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

by Ann Charles

  Doc grunted his disapproval of Cooper’s tale, a much quieter version of his reaction outside the hotel when the three of us had discussed how Cooper would break the news about finding the body to the police chief.

  “How far did you puff up the truth?” Harvey dished himself a second helping of applesauce. “Eat yer beans, boy.”

  Cooper stabbed a bunch of green beans. “Parker led us up to the mine using her medium abilities.”

  “What medium abilities?” Aunt Zoe asked.

  “The ones Nyce used during the séance to get Grandpappy to talk through Parker.”

  Aunt Zoe’s focus moved to Doc. “Telepathy?”

  He shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “How deep does this go with you, Doc?” she pressed.

  “Almost four decades worth,” I answered for him.

  “Our story is why Hawke wants to talk to you,” Cooper continued, digging into more beans. “He’s skeptical.”

  Doc shook his head. “I still think you should have used me instead of Violet.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You and I both know that my career can handle the psychic stigma better than yours.”

  “I don’t give a damn about my career. You don’t need this yoke on top of everything else you’re carrying right now.”

  “Well, I give a damn about your career.”

  “Why?”

  Because if his business tanked, he might want to move on to the next town … without me. I’d rather throw my career to the wolves. But pride held my tongue when it came to the truth. “Because you’re helping a lot of people with their nest eggs, and that’s more important than me selling houses.”

  His gaze called bullshit, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Taking the fall again, huh?” Aunt Zoe said, not looking happy about my decision, either.

  Too bad. It was my choice. “Besides, Jerry’s an ace at spinning this kind of stuff. If the rumors spread, I’ll squeeze into some black leather getup, glue on fake eyelashes, and sport one of those Ghostbuster proton guns for another billboard photoshoot.” That was one good thing Jerry had taught me since he had taken over Calamity Jane Realty—just about anything could be spun to work in my favor, even if I didn’t like the way the tables turned.

  “Not to mention,” Cooper added, “Parker already told Hawke she was a medium. This story enforced her charade when she was talking to ghosts in front of him.”

  Doc looked at me like I’d sprouted horns. “When did you do that?”

  I shot Cooper a glare for telling on me. “Nat and I were messing with Hawke that day Cooper dragged us out to the ranch to search the barn and outbuildings.” I scratched at a drop of dried milk stuck to the edge of the table, keeping quiet about my performance in the morgue. “Did the chief buy our story, Cooper?”

  “He’s hard to read, but I’m not one to tell tall tales. Now that we have the body back, there’s not much else for him to do but take my account for what it is.”

  “So,” Aunt Zoe spoke to me, “your story is that you were hired for your medium abilities to do what exactly?”

  “Grease Grandpappy’s jaws,” Harvey interjected, even though he wasn’t in on the original brainstorming.

  “Get some specifics on how and when the victim died, why the body was left in the safe, and where the body was stashed after it was moved from Mudder Brothers.”

  “What did you concoct for how he died?” she asked.

  Cooper answered. “The victim was stabbed to death by a psychotic transient who cut off his face and bit off his fingertips postmortem.”

  “Which was sort of true,” I said.

  I had a feeling none of those body parts would ever be found, either, making figuring out who the poor guy was even harder. Not for the first time, I wondered if there were someone somewhere waiting for him to return home—a wife, parents, children? I pulled back from that vortex before it could suck me in too deep. It was better to keep thinking of him as a faceless victim, literally. Was this how Cooper lived day after day? Keeping emotional investments at bay? If so, it was no wonder he rarely cracked a smile after so many years in this business.

  “What did the chief say about Violet’s role in this?” Doc asked. “Does he want to interrogate her directly?”

  “He’s leaving further interrogation to the detective in charge of the case.”

  Which was why Detective Hawke wanted to talk to me.

  “What did you say was the motive for the killing?” Aunt Zoe asked Cooper.

  “There was no motive. The transient was not mentally sound. Why else would he slice off pieces of the guy and leave him in a safe in my uncle’s barn?”

  Doc draped his arm over the back of my chair. “Are they going to form some kind of manhunt for the killer?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” I asked.

  Cooper leveled his gaze on me. “On how detailed your description of the transient is when Hawke interrogates you further.”

  Shitballs. I rubbed my temple, starting to realize how much I’d thrown myself to the wolves to protect Doc’s career.

  Doc reached under my hair, his fingers stroking my neck, calming. “We’ll practice what you need to say.”

  “You’ve done this before, too?” I asked him.

  “Multiple times.” He looked across at Cooper. “Besides interrogating Violet, how else will Detective Hawke be pursuing what he needs to wrap up this case?”

  “He plans to go to Slagton to see if anyone has information on the victim or the transient.”

  “Slagton?” I glanced toward old man Harvey, who was busy sneaking Oreos from Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar. “You think they’ll let him make it back out alive?”

  “I hope so since I’m going with him.”

  “Don’t be carryin’ yer brains in yer coat pocket ‘round them whangdoodles, boy.” Harvey spoke through the cookie crumbs on his beard. “I don’t want ya endin’ up as buzzard bait.”

  “Grandpappy mentioned the victim had escaped from the whangdoodles.” Cooper stirred his lemonade, his face hardening. “Someone back there has information on this guy, and I’m going to find some answers, damn it. This John Doe deserves an identity before we close this case.”

  “If yer headin’ to Slagton with Hawke, does that mean the clown pulled ya back on the case?”

  “For now. Hawke wants my help since I know the area better. He’s still in charge, though.” His teeth were mostly gritted during that last line.

  “Did anyone ask about the shotgun?” I asked, wondering where Cooper had stashed what was left of it.

  “Hawke did. I told him Grandpappy told you the transient took the shotgun with him.”

  We all sat there in silence for several beats, exchanging frowns and worried brows.

  I sneezed again, cursing. The last thing I needed with this shit getting deep and sticky was a freaking cold. With Detective Hawke sniffing for trouble, we had to keep our stories consistent or this house of cards would fall all over the place.

  “The chief is worried.” Cooper broke the silence.

  “About the transient?” Doc asked.

  “About outsiders.”

  “Right.” Doc tapped his fingers on the table. “They’ll turn this into an even bigger clusterfuck.”

  I looked from Doc to Cooper. “What outsiders?”

  Cooper spoke first. “The FBI and the press.”

  “More wasps in the outhouse,” Harvey grumbled.

  “More like hornets. Damn it!” I slammed my palm down on the table, making the plates bounce and rattle.

  Aunt Zoe patted my arm.

  “How am I supposed to take care of the family business with all of this going on?” I asked her. “I’d have better luck playing hide and seek in the middle of a dry lakebed.”

  “Violet Lynn,” she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “We’ve been doing this for centuries without the general population having a clue … and so have the others.”


  “Doing what?” Cooper asked.

  Harvey shushed him.

  Aunt Zoe continued, her gaze unwavering. “Most people can’t grasp what they see as reality. Take the White Grizzly. It was known as a legend, passed down from one generation to the other. Not truth, only legend.”

  After Natalie had left with the kids, I’d filled in Aunt Zoe about last night. She’d disappeared into the attic shortly afterward, hollering out a “Be safe!” through the attic door as I headed out the front door.

  “Don’t let this Detective Hawke or any of the other piss-ants coming and going distract you from your task. You’re strong enough to handle this and much more.”

  The phone on the wall rang.

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, standing to answer it.

  “What task?” I heard Cooper ask as I lifted the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Violet?” a familiar, Lurch-like voice asked.

  I whipped around, locking eyes with Doc and then Cooper. “Eddie Mudder, is that you?”

  Cooper froze, his glass mid-air.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

  “Me? I need to be asking you that.” I hit the speaker phone button. “Where are you, Eddie? The cops are asking around about you. Your cousin is worried something happened.”

  “I’m fine. I panicked that night the big ghoul came to the morgue right after you left. It took the body.”

  “What big ghoul?” Mr. Black? Or had he seen the thing from the cemetery? “The one who knew George?”

  “No, this one was different, bigger. It had wider shoulders, a white Mohawk, and a creepy lurching walk.”

  Wasn’t that just marvelous news? There were even bigger albinos than Mr. Black and his twin. Criminy. Wait … a white Mohawk?

  “It left a note,” Eddie said.

  A light went on in my head. “With my business card?”

  “How’d you know that? Are you psychic?”

  Oh, the irony. “The cops found my card on one of the shelves in the freezer after you and the body disappeared.” Detective Hawke had given me some heartburn because of that damned card, too. I glared at Cooper in Hawke’s absence.

  He glared back, unapologetic as usual.

  “What did it say?” I asked.

  “Something about wanting what belonged to them,” Eddie told me.

  “That was the same thing written on the back of my card.” The author apparently wasn’t very verbose.

  “That’s what I meant,” he said.

  I sighed, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “What did the other note it left say, Eddie?”

  “It said that if I wanted to live, I should leave the hills. So I did immediately.”

  I thought about the body, the note, and my business card. “Eddie, don’t you think maybe that note was meant for me and not you?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure until I got a phone call this afternoon. Then it all rolled into place.”

  “A phone call?”

  “The caller mentioned that weird word again. You know, that German word.”

  “Scharfrichter?” I said.

  Aunt Zoe’s face wrinkled in concern.

  “That’s it!”

  “What did the caller say, Eddie?”

  “Hold on, I wrote it down.” I heard shuffling sounds. “Here we are. His exact words were, ‘Tell the Scharfrichter that Bone Crunchers hunt in pairs.’ That was it.”

  Pairs!!? I tore my fingers through my hair.

  Doc came over and kissed my temple before leaning back against the counter next to me, his shoulder touching mine.

  “Did the caller give you his name?” I asked Eddie.

  “No, but his accent sounded a lot like the ghoul who came looking for you with your son’s picture in hand.”

  The End … for now

  * To read a behind-the-scenes interview with Doc Nyce, check out the following hidden page on my website.

  To open the interview page, type the password: Nyce

  http://www.anncharles.com/?page_id=2133

  Speed Dating with Ann Charles’ Characters

  Instead of speed dating with me this time, I thought it would be more fun to speed date with some of my characters. (The questions came from fans on Facebook.)

  Question for Cooper from Becka L.: What made you decide to be a cop?

  Cooper: It’s one of the few professions that allows me to carry a gun.

  Question for Aunt Zoe from Melissa T.: How are you so patient?

  Aunt Zoe: After all of the years I’ve lived, what’s the rush?

  Question for Harvey from Vicki H.: What has you so spooked out at your ranch?

  Harvey: There’s somethin’ scootin’ around out there, and I don’t think it’s them Slagton whangdoodles this time.

  Question for Cooper from Elizabeth T.: What’s your idea of a perfect date?

  Cooper: I don’t date. That usually gets confused as a form of commitment.

  Question for Doc from Diane G.: What is your favorite flavor of soap?

  Doc: In or out of the shower?

  Question for Violet from Tara S.: When are you going to move in with Doc?

  Violet: Uhhh … (She glances across the room at Doc, her cheeks reddening.) Next question, please.

  Question for Cooper from Dawn B.: What’s your favorite way to relax?

  Violet: Cooper is part Terminator. He doesn’t relax, he just reboots and starts shooting again.

  Harvey: Naw, Coop relaxes every time he unloads his gun.

  Aunt Zoe: I thought he played poker with his buddies to relax. That’s what Reid told me.

  Doc: You mean he loses at poker to relax, Zoe.

  Cooper: Are you guys done answering my question? Losing is part of my strategy, Nyce. Where’s my gun? I have a theory that shooting Parker in the ass is my new favorite way to relax.

  More Books by Ann

  www.anncharles.com

  Books in the Deadwood Mystery Series

  WINNER of the 2010 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense

  WINNER of the 2011 Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements

  Welcome to Deadwood—the Ann Charles version. The world I have created is a blend of present day and past, of fiction and non-fiction. What’s real and what isn’t is for you to determine as the series develops, the characters evolve, and I write the stories line by line. I will tell you one thing about the series—it’s going to run on for quite a while, and Violet Parker will have to hang on and persevere through the crazy adventures I have planned for her. Poor, poor Violet. It’s a good thing she has a lot of gumption to keep her going!

  The Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series

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  Bestseller in Women Sleuth Mystery and Romantic Suspense

  Welcome to the Dancing Winnebagos RV Park. Down here in Jackrabbit Junction, Arizona, Claire Morgan and her rabble-rousing sisters are really good at getting into trouble—BIG trouble (the land your butt in jail kind of trouble). This rowdy, laugh-aloud mystery series is packed with action, suspense, adventure, and relationship snafus. Full of colorful characters and twisted up plots, the stories of the Morgan sisters will keep you wondering what kind of a screwball mess they are going to land in next.

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  Unless they can learn to trust each other enough to make it out of the jungle alive.

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  The Old Man’s Back in Town

  From the award-winning author of the Deadwood Mystery series and the Jackrabbit Junction Mystery series


  This short story is a bit of a puzzle. Each scene is a different variation of the same story for a reason, which you'll learn at the end. See if you can pick up on the clues along the way and figure out the puzzle before you finish the story. Thank you for giving it a try!

  ~ Ann

  Overview…

  In the lonely mining ghost town of Goldwash, Nevada, Christmas has come early. Unfortunately, the local bar owner must be on this year's naughty list, because Santa brought her something even worse than a piece of coal on this dark, cold winter night—her old man.

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  Check out LOOSE ENDS - The first book in the best-selling Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery Series, a Top-Rated #1 Kindle Bestseller in BOTH Women Sleuth and Ghost genres!

  “I don’t wish to spoil the plot at all, but I must say the characterization and storyline/mystery makes this a MUST read. Can’t wait to get the other books in the series.”

  ~ Mel Comley, New York Times Bestselling Author

  LOOSE ENDS...

  Dying is what changed Mary O’Reilly’s life. Well, actually, coming back from the dead and having the ability to communicate with ghosts is really what did it. Now, a private investigator in rural Freeport, Illinois, Mary’s trying to learn how to incorporate her experience as a Chicago cop and new-found talent into a real job. Her challenge is to solve the mysteries, get real evidence (a ghost’s word just doesn’t hold up in court), and be sure the folks in town, especially the handsome new police chief, doesn’t think she’s nuts.

  About the Author

  Ann Charles is an award-winning author who writes romantic mysteries that are splashed with humor and whatever else she feels like throwing into the mix. When she is not dabbling in fiction, arm-wrestling with her children, attempting to seduce her husband, or arguing with her sassy cat, she is daydreaming of lounging poolside at a fancy resort with a blended margarita in one hand and a great book in the other.