by Ann Charles
The iris painting was gorgeous and now fit the décor to a T, but to be honest, I missed Cooper’s framed print of dogs cleaning their guns around a poker table. This admission made me realize that I might actually think of Cooper as a friend now, even with his rough edges and sharp teeth. That must be why I kept defending the crabby monkeybutt to Natalie.
With the tour over, Rosy and I headed to Lead’s main drag. She parked behind The Golden Sluice Bar. I hadn’t been in the place since my lunch meeting last summer with a philandering asshole, who currently resided at Cell-block C in Prison, USA.
“You want to eat here?” I asked. My experience with the food was not nearly as exciting as that with my last lunch companion. The chicken was overcooked, the floors were grimy, and the air was hazy and filled with a multitude of nose wrinkling odors.
“Yeah, I ate here the other night. The food’s pretty good.”
Since Rosy was paying, she got to pick the place, so I smiled in spite of my previous experiences and followed her inside. At least, this time my companion would be much easier on my nerves, saving me the worry of being felt up under the table by the town’s notorious playboy, and then being overly self-critical afterward about why the creep hadn’t even tried to play footsy.
The first thing I noticed was the Grizzly Adams look-alike still tending the bar. However, the place was lit up with some fancy new lights dangling from the tin ceiling that reflected off a shiny wood floor. The original planks must have been sanded down and then sealed with several fresh coats of varnish since my last visit. Also gone was the haze and rank in the air, replaced by the scent of charbroiled meat and fried goodness.
“This is a lot different from when I was here back in August,” I told Rosy as we slid into a corner booth across from each other.
“According to your coworker, Ben, the previous owner passed away last month,” she said. “Since then, her son has taken over the place, using some capital and elbow grease to spruce up the joint.”
“It’s certainly a lot nicer.” I glanced around the room, pausing on the polished bar and lighted shelves that made the bottles of liquor seem to glow.
My cell phone rang. I looked down at the phone, seeing Zelda Britton’s name.
“Do you mind if I take this?” I asked.
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.” I slid out of the booth. “If the waitress stops by, please order me a chef’s salad, a side of fries, and an iced tea.”
I took the call as I stepped outside the front door. “Hello?” I shivered in the cold, steady wind blowing up through Lead.
“Hi, Violet,” Zelda said. I could hear her perky smile in her voice. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Prudence really needs to see you.”
Since when had Zelda become Prudence’s personal assistant? And how could I get one? Those minions Detective Hawke always accused me of having kept refusing to show up for work each day.
“Prudence needs to see me right now?”
“As soon as possible. She’s quite agitated. I don’t know that I’ve seen her like this before.”
Prudence could join the dang club. I frowned in the direction of her house. “I’m sorry, but today is not going to work for me, Zelda. Let Prudence know that I’ll see if I can find some time to swing by tomorrow afternoon.” I’d need to remember to take my purse inside when I showed up. I had the tooth from that thing in Slagton sealed in a pill bottle, waiting to be handed off to the dead woman.
Zelda’s voice was muffled for a moment as she repeated my message. I could imagine her standing in her kitchen, talking to empty air, looking plumb nuts. I’d done the same thing in her house myself several times.
“Violet, she insists upon seeing you immediately.”
I growled in my throat. Who in the hell did Prudence think she was? I didn’t care if she used to be some badass killer, I had some shit to work through today. I had no desire to look into the whites of Zelda’s eyes while being threatened and told how worthless I was at my Executioner role.
“I can’t come right now.”
“She can’t come now,” Zelda spoke again to her invisible boss.
A jacked-up truck rumbled past.
“Prudence wants to know where you are.”
Why did that matter? I wasn’t coming to her house, not even if I was parked next door to it. This was quickly becoming a matter of pride. I was not Prudence’s lackey, waiting for her next order.
“I’m at The Golden Sluice with a client.” Well, someone who used to be a client, anyway.
“Prudence says to bring the client here with you.”
“Zelda …” I blew out a breath, not wanting to shoot the messenger. “Please tell Prudence that I’m not coming to see her today. Period. I need to return to work when lunch is finished and cannot fit her into my schedule at this time. She will have to be patient and wait.”
The door opened behind me. “Howdy, Sparky,” an older guy said as he walked past me.
Frowning after him, I wondered how he knew me and who’d told him my nickname. I suspected it was another old-timer who had a weekly dinner deal with me until I sold his ranch. A smart move on Harvey’s part, since it would probably take a decade to unload that property what with all of the body parts that kept popping up there.
I focused back on my phone. “Zelda, I need to go. I’m sorry to put you in the middle like this, but Prudence will have to wait until I can fit her into my schedule. I’ll be in touch.”
I doubted that would go over well with the uppity ghost, but too damned bad. She could take a number and get in line for my freaky-shit show.
Returning to the warm bar, I shucked my coat and slid across from Rosy. “Sorry about that,” I told her. “Now, where were we?”
“About to eat pretzels,” she said as the waitress appeared with two big soft pretzels on a plate with cheese dipping sauce.
I practically drooled all over the waitress when she set them down between us.
“And we were about to toast to my new house and to you soon becoming a reality show superstar.”
I groaned at the superstar bit. “I’d settle just for being a successful Realtor living a regular old happy life these days.”
“To plain ol’ life, then,” Rosy said, holding up her glass of water. I clinked it with my glass of iced tea.
We dug into the hot pretzels, dipping them in melted cheese. I basically inhaled the salt-covered, carb-laden goodness while I listened to Rosy talk about her idea to make Cooper’s garage into a recording and editing studio. Not only could she tape commercial footage in there, but she could also work on the freelance film work she did on the side, including additional vlogs as Jerry continued to build the Calamity Jane website.
Shortly after the waitress delivered our main course, I glanced toward the bar and stopped listening to Rosy’s plans for the upcoming holiday. Was that Zelda staring back at me through a pair of dark sunglasses?
I lowered my fork. Her black stocking cap and thick, quilted coat were covered in daisies. Yep, that was Zelda. We shared a love of the happy-faced flower. What was she doing here? If Prudence sent her to lobby for a visit to her house today, she was wasting our time.
I waved Zelda over.
Rosy paused, looking over her shoulder. “You know her?”
“Yeah.”
The petite librarian wore black sweater tights under a knee-length corduroy skirt. She walked toward us in her yellow snow boots, but she seemed to have a slight limp. Upon closer inspection, Zelda was dragging her left foot a bit. Had she twisted her ankle recently?
“What’s with the dark sunglasses?” Rosy asked. “The lights aren’t that bright in here.”
Zelda reached our table before I could answer.
“Hi.” I could see my frowning reflection in her glasses. “What are you doing here? I thought we’d agreed that I’d contact you tomorrow to set up a meeting with you and your friend.”
Her jaw taut, Zelda leaned down and spoke next to my ear. �
�When I request your presence, Executioner, you will heed my bidding!”
Prudence!
I recoiled at the sound of her mid-Atlantic Eastern accent, which I’d come to associate with humiliation and pain. How in the holy rollers was Prudence the ghost standing in a bar in Lead?
A ghost walked into a bar … a voice said in my head. A cackle of panicked laughter echoed after it. This was like the start to a lousy joke.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I whispered.
I knew Prudence had been growing stronger by the fact that she was able to use multiple people as her puppets at the same time she was interacting with me, but that was in her own house. I’d assumed the house acted as a cage, keeping her trapped for as long as she continued to roam this plane of existence.
Apparently, I’d assumed wrong.
“Since you did not come to me, I came to you.” She pushed the sunglasses on top of her stocking cap and glared down at me with the whites of Zelda’s eyes. “Do not make me seek you next time. You will regret such insubordination.”
The fury lining Zelda’s face would have made a newer Executioner cower, but I’d faced off with plenty of crazy crap over the last few days, let alone months.
“Violet?” Rosy croaked. “What’s going on?”
Oh, crud. I’d forgotten about Rosy. I looked her way, grimacing as her burger slipped from her fingers and plopped onto her plate, knocking the top bun loose. Her face was pale, her mouth gaping as she stared at Zelda’s rigid profile.
“Put the glasses back on, Prudence,” I said quietly. “You’re making a scene in front of my client.”
Prudence’s white eyes shifted to my lunch companion. “This is of no concern to her.”
Rosy’s eyelids dropped, making her look as if she were meditating across from me. Then, in turntable fashion, she swiveled slowly away from us and faced the wall.
“There is much to prepare, Executioner.” Prudence focused on me. “Yet you insist on causing upheaval among our enemies by killing openly. What were you thinking? Such blatant foolery!”
Her chastising made my cheeks warm. How did she know about what had happened in Slagton already? I could buy Dominick having caught wind of it, but Prudence was a ghost, for crissake. Was there some underground ghost gossiping network? It wasn’t like they could call each other up and blab about my dirty laundry. Or could they? What did I know about ghosts? Hell, most of the time I couldn’t even see or sense them, Prudence being the exception.
I glared up into the whites of her eyes. “The hunters attacked me. What was I supposed to do? Turn the other cheek?”
“Draw them into the shadows. An Executioner’s power is in part derived by obscuring her skills from her enemy. What cannot be seen is immeasurable and unpredictable. You would do well to keep that in mind in the future if you want to keep breathing.”
My gaze darted around the bar. A couple of the other patrons were looking our way. I leaned closer to her, speaking low in case anyone was eavesdropping “Let’s go outside and talk about this in private.”
“No. We shall speak of this right here.” She jabbed the table with her finger. “Immediately.”
“Fine, but put those damned sunglasses back on. Nobody wants to look at the whites of Zelda’s eyes.” Especially me.
With a jerky movement, she lowered the sunglasses to her nose, hiding those unnerving eyeballs.
“And quit standing over me.” I pointed at the seat across the table. “You’re drawing unwanted attention, Ms. We-Must-Remain-Unseen.”
She dropped onto the bench seat, pushing Rosy closer to the wall as if she weighed no more than a doll.
“You better not be hurting Rosy.”
“She is merely diverted until I release her.”
“What about Zelda?”
“What of her?”
“Is she okay inside there?” I aimed my fork at Zelda’s forehead.
“I would never harm Zelda. She is an uncommonly clear channel, and her heart is kind and generous. I regard her as a friend.”
If taking control of Zelda’s body represented how she treated her friends, I’d hate to see what Prudence did to anyone she perceived as an enemy. Oh wait, I’d already witnessed it. Ray had lost a tooth and Hawke now barked on command.
“What is so urgent that you had to risk exposure to talk to me?”
“You are in dire straits.”
I guffawed. “You raced down here to deliver that news? Tell me something I don’t know.”
Her nostrils flared. “You may still be of the flesh, but I have the experience and knowledge to lead where you continue to stumble and create disorder.”
If I wanted to be insulted over lunch, I would have asked Ray or Tiffany to tag along today. “You know, Prudence, when you talk to me like that, it doesn’t motivate me to try any damned harder. It just pisses me off.”
“What is your fascination with vulgarity?” She picked up one of Rosy’s French fries, taking a nibble from it, and then dropped it like it bit her.
“Vulgarity is the name of the game for my Executioner line. It blends well with my stumbling disorder.” She snorted, perhaps in agreement. “How do you know what happened back in Slagton, Prudence?”
“I have my ways, not unlike you.”
Yeah, but my ways involved eyeballs that actually belonged to me. “What ways?” And whose side was she really on? She’d made no pretense on how she felt about Team Violet, what with her constant critiquing.
“My means of acquiring information are not your affair.” She linked Zelda’s fingers together on the table. “I need you to seek out the Timekeeper who bound you to another.”
“It’s too late,” I said, poking at my salad. I took a bite, grinning at her through a mouthful of lettuce. “She’s gone.”
She reached across the table and slapped my cheek. “Do not talk to me with your mouth full. It is repulsive and uncouth.”
I swallowed, holding my cheek. “Dang it, Prudence. Just once, could you not hurt me when I’m in your presence? I’m supposed to be your associate.”
“You are not my associate. We merely share an occupational hazard.”
I lowered my fork. “If we’re not comrades in arms, then why did you wait around all of these years for me to show up in Deadwood?”
“Who said I was waiting for you?”
“You did.” Right after she handed me Ray’s tooth. “And then you told me I needed you because I couldn’t succeed on my own.”
She’d ended that conversation by telling me not only was I wasting precious time, but I reeked of death. I stabbed another forkful of salad. It was no wonder I had on-the-job confidence issues.
“You do and you will not.”
“Why did you say you were waiting for me if you weren’t?”
“I was waiting for another of our kind. You were the first to arrive.” She pushed away Rosy’s plate of half-eaten food, disappointment in her voice. “What do you mean, the Timekeeper is gone?”
“I mean she is no longer of this world.” Well, no more of my world. What did I really know about other possible worlds? “Ms. Wolff—or rather Ms. Hoont, as you called her—is no longer on this plane or in this realm or whatever you want to call it.”
“How do you know this?”
I leaned forward and whispered, “I executed her.”
Prudence stilled. “You what?”
Stabbing another forkful of salad, I said, “You heard me.” I wasn’t real proud of the fact, either. I preferred killing the bad and the ugly, leaving the good alone.
“Another of your blunders,” she accused more than asked.
“Wrong. It was her will.”
“And what of the other Timekeeper?”
I shrugged, dipping a fry in the pool of ketchup on my plate. “Mr. Black has contacted me. We are working together now.” I stuffed the whole fry in my mouth, wiping my hands on a napkin. It tasted just fine to me, not too greasy. What was her problem?
“Togeth
er?” Her hand snaked out and captured mine. She tugged me across the table and ran the pads of her fingers over my palm like there were braille letters stamped on it. “Oh, my stars. You are a Timekeeper.”
I pulled my hand free, frowning down at my sweater sleeve that now had ketchup on it. “Dang it all! Look what you did.” I sat back in the booth seat. “Just once, it would be nice to have a normal conversation with you.”
She crossed her arms. “Do you have a tooth for me?”
“See, this is what I’m talking about.” I dabbed my napkin in Rosy’s glass of ice water and tried to get the worst of the ketchup off my sleeve. “If we’re going to work together, you need to stop hurting me all of the time and threatening to take my teeth.”
“And what will you offer in return for my benevolence?”
“What would you like?”
She drew something on the table with her fingertip. “You cannot provide what would please me.”
Maybe not, but I dug into my purse and pulled out something that might warm her up a little. “Will this suffice for today?”
I opened the small pill bottle and dumped the tooth Doc had pulled from the head of the creature back in Slagton on the table between us.
Zelda’s mouth fell slack as Prudence stared at the tooth. Slowly, she reached out and picked it up, sniffing it. “Do you have any idea what this is?” She held the tooth between her thumb and index finger, admiring it.
“A tooth for your collection, delivered as promised.”
She pocketed it in Zelda’s coat. “You are a dolt. You take ostentatious risks.”
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome and keep your fingers out of my mouth, thank you.” I took another bite of salad. “What’s with you and all of those teeth, anyway?”
“Teeth are unique to the individual,” she said, as if it made her odd fetish seem natural. “The same can be said of the tongue.”
“Then why don’t you collect tongues?”
“Do not be absurd.”
“And collecting teeth is more rational?”
“What you do not understand could fill an abyss.” She pulled Rosy’s glass of ice water toward her. “The hunters will not cease until you are dead.”