiming some rude hand gestures at me.

I pointed at her, puckered my lips in a fake kiss, and then pointed at my butt before focusing back on Cooper’s words. “What do you mean
good
, Detective? Good that I’m going to sic you on her? Or good that she’s here?”

“It’s too early for this shit, Parker.” His tone was downright snarly all of a sudden.

The silly man had forgotten to whom he was speaking. I got all bristly back. “Hey, you’re the one who called me, so don’t get your Fruit of the Looms in a wad.”

He growled.

After the morning I’d had, I growled right back. “Is there a reason you called me, Detective? Or did you just wake up from your bed of nails and think, ‘I should call Violet and see how fast I can piss her off?’”

He sighed. It sounded more weary than frustrated. “Listen, Parker, when you and Ms. Beals finish painting flowers on each other’s toenails, I need you both to come down to the station.”

“You know I won’t step one flower-covered toe in that building unless you have a warrant.”

“I don’t have the time or patience for games today, Parker.” I heard the tiredness again.

“What’s wrong? Is your uncle keeping you up partying into the wee hours?” Harvey had been sleeping in Cooper’s spare bedroom for two nights now.

“He likes to watch movies late at night. I only got four hours of sleep the last couple of nights.”

“Yeah, he does like the classics.” I missed watching old westerns with the buzzard. He knew all of the actors by name and the juiciest gossip about their personal lives.

“And then he gets up early and makes a huge spread.”

I frowned at my soggy cereal that tasted like sugar-coated pieces of cardboard. “Harvey has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

Cooper yawned. “I’ve already downed a pot of coffee trying to stay awake this morning.”

“Some days after your uncle spends the night, I eat a handful of coffee beans to get the caffeine into my system faster.” I blinked, suddenly realizing I was having an almost pleasant conversation with Cooper. “Wait a second. Are you being civil to me in order to woo me down to your office?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Damn it, Parker. I need to talk to you and your other two stooges about Sunday … in private.”

I reminded myself that Cooper’s job was on the line, and while the detective made me want to beat him with a rubber chicken most days, I didn’t want him to end up writing parking tickets instead of hunting down killers. Besides, the jerk would probably ticket the crap out of me every chance he got as payback.

“Fine.” I checked the time again, doing some quick calculating. “Meet us at your house at nine.”

“Why
my
house?”

“Because your uncle is probably still there and I can pretend this is work-related. I don’t want my boss finding out about the dead guy at Harvey’s ranch yet.” I was afraid Jerry would want to incorporate it into the Paranormal Realty camera crew’s agenda.

“You mean you actually listened to my orders for once and kept your big, fat mouth shut? Is there a Texas-sized asteroid heading toward Earth and nobody warned me?”

“You know on second thought, Detective, you can stuff those coffee beans where the sun doesn’t shine. I’ve heard coffee enemas reduce colon toxicity. Maybe you would actually be a tolerable asshole after ten or twenty flushes.”

I waited, poised and ready for him to volley another insult into my court.

Instead he chuckled. “That was a good one, Parker. I’ll give you that. Don’t be late or I’ll get that damned warrant.” Without further ado, he hung up on me.

I hissed at the phone and tossed it into the wastebasket. “Trash talk from there, bossy-butt.”

Natalie pushed up from her chair, fishing the phone out on her way to the sink. “How was Deadwood’s dastardly detective this morning?” she asked, wiping off the back of the receiver.

“More like bastardly.” I crossed my arms over my chest with a huff or two, leaning back against the counter. “He wants to talk to the three of us about the body.”

She set the phone on its base. “Why?”

“To walk through the events of Sunday morning again.”

“When?”

“After I drop off the kids at school.”

“You said this would happen.” She leaned against the counter next to me. “So why are you so ticked off at him?”

“He’s such a relentless hardass.”

“That’s what makes him so good at his job.”

“Would it hurt him to use velvet now and then instead of steel wool when he talks to me?”

“I think Cooper has only two modes when it comes to dealing with women—hard and harder.” She stroked her neck. “Makes me wonder what he’d be like in the sack.”

“Oh, I’d like to put him in a sack all right.” I sneaked a glance at her, wondering if she’d picked up on the heated glances Cooper had kept shooting her way Sunday morning at Harvey’s ranch when she’d been working her magic on Detective Hawke. “And then I’d dump him and his abrasive personality into Pactola Lake.”

That snapped her out of whatever Cooper fantasy was playing in her head. She shoulder bumped me. “If you need help with rolling him over the edge and into the drink, I’m your girl.”

I eyed her. “You’re not smitten with him like half of the Deadwood and Lead female population, huh?”

“Smitten? Nah. He’s nice to look at but only from a distance. Trust me, I learned my lesson that one night. I’m still extracting the burrs from brushing too close to him.”

Years back, Cooper had rejected Natalie’s attempts to lure him home with her, claiming he didn’t like to get involved with the local population. Rejection was not something Natalie was used to from a male, at least not until after she’d had sex with him a few times and the fun of the chase was over for the jerk.

“Besides, you know I’m on sabbatical from men.”

Which I thought was exactly what she needed for a while. Cooper had picked a bad time to change his rule about local girls. “I don’t think you’ve gone this long without a boyfriend of some sort since junior high when you had to wear that retainer.”

“I know. It’s incredibly freeing not to worry about how I look or care what I say around guys. Who knows, I may stick with this sabbatical for more than just a year.”

Good! I was tired of watching my best friend’s heart get ripped into pieces, only to be duct taped back up and then torn apart again. I didn’t trust Cooper to be any different from the scumbags in her past when it came to treating Natalie with the care she deserved. “The increase in your self-confidence is amazing, especially around men.”

“Really? You can tell?” At my nod, she gave me a sideways hug. “It’s all thanks to you and Doc.”

“Oh, jeez.” I grimaced, feeling like a wad of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “You know I’m really sorry about that mess.”

Natalie had confused lust for love when we’d first met Doc this last summer. I, on the other hand, had mixed both together and blown the roof off my life. In spite of knowing how my best friend felt about Doc, I’d ended up in his bed, in his back office, against the wall in his house, and wherever else we could find time alone.

“Stop it, Vi.”

“You should make a sash for me that says ‘World’s Shittiest Best Friend.’ You could throw in a pair of devil horns for a headpiece along with a bouquet of bullthistles.”

She pinched me. “I said stop it. I meant what I said as a good thing. You’ve taught me what a loving relationship should be like with a man.”

Moi
? The queen of relationship disasters? Had she spiked her coffee this morning with tequila? Hell, the Hindenburg had crashed and burned slower than most of my love affairs. The only reason Doc and I had lasted so long was because …

Actually, I had no idea why we’d lasted this long. Doc must be a sadomasochist. It was just a matter of time before he wised up, probably after I filled him in on the ol’ Parker family history rife with executions of all sorts, including one or two by my own hand. If he were smart, he’d at least ask for his house key back so I didn’t sneak over in the night and accidentally snuff him out, too.

“Is Hawke going to be there with Cooper this morning?” Natalie’s question pulled me from the whirlpool where I’d been swirling faster and faster.

“He didn’t say.” Knowing Cooper’s rocky history with his partner, I doubted Detective Hawke would get an invite to our little tea party unless the Chief of Police insisted upon it.

“Then there’s no need for me to sort through your closet for a low-cut shirt.”

I had a feeling Cooper might beg to differ. “T-shirt and jeans it is,” I confirmed.

She pushed off the counter. “I’ll go get ready.”

T-minus two kids later, I parked the Picklemobile in front of Detective Cooper’s house up in Lead. The old green pickup sputtered when I pulled out the key, coughing a few times before the engine finally gave up the ghost and the exhaust boomed its final sayonara.

“There’s no sneaking around in this thing, is there?”

I patted the Picklemobile’s dash. “She’s no Stealth fighter plane, but she gets me from A to B.”

“It’s more like one of those old German tanks.” Natalie shoved open the passenger side door. “Hey, your For Sale sign is hanging crooked. It looks like one of the chain links broke. I’ll fix it before we leave.”

“Thanks. We’ve had some good wind gusts the last few nights.” I climbed down from the pickup, picking up the smell of wood smoke in the crisp mountain air. The slam of my driver’s side door echoed down the hill toward the huge hole in the ground otherwise known as Homestake Mine’s Open Cut.

I took a few steps until I was standing at the end of Cooper’s front walk, and then turned, staring down at that big pit. Half shrouded in the cool fog left over from a rainy night, it looked cavernous—a gaping toothless mouth. I could almost see one of my sale-pending properties, the Carhart house, that overlooked the mine.

Prudence-the-ghost, who’d spent the last century haunting the Carhart house, once had used the house’s previous owner as a microphone in front of me. During her ventriloquist act, Prudence had told me in a roundabout way that something most likely non-human periodically came out of one of the drift tunnels down at the mine’s bottom to collect bodies that were left there. Only whatever this mysterious beast was hadn’t come out of the drift to cart off the body of my previous boss when she was left there.

Or rather the pieces of my boss.

Damn it!
I hated it when my brain turned into a butthead and brought up ugly shards of the past when I wasn’t prepared. I closed my eyes and tried to see Jane as I wanted to remember her, alive and vibrant, writing her to-do lists on the whiteboard at work.

Instead, my thoughts turned to Jane’s killer, the spikey-haired psychotic bitch I’d gone head-to-head with in the bowels of the Homestake Opera House last month. Detective Cooper had yet to locate the pointy psycho, but I had a feeling she’d be back for Round Two someday. She didn’t seem the type who could turn the other cheek and resist the lure of revenge.

While part of me shivered at the thought of facing off with Jane’s killer again, another bared its teeth and pawed the ground. After what she’d done to Jane and Helen Taragon, I had some revenge of my own to work out of my system.

“Come on,
Daydream Believer
.” Natalie spun me around and pushed me up the walk in front of her. “Dirty Harry is waiting for us.”

Sure enough, Detective Cooper stood in the doorway, looking tight-faced and squinty-eyed with a curled upper lip. He must have been practicing his Clint Eastwood face in the mirror this morning. All he needed was a poncho, a pistol, and a hand-rolled cigarette.

“
Hola
, Blondie,” I said to him with a Spanish accent, the iconic soundtrack from
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
whistling in my head. I paused at the bottom porch step, waiting to see if he’d draw on me.

The usual muscle in his cheek twitched. “You’re late, Parker.”

“I reckon so,” I shot back in my best Josey Wales voice.

“You do realize you’re mixing Eastwood’s characters.”

I squinted back at him. “Everybody’s got a right to be a sucker once.”

Natalie clapped at my encore performance. When I bowed, she nudged me aside. “Honey, we’re home,” she sang to Cooper, climbing the steps.

“Morning, Ms. Beals.” His voice had warmed about fifty degrees compared to the arctic gusts he kept blasting at me today.