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

by Ann Charles

  The back door opened and closed, leaving me alone with Mona and one huge trumpeting elephant in the room. I avoided making eye contact with her as she joined me in the front office, letting her settle into her chair and get to clacking.

  “Your stripes are crooked, hot lips,” I said without looking, a smile splitting my face wide. When I peeked over, her cheeks were flushed. I wasn’t sure if that was Jerry’s doing or mine.

  She straightened her sweater. “There’s an explanation for what you saw.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I rolled my chair across the wooden floor and rested my elbows on her desk. “I’m all ears.”

  She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

  I tugged on her wrists, pulling her hands down. “I promise not to tell a soul, now give me this so called explanation for having Jerry kiss you like he was heading off to sail the seven seas.”

  She checked the back door, and then took a sip of her coffee, her hands trembling slightly. “Jerry and I have a bit of a history.”

  “No shit.” I waved off her look of surprise. “You two practically sizzle when you’re together. I keep expecting to get burned when I sit next to you during company lunches.”

  She fanned herself, but the red from her cheeks crept down her neck. “I knew this was going to be a problem as soon as Jerry showed up to take over.”

  “What happened in the past between you two? Inquiring busybodies are dying to hear all of the sordid details.”

  The bells over the front door jingled. I turned, flipping into professional Realtor mode. “Welcome to Calamity Jane Realty,” I stood, walking over to greet the older couple that had interrupted my quest to finally find out what the story was with Mona and Jerry. “How can we help you?”

  “I believe these two are here to see me, Violet.” Mona joined us, her cheeks faded back to a warm pink. “Hi, I’m Mona Hollister. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

  I returned to my desk and left Mona to work her magic on the couple, who planned to retire on a small ranch where they could raise pedigree mules. I peeked at them over my computer screen. Why mules? Why not Great Danes? I focused back on the MLS listings, shaking my head. Just like the olden days, Deadwood still lured the odd, eccentric members of society out to sow their weird and wild oats. Take Doc and his medium experiments, or me and my executioner escapades.

  For the next hour, I dabbled in real estate, calling back some potential clients, researching some possible places to advertise Cooper and Jeff Wymonds’ places, and practicing the lines on my cue cards for tomorrow’s filming at the Galena House.

  During my dabbling, Mona left to show her clients a few houses, saying she’d check back in with me, leaving me alone to mind the store. Well, alone except for Jane, who might be hovering over me for all I knew, berating me on my lack of check marks under the Sold column on her favorite white board.

  A while later, my cellphone rang. I checked the screen, figuring it was Mona, but the phone number didn’t match. It was local, so maybe it was someone looking to sell a house.

  “Calamity Jane Realty, this is Violet Parker.”

  “Ms. Parker, this is Principal Walker at Deadwood Elementary School.”

  That made me freeze. “Yes?” Had something happened to my kids?

  “We had some trouble at school today. I need you to come in to my office to discuss the events and repercussions.”

  Repercussions? That sounded not so good. “Uh, did Adelynn try to bring a mouse into class again after recess?” She and I had had a long talk at Aunt Zoe’s kitchen table after Addy’s last rescue mission. She knew better than to collect pets while at school.

  “Actually, Adelynn had nothing to do with this. It’s your son, Layne.”

  My stomach cramped in anxiety. “Is he okay?” Had someone tried to kidnap him? Someone with white hair and snake eyes?

  No, wait, Principal Walker had mentioned repercussions.

  “I think you need to come in to my office, and we can discuss this in person, Ms. Parker. How soon do you think you can be here?”

  I glanced at the clock, then around at the empty desks. Shoot, I was supposed to hold down the fort until Mona got back.

  “Can this wait an hour?” I asked.

  “Not really. I’d like to begin the suspension immediately.”

  Suspension? From school? Layne? What the hell?

  I stood, grabbing my purse. I’d have to close the office for a bit. “Okay, give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter, Ms. Parker.”

  Like he’d given me a freaking choice. I locked the front door, turned the Open sign to Closed, and raced out to the Picklemobile. I texted Mona on the way across the parking lot, telling her I had a kid emergency and needed to lock up the office for a short time.

  Ten minutes later, I was climbing the front steps of the Deadwood Elementary School building, bracing myself for whatever heinous crime my son had committed. I just prayed he hadn’t tried to blow anything up during science again. Inside the front office, I was ushered straight into the principal’s lair where Layne sat waiting for me.

  I grimaced at his black eye. I’d had to leave before they were up and eating breakfast this morning thanks to Cooper’s insistence I join him and Detective Hawke at the morgue, so I hadn’t seen Layne since I’d kissed him goodnight. The red welt from Addy had still been a red welt at the time, not a full-on shiner. Plus, now that I thought about it, that had been his other eye.

  “What happened, Layne?” I asked, dropping into the seat next to Layne, sitting across the desk from the very serious-faced principal. “Did you get into a fight?”

  “Actually, he started a fight,” Principal Walker said.

  “What?” I gaped at Layne, wondering what on earth had happened to my son who used to spend his time with his nose in a book on the physiology of dinosaurs. “You started it?”

  “We have several witnesses confirming that he attacked the other boy,” the principal spoke for Layne again, “throwing the first punch.”

  “Wow.” I sat back, completely and overwhelmingly flummoxed. “Why?” I asked Layne.

  He pinched his lips together and turned away.

  “As you know from my correspondence, Ms. Parker, this isn’t the first time he’s started a fight in the recess yard.”

  His correspondence? I stared blankly at Principal Walker and his salt-and-pepper handlebar moustache.

  “You know, the notes I’ve sent home over the past couple of weeks that you’ve initialed and returned?”

  I hadn’t seen a single note, nor signed anything of the sort. Oh, crud, this mess with Layne was worse than just a school yard fight.

  I nodded, covering for my lying kid. “Right, yes, those notes, the ones I signed and returned.” I was going to lock up my son in the attic and ground him for two life sentences.

  “Based on his history of starting fights, I’m going to suspend him for the rest of this week.” Principal Walker leaned over his desk, his sharp gaze aimed at Layne. “I hope that when you return to school next week, Mr. Parker, you will have learned how to keep your hands to yourself. Here at Deadwood Elementary, we have a no-tolerance rule when it comes to bullying.”

  Layne nodded, then returned to studying his shoes.

  Principal Walker focused back on me. “If this continues, I’ll be forced to have the school counselor work with him to find a solution on whatever is spurring this bullying.”

  Holy horseshit! This was big. Even though I was having trouble swallowing that Layne was a bully, I said, “Of course,” and popped up out of my chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Can I take him home now? Or does he need to collect his things from class first?”

  “He’s ready to go.” Principal Walker pointed at Layne’s backpack resting near his door. “Good luck, Ms. Parker. Let me know if we can be of further assistance.”

  “I will,” I lied, resisting the urge to grab Layne by the ear and drag hi
m out to the Picklemobile. Instead I clasped my hands together and glanced down at my son’s blond head. “You ready, Layne?”

  He avoided my gaze all of the way out to the Picklemobile. At least his survival instincts were still working, even though his brain seemed to be broken. I waited until we were both buckled in with the windows rolled up before turning on him. “What is going on, Layne Alan Parker? What in the world are you doing starting fights at school?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He stared bullheadedly out the window.

  “Ha! You don’t want to talk about this? Oh, that’s rich. You don’t get a choice now that you’re suspended.” I started the Picklemobile and shifted into gear. “Is this why you’ve been playing sick lately?” Addy had been right with her skepticism. How much did she know about Layne fighting at school? They were in separate classes, but they had lunch and recess together.

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I sputtered, and then bit my lip before I started yelling and said things I regretted later. I drove toward home in silence, wondering what in the world would spur my normally mild-mannered, peace-loving son into picking fights.

  I must have done something wrong. Was it moving him to Deadwood when he didn’t want to leave his friends down in Rapid? Was it my work and some of the odd hours I had to put in? No, even with the filming and all that went into it, I was spending way more time with my kids than I used to when I worked at the car dealership. Was it Doc? I glanced Layne’s way, grimacing at the bruises around his eye. Was this how he was dealing with his unhappiness about my allowing another man into our lives?

  I worried about all of those possibilities until I pulled into Aunt Zoe’s drive. When Layne reached for the door handle, I caught his arm.

  “Listen, I have to get back to the office, but we’re not done discussing this.”

  His lips stayed pressed tight, his hazel eyes meeting mine for a second or two, then darting away again.

  “Get inside, go straight up to your room, and find a book to read. There’ll be no television for you this week, no fun stuff while you’re home.”

  “What about trick or treating?”

  Good question. “Whether you get to go or not depends on the answers you give me tonight when we discuss what’s causing this aggression.”

  He nodded, accepting his fate. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  That surprised me, spurring tears out of the blue. I let go of his arm, turning away so he wouldn’t see my watery eyes, just in case he was playing me. “Apology accepted, but you’re still in big trouble.”

  “I know. Can I go now?”

  “Yes.” I waited for him to make it to the front door before climbing out of the Picklemobile and following.

  Aunt Zoe was standing in the front foyer, staring up the stairs after Layne when I stepped inside. She frowned at me. “What’s going on?”

  Without saying a word, I walked up to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I need a hug.”

  She gave me a good squeeze. “Violet, you’re scaring me. Is Layne okay?”

  “Yes.” I stepped back and blew out a breath of frustration. “Well, no, not really. Physically he’s bruised up, but there’s something worrisome going on in his head.”

  “He got in a fight?” she guessed.

  “Yeah, and he started it.”

  “Oh.”

  “And this isn’t the first time this has happened.” I told her about the prior notes that Layne had hidden from me, had forged my signature on.

  When I finished my sordid tale of debauchery, including his week-long suspension, she was wringing her hands right along beside me. Then I told her my theory that Layne was acting out because of Doc’s entrance into our lives.

  Aunt Zoe’s brow creased. “I don’t know, Violet. Layne isn’t happy about you having a boyfriend, but I thought Doc was making headway with him. There are those books he gave to Layne on Deadwood’s history, and the time he’s spent hanging out with them, like during Oktoberfest.”

  I sighed. “Well, I hope you’re right, but we’ll see after I get home tonight and have a chance to talk to Layne. Addy, too. She might have an idea if there’s something going on at school with him that I don’t know about.” A lump formed in my throat. Just a short time ago my son had told me everything going on under the sun and moon; now the tide had shifted. “Aunt Zoe, what kind of a mother doesn’t know her son is so bothered by something that he’s picking fights at school. God, I suck at this parenting business.”

  Aunt Zoe took me by the chin. “You stop it right now, Violet Lynn. You are doing the best you can with what you’ve been dealt. You love your kids and they know it. Now, get back to work and give yourself some time to calm down and think things through, because how you handle this with Layne will set a precedent.”

  I gave her a grim smile. “Okay.”

  She turned me toward the door, opened it, and smacked me on the butt. “Go. I’ll take care of Layne for now.”

  I paused long enough to drop a kiss on her cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, Aunt Zoe.”

  “Me, too.”

  As I walked down the steps, Reid Martin rolled by slowly on the road in his red dually pickup. He waved at me, and then looked past me and lowered his arm.

  Back on the porch, Aunt Zoe stood with her hands jammed on her hips. “Keep right on going, Martin!” she hollered.

  He did, his laughter echoing back to us.

  Opening the driver’s side door, I looked up at Aunt Zoe’s pinched expression. “It looks like someone else is glad you’re home, too.”

  “If that man thinks I’m letting him get within touching distance again, he’s going to find himself stinging from a shotgun shell full of rock salt.”

  She slammed the door behind her.

  And the soap opera continued.

  I backed out of the drive and headed back to work, pondering life, children, love, and everything under the cloudy sky.

  I hoped Reid didn’t give up on Aunt Zoe.

  I hoped Aunt Zoe was right about Layne and Doc.

  I hoped I could get through to my son tonight and find out what was prompting this fighting before we had to get a damned counselor involved.

  But mostly, more than all of the other hopes put together, I hoped the aggression brewing inside of Layne had nothing to do with our family history, because if it did, I was pretty sure there wasn’t much a counselor could do for a kid who came from a killer like me.

  * * *

  The rest of the afternoon sailed by, my thoughts so preoccupied with Layne and the school mess that I didn’t even bite when Ray returned from the day’s filming and tried to bait me with blonde insults.

  “What’s wrong with you today, Blondie? You been sniffing too much of the bleach you use on your hair?”

  “Knock it off, Ray.” Mona stuck up for me. I’d told her about Layne getting kicked out of school when she had returned from showing a few mule-friendly places to the Rogers couple. “Jerry would be ticked if he heard you’re messing with Violet the night before she’s on air and you know it.”

  He grumbled something about Mona showing favoritism as usual but left me alone. A short time later, he grabbed his keys and said he was going to go out to take a look at a potential property, then head home.

  I didn’t waste energy on celebrating his departure.

  Ray wasn’t gone long when my phone rang. Detective Cooper’s name showed on the screen. I sent it to voicemail. Cooper tried two more times, and then he called my work phone. I sent the work call to my voicemail, too, not in the mood to arm wrestle with the detective this afternoon.

  Ten minutes later, the bell over the front door jingled. I glanced up into a pair of squinty, steel-colored eyes.

  “I need to talk to you, Parker.”

  “Sheesh. Can’t you take a hint, Detective?” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “I sent you to voicemail like five times. In case my nonverbal messages weren�
�t clear, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “Too bad.” He leaned over my desk, all growly and threatening like a German shepherd at the end of his leash. “You’re stepping out back with me right now.”

  I shook my head. “Mona, call the cops for me.”

  “But he’s already here.”

  “Quit fucking around, Parker.” Cooper reached for me.

  I hopped out of my chair, my fists raised and ready to box him in the nose if he touched me. “Try manhandling me, Cooper, and I’ll break your nose again.” I danced a couple of foot moves like Sylvester Stallone in one of the Rocky movies.

  The detective watched my feet for a few seconds, the anger melting from his face.

  “I know a few moves,” I said, mocking a full on windmill attack with both arms circling around and around.

  Cooper tipped his head back and laughed, a full volume, belly-shaking laugh.

  That particular sound coming from his mouth confused me into stillness. “Are you laughing or coughing up your last victim?”

  “Jesus, Parker. You’re the real thing. Crazy spelled with a capital C.” He started down the back hallway. “Get out here and talk to me for a minute.”

  “Why?” I called after him.

  “I have something for you.”

  “I don’t trust Trojans bearing gifts.”

  “It’s not a wooden horse.” He stopped at the back door and looked back at me. “Come on. I have something to discuss about your boyfriend.”

  What about Doc? Was he okay?

  I followed Cooper. “I thought you said you had something for me.”

  “I lied.”

  There was nothing as comforting as a lying lawman. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, Mona, call the other police.” I aimed a mirroring squint at the bristly detective. “The nice truth-telling cops.”

  Cooper held the door for me. I skirted wide of him as soon as I stepped through the doorway.

  “I’ve had a shitty day, Cooper, and it’s partly your fault, so let’s get this over with.”

  “My fault? You’re the one who likes to hang out at morgues at midnight. You should be thanking me for saving you from Hawke.”