by Ann Charles
“There are several theories on how ghosts can manipulate the living, many having to do with telepathic communication. For example, you might have felt that Prudence was holding you down, but it likely had more to do with her ability to convince your subconscious self to take control of your conscious self.”
“So I was actually controlling my hand the whole time while it squeezed Parker’s leg, but I wasn’t consciously aware of it?”
Doc nodded. “But that’s only one theory.”
“Christ.” Cooper tore his fingers through his hair. It looked like a sea of blond shark fins when he finished. “I’m going to need a whole bottle of whiskey before the night is over.”
“What’s another theory?” I asked Doc, thinking about my experiences with Prudence and Wilda.
“It has to do with what you and Prudence have in common.”
I aimed a glance at Cooper. He knew about my other job, but I still didn’t like talking about it in front of him. “You mean the executioner gig?”
“I mean you both being physical mediums.”
Huh? “You’re the medium, I’m just a channeler.”
“We both know that’s not true, Killer.”
“But I can’t see or talk to ghosts.” Not usually anyway. “I’m a dud.”
He shifted in the seat, careful not to bump my leg as he faced me. “I’ve been telling you since I met you that you weren’t a dud. Trust me, duds don’t experience what you have with the paranormal world. Just because you don’t actually see or hear or talk to the ghosts the way Cornelius and I can doesn’t mean you have no abilities.”
“So what am I again?”
Cornelius and Doc had come up with several technical terms for what I’d pulled off with that bone cruncher that night out back of Harvey’s place, but I couldn’t remember them and honestly, I hadn’t wanted to. I was still trying to get used to the title of “Executioner” most days.
“You’re a woman with many paranormal skills, including being a physical medium.”
“How is that different from what you can do?”
“I’m a mental medium. I can tune into the spirit world using skills such as clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience, transference, that type of thing. Mental mediums are common in the paranormal world. What sets some of us apart is the degree to which we have honed our skills.” He tapped my shoulder. “You, on the other hand, have completely different mediumship skills at your disposal—skills I probably would never develop even if I tried.”
“Besides the ability to make albino juggernauts morph into a puff of smoke?” I joked.
“In addition to that, Killer.”
“This shit is nuts, man,” Cooper muttered, then gulped down some whiskey. “It makes no damned sense.”
“Physical mediums are extremely rare these days,” Doc continued in spite of Cooper’s skepticism, “partly because of the bad press they received in the past when displaying their skills in public. See, when you’re working your magic, anyone who is in the area—duds or not—can witness the results. It’s more ‘real,’ physical. It explains why when you sit in at a séance, shit is more likely to actually hit the fan, endangering you and for that matter anyone nearby.”
I touched the faint scar on my chest. “Like what happened in Ms. Wolff’s apartment that night?”
Doc nodded. “And Coop’s injury during our séance out at Harvey’s barn.”
A scoff came from Cooper’s direction. “I knew it. Parker’s going to be the death of me yet. The broken nose was foreplay.”
I would have shot something snappy back if his words hadn’t echoed what Prudence had said to me earlier about the “lawman” dying if I didn’t step up and take over hunting Wanda’s killer. Cooper was often a burr in my skivvies, but I didn’t want anything to happen to him or anyone else on Deadwood’s police force for that matter. Not even … well … no, not even Hawke.
I focused back on Doc. “And you believe Prudence is a physical medium, too?”
“I suspect she was one when she was alive.”
“You think that it’s part of the skillset that comes with being an executioner?”
“I don’t know the answer to that. I’ve only met two of you so far—and one of you almost stopped my heart the first time we collided.”
“That day in the upstairs bedroom with Prudence?”
“Who says I was talking about the ghost?” He winked.
“Ahhh, Gomez. I’ve missed you so, mon cher.” I winked back, slipping into my Morticia Addams’ role.
“Cara mía, that’s French!” Doc growled playfully and lifted my hand, kissing my knuckles. A twinkle shined in the depths of his gaze as his lips made their way up my forearm.
“Jesus, you two.” Cooper groaned at us from across the table. “You’re making my eyes bleed with this lovey-dovey crap. Can we get back to the fucked-up, real world shit going on here in Deadwood?”
“Technically,” I told the scowling detective as Doc lowered my arm, “we were in Lead not Deadwood when Prudence turned you into Pinocchio.”
“Zip it, Parker.” To Doc, he said, “Why do you think Prudence was a physical medium when she was alive?”
“As I was saying before, her strength and ability to manipulate the living are extremely uncommon. If she was a physical medium back when she was alive, she would’ve learned these skills she’s now using on the living to interact with the other beings she was meant to kill.”
“You’re talking about the way she can use anyone as her conduit for speaking?” I asked.
“And her use of teleportation, allowing her to join Harvey and you in your Honda.” His forehead furrowed in thought. “What’s interesting is that the phenomena you’ve experienced so far in the Carhart house seems to be more energy-based than ectoplasm-based.”
He was starting to lose me. Maybe it was the rum and Coke that I’d polished off making my brain cells relax a little too much. “Ectoplasm-based?”
“Never mind. That’s not important right now.”
Cooper toyed with his empty glass. “So can this Wilda ghost that you two keep talking about fuck with my mind, too?”
“I’m afraid so. And Wilda’s purpose may be much darker than using you to merely hold someone in place.” Doc sent me a worried glance. “She wants Violet dead.”
I pointed at Cooper. “That means no freaking guns and bullets when we try to talk to Wilda. I don’t care if you cuddle with your gun nightly and get all teary eyed when it’s out of sight.” After being on the receiving end of Prudence’s macabre puppeteering, I wasn’t taking any chances with Wilda. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much nudging from her to convince Cooper to point his gun at me and shoot. His trigger finger had been itchy around me ever since I’d broken his nose.
“No guns is probably a good idea,” Doc agreed.
Cooper nodded, but his pinched expression didn’t look so compliant.
The waitress stopped by, offering to bring more drinks. We took her up on it, including a glass of iced tea for Doc.
“How do you feel about driving me home tonight?” I asked after she left.
“I planned on it. I walked over from work.”
“And spending the night?” I pressed.
“Is there any room at the inn?”
“Harvey will be on the couch, but I have an opening in my boudoir.”
Doc’s flirty grin resurfaced. He lifted my knuckles to his lips again, but before he could get a Gomez-inspired word out, Cooper interrupted with, “I swear, Nyce, if you say ‘Tish that’s French,’ I’m going to draw and shoot you right here.”
Doc’s deep laughter made my nether regions flutter. That was probably thanks in part to the rum and Coke. Doc made me easy, especially when liquor was part of the equation. I needed to change the subject so Cooper didn’t get gun happy with either of us.
“On another note,” I said to Doc, “how are we going to find that other timekeeper Prudence told me about?”
“I
have an idea on that, but Coop isn’t going to be thrilled.”
One blond eyebrow raised questioningly.
“I’d like to return to Ms. Wolff’s apartment and have Violet take another look in that mirror.”
“Why?” Cooper asked. “What’s in the mirror?”
I grimaced at Doc, not thrilled with his idea for a different reason. Cooper knew we’d slipped past the crime scene tape and sneaked into Wolff’s apartment for a séance back in October, but he didn’t know I’d disobeyed his stay-out orders again and gone back in because of a clock that wouldn’t stop cuckooing.
“You’re going to have to tell him, Violet.”
“Tell me what?” Cooper sat forward, his squint firmly in place and aimed at me.
I sighed, wincing in preparation for his reaction. “You remember that day we were filming for the Paranormal Realty TV show in the Galena House and you stopped by?”
“You mean that day I found you standing outside of Ms. Wolff’s apartment door?”
I nodded. “You caught me as I was leaving her apartment.”
“You told me you’d only stood there and listened to the clocks.”
“I kind of lied.”
Several curses involving my “big nose” and “stubborn ass” blasted by my ears. “What in the hell was worth risking Detective Hawke catching you in that apartment and throwing you in jail for breaking and entering?”
“First of all, I didn’t break in. When I tried the door before you showed up, it was unlocked.” When he didn’t spit more fire at me, I continued, “I went inside Ms. Wolff’s place because I could hear a clock cuckooing and it wouldn’t stop.”
“What do you mean it wouldn’t stop? Did you wait for twelve cuckoos?”
I leaned forward. “Of course I waited for twelve cuckoos! I’m not an idiot.”
“Honestly, Parker, after some of the shit you’ve pulled at my crime scenes, I periodically doubt your intelligence.”
“You’re such a belligerent butthead, Coop.” I purposely used the name he’d made off-limits for me, poking the bear.
“Takes one to know one, Vi.”
“If you two are done trading punches,” Doc interrupted, breaking us up, “how about you finish your story, Violet.”
I huffed a couple of more times and then returned to that day in Ms. Wolff’s place. “As I was saying, the clock kept going off. I counted almost twenty cuckoos before going inside the apartment.”
“I didn’t hear any cuckoos when I arrived. Did you mess with the scene of the crime?”
“That’s just it—you didn’t hear the cuckoos, but the reason I was still standing there when you walked up was that I could still hear them.”
“You sure it wasn’t your memory playing tricks on you?”
“I’m positive.”
Cooper shrugged. “So there was a broken clock. What’s the big deal?”
“You don’t understand. The clock going off wasn’t one of those hanging on the walls in her apartment. It was one of the clocks inside the mirror.”
The lines on his brow doubled and then tripled. “You’re right,” he finally said. “I don’t understand.”
“After looking at all of the clocks on the walls in the dining room, I checked her bedroom. It was louder in there, but the clocks hanging on her bedroom walls were not going off either. That’s when I noticed movement in the mirror over her dresser.”
“The one your son’s picture was stuck to before it was stolen from the crime scene?”
“Yes, stolen by the albino’s twin.” But that was a problem to fret about some other time—probably in the middle of the night again. “In the mirror’s reflection, I could see the cuckoo mechanism on one of the clocks going in and out of the little door. But when I turned around and looked at it in the real world, the clock was silent.”
He sighed at me. Then he took a long drink from his glass, finishing it off. “You think the clock in the mirror is still going off?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been back to her apartment since that day.”
Cooper’s focus shifted to Doc. “You think Parker will find some answers to Ms. Wolff’s murder by going back in that apartment?”
“Beats me, but I remember hearing that some of the clocks are missing. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s a possibility this other timekeeper Prudence mentioned is the one who broke in and took them.”
“The motive being to keep ‘all of hell from breaking loose’?” Cooper glanced my way as if those words belonged to me.
“Hey, I was only repeating what was told to me. Don’t kill the messenger.”
“I’m not interested in killing you, Parker. But nailing you to a wall until some of these murder cases are wrapped up is awfully tempting.”
“But if I’m nailed to the wall, how will any of your cases get solved? Detective Hawke certainly isn’t going to figure things out until he removes his teeth from my ass and starts looking elsewhere for answers.”
Wait until Cooper found out I was going to find and play executioner for Wanda’s killer. Maybe I could soften the blow by approaching him with Rosy’s offer letter in hand, couching my plans with some good news for once.
“How soon do you think you could sneak us into that apartment?” Doc asked.
“Let me make a quick phone call and I’ll let you know.” He stood, pulling his phone from his coat pocket. “Don’t go breaking and entering while I’m gone, Parker.”
“I told you I didn’t break in.”
“Maybe not, but you did enter her apartment illegally, trespassing on an official crime scene.” He walked away, winning the battle for the last word … this time.
After Cooper disappeared from view over by the pool table, Doc took my hand in his, tracing the lines on my palm. “I should have gone with you to see Prudence.”
“Then she would have used you to get to me.”
“Maybe so, but she might not have hurt you with me there to channel for her.”
I shook my head. “I think she was making a point about her after-death abilities, showing me who I was dealing with. She has a thing about insulting my family tree, telling me how superior her lineage of executioners is.”
“Only you, Tiger, can manage to get into a pissing match with a dead woman.” His grin took the sting out of his words. “I want to take a look at that leg later when we’re alone.”
“It’s a pretty bruise but nothing more. There’s not much to be done about it.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “Except kissing it better.”
“I’m your huckleberry.”
I leaned in to kiss him.
Something dropped onto the table in front of us, making me jerk back in surprise.
“I brought you another present, baby-cakes,” Natalie said, standing at the end of the table. Her eyes were alight with mirth, her hair and leather coat glistening with flakes of melting snow.
I frowned down at the windshield wipers on the table in front of me.
“They say the gift doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts.” She held up a burly-looking pair of bolt cutters. “And by my way of thinking, that son of a bitch is lucky I didn’t cut off his balls as well.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Sorry for interrupting your date night,” Natalie said as she slid into Cooper’s seat, setting the bolt cutters next to her. “But your aunt said I could find you here when I called.”
She picked up Cooper’s drink and sniffed it. “Straight whiskey?” At my nod she scanned the bar. “Is Coop here somewhere?”
“He’s over by the pool table making a phone call,” Doc told her, picking up one of the two windshield wipers lying on the table.
I looked down at the other. “You brought me Rex’s wiper blades?”
“Not just the blades, sweetheart.” Doc held out one end of the wiper for me to see. The metal at the base of the arm had a pinched, jagged edge. “It’s the whole damned wiper.” He grinned a
cross at Natalie. “Did you really just snip these off his Jaguar?”
Natalie shrugged. “It was quicker than messing around with a screwdriver.”
“Rex is going to be so ticked.” I half-stood and leaned across the table, dropping a loud smooch on her forehead. “You are the best, Nat. I take back all of the bad things I ever said about your seventh grade boyfriend.”
“Don’t get carried away,” she said as I dropped back into my seat. “Pete was a sloppy kisser with pizza breath. I should’ve known better than to let him try slipping me the tongue under the bleachers, especially with the way he always seemed to struggle with drooling.” She fished one of Cooper’s ice cubes from his glass with his straw and stuck it in her mouth. “But live and learn when it comes to men, right?” She winked at me and crunched on the ice.
“I’m surprised Rex didn’t have guard dogs leashed to his precious car,” I said, thinking of how pissed he had been when he’d accused me of messing with his car.
She fished out another ice cube. “It was a little tricky to pull off. The ass-hat has been keeping the alarm set on his Jaguar since I took the hood ornament.” She popped the cube in her mouth, crunching. “His mistake was underestimating my abilities to get around an alarm.”
Doc laid the wiper back on the table, shaking his head. “You are one hell of an opponent, I’ll give you that.”
“She shares blood with the Morgan sisters,” I told him. “Anyone who meets those girls learns quickly not to mess with them or their family.”
“You mean Marcia and Cindy Brady from the Halloween party?” At my nod, he chuckled. “That’s a fight I would’ve enjoyed watching.”
At the time, though, Doc and I had been busy upstairs ripping my Morticia Addams’ dress. From the sudden intensity in his gaze, I had a feeling he was remembering what happened after my dress got ripped.
He wasn’t the only one reliving the moment.
Fanning myself, I looked back at Natalie. “I wish I could have seen Rex’s reaction.”
“I would’ve recorded it for you, but your daughter filled up my cell phone with videos of Elvis strutting around Zoe’s backyard wearing different baby doll sweaters.”