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

by Ann Charles

  “Hey, Realtor lady,” called the fourth member of Dickie and Honey’s TV crew from the bedroom doorway—a woman I guessed to be in her early forties. Rad had introduced her as Rosy something, one of his camera carrying cohorts when I’d arrived at Lily Devine’s house. He’d told me her full name while we had been standing there on the front porch waiting for Dickie and Honey, but the last part had zipped in one ear and out the other, because right then I’d seen a police cruiser coming our way. The fear that Detective Hawke was coming to drag me down to the station had almost sent me running into the pine trees behind Lily’s house. Much to my relief, it turned out to be some other cop doing a neighborhood drive-by.

  Rosy waved me over, setting the camera down on the floor just inside the room. With the way her biceps bulged under her T-shirt whenever she hefted the camera around, she reminded me of Rosy the Riveter. I sort of expected her to flex her muscles for me and cheer, “We can do it!”

  When I joined Rosy the Riveter, she led me out into the hallway. “Rad wanted me to do some random filming throughout the house while they get Dickie prepped.” She glanced around a little wildly, her eyes wide, and then leaned in closer. “I saw something kind of weird,” she whispered.

  In this house? I’d been in Lily’s old haunt several times and hadn’t seen anything. Then again, I was a dud when it came to the wispy crowd, so my lack of ghost spotting meant diddly squat.

  Normally I’d be skeptical about her claim, but after some of the spooky stuff I’d witnessed in this town, I was all ears. I glanced down the hallway toward the open doorway at the end that led to one of the other bedrooms. “What did you see?”

  “Let me show you.” Rosy led the way to the basement doorway and started downstairs. “It’s down here.”

  I hesitated at the top. I didn’t like the basement in this house and it was all Doc’s fault. The first time I’d been in the place I’d been showing him around and he’d refused to come down the basement stairs after me, ordering me to come back up immediately.

  Rosy looked up at me from the bottom step, the fluorescent lights making her brown hair look auburn. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said, shaking off my willies and clomping down to join her. “So what was it?”

  She led me around to the underside of the stairs. “I was checking back here to see if there was a trap door or some creepy little storage cubby like I’ve seen in some other old houses we’ve filmed, and I noticed these.”

  I bent down and looked at where Rosy was shining her penlight. High on the wall, mostly hidden from view by the stairwell, were two large, rusty eyebolts sticking out of the wall. “What’s weird about those?”

  “I saw this movie once where a serial killer was keeping his victims chained to the wall in his basement using these suckers. He had them screwed into the posts so the victims couldn’t pull them free.” She turned the penlight on me, making me squint. “Do you think Lily Devine’s killer kept her chained up down here before he murdered her?”

  I stepped back, rubbing my forehead. “I haven’t heard that version of the story.”

  To be honest, before today, I hadn’t really heard any details of what happened besides the bit about her supposedly being killed in the bedroom with the striped wallpaper—the very room where Honey and Dickie were probably ready to start filming by now … I hoped. After reading my lines earlier about the house’s grisly history in front of the camera several times, I was ready to wrap it up, go home, and climb into a pair of pajamas.

  As if on cue, Honey called down the stairwell for Rosy and her camera. “We’re ready to film Dickie’s piece.”

  Had I called that or what? Maybe I should try my hand at soothsaying as a side gig.

  I checked my cellphone as Rosy headed up the steps, grimacing at three messages from Detective Hawke in my voicemail. Geez, Louise! That man should change his name to Detective Badger with the way he locked his jaws onto something and refused to let go.

  I started to follow Rosy up the stairs but then decided to take a picture of the eyebolts to show Doc. Maybe he knew the details of how Lily’s last moments had gone and could confirm or negate Rosy’s theory. Bending down, I leaned under the stairs, waiting for my cellphone camera to adjust to the lighting and focus. I took three pictures of the bolts from different angles and then double-checked to make sure they came out okay.

  The stairs over my head creaked.

  With a gasp, I stood up quickly, banging my head on the bottom of one of the steps. Cursing myself for being such a Nervous Nelly, I stumbled out from under the stairs. The top of my head throbbed thanks to the Fred Flintstone-like lump popping up.

  “What are you doing down here, Blondie?”

  Ray had found me. Damn!

  I’d managed to avoid the cocky asshole back at the office and had driven separately claiming that I needed my own wheels in case my kids had an emergency. But now there wasn’t much I could do to dodge him until Dickie and Honey finished filming for the day.

  “I’m just checking out something.” I straightened my pink silk suit jacket, brushing off some dust I’d picked up from under the stairs.

  “Jerry called.” Ray told me, frowning at my hair. “He’s on his way.”

  Jerry had been delayed helping Ben and me round up the last of the release forms from a couple of clients. He was going to call the police station one last time and try to get an “okay” for a visit out to Harvey’s ranch. I didn’t have much faith he’d succeed on that front, especially with the faceless body now missing, but who was I to jump up and down all over his hopes.

  “They’re almost ready for you again upstairs.” Ray reached out toward my hair and I jerked back. “Relax, Blondie. You have a cobweb in your hair.”

  I held still while he plucked it out, resisting the urge to grab his arm and bite him for crowding my space with his abundance of Stetson cologne. Someone needed to teach the blockhead how to dab not dump.

  “Got it,” he shook the cobweb off his hand.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, trying to mean it. Being civil to the man I dreamed daily about dumping hot coffee on took a lot of willpower. “I’ll go touch up my makeup before it’s show time again.” I tried to walk around him, but he snagged me by the elbow.

  “Don’t screw this up like you do everything else.”

  And we were back to our mutual hatred. At least he was doing a bang-up job of hiding it from the TV people.

  I shook off his hand. “I know my lines, I’ve practiced, I’m ready to go.” After tossing and turning, worrying about that damned albino twin all night, I wanted to go up there and rattle off the remaining bits Mona had written about Lily Devine, then spend the night avoiding Detective Hawke while catching up with Aunt Zoe about her trip … and maybe whispering sweet nothings in Doc’s ear, given the chance.

  I started up the stairs and then remembered Ray’s role in the freaky events that had happened the night George Mudder was killed. Did Ray know something about the albino goon’s twin that could help me keep Layne safe?

  I came back down. “Ray? What do you know about George’s killer?”

  His cheeks darkened to a deep red, his gaze narrowing. “What the fuck are you digging at, Blondie?” he said under his breath. “You sure you want to dance this dance with me again now that Detective Hawke has you under a microscope?”

  Crikey! How many people had Hawke been running his mouth to about me lately? If he kept it up, the detective and I were going to have a fist-to-gut chat about my feelings on police harassment.

  I glanced at the top of the stairwell, making sure we didn’t have an audience. “Calm down, Ray. I don’t want to fight about this. I just need to know what you know about that big white-haired goon who threatened to perform surgery on you with a scalpel and then killed George.”

  Ray closed the distance between us. “Listen close, Violet, and get this through your pretty little blonde brain. What I was doing with George Mudder prior to you butting in and makin
g a mess of everything is none of your goddamned business.”

  I held my finger up under his stupid fake-tanned face. “First of all, I didn’t butt in. You screwed up somehow and tipped the goon off.”

  “If you’re as smart as everyone thinks you are,” Ray continued, all menacing with a muscle in his jaw pulsing, “you’ll keep your nose out of it.”

  He and Cooper really had a fixation with my nose. I raised another finger under his. “Second, I’m not asking what you were doing with George; I’m asking what you know about the white-haired creep who tried to cut you into pieces of sushi.”

  He rested back on his heels. “Why?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

  “Okay, let’s just say that ever since that night, I’ve been thinking.”

  He snickered. “Blondie, you should skip thinking and stick to doing what you do best.”

  “What’s that, Ray? Saving your imbecilic, chauvinistic ass? Because while you keep telling the cops and others your tall tale about how things went down in that autopsy room, you and I both know the truth—had it not been for me, you’d be dead.”

  “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have never been found out and George would be alive.”

  “How is your screw up my fault, Ray?”

  His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish, no words coming out. He looked away, his face scrunching into something even uglier than normal. “Because you put me off my game with your threats.”

  I placed my hand over my chest. “Little ol’ blonde-haired me messed with your big smart manly head?”

  “Fuck off, bitch.” He glared at me. “We’re done here. Get upstairs and let’s finish this shit for today.”

  I would love to, but I wasn’t done with him. “I’m not going up those stairs until you tell me what you know about the white-haired goon’s twin brother—and don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pressed tight like a stubborn child.

  “Come on, Ray. I need your help.” When he continued to stand there with his lips zipped shut, I grabbed one of his arms and squeezed. “Damn you, Underhill. Listen, Eddie Mudder told me that the albino’s twin brother came around looking for my son. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen if the brother finds Layne.”

  When Ray still refused to talk, I threw up my hands. It was that or wrap them around Ray’s dumb thick neck and squeeze. “This is bigger than you and me, Ray.” I looked around for something to kick besides Ray’s shins, but the concrete walls could mean a broken toe and ER visits cost a ton of money, so I snarled through my teeth at the jackass avoiding my glare. “What was I thinking? Like you’d actually try to be something other than the selfish prick you always are and help me keep my child safe.”

  I started up the steps, done with the horse’s ass.

  “The other albino goes by the name Mr. Black.” Ray’s voice made me pause midway up the stairs.

  I came back down a few steps. “That’s ironic, considering the color of his hair.”

  Ray shrugged. “That’s about all I know. Black stayed in the background, letting his brother—or whatever he was to him—act as the front man.”

  “You think they might not be brothers?”

  “I don’t know what they are or were, and I was smart enough not to ask questions. It was George’s business; I was just there to find out a few answers for the cops as part of the deal. In the end, I got sloppy because you had me off my game. George tried to protect me from those two goons, as you call them, and was murdered for it.”

  George was hiding Natalie from the one who was threatening Ray that night, too. “I’m sorry George was killed. He seemed like a kind man.”

  “Too kind. That’s what got him into trouble. He couldn’t say no, and those two assholes preyed on that weakness.”

  We stood there in an awkward silence for a moment. I had no idea what to say to Ray when he wasn’t acting like a dickhead toward me. Footsteps crossed overhead.

  “Violet?” Jerry’s deep voice echoed down the stairwell. “Ray? Where are you two?”

  “Thanks for telling me Mr. Black’s name,” I said quietly so Jerry couldn’t hear us.

  “If I were you, Blondie, I wouldn’t ask around about him too much.”

  “Why? You think the cops will come after me for badgering you for information?” I half-jested.

  “It’s not the cops you should be afraid of now.” Something in his expression gave me pause.

  “Ray, does Detective Cooper know about Mr. Black’s name?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not?” I would have thought he’d have spilled all of the details during Cooper’s post-murder interrogation.

  “Because George warned me about Mr. Black.” He looked at his hands, then back at me, his expression haunted. “And George wasn’t prone to exaggeration.”

  I took another step down, my grip on the stair rail tightening. “What did George say?”

  “That Mr. Black has a fetish.”

  “A fetish for what?”

  Ray’s gaze was flat, serious. “Body parts.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I whispered, remembering the barbed hook Mr. Black’s brother had threatened me with, the same bloody weapon left at the bottom of the Open Cut next to Jane’s shredded body. “Here there be monsters.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meanwhile, back in the garage-turned-morgue …

  Later that evening, after wolfing down a meal of pork chops, candied yams, and apple dumplings thanks to Harvey’s handiwork, Aunt Zoe and the old buzzard sat drinking coffee at the kitchen table while Doc and I washed and put away dinner dishes.

  The kids were upstairs in their room serving out their punishment after getting into an argument after dessert. Layne had barely finished swallowing his last bite of dumpling when he declared he didn’t feel good and asked if he could stay home from school again tomorrow.

  Addy had expressed her skepticism about his illness in her typical sisterly way. “Liar! Mom, he’s trying to skip out of school because he’s being a big baby.”

  “I am not!” Layne had emphasized his rebuttal by reaching out and punching her shoulder with so much aggression that I was stunned for a moment.

  Addy let out a warrior yell that would have made Chief Crazy Horse’s stone-chiseled profile smile. She swung back before I could catch her arm, clocking Layne in the cheek, leaving a nasty red welt that was still there after icing his cheek off and on for the last half hour.

  So up in their rooms they sat, grumbling about how neither had been treated fairly during my ten-second mock-trial before I’d delivered their sentences.

  I rinsed the soap off the green and blue colored glass serving plate, one of Aunt Zoe’s experimental pieces, and carefully handed it to Doc. “Sorry about that fiasco with the kids after supper.”

  He took the plate and started towel drying it. “Addy has a wicked backhand. She takes after her mother.”

  His grin became a chuckle when I flicked rinse water at him. He snapped my butt with the towel, making me squawk.

  “Violet and Doc,” Aunt Zoe interrupted our cavorting, “don’t make me send you both to your room, too.”

  Harvey snorted. “That’d be like shuttin’ a bull in a stall with a heifer in heat.”

  I hit Harvey with a double-barreled squint. “I am not in heat, thank you very much.”

  He opened the lid of Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar, and grabbed an Oreo. “You’re sure showin’ signs of estrus what with the way you were chompin’ at the bit at supper, droppin’ silverware and then yer napkin, knockin’ over yer water.”

  “I was having trouble focusing, that’s all.” He would too if he had an albino with a body part fetish asking around town about him.

  He took a bite of the Oreo, getting crumbs in his beard. “Then there’s all of your caterwallin’ lately, particularly around the kids. Reminds
me of the way my heifers would wander around the pasture lookin’ for a mate, mooin’ night and day until a bull would mount up and put ‘em out of their misery.”

  I heard Doc laughing under his breath and smacked him on the chest, avoiding his all-seeing gaze. It wasn’t my fault that there always seemed to be someone or something interfering with us spending any alone time in his bed, or his office, or his garage, or anywhere. A girl had needs, too, especially when the guy was as talented at multitasking in the sack as Doc.

  “See,” Harvey grabbed another cookie. “Look at you getting all touchy feely.” He sniffed the air. “Hell, I can smell your pheromones clear over here.” He pointed the cookie at me. “Girl, you’re in heat.”

  I was certainly getting sweatier with humiliation by the moment, damn it. “Harvey, zip it before I come over there and gag you with your suspenders.”

  He smirked at Aunt Zoe. “I bet she’s so fertile Doc could plant a nail in ‘er and grow a horseshoe.”

  I turned to my beloved aunt, who looked like she was doing her best to keep a smile from falling out through her tucked in lips. “I swear to God, Aunt Zoe, if you encourage him any further I will call a certain fire captain and tell him you’re in heat, too.”

  Reid had phoned me when I was leaving Lily Devine’s house, asking if Aunt Zoe had made it home safe and still single. I’d confirmed both, crossing my fingers the latter was true. It would be really easy to hit the redial button and tell Reid to come over and take a look at Zoe for himself.

  Her eyes got all squinty. “Don’t you dare, Violet Lynn.”

  Harvey hooted. “Tell Reid we need him to stop by and put out his old flame.”

  Aunt Zoe leaned over and tried to cram another cookie in Harvey’s mouth, making the old cuss snort and chortle even more. He winked at Doc. “I got ‘em both all lathered up now, don’t I?”

  “You’re going to need a chair and a whip if you keep this up, old man.” Doc tucked Aunt Zoe’s serving dish away in the cupboard.