Devil Days in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  “I’d rather talk about toe fungus in excessive detail.”

  He handed me my coffee, which I finished off. “I think you need to make the next move before Rex corners you.”

  “I agree.” I set my empty cup down and leaned my hip against his desk, fishing in my purse for my lip gloss. “That’s why I asked you about making a move … as in down to Mexico. Have I told you about my sex on the beach fantasy?”

  A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “That’s not very original.”

  “Did I mention the Blue Lagoon outfit I’d be wearing? You know, the raggedy, thin white see-through shirt that doesn’t quite cover my ta-tas?”

  “You’re going braless in this fantasy?”

  I found the lip gloss. “Of course. No underclothes to be found up top or down below.” I twisted up some raspberry gloss. “And there’s a big hammock we’d be sharing while I’m wearing this sexy outfit.”

  I stared up into his eyes as I covered my lips with gloss, taking my time to really coat them well.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Damn it, Boots. Quit trying to distract me with thoughts about you, me, and a hammock.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “What are you wearing in your version of this fantasy? In mine, I have you in nothing but a sexy loincloth.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted. “A loincloth?”

  “Oh, yeah. If I close my eyes, I can see it flapping in the warm ocean breeze.” I tossed my lip gloss back in my purse. “I do worry, though, about you and all of those holes in the hammock macramé. Something could get bent out of shape if we’re not careful.”

  He chuckled. “Nothing will bend if you’re wearing that outfit sans underclothing. I’m more concerned about falling out of the hammock from too much rocking and rolling. Those things can flip on you in a blink.”

  I glanced southward, admiring his anatomy. “We should test that sometime—first you on top, then me.”

  He took a sip of his coffee, heating me up with his stare over the rim. After he swallowed, he set his cup down. “Are you done trying to distract me now?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He caught my hand, lacing my fingers with his. “I had a thought this morning about your ex.”

  “Did it involve my mace and a deep mine shaft?”

  He shook his head slowly, his brow tightening. “It involved taking away his trump card.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He hesitated long enough that my stomach fluttered. “You could tell the kids the truth.”

  I stilled. “What truth?”

  He held my stare. “The one about him being their father.”

  My cheeks flashed hot along with everything below my neck. “That bastard is not their ‘father.’ That word implies love and support.”

  “Fine. Their sperm donor.”

  “No.” I tried to pull free of his hand, but he held tight.

  “It’s just an idea.”

  “Absolutely not.” How could he even suggest it?

  “It would eliminate the damned threat he keeps holding over your head.”

  “No, Doc. I don’t think you understand the upheaval that admission would cause for all involved.” I tried to tug free again, but he wouldn’t have it.

  “Stop trying to pull away from me, Violet. We’re just having a discussion.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t like the topic, so let’s change it.”

  He tugged me closer, cinching his arms around me to hold me still when I struggled. “Do the kids even know if he’s alive or dead?”

  “No, and they stopped asking me about that years ago.”

  “That might be true, but they still think about him.”

  I reared my head, frowning up at him. He sounded very certain. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Layne mentioned his father last night when I was helping get the kids settled in bed.”

  My heart pounded. “What? Why?” Had Rex already moved forward on his threat to talk to my kids?

  “He wanted to know what would happen to me if his dad returned looking for you three.”

  I cringed at any discomfort that might have spurred in Doc. Layne and he had only somewhat recently come to a truce on the man-of-the-house issue. “What did you say?”

  “I told him that I wasn’t going anywhere as far as I was concerned. That I was there for him and Addy and you, period.”

  Doc had said that? My eyes grew a little watery. “And how did he react to that?”

  “Fine. He moved on to asking me about Poseidon’s trident.”

  Whew! I relaxed in his arms, blinking several times. “Okay, so Rex hasn’t actually reached out to the kids.”

  “Not yet.” He tucked a loose curl that had escaped my chignon behind my ear. “But one of these days …”

  “I won’t let that day come.”

  “You can’t shield them forever.”

  “Maybe not, but I can for now, and there’s no way that dickhead gets to be any kind of father to them, even if it’s just a figurehead. He gave up that right when he left us high and dry.”

  “Violet …” he began, two vertical lines forming between his dark eyebrows.

  “I mean it, Doc. We have to think of some other way to remove Rex as a threat, because sacrificing my children’s hearts is not an option.”

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “Your client’s here,” I said more quietly. “And I have to go.” I took Doc’s face in my palms and gave him a solid kiss. “No hard feelings about me rejecting your idea?”

  “Of course not. They’re your kids.” But those two vertical lines were still there.

  He let me go, watching me shoulder my purse.

  “I’ll call you later to find out more about the séance.”

  He nodded and walked toward the door. Partway there he turned back. “Violet.”

  “Yeah?” I tossed my empty coffee cup in the trash.

  “Be careful today.”

  I gave him a big, toothpaste commercial smile. “What could go wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Killer, but if you see trouble coming, duck this time instead of batting it out the window.”

  I snorted. “Executioners don’t duck, they swing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Bighorn Billy’s was bustling with skiers in for a weekend of racing down Terry Peak on two small, slippery pieces of fiberglass and steel. A handful of snowmobilers were mixed in with the ski crowd, their clothing choices cluing me in on who belonged to which tribe.

  From a corner booth in the back of the diner, Jerry rose and waved me over. He was dressed in a dark green blazer that made his shoulders look like he’d been a linebacker in his past rather than a pro basketball player. His height alone drew the eyes of several females in the room, but I was pretty sure his square-cut jaw and Thor-like stature made them look twice.

  While George Thorogood sang in his gravelly voice through the corner speakers about a bourbon, a scotch, and a beer, I weaved through tables laden with various breakfast delights toward the jolly blond giant. By the time I’d joined my coworkers, I’d decided on bacon and eggs for my second breakfast. Maybe an English muffin on the side, too.

  “Sorry I’m late.” I smiled at Mona and Ben, who were both gaping at me as I took the spot on the bench seat next to Ben.

  “You aren’t late.” Jerry slid back into the booth beside Mona. “We haven’t ordered ye …” The crows’ feet fanning from his eyes deepened, along with the lines rippling up his forehead. “Jumping Jehoshaphat! What happened to your face, Violet?”

  Oh yeah. I touched my swollen cheek with my cold fingers. I’d forgotten about my black eye during the quick drive to the diner, focusing on Cooper’s imp news and Doc’s suggestion about how to defuse my ex.

  “I had a small accident.”

  “With whose fist?” Mona asked, peering at me over her reading glasses.

  This morning she looked like a 1940s starlet in her V-neck black angora sweater
with a matching choker and a pearl drop necklace filling the space in between. Her long auburn hair draped down over her shoulders in soft-looking, relaxed curls—unlike my tense, springy coils. I really needed to hire her to dress me and style my blond rat’s nest every morning, so I looked more like a laid-back golden retriever instead of a rabid poodle.

  “It wasn’t a fist.” I laced my fingers together on the table. “It was an elbow.”

  “That had to hurt,” Ben said, turning the coffee mug in front of him upright. He smelled as nice and fresh as he looked this morning, with his pale blue wool quarter-zip sweater over a white dress shirt. “Was it one of your kids?”

  I thought about lying, but went for the vague truth instead. “No. It was a friend. She was sort of stuck, and I tried to help pull her free, but our feet tangled and she fell on me.”

  Jerry reached across the table and took me by the chin as if I were a child, turning my head one way and then the other. “She nailed you hard.” He finished his inspection, leaning back in the booth seat. “Reminds me of some of the black eyes I had when I was still playing ball. You take some licks in the key when you’re crashing the boards.”

  Where normal bosses used common idioms when interacting with their employees, Jerry preferred to coach his “team” utilizing sports references, especially those that were basketball-oriented. While softball was my game of choice back in school, I’d dabbled enough in basketball over the years to understand his train of thought most of the time. Natalie and I had also flirted with football in our younger days, but that didn’t really count since it was only the players, not the game itself.

  I winced in anticipation of Jerry’s reaction to how this black eye was going to screw up his plans for the big premiere party this coming week. A fancy pink dress wasn’t going to match the purple, green, yellow, and black splotches on the side of my face.

  But before anyone had a chance to say anything more about my colorful bruises, the waitress brought coffee over, pouring it into mugs for all but me. The glass of water in front of me was all I needed—no bourbon, scotch, or beer … although I wouldn’t turn down tequila. No coffee either. I’d had enough get-up-and-go help this morning. What I needed was some find-a-lidérc brew, and maybe a shot of catch-a-damned-imp as a chaser.

  She scribbled down our orders, winced at my face, and then left us to get on with our meeting.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “I called you all here today for two reasons. First, we need to celebrate our upcoming fifteen minutes of fame.” He raised his coffee mug for us to toast, which we did, our smiles not as broad and sparkly as his, but Jerry didn’t seem to notice.

  He lowered his cup. “I can’t tell you how excited I am. We’re scoring big with all of our hard work.” His happiness dimmed a notch. “I only wish we weren’t a man down at the moment, but sometimes you have to keep taking it to the boards with or without a full team.”

  By “man down,” he was referring to Ben’s uncle, Ray Underhill, who’d been fired in December for conspiring with Doc’s ex to steal a client away from me. While Jerry might have been bemoaning the loss of Ray, who competed with Mona most months for top sales position, I was still dancing jigs about not having to put up with that horse’s ass and his daily barrage of harassment and threats. But I kept my lips pinched tight and patted Ben on the shoulder about his uncle no longer being part of our team.

  Ben whispered “Thanks” in return. He knew his uncle was a thorn in my side, but he had Ray to thank for getting him a job at Calamity Jane Realty in the first place.

  “What’s the second reason for an emergency team meeting this morning?” Mona asked.

  “We need to come up with a game plan on how to put points on the board with our upcoming debut and soon-to-be television hit.”

  I swallowed a big sigh, not nearly as in love as my boss was with this Paranormal Realty television hoopla. There were too many “what-ifs” swirling in my brain that ended with my Executioner career becoming front-page news in the Black Hills Trailblazer.

  “Violet,” Jerry said, crossing his arms. “I saw that face you made.”

  Shoot. There wasn’t enough makeup in my bathroom to conceal my unhappiness with my upcoming potential exposure to fame.

  “Tell me what could be so bad about becoming a household name in western South Dakota,” Jerry pressed.

  Everything! But I couldn’t say that in the face of all he’d done to help grow my career. While his methods made me want to run screaming into the hills most days, they were working and had landed me far more clients than the initial postcard I’d sent out last summer with a picture of me and my kids on it. It turned out that the only people who were interested in a “family-friendly” real estate agent were serial killers and ex-sperm donors. Go figure.

  “Uhhh …” I tried to come up with a reason that Jerry couldn’t write off as me just having a crappy attitude. “Well, for one, I have two children in public school. Any negative reactions to the show could cause bullying.”

  “She has a point,” Mona said, her brow furrowed along with mine. “Not all of us are gangbusters to have our faces on TV.”

  Jerry’s mouth twisted. “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that possible trickle-down effect. Tell you what, Violet. If your kids start to suffer because of this, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

  Short of offering to pay for my kids to go to private school in another state, I wasn’t sure what he could do about that potential problem. “And,” I continued, “there is the issue of our competitors in the region reacting negatively.”

  In other words, Tiffany once again would be eager to claw my eyes out for not only luring Doc away from her—though officially, they’d broken up before I came on the scene—but also for stealing even more of her potential clients with my Dolly Parton brand. Although I was nowhere near Dolly’s level of beauty and allure, Tiffany was so blinded by professional jealousy most days that she couldn’t see beyond her own perfect little nose and perky boobs.

  “Competitors be damned.” Jerry’s eyes gleamed. “This is a game Calamity Jane Realty is playing to win.” He looked at Mona and Ben. “Does anyone else have concerns they want to share?”

  “I don’t like being videotaped,” Mona said, her gaze challenging him.

  A smile flitted over his face. “I know, Red. We’ve had this discussion before.”

  Mona’s cheeks darkened at his heated look.

  I had to wonder if their previous talk about being videotaped had been in or out of the bedroom. Jerry and Mona had a past that she refused to come clean about to date. However, I hadn’t given up badgering her yet. One of these days, Mona would crack and spill all of the good, juicy history between Jerry and her. Until then, she did a top-notch job of playing the cool, uninterested old flame. At least most of the time.

  “Okay!” Jerry clapped his big hands together, making me flinch. “Let’s start throwing out some ideas for the premiere party late next week and more.” He focused on me. “I’ll start—Violet’s black eye has given me a fun idea.”

  Uh-oh. I tried not to let my worry leak out from behind my fake smile.

  “We’ll all dress up as ghouls.” He patted Mona’s arm. “You know, like that zombie makeup job you wore into the office while you were working on that play up at the Opera House. What was it called?”

  “It was a musical called Better Off Dead,” she said, not doing a good job of holding her frown inside. “Jerry, isn’t it a little late to tell all of your guests that this will be a costume party?”

  “Oh, they won’t be dressing up as ghouls, only the four of us. That will allow Violet to let her bruises show. Hell, she could add some gaping wounds and wear some of those rotted teeth, too, if she wants.”

  Ben shrugged. “Personally, I’m game to dress ‘dead’ for the night. I’d rather wear torn clothing than a penguin suit.”

  “What do you say, Violet?” Jerry turned back to me.

  I’d say that Jerry had ye
t again flabbergasted me with how he could spin whatever bad news I brought to the table. Seeing as I was the reason behind the birth of his ghoulish idea, I didn’t feel comfortable objecting. “Well, since this black eye won’t be going away anytime soon, I’d say I’m automatically ‘in’ on this idea.”

  The waitress stopped by a short time later with our food. As I chomped on thick, crispy bacon, we all pitched in with more ideas, concerns, and a few hopes about how we could make the most of the time and energy put into the upcoming Paranormal Realty exposure.

  I’d just scarfed down my last bite of eggs when the blaring sound of sirens caught my ear. I turned and tried to see out the front windows, catching a glimpse of a Deadwood police SUV zooming past. Its red and blue lights were flashing as it headed toward US-385 or Lead. Since Deadwood and Lead were small sister towns, they shared several services to save money, including a police detective and a fire investigator—aka Cooper and Reid.

  I turned back to my plate. Was Cooper in one of those cars? Or was he home sleeping after having to wake extra early to play detective at the B&E scene, and Detective Hawke was on duty now? If it were the latter, I needed to avoid whatever emergency was going on up the road or the blockhead would try to pin that on me, too.

  I was finishing my English muffin when my cell phone vibrated in my purse. I glanced down at the screen. It was Zelda again. Criminy! What did Prudence want now? A rematch so she could blacken my other eye?

  Jerry had a strict rule about not accepting calls or answering texts during company meetings, so I sent it to voice mail.

  When I looked up, the waitress had stopped by, wanting to collect some of our plates. As soon as she left, Jerry rose from the booth, excusing himself to use the restroom.

  “Give us the real story, Vi,” Mona said, leaning over the table. “What happened to your eye?”

  Before I could answer, my phone vibrated again. “Hold on.” I pulled out my cell phone since Jerry wasn’t there, scowling down at Zelda’s name. Prudence needed to learn the art of patience, dang it. “I’m going to have to take this, you guys. I’ll be right back.”