by Ann Charles
“No. You saw your father’s reaction last weekend. If Reid shows up on Blake’s doorstep, he’ll probably belt him in the breadbasket next.”
Over a week ago, my dad had tackled my ex on Aunt Zoe’s front lawn, landing a few punches in Rex’s midsection before Cooper managed to separate them. It was not one of my family’s finer moments, but at least nobody ended up in jail this time. Well, except for Doc.
“That’s probably a good idea. Although I bet Doc would appreciate having Reid there to help take the heat.”
“Doc has you, me, and the kids.”
“Yeah. I wish I could figure out a way to have this first Christmas without the potential for another mushroom cloud.”
“What are you getting Doc for Christmas?”
I groaned. “You tell me.”
Eight days left until Santa made his run and I had no idea what to give Doc. My shopping for the kids, Aunt Zoe, Nat, my parents, Harvey, Mona, my boss, Cornelius, and Reid was complete. Hell, I’d even ordered something for Cooper in the midst of my online shopping adventures at work last week—a new tie with police handcuffs and “Do Not Cross” tape zig-zagging down it to replace the one I’d ruined months ago by accidentally throwing up on it … and Cooper.
When it came to Doc, though, the perfect gift eluded me. Natalie suggested a fur-lined teddy, but that seemed too cliché. I wanted it to be something that didn’t have to do with sex for once. Something that showed I was nuts about more than just his body. Something heartfelt but not too mushy.
“What about two tickets for a weekend getaway to somewhere warm and tropical?” Aunt Zoe suggested. “No kids, no family, just you and him.”
“That sounds like heaven, but I’m afraid to leave my kids with all of these weird killers on the loose. Not to mention Dominick Masterson stalking you.”
She growled, enlisting a multitude of curse words to describe her situation with Dominick. Before wrapping up, she threw Reid into the mix as well.
I was still chuckling a short time later when we pulled into the parking lot at Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor. I rolled around the side of the century-old, two-story house with its white neoclassical columns. Eddie Mudder was waiting with my favorite Deadwood detective in front of the morgue-slash-garage.
I parked and pulled out the key. “You ready for this?”
“No,” Aunt Zoe said and hopped out.
Eddie smiled when he saw me climb out of my SUV. “Violet, how is your son doing?”
Months prior, Eddie had been dragged into my messy world, acting as a liaison between Mr. Black and me before I realized we were on the same team. Layne had been the main subject the three of us had in common, or rather my son’s picture that had been stuck in a mirror in Ms. Wolff’s apartment around the time of her death.
“He’s doing well, thanks.” I jabbed my thumb at the big house where he held funerals in the parlor and performed autopsies in the basement. “How’s the business of death treating you? You have a lot of stiff competition for your attention?”
The glare Cooper gave me said plenty about the non-sunny location of his funny bone this morning.
Eddie chortled. “People are dying to get in here these days. I’ve been thinking about writing a novel.”
“Really?” I imagined Eddie had a lot of macabre stories to share. “About what?”
“An overcrowded cemetery. Unfortunately, there’s no plot.”
I giggled. “Good one.” I looked at Cooper, whose lips remained in a flat line. “You need to have Eddie teach you how to be funny.”
“I’ve already had my big laugh for the day, remember?” He turned to Eddie. “Let’s get this over with. I need to write up a report and then try to catch some sleep before my next shift starts.”
His next shift? How many hours was Cooper putting in these days? His red-rimmed eyes made me feel guilty about giving him a hard time this morning. Although he’d started it with that crack about my hair when I’d joined him in the kitchen.
Eddie led us into the open front room of the garage where he kept the stretchers and dry goods needed for taking care of his clients. The building was heated enough to take the chill out of the room, but I swore I could smell a hint of formaldehyde in the air every time I visited. To the left an interior door opened into a small crematorium with a furnace that gave me the willies to even think about most days.
In front of us was a wide freezer door, a chain and padlock wrapped around the handle to keep it secure. I didn’t remember seeing a padlock or chain when I was in here last, nor the convex crinkle in the center of the stainless steel slab. Then again, I’d been with Cooper and Detective Hawke that day. The former had been busy grinding his molars while the latter tried to pin another murder on me, so I’d been plenty distracted.
“I haven’t been in here in years.” Aunt Zoe frowned toward the crematorium room. “Not since my grandmother died.”
I shivered at the thought of my great-grandma, her gnarled fingers, and the constant clacking of her rune stones.
Jamming my hands in my pockets, I hunched my shoulders. This place gave me the heebie-jeebies every time I stepped inside of it … or snuck around outside of it with an ornery old goat. Thinking of the night Harvey and I discovered the Mudder family’s collection of antique mortician tools reminded me of a question I had for the owner of the funeral parlor.
“Eddie, do you know anything about a female undertaker that lived and worked in Deadwood in the late 1800s?”
Cooper’s eyebrows drew together. “Uncle Willis must have put a bug in your ear. He keeps bringing her up, nagging me to scour the police archives for information on her. What the hell is going on with you two? What’s with the sudden interest in this woman?”
I shrugged. “I was inquiring on Harvey’s behalf. He brought it up when we were waiting for you in Slagton on Friday. When I mentioned it to Doc, he remembered reading that there was a female undertaker, but he hadn’t come across much information on her at the library.”
“Let me scour our storage room and get back to you,” Eddie said. “My father kept all of the old books that came with the parlor when he bought it. My brother, George, made sure to store them in a dark, dry area. He took pride in being one of the town’s historians, serving on the city council and advisory board of the local history group. Maybe there’s something in one of those record books on this female undertaker.”
“Thanks.” I pulled my hand out and skimmed my palm over the cold, bent steel. “Is this bulge new, Eddie?”
“Yes.” He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock. After removing the chain, he hit the light switch next to the freezer and then pulled open the door. He pointed at a large concave dent on the other side. “Something wanted out last night and this door was in its way.”
The inside of the door was peppered with shallow dents, with the one in the center by far the deepest.
“Holy shit.” How strong was a Nachzehrer? I glanced at Aunt Zoe.
Her worried gaze held mine.
Eddie led the way inside the freezer. Aunt Zoe followed and then me, with Cooper bringing up the rear. The freezer reminded me of a butcher’s freezer. I covered my nose, not wanting to smell anything, especially with what I was about to see.
Only one of the long shelves held a body. “It’s been slow,” Eddie explained. “Apparently nobody is in a rush to die over the holidays.”
“Yeah, me neither,” I whispered through my fingers.
He walked over to the body. It was wrapped in a layer of opaque plastic, reminding me of another body I’d seen when I was standing alongside Cooper in Lead back in November, only that one had my war hammer sticking out of its chest.
“You can see here where the plastic was chewed on.”
Chewed? I cringed, gearing up for the task in front of me.
Cooper extracted his flashlight, shining the beam on the plastic to give us a better view. It looked like a big rat had been working on it.
Eddie took
out a utility knife and sliced along the plastic, pulling it apart to expose the lower leg. “You can see the chew marks here on the outside of the calf. They go all of the way down to the ankle.” He took a pencil from his shirt pocket and pointed down the leg.
In the flashlight’s beam, I could see where something had worked on Mr. Haskell’s leg like it was an ear of corn, leaving a mangled fleshy mess.
I recoiled, my stomach hitching in spite of my mental preparation. “Jesus,” I said and turned away.
“Is Mr. Haskell embalmed?” Aunt Zoe asked.
Eddie shook his head. “His will specifically requested that no embalming be done.”
I stepped back, glancing at Cooper. “You really need to start taking me to nicer places for breakfast.”
His mouth tilted at one corner. “I thought you were a meat eater.” He pointed toward the body. “You haven’t seen the ear yet.”
“What about the ear?” Aunt Zoe asked.
“It’s gone,” Eddie said. “This is going to make an open casket viewing impossible.”
The black coffee swishing around in my stomach was threatening to play geyser and erupt via my esophagus.
I didn’t need to see anymore. I’d take Eddie’s word for it. “I’ll wait outside for you guys to finish.” Without giving anyone a chance to stop me, I rushed out of the freezer.
Cooper joined me a short time later as the sun crested the hills, zipping up his thick cop coat. “Did you tell Nyce about this?” He jabbed his thumb toward the morgue.
“I left him a voicemail.”
He nodded, frowning toward the funeral parlor. “I don’t know how to write this up. I can’t say there are chew marks on the body. The chief will give me a week off for mental stress leave like Hawke, and now is not a good time to turn in my badge and gun.”
“Especially with your informant missing.”
His gray eyes swung back to me. “Nyce told me you made a deal with Masterson regarding Slagton.”
I cringed. “I suppose you’re going to bitch at me for that.”
“I don’t bitch. I bite, remember?” His lips twitched.
Cooper picked the oddest times to joke. “Too well, detective.”
“How in the hell are you going to catch one of those nasty fuckers?”
I squeezed the back of my neck. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out. In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed that Dominick gives us something helpful on your missing informant.”
Aunt Zoe stepped into the pale morning sunshine, shielding her eyes as she approached.
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“We’re going to have to bone up on how to hunt der Nachzehrer.”
Shit criminy! I was a little busy being hunted myself at the moment. “My dance card for the hunters’ ball is already full.”
“Make some room, baby girl.”
“Let me get this straight,” Cooper said, extra heavy in the scowl department. “You think there’s some kind of flesh-eating ghoul roaming the area?”
“No.” Aunt Zoe scanned the trees on the hillside behind the morgue. “I think there are at least two flesh-eating ghouls roaming the area now, and if we don’t stop them, the two will become four, and then eight, and so on.”
My stomach sank. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” Worry lines fanned from her blue eyes when she turned back to me. “Let the hunt begin, Scharfrichter.”
Chapter Fourteen
Going to work was a welcome change from monster hunting.
After I dropped off Aunt Zoe at home and made sure Addy was feeling okay, I put on my real estate agent hat and dragged my tired ass to my desk.
The normalcy of everyday office life inside Calamity Jane’s helped me come to grips with what I’d learned at Mudder Brothers this morning. Mona clacked on the keyboard as usual, pausing only to send me an insider’s smile, along with a “Good morning, Vi,” as I settled in at my desk. Jerry and Ben returned from the Rec Center showers shortly after I arrived, their hair still damp and their surplus testosterone spent on the ball court. They both shared small talk for several minutes before focusing on their computer screens.
Ray came in last, crowing that his breakfast meeting was a success. He dropped into his chair, kicked up his boots, and aimed a wrinkled upper lip my way. If his goal was to upset my applecart, there was nothing left to tip over. Learning that I had to figure out how to hunt down a party of Nachzehrer before they grew into a colony of flesh-eating ghouls pretty much blew my cart into teeny-tiny pieces. Ray could go fuck himself as far as I was concerned, and he could take Tiffany along for the ride.
“Ray,” Jerry said, interrupting Ray’s glower. “Don’t forget I need your month-end expenses early.”
I looked at Jerry. That was odd. Usually he requested our month-end paperwork after the first of the next month. Maybe Ray was taking a couple of weeks off. Could I be so lucky? Santa must have read my wishlist. If only I could convince Tiffany to relocate to the North Pole.
Rosy walked through the front door around the time I’d started my second cup of coffee since arriving at the office. She carried a stainless steel case and a big smile.
“We need to huddle up for a moment,” Jerry said, standing in the middle of our circle of desks. “I asked Rosy to join us today to begin filming.”
Son of a mother trucker! After a night full of Addy’s technicolored yawns and a morning staring at a nibbled-on corpse, I did not want to try my best to look good for the flippin’ camera.
“I can tell by some of your expressions,” and with that his gaze zeroed on Mona for a moment, “you’re not thrilled with smiling into the camera lens. However, this is just a practice run. The footage Rosy captures will be used as a game tape to see where we need to improve.”
Rosy set her case on Jerry’s desk. From it, she extracted an expensive-looking video camera and microphone.
“I’ll start the filming, working with Rosy to test her equipment and get things ready for the rest of you. I’ve written some scripts, but feel free to try something new. Remember, this is practice. We’re figuring out your comfort zone and shooting for warm-up purposes only.”
I didn’t love the idea of watching myself on film, but Jerry’s passion for perfection and his determination to achieve the top real estate ranking in western South Dakota left no doubt in my mind that I’d be going along with his plans.
I shared a frown with Mona. She pointed at my computer. I looked down right as an email from her hit my inbox.
Opening it, I read: There was another note on the whiteboard this morning.
I looked over at the board. Of course it was empty. At my raised brows, Mona clacked on her keys again.
The next email read: Ray is not alone.
I read that again, then replied: What do you mean?
She typed: That’s what the message said.
We both turned to look at Ray, who was leaning back in his chair, talking on the phone. When he noticed Mona was staring he winked at her. She looked away, as did I before he caught me watching him, too.
I sent her an email: I’ll let the others know.
She nodded and then Jerry leaned over her, cell phone in hand with somebody on the line, asking her about one of her listings.
Rosy sidled up to my desk. “How about I film you before lunch?”
“That works for me.” I took the script cards she handed me.
“Are you busy today?” she asked. “I mean for lunch.”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“I want to take you out and shower you with food.”
I smiled. “Food showers are my favorite kind.”
“Great, because I love my new house and you were a big part in making my dream to live here happen. Will you let me take you out for burgers?”
After my morning, a greasy burger didn’t appeal.
Jerry hung up his phone, joining Rosy at my desk. “A happy customer is like a game-win
ning three-pointer. Way to go, Violet.” To Rosy, he said, “Why don’t you two take some extra time at lunch? That way you can celebrate without rushing. Besides, it’s plenty slow here. That’s why I scheduled the vlog prep for today.”
It was a done deal now. Jerry had spoken.
The rest of the morning crept by as I tried to bury my head in some of the new real estate regulations that had recently been handed down by the state for the upcoming year. I went through my script cards a few times in front of the camera, smiling so wide at first that Rosy stopped filming and asked me to tone it down a few notches so I didn’t scare the others.
A quick phone call home right before lunch confirmed that Addy’s stomach issues were sugar-related only, as no other flu symptoms had occurred since she’d come downstairs. That was a relief. Battling the flu over Christmas would have sucked. Aunt Zoe added that my child had eaten almost half her weight in toast and scrambled eggs after waking. Apparently her stomach was making up for lost contents.
Finally it was time to go eat and be merry. Rosy drove us up to Lead, swinging by her place first so I could do a walk-through to see all she’d done to what I’d formerly liked to think of as Fort Cooper.
Gone were Cooper’s monochrome furnishings and leather accessories. Rosy preferred flowers, especially those like her namesake and mine. The man cave had been overhauled, turned into a garden cottage flush with flower prints on the furniture and walls. I couldn’t help but smile at the cringing and cursing Cooper would have done had he been standing next to me.
I wouldn’t have figured Rosy for such femininity in her decorating due to the size of her biceps and daily uniform of old T-shirts and jeans, but the house felt warm, comfy, and cozy. Or maybe it was just the lack of artillery that gave it that illusion.
After admiring Rosy’s handiwork, I stared at the Georgia O’Keefe “Black Iris” print over the fireplace that Cooper had grudgingly hung when I was prepping to show his house to potential clients. Harvey would be happy to see it was still there. That print had reminded him of some good times he’d spent with a dark-skinned señorita from some brothel down in Nevada.