by Ann Charles
I snuggled under the covers, wishing he were lying there next to me. “Mmmm. I missed you last night.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys who call you at dawn.” The beep-beep-beep of his coffeemaker reached my ears.
“Only you.” I yawned again, changing my earlier wish to include fresh coffee along with Doc in my bed. Some bacon, too. “I tell the others to call back at a decent hour.”
He chuckled. “How late did Natalie stay?”
“I think she’s still here. I left her downstairs snoring on the couch sometime after midnight.”
“I take it you talked her out of hunting down your ex and castrating him.”
“Yeah, but it took quite a bit of tequila. Her loathing for him goes clear back to my second date with the ass.”
“What happened on your second date?”
“He stood me up. When he finally called me later in the week, he said he’d been too busy working on a project in the lab to remember about our date.”
“His loss.”
“Nat never gave him a second chance.”
“But you did.”
“I’m a sucker for smart guys.”
“You’re not allowed to attend any Mensa conventions.”
His words made me smile, helping me forget about all of the crap in my world for a few blinks. “I hadn’t told Nat about the showdown in front of your office until last night.” I stretched. “She’s all primed to go ape shit on Rex now. He’d better hope he doesn’t cross her path anytime soon.”
“I sort of hope he does. I’d be happy to spring for Natalie’s bail.”
“I’ll make sure she has your number for her one collect call. So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Sneak into the apartment, lure the shy ghost out of hiding, and leave before the cops catch us.”
“You make it sound like a slam dunk,” I said.
“You’ve been hanging around your boss too much. Next you’ll start slapping me on the butt and telling me I need to take it to the hole more often.”
“Sounds kinky, and you should.”
“Okay, then I will.”
“You could start right now,” I teased. “You have a house key. Come on over and I’ll practice my ball handling.”
We’d traded keys not long ago. It wasn’t a promise ring or his letterman jacket, but it would make stalking much easier and reduce the chance of me breaking another one of his windows.
He sucked air through his teeth. “Such a vixen, Boots.”
“Or maybe I could sneak over to your place tonight while Aunt Zoe watches the kids and you could practice hitting the boards harder.”
He went quiet. “Have you been saving these up or what?”
“No, they’re just popping into my head. My brain must be stuck on the sports channel, damn it.”
“We’ll have to change that station to porn, sweetheart. Too much of this men’s locker room chatter and I might end up on the bench. Unless you want to cheerlead naked for me.”
Jump up and down in front of him while naked? Hell, no. Not even drunk on a bet. I wanted him to fall head over heels in love with me, not keel over dead from laughter.
“I’ll practice my porn movie star lines.” I made a few kissy sounds in the phone. “Ya big stud,” I added in a breathy voice.
“That’s more like it.”
I heard what sounded like an automatic garage door opening.
“What time am I picking you up this evening?” he asked.
“For basketball themed sex or the séance?”
“We’ll start with the séance.”
“How about five-thirty? Cornelius said something about sunset at six-twenty and twilight being at six-forty-something. He wants us to be set and up and rolling before both.”
“He’s not filming this, right?”
“I told him only audio devices and that none of it was allowed to be published in any shape or form.”
“And he agreed?”
“Well at first he pouted, but then he consented.”
Doc’s keys jangled in the background. “Good. It will just be the three of us then.”
“Uh … make that four.” I’d neglected to tell him about Freesia, not knowing how to drop that bomb. Turned out all I had to do was let it go.
“Violet,” he sounded a little tense.
“I couldn’t help it. I had to make a deal in order to get us into the apartment.”
“Who’s the fourth?”
“Freesia Tender. She owns the Galena House.”
“Is she psychic?”
“No, but she was an instant fan of Cornelius and likes to dabble with ghosts.”
“Violet,” his tone was more resigned this time, less tense.
“I didn’t want her there, Doc, but she figured out we are going back in and wants to be part of it. She knows the risks with the cops.”
“But does she know the risks with the dead?”
Did I? I grimaced, thinking of how Cornelius’s cousin had died. “She either joins us or the gig’s off.”
“Sounds like we have no choice.”
“We do have a choice—we could skip the séance and watch a scary movie from your bed instead.”
“As much as I like the bed option, I want to know if and how Layne and you fit into Ms. Wolff’s demise.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“After we’re done at the Galena House, I’m going to drag you to my place, tear off your clothes, and play some one-on-one with you.”
One-on-one—basketball lingo. “Ha! I got you.”
“Yes, you do, Boots. I’ll pick you up at five-twenty.”
“Should I wear somber black and serious gray this time or stick with jeans and a T-shirt?”
“My only concern will be the color of your underwear.”
“That’ll be a mystery for you to solve.” I changed into my husky porn-star voice. “See you later, ya big stud.”
Chuckling, he hung up.
I thought about trying to fall back to sleep, but my eyes were now wide open and my brain busy worrying about what was waiting for us in that apartment. Was it a Prudence-like ghost who would use Doc to talk to the rest of us? Or was it a more malevolent presence, waiting to pounce and send Doc reeling as soon as he opened himself up to it. How was I going to handle smoothing things over with Cornelius and Freesia if Doc had severe tremors or was knocked unconscious? And how would I bring him back if things went sour and he was stuck on the “other side”?
Rather than let those thoughts fester, I got up. I considered going out for a run and then laughed all of the way to the shower at the mere notion of me jogging.
Later that afternoon, I was wishing I’d tried harder to fall back to sleep. My eyes burned, my brain felt like I was on a ten-second delay, my teeth were clenched when I wasn’t paying attention, and my tongue kept getting stuck to the roof of my mouth for no reason. The shitload of stress in my life was really ganging up on me.
It was Ben’s turn to babysit the TV folks, so I was free to go about my business. Rex hadn’t bothered me since Doc faced off with him on the street, but I had a feeling we were far from finished with the dramatics. Hell, I’d written him off a decade ago and he’d returned, so there was no way he was giving up that easy.
At four-thirty, I headed home and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, leaving my hair loose—how Doc liked it best. My stomach jangled with nerves, but I managed to swallow a few bites of leftover roast and carrots before Doc showed up in Aunt Zoe’s drive with Harvey in tow.
Harvey walked in the door with a large pizza as I was stuffing my cell phone in my purse. The kids jumped up and down, barely managing to spare me a kiss goodbye on their race to the kitchen.
“Addy,” I called after her, “you get to bed early tonight. You need some rest so that cold doesn’t get any worse.”
Aunt Zoe smiled up at me from the couch when I kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t come home tonight, sweetheart. A night with Doc might help y
ou relax,” she winked at me, “and maybe you can get some sleep afterward, too.”
I placed my hand on my chest, faking shock and dismay. “Aunt Zoe, what are you insinuating? You know I’m holding onto my virginity until marriage.”
“Violet, dear, that’s not your virginity you’re clutching when Doc’s around, it’s your heart. Your virginity ran off with that heavy metal drummer you were dating after high school. What was their band called? The Screw Ups?”
“The Nail Heads,” I corrected, “and I’ll have you know I never slept with him.” I did have a few standards, and his interest in “nailing” multiple groupies at once turned me off.
“I like The Screw Ups. It has a better ring to it.” She patted my arm. “Go have a good time with Doc.”
Zipping my black hoody up to my chin, I pulled the hood over my loose curls, slipped on my boots, and headed out the door. I was looking forward to an evening with Doc period, with or without ghosts.
He stood leaning against his Camaro waiting for me, looking good in a dark blue jacket and jeans.
“Remind me,” he said, holding open the passenger door for me. “Are we tagging some train boxcars before or after the séance?” His smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “I’ll need to stop by the hardware store to pick up some spray paint.”
“When we’re running through the forest from Cooper and Hawke, you’ll appreciate my outfit choice.”
“I always appreciate those boots.” He shut the door behind me, crossed in front of the car, and slid behind the steering wheel. Before he started the car, he grabbed me by my hoody strings and tugged me over, giving me a kiss. “Your lips taste like raspberries tonight.”
“Wait until you try the rest of me.”
His gaze traveled over my face, his eyes darkening. “Damn.” He let go of my coat and started the car. “First, let’s go meet a ghost.” He shifted into reverse.
We parked several blocks away and walked to the Galena House to avoid the cops. I wasn’t just being paranoid about Cooper. Earlier today when I’d called to fill Freesia in on the séance details, she’d told me the police were cruising by her place about once an hour. Undoubtedly I had Cooper to thank for such vigilance, the big buttinski.
Cornelius had planned to take a taxi there with his equipment since his rental was still making the mechanic scratch his head. True to his word, he did just that, arriving at the same time as us.
After a quick check for cops, we each grabbed a piece of Cornelius’s equipment the taxi driver had unloaded from the trunk. Freesia waited at the door, hurrying us.
“I’ve been keeping watch from the attic. A cop car is heading this way.”
We made it behind the closed front door as the Deadwood police cruiser rolled up. My heart thumped while I waited for Freesia to tell us he was coming up the walk.
“Okay, we’re clear,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
I blew out a sigh. I had a feeling that if Cooper caught us here, he’d revert to the former version of himself around me—the one with the pulsing vein in his forehead and snarling upper lip. With Rex in town, I needed Cooper and his police pals on my side in case I got mad enough to follow through on Nat’s castration plan.
“You must be Freesia,” Doc said, holding out his hand. “I’m Doc Nyce, Violet’s …” he hesitated, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Boyfriend,” I finished. “I told you about him yesterday.”
Freesia shook Doc’s hand, looking him up and down. She grinned at me. “You forgot to mention a few things.”
“How do I open this?” Cornelius asked in front of Ms. Wolff’s taped-off door. “It seems to be stuck.”
“I thought I unlocked that,” Freesia said, joining him.
I looked over at Doc. “You ready for this?” I whispered.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He took the piece of equipment I was holding, doubling his load and leaving me unencumbered. “Try not to give me a black eye this time, Tiger. It makes a guy look bad when his girlfriend keeps beating him up.”
I faked a few Rocky punches while he bobbed and weaved. “You’re a lot easier to hit when you’re busy playing with ghosts.”
“There, got it,” Freesia said from down the hall. “You two coming?”
“Here we go,” I said under my breath and led the way.
Nothing had changed inside Ms. Wolff’s apartment except the amount of dust coating the surfaces. The ghoulish clocks still ticked, the mannequin heads still sat empty, and Layne’s picture was still stuck in the mirror. I liked this place less and less each time I visited.
I joined Doc, who stood watching Cornelius open his cases. The infamous ghost whisperer pulled out gadgets and spread doohickeys around on the carpet while Freesia asked questions about his expensive toys.
“I forgot to bring the chicken feet for good luck,” I told Cornelius.
He patted his coat pocket. “Not to worry, I always carry an extra one on me at all times.”
He carried around a dried chicken’s foot? Layne would think that was the coolest thing ever and probably want his own to carry. I could imagine fishing it out of my son’s pocket while doing laundry. Yuck.
“Did you figure out what the writing on the inside of the drawer means?” I asked for Doc’s ears only. I’d bugged him with that same question each day since he’d taken the picture of the backward scrawls.
“No. It’s similar to the Latin I can find online, but different enough that I can’t make sense of it.”
“You think it’s based on Latin?”
“Maybe. Or Latin could be based on it for all we know. I need to contact an expert in linguistics, but that might raise complicated questions depending on what the message says. I’m not sure how careful we should be about this.”
Me, either. That was the problem. I wondered if there were a way I could involve Cooper and his long arm of the law without raising his suspicions on how I’d “somehow” figured out the mirror trick with the writing. Maybe I could tell him I’d had an idea about the drawer, and then convince him to bring me back here. With him here in the apartment, I could pretend to discover the writing in the mirror trick.
I watched as Cornelius took out four almost L-shaped metal objects and placed them on the living room floor, forming the L’s into outward facing corners of a big square, spaced about six feet apart. Next he placed a compass above the inside corner of each L. Not a circle compass that spun based on the magnetic poles but rather the drafting tool an architect or engineer used to draw circles. I took a step closer, realizing the L was actually one of those square tools also used by engineers.
“Is this part of the Wanga bag deal you were telling me about?” I asked him.
“No. We changed venues. I didn’t feel this was the right place to incorporate that spiritual element. Besides, it’s on backorder.”
“Then what are you doing?” I asked Cornelius.
“This is the symbol of the Freemasons,” Doc spoke up.
Of course. “That’s where I’ve seen it.”
“There’s often a capital G in between the square and the compass.” Freesia kneeled down and drew the letter G on the carpet with her finger. “My family has belonged to the Freemasons for generations.”
“Is there a reason you’re making four Freemason symbols on the carpet?” I asked Cornelius.
“Yes,” he said, lining them up more exactly.
When he didn’t say more, I growled. “Why?”
“Violet, your aura is going to turn black again.”
I was going to strangle him with my aura one of these days and make his match mine. “Please explain, Cornelius.” I used my nice Realtor voice.
“When we were here last, I noticed the Freemason symbol in the concrete at the base of the porch,” he explained. “In my experience, it helps the flow of energy if the ghost feels at ease with its surroundings. Based on all of the work done over time in Deadwood by Freemasons, there is a chance a ghost here
tonight might have been a member of the Freemasons or married to one.”
I shot Doc a questioning glance.
He shrugged in response and continued to watch Cornelius make his preparations.
Next Cornelius dug in his wool coat pocket and pulled out four triangular shaped stones the size of his palm. He put one at each of the corners.
“What are those?” Freesia asked.
“They represent the four elements symbolic to the Lakota Indian culture—earth, fire, air, and water. Since the Black Hills is sacred ground to the Native Americans, and there is a chance that we may come across an even older ghost than one of the town builders, I want to cover both possibilities.”
I looked to Doc again, but he was staring toward the hallway as he had the other night, a frown on his face. I watched him closely for a moment, noticing the flare of his nostrils. He was picking up a scent of something; I could see it in the stiffness of his body.
“What a coincidence. There are four of us,” Freesia said, squatting down to take a closer look at one of the stones.
“No coincidence,” Cornelius said, adjusting the compass and square nearest to him. “Violet chose you for a reason.”
“I did?” My memory of this was me telling him I’d rather Freesia not know about our history with ghosts.
“Of course.” Cornelius unclasped one of the equipment cases Doc had carried in from the taxi. “As a conduit, you are continually working to open channels. You may not have realized it, but subconsciously you were seeking a fourth for our séance in order to create the stronger union needed to widen the channel.”
I was beginning to think he had me confused with that old oracle lady on The Matrix. Next he’d be handing me a spoon and telling me to bend it with my mind alone.
“If you say so,” I said. “But why four rather than five?”
Doc walked over into the shadowed hallway, moving slowly. Was something wrong or was he being cautious?
“The number four has great significance.” Cornelius pulled out his recorder that captured sounds at multiple frequencies and set it right outside of the square. “There are four cardinal directions, four seasons, four sides of a square, four ages of man, and four cosmic elements. The list goes on, but I really don’t need to tell you. You obviously know this.”