Rattling the Heat in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  Chapter Nineteen

  Friday, December 7th

  Bighorn Billy’s Diner was busier than I’d figured it would be for a weekday morning in December, especially considering the Black Hills hadn’t been hit with enough snow yet for the serious snowmobilers and skiers to pour in.

  Dolly Parton was singing “Jingle Bells” through the overhead speakers as the waitresses served up steaming plates of eggs, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, and several other drool-inspiring dishes. I was tempted to order something more than plain toast and scrambled eggs, spurred by the aroma of fried meat and carbohydrates filling the air, but I knew better. Dominick would undoubtedly set off my “troublemaker” radar as soon as he arrived, making me queasy. The last thing I wanted to do was hint at my innate alert system by throwing up in his lap. Not to mention how un-cool that would be as a representative of the Executioner clan. Prudence would surely take back my matching club jacket.

  Aunt Zoe sat next to me in the booth seat, sipping on coffee as we waited for our breakfast guest before ordering. The soft scent of her lavender soap should have been calming along with her mellow personality this morning, but I had a fidgeting problem. I had come to realize this after she’d taken away the fork I’d been tapping on the table and then put a hand on my knee to still my bouncing leg.

  “Thanks for letting me borrow your red vest again,” I said, straightening my spoon next to my coffee cup.

  “It looks good on you. Maybe you should keep it. I have plenty of other coats.” She smirked. “The vest has no buttons for Elvis to rip off, so it should stay in good shape.”

  I growled under my breath, calling that chicken several unsavory names. Why couldn’t my kid be happy with a gerbil?

  “It could be worse,” Zoe said, laughter in her tone. “Addy could be into snakes.”

  Speaking of snakes, I told her about Rex’s shenanigans yesterday, something I’d completely forgotten thanks to my visit to the Deadwood Police Station.

  Now it was her turn to growl and swear. “That boy doesn’t know when to pull up stakes and ride off into the sunset, does he?”

  “He has an odd obsession with my sex life. I don’t get it. When I was in his bed, I wasn’t enough.”

  “He wants what he can’t have. Now you’re a challenge.”

  While we were on the subject of obsessions and challenges, I asked, “What’s going on with you and Reid?”

  She stopped with her coffee midway to her mouth. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “A perfectly normal one from a family member who loves you dearly.”

  With a sigh, she lowered her cup. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “And I’d rather hear an honest answer.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “What makes you think anything is going on with us?”

  “You invited him over for supper and didn’t once threaten to fill him full of holes.” I drew invisible circles on the table. “One of those alone is enough to make me scratch my head, and when you put them together, it makes me curious if maybe you’ve recently received dire news about your health … or his.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re being silly. I invited him over because I wanted to hear what he had to say about that incident on the Mickelson Trail. That’s all there is to it.”

  “That’s one hundred percent phony-baloney you’re trying to sell me. You could’ve called him on the phone and asked.”

  “I wanted you to hear his answer, too.”

  “Oh, really?” Come on! Did she think I was born yesterday?

  “Yes, really. Violet Lynn, quit looking at me like that.”

  There was no reason she couldn’t have relayed the information to me and we both knew it. “I don’t believe you.”

  She lifted her chin, tucking a strand of silver-streaked hair behind her ear. “Believe what you want. I told you my reasoning, so let’s move on.”

  I wasn’t ready to move on. “Man, you’re so stubborn.”

  “I’m only stubborn on Friday mornings in December.” She sipped her coffee and then asked, “Are you ready for your parents’ visit tomorrow night?”

  No. Not even a little. I’d been too busy being distracted with an accusation of murder by the local boys in blue. Well, Detective Hawke actually leaned more toward brown.

  I sat back, scowling at my hands. “I’ll go grocery shopping tonight and pick up what we need for dinner.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “I just wish they’d wait another month to meet Doc.”

  “Why? What will another month change? Isn’t it better to get it out of the way?”

  “Not really. It’d be better if I could choose the time and setting of this stupid meet and greet.”

  Her forehead furrowed as she looked at me. “What is it that has you so worried? Is it that they’ll realize Doc has a sixth sense? If so, there are no ghosts at my house that will trigger any reaction from him in front of them, so you can stop fretting about that.”

  “It’s not that.” I fiddled with my coffee spoon. “It has nothing at all to do with his ability or his personality. I think he’s perfectly capable of charming the pants off of them.” I snorted. “Especially Susan.”

  Aunt Zoe grimaced. “Yeah. We’ll have to keep an eye on her.”

  “I’m more concerned about what they’re going to do and say to him.”

  “Your parents are kind people, Violet.”

  “I know that, but you know how they are. My mom will undoubtedly say something inappropriate about my history with men in front of Doc, and dad will probably grill him about his long-term intentions for his daughter and grandchildren.”

  She patted my arm. “Have you considered that maybe it’ll be as simple as enjoying pleasant conversation over good food?”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Have you met my mother?”

  She laughed. “It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “You could be pregnant with twins again. You remember how that went over with the two of them?”

  Dear Lord, yes. My mother had mock-fainted, requiring a cold washcloth to return upright to her chair. She’d gone on to give an Emmy-winning performance in drama for days on end. Dad, on the other hand, had said absolutely nothing after I dropped the bomb. He’d walked away from the table and disappeared into his workshop, shutting out the world and me. A week later, he’d emerged with two cribs to show for his tool-filled therapy.

  I groaned. “You’re right, this isn’t so bad. If only Susan wasn’t going to be with them.”

  “She’s not going to miss this. You know she feeds on turmoil.”

  Did I ever. Screwing up my world was her favorite treat. “It’s not fair that Doc has to meet all three at once.” Although technically, he’d already sort of met Susan.

  “Honey, it’s perfectly normal to be thrown to a family of wolves when you’re getting serious in a relationship.”

  “Are we getting serious?”

  She scoffed “Don’t you think that’s a pretty silly question at this point?”

  “No, I don’t. For all I know, this level we are at right now could be as deep as Doc wants to dive into my shark-filled waters.”

  “Maybe it’s time you ask him about his long-term intentions.”

  “Oh, okay, sure. I’ll do just that.” I squirmed in the booth seat at the idea of talking to him about such a thing. “What do I say? ‘Doc, when you say you love me, does that mean you plan on sticking with me through sickness and health, ‘til death do us part? Or is that just another way to charm me out of my underwear again?’ How does that sound?”

  She covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. “Oh, Violet. What is it with you and relationships?”

  “They’re too hard. It’s easier to smother them before they grow into adulthood.” I blew out a breath. “Besides that, all of the ‘what-ifs’ give me heartburn.”

  “How about for now you let sleeping dogs lie?”

  “What’s th
at mean?” The only dogs I knew were law dogs and they kept biting at my heels.

  “Instead of worrying about how things may or may not end up in the future with Doc, enjoy the here and now.”

  “I was trying my best to do just that, and then the kids had to go and bring up Doc’s comment on marriage again.” On the way to the diner, I’d told her about the scene in front of the television last night. “Now I’m all flustered and afraid I’m misreading his signs.”

  “Misreading how? The guy is obviously crazy about you.”

  “Yeah, crazy with a capital C to want to stay with a woman who is consistently on Deadwood’s top ten Usual Suspects list.”

  “Violet,” she started.

  I held up my hand. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’d rather talk about the horrible monsters I need to kill.” I aimed a glare at her. “Besides, we were supposed to be talking about your relationship with Reid.”

  She sniffed, looking into her coffee cup. “I took a roast out of the freezer for tomorrow’s dinner before we left the house this morning,” she said, blatantly changing the subject. “But we may need more meat if Willis and Cooper join us.”

  I gave up on digging any deeper into her love life. “Cooper said he was going to skip it.”

  “Well, Willis told me that he wouldn’t miss this show for nothing, not even for a box of shotgun shells and a lap dance.”

  I chuckled. “That ol’ boy needs to find another source of entertainment.”

  “Why? You keep him plenty preoccupied with your escapades and adventures.” She grinned. “He was still snickering this morning on the phone about your trip to the police station. He said Hawke’s bark was in fact meaner than his bite.”

  “I don’t know about that. Last night, I dreamed that Detective Hawke was biting me.”

  “Like a zombie movie bite?”

  “More like werewolf. I said Prudence’s magic word and he turned into a German shepherd. Only instead of only barking at me, he attacked and tore out my throat.”

  She flinched. “Sleeping on the couch probably isn’t helping with the nightmares. How about we move Addy into my bed and you can at least toss and turn in comfort?”

  “Cooper would probably appreciate that.”

  Last night, he’d shown up as Hawke’s snout moved south and ripped out my guts, shaking me awake again. This time, he’d brought me some lemon tea and settled into the recliner under Addy’s rainbow-colored comforter.

  “Did he stay and watch TV with you?”

  I nodded. “He let me choose between Bonanza and Gunsmoke.”

  “That’s a no-brainer.” She ran her finger around the rim of her coffee mug, a far away smile on her face. “I’ve always had a soft spot for Festus, especially in the episodes when he’d sing.”

  “I’m well aware of your admiration of Ken Curtis’s pipes.”

  “You know he was a lead singer—”

  “With the Sons of the Pioneers from 1949 to 1952,” I finished, shoulder bumping her. “You used to play some of their records for me on that old record player in your office when I was a kid, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Your great-grandmother loved listening to them.”

  My memories of my great-grandmother were not as warm and fuzzy as Aunt Zoe’s. The old woman had always given me a strong case of the heebie-jeebies, but now was not the time to dwell on her and her creepy rune stones that repeatedly foretold of me carrying death in my pockets. Those were her words, not mine. Aunt Zoe might swear on my great-grandmother’s magistra skills and praise her knowledge about how to keep our family’s executioners alive, but to me she would always represent the boogeyman.

  Aunt Zoe glanced toward the door, doing a double take. “Now there’s a handsome devil if I ever saw one.”

  I followed her gaze. Dominick Masterson stood inside the front door, peeling off his leather gloves and stuffing them in the pockets of his long black wool coat. His dark hair was fashioned in the latest slicked-back style without looking greasy like Ray’s always did. His narrow pinstripe shirt and dark dress pants were tailor-made and fitted. Several of the females in the room stared, admiring the view. I wondered if they knew he was back on the market. Actually, marriage was probably a mere technicality in their eyes, certainly not a showstopper.

  “ ‘Handsome devil’ is a fitting description for Dominick,” I said under my breath. “And he’s come down to Deadwood, willing to make a deal.”

  “Hold on tight to your soul, baby girl.”

  Dominick scanned the room, his dark gaze landing on me. I waved at him to join us.

  “Here we go,” I said, forcing a smile to my lips.

  He stopped a waitress on the way to our booth, whispering something in her ear and following it with a wink. She tittered and headed off toward the kitchen.

  “Hello, Violet,” he purred in his deep, silky voice. “You brought company. Who is this lovely creature?”

  Queasiness spread in the pit of my belly. I swallowed some water, doing my best to keep the ball of nausea right where it was. “Dominick, this is my aunt, Zoe Parker.”

  His white teeth made an appearance, dazzling as always. He held his hand out for hers, which she gave without hesitation. “It’s wonderful to meet a relative of Violet’s.” His gaze sized her up and down, his brows rising in appreciation. “Especially one so lovely as you.”

  “My, oh my.” Aunt Zoe licked her lips. “Aren’t you a smooth one?”

  He leaned closer, whispering, “I have my rough edges, too.”

  Aunt Zoe’s cheeks darkened. She leaned toward him, her voice sultry when she replied, “You’ll have to show them to me some time.”

  Come again? I gaped at my aunt, who was staring up at Dominick like she wanted to skinny dip in his eyes.

  He raised her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “Sounds like a deal, beautiful.”

  “You know where to find me.” She licked her lips again. “At the corner of—”

  I elbowed her in the ribs. Good and hard.

  She grunted, pulling her hand free of his. “That hurt, Violet!”

  “Sorry about that.” I made a show of taking off her red vest. “I’m getting warm and needed to slip out of this.”

  While Dominick took off his coat and hung it on the hook at the end of the booth, I gave Aunt Zoe a what-the-hell gesture. She grimaced back, shrugging, and mouthed I don’t know.

  In other words, whatever shiny magic Dominick was using to “wow” the womenfolk, Aunt Zoe was as susceptible as everyone else.

  Great, I was on my own. Not only that, I was going to have to make sure Aunt Zoe didn’t end up selling her soul to the attractive devil while I was at it. Doc was right. I should have brought Harvey along, too.

  Somehow, Dominick made sliding into the seat opposite us look cool and sexy. I envied his charisma. If I practiced more in the mirror, maybe I could “wow” the pants off Doc with just a smile. Wouldn’t that be a fun private-party trick? I tucked that away for later daydreaming and focused back on the man across the table … or whatever he was.

  “I’ve seen you before,” he said to Aunt Zoe. “Don’t you own the glass gallery on Main Street in Deadwood?”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes averted while still rubbing her side. “I’ve been there for a long time.”

  “My ex-wife enjoyed shopping for unique glass pieces there. She’d often use one of your stunning vases as a centerpiece when we’d throw dinner parties.”

  “Your wife had good taste,” I said, pulling his focus back to me.

  “Of course she did.” His dark eyes locked onto mine. “She married me, didn’t she?”

  I held my ground. “Yes, but then she up and left. What was she thinking?”

  I was serious. I’d like to know if his wife had even been capable of thinking anymore when she “left” him, or if he’d made her go away for good by way of a dirt nap?

  “Clearly, she wasn’t thinking.” His tone was even, his demeanor unruffled
by my question. “Or she would have stayed to see what happens next.”

  I took the bait. “What’s going to happen next?”

  He took his time answering, staring at me so long I had to blink. My stomach lurched like a drunken sailor, but I didn’t let it show.

  “For starters,” he finally said, “our waitress is going to deliver my hot chocolate.”

  Sure enough, as if on cue, the waitress he’d spoken with on his way to our table walked over and set a mug down topped with a swirled dome of whipped cream. She blushed and tittered as he flirted with her, and then pranced away.

  “That’s not our waitress,” Aunt Zoe told him, blinking like she’d just woken up.

  He shrugged, pulling a golden spoon from his shirt pocket, steaming it with his breath. “She’ll do in the meantime.” He polished the spoon with his napkin.

  “You forgot sprinkles,” I said. The absurdity of the moment almost rattled a laugh out of me, but I managed to keep my lips pinched tight.

  He raised one dark brow. “Whipped cream is my dessert of choice, Violet. I prefer it on all of my sweets.” His pupils seemed to grow larger as he stared at me. Then his focus lowered to my mouth.

  A fresh wave of nausea made me swallow several times quickly. Something was going on here. Was it just his over-the-top flirting making me want to vomit, or was he attempting to use some kind of influence on me? Experimenting to see my reactions? Whatever it was, I needed to nip this in the bud or move to the next booth over.

  I crossed my arms. “Knock it off, Dominick.”

  “What?” he feigned innocence far better than my kids, but I was an ace at sniffing out hogwash.

  “This flirting game you’re playing with me.”

  “Maybe I find you attractive.” He dipped the spoon in the whipped cream, looking in Aunt Zoe’s direction as he licked it off his spoon provocatively. “Along with your aunt.”

  I heard Aunt Zoe sigh like a lovesick puppy.

  Maybe I should have her wait in the car. “I’m not your type.”

  “My last five wives have been blond and curvy.”

  Last five? Had there been more before those five? More important, what had he done with them? I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “But none of them were your enemy.”