by Ann Charles
“Yeah, me.” He took my hand, obviously mistaking my befuddled expression for something else. “I didn’t know how to let you down easy.”
“Let me down where?” Had I missed the first few pages of this chapter in the Jeff and Violet story?
“I’m seeing someone.” He grinned sheepishly. “Well, not officially, but we’re screwing around every chance we get.”
“Oh, that’s … uh … wonderful.”
Hallmark needed to make a card that said: I’m positively thrilled you’re getting laid!
“I was going to keep waiting for you, Violet Parker, but my plow was getting rusty and needed a good greasing.”
I tried not to let my grimace show too much. “Well, I’m glad you’ve found someone to grease it for you.”
“If you change your mind about your client-with-benefits buddy,” he nudged his chin toward the kitchen.
“Doc’s my boyfriend,” I clarified in case Jeff thought he might come around looking for a greasing from me in the future. “We’re pretty serious.” I was pretty serious about Doc, anyway, so it wasn’t a total embellishment.
“If you say so, Violet Parker.” Jeff mock-punched me in the shoulder. “But if you find yourself in need of a good stud,” he winked, “you know who to call.”
I sighed. “Jeff, you just told me you were seeing someone else. Don’t you think it’s disrespectful to proposition me while you’re sleeping with her?”
“I’m not talking about me.” He pointed his thumb at his chest. “This stud is busy in the barn. I have a good buddy who’s got a reputation for helping lonely women de-stress,” he made an intimate gesture, “if you know what I mean.”
Eww. “Gotcha.”
“His plow is super-sized.” He held out his hands like he was telling a big fish story and waggled his blond eyebrows.
I wrinkled my nose. “I’d rather not talk about farm animals or equipment any more tonight.” I had teeth to get back from a prickly detective.
“Okey dokey, but let me add that my wife left her favorite dildo behind if you’d rather borrow that.”
A used dildo? My, oh my, how sweet of him to offer.
I forced a change of subject. “Who told you I was selling the Galena House?”
“Freesia Tender did. I ran into her at the store yesterday. She’d seen your For Sale sign in my front yard and wanted to know how things were going for us.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that the garage roof explosion was my fault not yours, and that you were a good Realtor who had your shit together.”
“Thank you for that … I think.”
“I also told her that you didn’t believe in ghosts and liked to get really friendly with your clients.”
My neck warmed. “Well, you didn’t need to go that far.”
“Don’t worry. I told her that you’re only into men so she was safe.”
Wow. The heat spread to my cheeks. I was surprised Freesia went ahead and signed the listing agreement after talking to Jeff. I tried to come up with something nice in return, recognizing his attempt to help underneath his blunders. “I appreciate the reference, Jeff.”
“Sure thing.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind if Kelly and I stay for dinner. She’s having fun with Addy and Layne, and old man Harvey’s lasagna is legendary in this town.”
“Not at all.” Especially since Jeff’s plow was now being greased in somebody else’s barn.
“I promised your boyfriend I’d keep my hands off of you.”
Jeff said that as if he and I shared a history involving more than one slobbery, tongue jab at my tonsils. “And how did Doc take that?”
Jeff guffawed. “He told me—”
“Violet,” Harvey said from the kitchen archway. “I need your help in here.”
Damn. I sort of wanted to hear Doc’s response to Jeff’s promise to keep his hands to himself.
I led the way into the kitchen.
“Bout time you got home, girl.” Harvey handed me a basket full of pieces of French bread. He pointed at the butter dish sitting on the counter. “Get these ready for the oven and pour something to wet our whistles.”
Jeff slid past me without trying to cop a feel for once and went out the back door where the three kids were playing in the yard. Doc must have slipped off to watch my Honey-the-Puppet video.
“How many of us are there?” I asked Harvey.
“Seven with the three kids. Your aunt’s buns are bustlin’ tonight what with the Oktoberfest bringin’ tourists with overflowin’ billfolds to the beer troughs down on Main Street.”
Earlier this week Aunt Zoe had showed me the new glass beer mugs she’d created for the event. My fingers were crossed she sold out.
“Thanks for making dinner.” I patted the old buzzard on the back as I moved past him toward the fridge.
“Welcome. You owe me two meals out now, you know. I’ll be ‘spectin’ an extra round of desserts for feedin’ your buddy, Wymonds, too.”
“Put it on my tab.”
“You can bet your momma’s bloomers I will. Watch that lasagna.”
“Watch it do what?” I asked, opening the fridge. “Burn?” I pulled out several bottles of beer and a pitcher of lemonade.
When I turned around, Harvey was gone and Doc was standing there instead. His grim expression said he and I were on the same page when it came to Prudence now. He took the pitcher from me, setting it on the table.
I placed the bottles next to it. “I’ll grab some glasses.”
He caught my arm, pulled out a chair, and pointed at it. “I’ll get the glasses, you have a seat.”
I nodded, relieved to plant my butt on a chair. I stretched my neck from side to side, working on getting rid of some of today’s tension.
Doc came back, set a glass next to each plate, and then moved behind me. His hands went to work on the tight bow strings that were keeping my head from falling off and rolling across the floor.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I felt detached from it all, like Prudence manipulating Honey had happened to somebody else, someone on a television show I’d been watching.
He squeezed and released several times, inciting grunts and moans from me. “That video was sort of creepy.”
More like a shitload-full of creepy. “You should have seen it in person. I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw Honey standing there with just the whites of her eyes showing.” I groaned in pain as his fingers strummed a string of tight muscles that seemed to shoot arrows into my brain. “To add to the freakiness, Dickie swore that while he was up in the attic someone tried to yank out one of his canine teeth.”
“Christ. She really meant that last bit about wanting her teeth back, didn’t she?”
I murmured in agreement as he worked on a muscle running behind my shoulder blade.
“Has Prudence ever made a point of contacting you from the kitchen before?” Doc asked.
“No, but I think I know why she chose that location this time around.”
He squeezed and released again. “Oh, yeah?”
“When I first arrived today, I ushered Dickie and Honey upstairs to get them out of the way. Then I went into the kitchen where they couldn’t hear me, stood in that very spot, and talked to Prudence aloud.”
Doc’s fingers paused. “Really?”
“That surprises you?” He should know the level of my insanity by now, I’d think.
“It wasn’t that long ago when you thought I was nuts for believing in ghosts. Now you’re—”
“I know, I know. But that was before Prudence, Kyrkozz, and you convinced me otherwise. Plus now I know you better, and I believe in you.” I thought of the wicked things he’d done to me in the shower last time we had a chance to spend time in there. “And we’ve seen each other wet and naked several times.”
That didn’t really have anything to do with the subject of ghosts, but I wanted to change it to
something that would warm the day’s chills completely out of my system. Thinking about Doc in the shower was just the ticket.
He chuckled. “Not nearly enough.”
I tapped his hands. “Don’t stop yet.”
“Tell you what,” he leaned down and spoke in my ear, “spend another night in my bed and I’ll do a lot more.” His lips grazed my neck.
Pleasure washed downward, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my arms as it rippled and flowed. I glanced toward the back door, making sure we didn’t have any faces pressed against the glass. “Like what in particular?”
Before he could answer, I heard the front door shut.
I sat up, pulling away from his touch, trying not to look like we’d been up to any hanky panky.
Harvey paused in the kitchen archway, his gaze bouncing back and forth between us. He snorted, then walked over and dropped an envelope on the table in front of me. “Look what I found.”
“What’s that?”
“Open it and see.”
I did, peeking inside, pulling out a cut and folded piece of yellowed newspaper. I unfolded the paper, my eyes scanning the lines of text.
“Where’d you get this?” I held out the decades old article about the severed heads found in the Galena House.
Harvey slipped on a pair of oven mitts. “My pappy was a doozy of a hoarder when it came to magazines and newspapers—oh, and whiskey bottles, lapper that he was.” He opened the oven and pulled out a casserole dish of cheesy goodness that had my saliva glands kicking into high gear.
He set the dish on the stove top and leaned against the counter, hooking the big thumbs of the oven mitts in his suspenders. “Mama stopped crowin’ at him to throw stuff away early on and started keepin’ it all organized. She stored everything in date order until she passed. I tossed all those whisky bottles before the grass had even grown over my pappy’s grave, but I couldn’t bring myself to burn the history in those papers and magazines. Not after my mama spent so much time playin’ librarian with them.”
I looked at the paper again, reading the short article. The Black Hills Trailblazer hadn’t wasted much print on it, unfortunately. There was a brief mention about a fourth body found all in one piece, nothing shriveled on it, though, just a regular murder. The grainy picture next to it was of the Galena House. The place looked pretty much the same, although the porch didn’t look so rickety. I guess I’d hoped to see a picture of the shrunken heads, as gruesome as that would be.
“Thanks,” I told Harvey as I handed the article to Doc, who’d settled into the chair next to me. “Now we have a definite date when the previous decapitations occurred and some details.” What there were anyway.
While Doc read through the article, the back door opened and Jeff strolled in. He sniffed the air over the casserole dish and groaned, licking his chops.
Harvey snapped him with a dishtowel. “You’re breathin’ all over my masterpiece, ya lunk-head.”
“I can’t help it. I could smell that clear in the backyard and I haven’t eaten since that big brat I had at the festival.”
Doc handed the article back to me, shaking his head as if he’d read something he didn’t like.
Harvey snapped Jeff again. “Go wash up.”
Jeff started past the table and then paused. “What’s that?” he asked, peering down at the article in my hand.
“Nothing,” I said, folding the article. “Just an old article on the Galena House that Harvey brought to me since I’m going to be selling it.”
Jeff pointed his index finger at me. “That reminds me of something Freesia told me.” He looked back at Harvey. “Do you remember old Ms. Wolff, Harvey?”
Harvey busied himself with cutting the lasagna. “Sorta.”
“She made some of the best homemade cookies,” Jeff said, rubbing his stomach. “What did she say they were called? Oh yeah, peppernut cookies.”
“When did you have her cookies?” I asked, surprised Jeff had known her.
“She used to set up a booth during Oktoberfest down near the Badlands section of Main Street when I was a kid. She and her girlfriend would sell all of these old-fashioned German sweets for dirt cheap.”
“Girlfriend?” I asked. Jeff’s wife had left him for another woman and now he had a chip on his shoulder when it came to females being friends.
“I never saw them kissing or anything like that, but they went all over town together.”
“That’s right,” Harvey chimed in. “I’d done forgotten about their booth.” He grinned at me. “I usually stayed close to the beer and brats during the festivities. That’s where ya find the loose women looking for some German style lovin’.”
I didn’t even want to know what was involved in German style loving, so I moved the subject right along. “Who was this other woman?”
“Miss Zuckermann,” Jeff answered. “She always made these hard fruit candies that had some natural herb extract in them. My mom loved them and would send us to buy a couple of bags worth. She’d hide them up in her closet so they’d last through the year.” His nose wrinkled. “They always tasted like medicine to me.”
“Are you talking about the same Zuckermann who owns the Candy Corral on Main Street?” Doc asked.
“Yep, that’s her.” Jeff said. “I noticed she closed up shop early today, skipping the festival for once. I figured she’s all upset about her old girlfriend keeling over.”
Somebody was sharing whispers about Ms. Wolff’s death. It must have been Freesia.
Jeff knocked twice on the table. “I better go wash up so Harvey will let me eat.” He headed through the archway into the dining room.
I looked at Harvey. “Maybe you and I need to go pay Miss Zuckermann a visit to give our condolences.”
And maybe while we were there, Harvey could smooth talk her into sharing how well she knew Ms. Wolff and if she knew anyone who might have had a big enough grudge against her to come callin’ with an axe in hand.
Doc nudged my thigh with his knee, his eyes warning. “You sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you two should leave the comforting to Detective Cooper.”
I guffawed. “He’s about as comforting as hugging a ball of rusty barbed-wire.”
Harvey set the lasagna on the table in front of us. “I’d bet my left nut that Coop’s already been there to do his comforting.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why do you always bet your left nut and not your right?”
“It’s smaller, hairier, and looks like a peach pit, not near as purty as my right one. I never bet my prize-winnin’ ball.”
I groaned.
“You had to ask,” Doc said, chuckling.
“I should know better by now.”
Harvey hollered out the back door for the kids to come in and wash their hands. Then he joined us at the table. “That article reminded me of something I want Coop to look into.”
“What’s that?” I asked, wondering how much sway Harvey had with his nephew these days now that he was associated with me.
“If the Deadwood police ever figured out what weapon was used to cut off those three heads way back when.” Harvey spooned a scoop of lasagna onto one of the empty plates. “Remember,” he said to me, “Mudder Brothers has quite a collection of sharp tools down in their basement.”
I nodded, thinking of a certain pair of long, deadly scissors I’d used once myself that were now locked up in the Evidence room along with Prudence’s teeth. “I thought Eddie Mudder made it through the suspect hoops, though.”
“For his brother’s death, sure. But this ain’t his brother.”
“Was Eddie even born when those heads were found?” Doc asked.
“No, but his wild-eyed daddy was. They carted him off in a padded wagon when I was still learning to shave and greasing my hair back.”
“Let me get this straight.” I wanted to make sure all three of us were on the same page, because Harvey sometimes skipped forward several chapters without telling me. “You think Eddie’s
dad killed the other three and now Eddie is following in his dad’s footsteps?”
He shrugged and dished up another plate. “It’s an idea I had when I saw some old obituaries in the newspapers while searchin’ for this article. Eddie’s dad used to be the embalmer at the funeral home back before it belonged to George and Eddie.” He handed me a plate of lasagna.
I hadn’t realized the Mudder boys were playing their part in a family tradition.
Harvey raised his bushy eyebrows. “Who’d know better how to deform a skull than someone who dabbles with corpses for a livin’?”
I picked at my lasagna, my appetite waning as I pictured Eddie in his rubber apron elbow deep in his work. Tomato sauce and blood were a bit too similar at the moment.
Handing a full plate to Doc, Harvey added, “After the Mudder Brothers fun you two had that night, I told Coop to ask Eddie about the creepy tools we saw in their basement.”
“Wasn’t there a scythe in there, too?” Doc asked me.
I nodded, staring at Harvey with my fork hesitating above the steaming cheese. “Did Coop ask him?”
Harvey grunted in acknowledgment.
Addy, Kelly, and then Layne came stumbling inside the back door, laughing and bumping into each other. Addy’s chicken followed them inside using the cat door Aunt Zoe had installed last week for the damned bird.
“Addy, put that chicken in the basement.” I thumbed toward the dining room. “Then go wash your hands—all of you.”
After the three had tromped off, Harvey leaned forward. “Turns out George and Eddie weren’t the collectors. Those tools have been in the family for a looooong time.”
Chapter Fifteen
Saturday, October 6th
I dreamed that all of my teeth were being yanked out one-by-one.
Gasping awake, my nightmare continued when I realized there were fingers in my mouth gripping my bottom incisors. Then I realized they were my fingers and spit them out, wiping my hands off on my camisole, which was damp with sweat.
“Damn you, Prudence, and your obsession with teeth,” I grumbled and rolled out of bed.
I checked the time via my cell phone. It was super early, as in dark o’clock still. Outside my window, the street was shadow-filled and empty. I opened my window, breathing in the fresh, cool air. The birds hadn’t even started their pre-dawn chatter yet. I shivered as a breeze blew over my sweaty camisole and I shut the window.