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

by Ann Charles

  Sick to my stomach … Come to think of it, Dominick Masterson had always made me feel nauseated whenever he was near, and he’d crashed through a concrete wall unscathed when he’d escaped from the basement of the Opera House. Holy crap!

  “You need to tune into your mind and body more often, testing the waters as you go.”

  I touched Doc’s thigh. “I’ll have to be more careful from now on during séances.”

  He nodded, but I could tell from his tight expression that he wasn’t thrilled about Aunt Zoe’s answers.

  “Maybe you should be holdin’ onto good ol’ Bessie when you go under tomorrow night,” Harvey said.

  “I don’t think guns are going to help you, sweetie.” Aunt Zoe pushed back her chair.

  “How do you know that?”

  “You tested it firsthand at Mudder Brothers that night the albino came after you, remember?” She slipped on a pair of oven mitts. “You said the bullets didn’t even slow him down.”

  “So bullets don’t work on the albinos,” Doc said.

  “Probably not most of the others, either.” Aunt Zoe pulled the tray of chicken out of the oven and set it on the stove.

  “Why not?” I wanted bullets to work, dang it. A sniper rifle would be perfect.

  “I don’t know for certain that this is true for all species,” she said taking off the mitts, “but my guess would be that through adaptation over the centuries since the first firearms were invented, most of the others have adapted to withstand bullets somehow.”

  “Even silver bullets,” I said, half-jokingly.

  “Those are just Black Forest fairytales from the Brothers Grimm. They didn’t quite get it right.”

  I heard Layne yell out Addy’s name overhead, followed by footfalls coming down the stairs. Little girl giggles echoed into the kitchen. It was time to eat and return to our regular programming for a while.

  “If I can’t use guns,” I whispered, “what can I use?”

  She leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Sorry, kiddo, but when you kill, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty. Filthy, bloody, dirty.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Friday, November 2nd (The Day of the Dead)

  Meanwhile, back at Calamity Jane Realty …

  I tossed and turned for most of the night with an aching gut. Not the stomach flu type, nor the nausea that usually keeps my anxiety company, but a deep ache that wouldn’t go away.

  The next morning, the kids chattered around me at the breakfast table, Kelly joining in on the fun. Layne actually smiled at me when he came downstairs for the first time since before I’d told Addy and him that I was dating Doc. Maybe life was rebounding on this front, my kids finally starting to accept Doc in our daily world. I hoped so, anyway.

  But Layne’s smile didn’t ease the pain in my gut.

  I forced some toast down my throat, skipping a coffee chaser to keep from making worse what I worried might be an ulcer. After instructing Layne to work on the homework his teachers had sent home with his sister, I took Kelly and Addy to school.

  When I pulled into the parking lot at work, Ben’s Subaru wasn’t there. He must still be sick. Crap, that was some nasty crud.

  I stepped out of the Picklemobile, noticing Ray’s Suburban was missing, too. That made my shoulders loosen, but the stomach ache still didn’t budge, damn it.

  The lack of Doc’s Camaro in the lot didn’t surprise me. He’d mentioned that he wanted to spend time reading up on the history of the area surrounding Harvey’s ranch before tonight’s séance. I thought about texting him sweet nothings to see if flirting with him would make my stomach feel happier, but if he was sleeping in or preparing mentally for tonight, I didn’t want to bug him.

  In the office, Jerry was talking quietly with Rosy. From the looks of it, they were checking out something on her camera that she’d recorded earlier. I slipped by without saying a peep, wanting to hide at my desk for a while and lose myself in normality while scanning through today’s MLS listings.

  Mona’s jasmine perfume filled the front office with a sweet ambiance. Her clacking on her keyboard was the equivalent of white noise to me. After small talk with Mona about a couple she took to see a few places yesterday, I slipped into silent mode and let my mind wrap around what had become of my previously, blissfully mundane life.

  An hour later, my stomach ache hadn’t relented one iota. In spite of it, I’d replayed Aunt Zoe’s words and warnings about this killing business until my brain was numb. They seemed less jarring now, but I was still choking on the part about killing things as part of my daily lifestyle. I didn’t even dare let myself dwell about my kids in relation to all of this. Just the thought of Mr. Black coming within sight of either of them made my gut clamp down even tighter.

  The sound of Jerry saying goodbye to Rosy dimly reached my conscious. I came back to earth in time to hear him say something about next week before the back door shut behind her.

  “Violet,” he called out a short time later. “Can you come in here for a moment?”

  Oh, great. Now what new idea did he have for the next time I was in front of the camera? I walked back and stood in his doorway. “You called me?”

  He didn’t look up as he scribbled some notes. “I was just watching some of the films from the last couple of days.”

  I tried to slip on a look of interest to make him think I cared about this reality television show right now—never mind the fact that I could possibly get slain during a séance tonight. “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’d like you to try to hold your shoulders back more when the camera is on you. It’ll give you a more commanding presence in front of the audience and make them think you have something important to say.”

  Crap. If I couldn’t give a commanding performance on camera, how in hell was I going to make an albino quiver on its feet? Something cracked inside my head, a rushing sound built in my ears. I kept my face frozen while pieces fell off of me on the inside.

  “About that dress you wore yesterday,” he started.

  But that was all the further he got because the dam holding back the worry and frustration and fear and rage that came with grappling to accept my new role sprung a big old leak. Much to my horror, tears filled my eyes.

  A weird mewling sound escaped through my lips. Turning away, I swiped at the tears, praying Jerry wouldn’t notice.

  “Are you okay, Violet?” he asked, his focus on me when I turned back to him.

  “Yes, I have something in my eye.” My eyes filled faster, breaching the dyke. I scrambled through my blazer pockets, trying to find a tissue, anything to sop up this leak in my main line.

  He stood up. “Violet, you’re crying.” He sounded as shocked about it as I was.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Both of your eyes are leaking tears down your face.”

  It was nice of him to give me a definition of crying, but it wasn’t helping. Actually it was making it worse. First my stomach had turned traitor on me; now my head was leaking. Criminy! I was turning into a superfund site.

  “I’m okay,” I told Jerry, not sure if I really was or not.

  Jerry stepped closer, his hands out but not touching me, uncertain. “What should I …”

  A sob wailed out through my lips before I could seal them shut.

  He jumped in surprise, his eyes wide. “Man down on the court!” he yelled out through his open doorway. “Mona! Tissues, quick!”

  I heard Mona’s chair slide back, the sound of her heels clicking on the wood floor.

  “I told you, Jerry, I’m okay.” Another mewl sounded from my chest.

  Mona gasped from the threshold. “What did you do to her, Jerry?”

  He pulled his hands back, clasping them together. “Nothing, I swear. I was going to tell her that she looked great yesterday in the dress we’d picked out.”

  The dress he’d picked out. I couldn’t even choose a decent outfit on my own. How was I going to protect my children from certain
doom?

  My throat began to burn, the tears dripping onto Jerry’s floor now. My gut churned, my ears burned. Jeez louise, what was wrong with me? The urge to take flight sprouted wings. I needed to get the hell out of there until I could pull myself back together.

  “I gotta go,” I said, mopping at the tears. Without giving Jerry a chance to respond, I ran out the door, grabbing the tissues from Mona on the way.

  “Vi,” she called to my back.

  “Just give me a minute, Mona,” I said but didn’t stop. I pushed out the back door and ran out into the cool sunshine, ping-ponging between the cars in the lot in my rush to escape.

  The sound of screeching brakes didn’t slow me. I needed to get to the safety of the Picklemobile before I short-circuited and made an even bigger fool of myself.

  I was tugging open the pickup door when someone seized my other arm.

  “Violet,” Doc said, stopping me. He turned me around, his frown deepening when he saw my face. “What’s wrong?’

  I shook my head. “Something broke.”

  “In your office?”

  “No, in me.” I swabbed away more tears, but they just kept coming. “I can’t stop doing this.” I pointed at my eyes.

  He reached out and wiped away a fresh batch of tears that were rolling down my cheeks. “You’ve sprung a leak, Tiger.”

  “I’m a big soppy mess.”

  “Maybe so.” He tucked me into his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head as he rubbed up and down my back. “But you’re my big soppy mess.”

  The stupid waterworks kept pouring, smudging my mascara on his cream shirt. “I’m getting makeup on you.” I sniffed, breathing in the scent of his skin. A calm filled my gut, replacing the ache that had been there before.

  He kept holding me close. “What started this?”

  “Jerry critiqued my acting.” I rested my forehead on his chest. My laugh was short and harsh. “He was trying to be helpful, but it made me realize how incompetent I am playing the part of an executioner.”

  Doc pushed away enough to look down at me. His eyes searched mine for I didn’t know what before he glanced away, blowing out a breath. “I’m going to cancel the séance. We can do it another night. You’re not ready.”

  He was right. I wasn’t. But would I ever be ready?

  “I’ll call Cooper and tell him it’s not going to happen.”

  While I liked the sound of that, I knew we couldn’t keep delaying the inevitable. Being an executioner was in my blood. It was what I was made to do. The only way this was going to get easier to handle was by facing it head on.

  “No,” I told him.

  “No what?”

  “Don’t call him.”

  “Violet, you don’t have to do this tonight.”

  What was it about Doc that always made me feel able to face the unknown rather than hide from it?

  “I sort of do and we both know it.” I dabbed my tears with the tattered remains of Mona’s already soaked tissue. “I just have to figure out how to get a grip on my fears and lock them back up in the attic.” I tapped my head.

  “You’ve had a hell of a week, sweetheart.” He leaned against the Picklemobile, still holding my hand. “On top of it all, you’ve sort of been dunked into the paranormal world without being allowed a chance to catch your breath. Don’t you think it’s normal to have some side effects after learning you come from a line of killers and that those you care about most are at risk?”

  Like a gut ache? And nonstop tears? He had a point, but I highly doubted executioners blubbered and cried when the going got tough. “You’ve been through a lot of weird shit like this in your life, right?” When he half-shrugged half- nodded, I continued. “Have you ever had a sort of break down?”

  “Sure,” he answered quickly.

  Too quickly for me. My gaze narrowed. “With tears?”

  “Not tears. Mine comes out in other ways. Why do you think I go to the rec center several times a week?”

  “To flex your muscles in the mirror?”

  He laughed, deep and rich, bringing back the sunshine. “Not quite. I deal with my stress by working up a sweat.”

  “I could help you with that next time.” I tried to give him a sex kitten smile, but it probably looked more like a water-logged cat, all crazy haired with sad eyes.

  “That’s a deal, Boots.” He grasped the lapels of my blazer and pulled me closer, kissing me with soft lips. There were no sparks this time but still plenty of fire to roast my chestnuts.

  I moaned in complaint when he pulled away.

  “What do you think?” he asked, leaning against the Picklemobile again. “Should I call Cooper? Tell him we’re going to spend the night on my couch watching the Duke ride off into the sunset instead of playing with ghosts?”

  I thought about it—Doc being there with me at Harvey’s place, my gut no longer hurting, my tears dried up. “We’ll hang out with the Duke tomorrow night. Let’s celebrate the Day of the Dead with some ghost stories.”

  He squinted at me, making me feel like I was on the uncomfortable end of a microscope. Cooper must be tutoring him each morning at the coffeemaker. “Okay,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “but you have to promise me something first.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t leave my side tonight no matter what happens.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Somewhere I can’t follow.”

  “Maybe we should have Cooper handcuff us together,” I joked.

  “We’ll save that for tomorrow night after the Duke.” His face sobered. “I’m serious, Violet. You may be a killer, but you’re not indestructible.”

  That very thought had been gnawing at my gut all morning.

  “In my experience, caution will keep you breathing.”

  “I like breathing.”

  “I like you breathing, too.” His lips curved slightly, his gaze drifting south. “It makes your chest go up and down.”

  I stepped between his legs, wrapping my arms around his neck, and breathed against him several times.

  “Vixen,” he said, his hands exploring my hips.

  “What time are you picking me up tonight?”

  “After you eat probably. Cooper and Harvey are meeting us out there.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach much food.”

  He pushed me backward and faced me toward the office. “Try anyway.” He smacked my butt into gear.

  “Fine, bossy,” I tugged him along with me. “We have to get Cornelius, too. He doesn’t know where to go.”

  “Expect me earlier then.” He walked with me back toward Calamity Jane’s. “You gonna be okay?”

  Taking everything into consideration, I snorted. “No. Not until tonight is over.”

  He squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right there with you.”

  “I know.”

  But would that be enough?

  * * *

  Aunt Zoe made me eat. She stuffed me full of breakfast food—scrambled eggs and bacon and red bell peppers, telling me protein and vitamins were key to keeping up my strength and stamina. If I kept eating this sort of executioner fare, I was going to end up big as a house. I could sit on my victims and squish them to death.

  Doc showed up right as the kids were sitting down to eat, early as promised. Like me, he wore jeans. His red flannel shirt made his shoulders seem broader, reminding me of a lumberjack ready to go chop a cord of firewood.

  I kissed my kids on their heads, trying to soak up their scent enough to get me through what was to come. I sent a silent prayer to the executioner gods that I made it home to see them again before the night was over. Aunt Zoe squeezed me tight and then checked for the third time that I still wore all of the charms she’d decorated me with earlier.

  “Take care of her,” she told Doc, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “I will.”

  “Put this in your pocket,” she ordered and handed him a glass charm. It loo
ked similar to something she’d made for my brother to keep with him during his travels.

  Doc pocketed it without question. “You ready?” he asked me.

  Nope, but I nodded anyway.

  “Give me one minute.” He poked his head into the kitchen. I heard him tell my kids to keep an eye on Aunt Zoe tonight and make sure she ate all of her supper, brushed her teeth, and got to bed on time.

  Addy giggled.

  “Watch after Mom,” Layne ordered back.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just don’t leave her alone,” Addy added, her tone serious.

  I frowned toward the kitchen as I slipped on my coat. Had Addy sensed something about tonight? Was she going to follow right behind me in this potentially heart-stopping line of work?

  Aunt Zoe patted my arm. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

  “I hope it’s only that.”

  Doc returned to open the door, ushering me out into the twilight. A breeze rattled the world around us, making things creak, rattle, and squeak. I didn’t need Mother Nature adding eerie effects to the darkening world. It was chilling enough minus the spook-fest soundtrack.

  I handed Doc the keys to the Picklemobile. “Let’s leave your car here, safe and sound in Aunt Zoe’s drive.”

  He didn’t argue, holding the old truck’s passenger door open for me.

  I called Cornelius on the way, asking him if he needed help toting his equipment down from his suite. He didn’t. He waited out behind The Old Prospector Hotel for us, two mid-sized cases sitting at his feet. Doc secured them in the back of the truck, while I scooted into the middle, making room for the Pied Piper and his stovepipe hat.

  The drive out to Harvey’s ranch was filled with Cornelius asking us what we knew about the ghost we were going to try to call forth. We took turns filling him in on what we’d learned from Harvey.

  By the time Doc had pulled to a stop in Harvey’s driveway, the sky was dark except for a line along the horizon. The Picklemobile’s headlights swept across the house and spotlighted the old barn.

  Cornelius stared through the windshield. “We’ll have the séance in there,” he announced.

  I followed him out the passenger door. “In the barn? Why? You think the spirits will be more active in there than the house?”