Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6)

by Ann Charles

  “I’m not moving and neither are you.” When I hit him with a glare, he raised his brows. “I want you to join us.”

  I tilted my head. “That’s just mean.”

  “I’ll throw in some bacon.”

  “What in the hell is going on, Doc?”

  He snagged my hand, holding tight when I tried to pull it away. “Why were you calling me so late last night, Violet?”

  “You should have answered your phone and then you’d know.”

  “I couldn’t. I left it at my client’s office.”

  And the walls came tumbling down. “Ohhh.” Of course it was something that simple. But that still didn’t answer who was in his bathroom.

  “I didn’t realize I’d left it until after I got home,” he continued. “I decided to wait to contact him until today about getting it back.”

  “Don’t you ever delete your voicemails?”

  “Yes, but that’s another problem I didn’t want to deal with last night.” He pulled me down a step, closing the distance between us. “Why were you calling me last night?”

  “I got a call.”

  “From who?”

  “My secret pal.”

  His eyes creased with concern. “What did he want?”

  “Actually it was his helper who called. She told me to meet him at midnight in Mudder Brothers’ garage.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t go.”

  I squared my jaw. “Layne’s welfare was at stake.”

  “You took someone with you, though, right?”

  “You weren’t taking my calls.”

  “What about Harvey?”

  “He was on a date.”

  “Christ, Violet.” Exasperation rippled across his face. “You went to the morgue all alone at midnight to meet someone who has been calling you with threatening messages?”

  “They weren’t threats, they were warnings.” I pulled my hand free from his. “Besides, I wasn’t completely alone.”

  “Let me guess. You had Jiminy Cricket in your pocket?”

  “Not Jiminy, Natalie.”

  He stared at me, clearly not registering.

  “I took Natalie on my phone. We used that see-and-talk feature.”

  He scoffed. “You took Natalie on your phone with you to meet a potential killer?”

  “Well, somebody had to stay home with my kids.”

  He turned and sat down on the step next to my boots, covering his face. “She’s going to be the death of me yet,” he told his palms. Then he dragged his fingers down his cheeks and asked the front door, “Why didn’t she come and get me? I live four blocks away. The one day I forget my cellphone and she goes to meet a killer alone in the dark at a morgue.”

  “It’s more like five blocks, maybe six.” I sat down next to him. “And I didn’t want to bother you because I thought you weren’t taking my calls.”

  “Why would I not take your calls, Violet?” He bumped my knee with his. “You’re my girlfriend, crazy.”

  “Because you were busy with your company.” I pointed up the stairs, reminding him we weren’t alone.

  “Listen to me, woman, and burn this in your brain.” He cupped my jaw. “No matter who I’m with, I am never, ever too busy for you.”

  “Even if it’s another woman?”

  “Ever.”

  “Like a certain redhead who likes sports sex?”

  “Ever.”

  “The same redhead who I’m afraid is in your upstairs bathroom as we speak?”

  He let go of my chin. “It’s not Tiffany.”

  “Then who is it?”

  Doc glanced over my head. He stood and pulled me up with him. “See for yourself.”

  I turned slowly.

  Cooper stood at the top of the stairs in black jeans and one of his bullet hole T-shirts. His blond hair was spikey and disarrayed, bristly to match his normal temperament.

  “Oh, fudge.” If I’d have known Cooper would be here, I’d have worn a Kevlar vest under my sweater. “I’d rather it have been Tiffany, I think,” I said under my breath.

  Doc chuckled.

  “Parker, did I hear you tell Nyce you were at the morgue last night?”

  I looked back at Doc. “What’s Cooper doing here again? Please don’t tell me you’re dumping me for him.” That would be a knockout punch to my self-esteem.

  He lifted my hand and kissed the back of my fingers. “I prefer my blondes to come with long curly hair and lots of curves.”

  “So Cooper was the one in the shower?”

  Doc nodded. “He’s going to move into my spare room for the winter and give his uncle the place to himself.”

  I frowned up at Cooper. “Why would you do that?”

  “Uncle Willis has been there one week and turned the place into his goddamned love nest already.”

  But why Cooper? I frowned at Doc. “You realize he’s going to threaten to arrest me every time I come over to see you, right?”

  The ever-growly detective came down the stairs, his steely eyes piercing me. “You didn’t answer my question, Parker. Were you at Mudder Brothers last night?”

  “Why?” I stepped closer to Doc, ready to use him as a shield. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Besides go there without me,” Doc mumbled.

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “How was I to know you’d forgotten your cellphone and were hanging out here at home having a pillow fight with Detective Cooper?”

  Doc grinned at my joke, Cooper didn’t. “Next time,” Doc said, “stop by and get me.”

  “Who was in the morgue with you?” Cooper crossed his arms, lording down over me from halfway up the stairs.

  I crossed my arms back. “None of your business. Neither of us were breaking and entering or harassing anyone, so there is nothing you can use to threaten me with an arrest this time, Detective.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Parker.” He held up his cellphone. “I got a text from Detective Hawke while I was in the shower. He asked if I knew where you were.”

  “Why? What’s he want from me now?” I doubted it was to find out my recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

  “A 911 call came in last night from Eddie Mudder. Something about a prowler outside the morgue. When the cops showed up at the funeral parlor, Eddie’s assistant mentioned your name.”

  “Grace is Eddie’s cousin, not assistant.”

  “And how do you know that detail?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Is Eddie okay?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Eddie called and then disappeared.”

  I placed my hand over my chest, remembering Eddie’s words about being watched. He’d warned of the danger I was in, but he must have been at risk as much as me. Had someone seen us sneak into the morgue last night? Was it the juggernaut’s twin? Did the creepy ghoul know Eddie was trying to help me and now Eddie was paying the price for reaching out to me?

  “Do you know something about this, Parker? Because if you do, you need to tell me now. No more fucking around.”

  “I … I don’t know where Eddie is.”

  Cooper nodded slowly, his gaze measuring me. “I believe you about Eddie, but what about the body?”

  “What body?”

  “The faceless one you found in my uncle’s safe.”

  “What about it?”

  “Last night, when you were in the morgue not breaking and entering or committing any other crime, did you happen to help Eddie move the dead guy anywhere?”

  “Eww. No, of course not. Why would you ask that?”

  “Because Eddie’s not the only missing body. Our faceless friend is gone, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Meanwhile, back in Lemon-ville …

  Why was it when life gave me lemons, it dumped them on my head by the truckload?

  First the dead guy in the safe, then Wilda, now the albino’s twin and Eddie. There was only so much freaky shit a girl could handle be
fore she took up permanent residence under her bed.

  Standing opposite to where I sat bellied up to Doc’s kitchen bar, Cooper drilled me about my meeting last night with Eddie. While he chowed down two pieces of toast and gulped coffee, I backtracked to the first phone message Eddie had left with Mona and wrapped it up with my return to Aunt Zoe’s after Eddie’s face-to-face warning.

  Per his usual modus operandi, Cooper made me repeat my story two more times, taking notes in his little notebook with each retelling. Then he gnawed on my ass for another five minutes about how I should have contacted him right after I got the first call and how irresponsible I was being with my safety. After getting another text from Hawke that he refused to share, Cooper left in a huff.

  I flipped off his back as he shut the front door. The damned detective was lucky I hadn’t had lemons to throw at his head on the way out.

  Doc stuck a plate with eggs and bacon under my nose. “Eat up, Superstar. You have a big prep day at the office to get through.”

  Picking up the fork he had left on the plate, I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  He parked on the bar stool next to me with a matching plate of his own. We ate in silence for a few bites.

  He took a sip of coffee and then turned to me. “Do you really think I’d let Tiffany spend the night here?”

  I froze mid-bite, my neck warming. “Maybe,” I answered, shoving a piece of bacon into my big, dumb jealous pie-hole before I made matters worse.

  He returned to his eggs, eating a couple more forkfuls. I peeked over at him, worrying about what was going through his head.

  “Violet,” he took another swallow of coffee before continuing. “What’s it going to take to make you trust me?”

  Boy, was that a loaded question. I chewed on it for a few more seconds, vetoing anything having to do with a wedding band or the words ‘I love you,’ since asking him to offer either seemed to dilute the potency of them.

  In the end, I settled for the truth. “Time.”

  He poked at the last couple bites of eggs with his fork. “I’m not Rex.”

  “I know.”

  “Yeah, but do you understand that I’d never do anything to hurt you like he did?”

  I picked up another piece of bacon, studying it while I gulped back the rush of emotions trying to rise up my throat and leak out my eyes. As I turned the bacon this way and that, blinking back tears, I considered spilling the truth, telling him how gaga I was for him, explaining that my silly jealousy was born from a fear of losing one of the best things that had ever happened to me. But then I thought about my family history and how I should probably come clean with that particular nasty skeleton before I opened my mouth and poured my heart out onto my plate next to my eggs.

  “Doc,” I set the bacon down and wiped my fingers on the cloth napkin on my lap. “We need to talk about something.”

  His eyebrows pulled together. “This sounds serious.”

  My phone rang in my pocket, playing the whistling version of the Harlem Globetrotters’ theme song. “Crap, that’s Jerry calling.”

  Doc grinned. “The Harlem Globetrotters?”

  “It seemed fitting.”

  “Very.”

  “I should probably take this.”

  He nodded.

  I pulled it out of my pocket. “Hi, Jerry.”

  “Violet, we have a bit of a problem.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dickie’s camera man is coming down with a cold.”

  “So you want me to get some medicine for him?”

  “No, Honey has taken care of that. The second camera jockey is still healthy, but we need to rearrange the schedule and get as much done as possible in case either of them gets too sick to work for a day or two.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’re going to start filming today instead of tomorrow.”

  Ack! “But … but … I’m not ready.”

  “You’re ready enough. If you could come in a little early this morning, we can talk about your script and get you practiced on the mic. Then you’ll head over to the Devine house and do a few takes.”

  “With Ray?”

  “And me. I want to watch how things go today, see if any ideas for more ways to make Calamity Jane Realty shine even brighter come to mind.”

  I thought about suggesting we jam a big spotlight up Ray’s ass and see if light comes out through his mouth, but I doubted Jerry would appreciate my sense of humor in the thick of this sudden change of plans.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you, Violet. Don’t forget to wear the outfit we discussed.”

  “Right.” I growled in my throat, my loathing surfacing for that pink silk suit. Why did Jerry have such a hard on for pink? There were plenty of other perfectly good colors that didn’t leave me looking like I’d been spun around the inside of a cotton candy maker.

  “You’re not getting sick, too, are you?” he asked.

  “No, just clearing my throat. See you shortly.” I hung up and wrinkled my lip at the phone.

  “Another sunny day in real estate paradise?”

  I wiped my hands on my napkin. “Something like that. We’re going to start filming today instead of tomorrow.” I slid off the bar stool and carried my plate over to the dishwasher. “I have to go home and change into the outfit Jerry wants me to wear, grab my makeup, and try to get the red lines out of my eyes.”

  Doc followed me to the front door. “What did you want to talk about before Jerry called?”

  Oh, jeez, I couldn’t just throw out that I was a killer and then run off to work. “It can wait. It’s not that big of a deal,” I lied. After my jealous reaction this morning, I didn’t want to leave him thinking anything was wrong between us.

  The crinkles at the edge of his eyes showed his suspicion otherwise. “You sure?”

  Nope, but I was going to do my best to remove the doubt from his mind. With all of the shit tornado-ing through in my life right now, I needed Doc to keep holding my hand and not let go.

  I walked back to where he leaned against the archway into the dining room. Going up on my tiptoes, I framed his smooth-shaven face with my hands and pulled his mouth down to mine. Starting slow, I flirted with his lips. When he teased back, I warmed things up, my tongue tempting his. He took the bait, his breaths quickening, his body hardening.

  “I’ve missed you,” I whispered when I stopped to catch my breath and then dove in for more. He tasted like heaven with a side of happily-ever-after, and I wanted to drag him upstairs and show him how much I needed everything he was willing to give.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, putting my whole heart into the kiss this time, pressing against him while his hands travelled up and down my back.

  “God, woman,” he said, breaking the kiss. His breath was uneven, matching mine. “You have the most talented mouth.”

  “You think?” I trailed my lips along his jawline, purring as his hands slid up under my sweater, exploring my curves, lighting the furnace inside me with his fingertips. “How do you like this?” I scraped my teeth along the shell of his ear, spurring a groan from deep in his throat.

  “Stay a little longer, Boots.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’ll make it worth your time.” His hands slid down over my skirt, pressing me against his hips.

  It had been way too long since we’d last had a moment alone to explore and play. I felt my resolve weakening. “Oh, yeah? How?”

  The Harlem Globetrotters whistled from my pocket again. Jerry wasn’t done giving me orders. Damn!

  I pulled away, staring up into dark brown eyes full of wicked promises.

  Double damn!

  “You’d better answer,” Doc said, “before he sends Curly Neal or Meadowlark Lemon to come and bounce-pass you all the way into the office.”

  I held my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Violet, could you bring all three outfits I bought for you?
Honey wants to make sure the pink suit doesn’t clash with what Dickie’s wearing.”

  I wondered how they’d feel if I showed up looking like Ronald McDonald, red nose, big shoes, and all. “Got it.”

  “See you shortly.” Jerry hung up.

  “Thanks for breakfast.” I told Doc, shoving my phone back in my skirt pocket.

  “Anytime.” He helped me slip on my coat. “And I mean that, Boots.”

  “Thanks.” And I love you, Doc.

  “Don’t be going to any more morgues without me.” He toyed with my coat collar.

  I stole one more kiss from him for the road.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” he said when I pulled away.

  Being the Scharfrichter that I was, I hoped to hell his words ended up as the jest he intended and not the prophecy I feared.

  I smiled, keeping things easy-breezy. “Not if your new roommate throws me in the slammer first.”

  “Don’t worry.” He held the door for me. “Cooper’s on your side.”

  “I hope so, because if you’re wrong, I’ll be wearing the latest fashion in chain-gang.” I winked at him. “They’ll make for some kinky conjugal visits, though.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, after a morning filled with hair and makeup prepping, script practicing, and microphone testing, I stood in the garishly-striped bedroom where Lily Devine reportedly had taken her last breath in this rough and tumble world.

  Across the room, Dickie and Honey stood huddled together, arguing about infinitesimal filming details down to the exact place on the floor where he should stand. Every so often, they’d turn and confer with the getting-sicker-by-the-minute camera guy, who I’d found out went by the name Rad.

  I wasn’t sure if Rad was his first name or last, and I didn’t bother asking. Frankly, after finding out that not only was the albino’s much shrewder twin looking for me, but that he’d likely kidnapped or killed Eddie for warning me, I didn’t give a crap if the camera guy called himself Don Quixote and attacked windmills. My main concern was that he made sure I didn’t look like a laughingstock on television.