by Ann Charles
Cooper shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure.”
“Why not?” Harvey’s bushy eyebrows drew together.
“Because he was missing something that would have helped me determine his identity.”
“What?” I asked, wondering if he’d been skinned like that poor guy we’d found in Harvey’s barn months back.
“Most of his head.”
I covered my mouth.
“Oh, my.” Aunt Zoe cringed.
“Jeez.” Natalie reached out and touched Cooper’s arm.
“That explains the expression on your face when you rejoined Jones and me,” Doc said.
“Shocked,” I suggested.
“More like sucker punched,” Cooper told us, rubbing his eyes.
“So, this here ghostie was just wanderin’ around without his top nut?” Harvey shook his head as if things weren’t adding up right. “Sort of reminds me of that headless corpse ol’ Red dug up back in my graveyard. Makes me curious if that fella is still wanderin’ around my ranch, lookin’ for something to rest his hat on.”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Cooper told him. He turned to Doc. “Why do you want to return to the taxidermy shop? You think you can interrogate a nearly headless ghost? We already know the perpetrator was one of Parker’s parasitic pals.”
“Nice alliteration, Hot Cop,” Natalie said with a purr in her voice.
He gave her a wink. “You inspire me, Beals.”
She trailed her fingers up his arm. “I could do more than that to you.”
“Like what?” Harvey asked with a slick grin.
“I can’t tell you. It’s police business,” Natalie shot back.
Aunt Zoe was still looking at Doc. “Do you think there is some clue to the location of the Nachzehrer or the bounty hunter that supposedly commands them over at Jonesy’s?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s probably nothing.”
I rested my hand on his shoulder. The tight muscles under his shirt told a different story.
“Coop, is there any way to find out who the headless guy is?” Harvey asked. “Somethin’ you have down at the station that could help clue us in?”
“Would Jonesy know?” Aunt Zoe said, taking a sip from the cup of coffee she’d been nursing since dessert.
“Maybe.” Cooper shrugged. “But it’s tricky. Questions like that can fuel rumors and conspiracy theories. Plus, I don’t need any of this ghost shit getting back to the station. I’m under a microscope with Hawke as it is.” He looked specifically at me after that last sentence.
“Your partner’s paranoia is not my fault.”
“Quit acting like you’re one hundred percent innocent, Miss Spellcaster.”
“I could dig through some records at the library,” Doc offered. “Old newspaper articles on microfiche, maybe.”
“You don’t have time for that,” I told him. “Your work schedule has you running at full speed already. Maybe I should look into this for us. Things are slow at work right now outside of a few listings up around Terry Peak.” The ski resort was hopping with all of this snow, bringing in buyers who daydreamed about log homes near the slopes.
“I could help with that,” Natalie offered. “Vi and I could pay a visit to Mudder Brothers and go through Eddie’s old undertaker records again.”
Doc and Cooper both groaned in unison. My history at Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor was filled with macabre escapades that nobody would like to repeat, especially me.
“What?” Natalie looked back and forth between the two of them. “Vi and I promise not to get into any more trouble with pale-faced juggernauts.”
Cooper pushed back from the table. “If Detective Hawke catches wind of Parker near the morgue, he’ll haul her into jail and slap some asinine crime like trespassing on her.”
“Hawke is such a dickwad,” Natalie said to her beer before finishing it off.
I seconded her opinion of Hawke. To Cooper, I said, “I want to go back to the taxidermist’s place with you two.” When he seemed to hesitate, I added, “What if that Nachzehrer comes back for seconds while you’re there? You’ll need my help.”
“You don’t think Nyce and I can handle one Nachzehrer on our own?”
“Maybe. But what if there are still two out there and they team up on you?”
“I’d like Violet to be there,” Doc said. “She might sniff out something I can’t.”
I doubted that, but him wanting me along made me want to kick my feet and grin like a starstruck groupie. “Can we go during the day this time? That place at night is spookier than a haunted clown hotel.”
Cooper took Natalie’s empty bottle and set both on the counter next to the sink. “Let me see what I can do tomorrow on that front.” He eyed me with a suspicious glint. “Or is this something else that has to wait until after your ‘parties’ this weekend.”
I flipped him off. “And kiss my ass while you’re at it.”
Doc chuckled and caught my hand, holding it hostage in his. “That’s my job, Boots. Leave poor ol’ Coop be. He has his hands full with a headless ghost and a hot-headed partner.”
“Don’t forget his pissed-off honey badger here,” Harvey added, pointing across the table.
Natalie grinned. “That’s right.”
“Why are you pissed off again?” Aunt Zoe asked her.
“He’s not sharing his walkie-talkie love with me.”
“Sounds like a prostate problem to me,” Harvey said, snickering. “They have a pill for that, ol’ man.”
Doc laughed out loud.
Cooper didn’t. “Real funny. And you all are supposed to be my friends. I’d be better off hanging out with a pack of jackals.”
Grinning, Natalie went over and grabbed Cooper’s elbow, tugging him toward the dining room. “Come on, birthday boy. Let’s sneak over to your place for some hard-driving negotiation work and see if we can come to a mutually beneficial outcome on this walkie-talkie hankering.”
Cooper let her pull him along. “But it’s not my birthday yet.”
She stopped and looked up at him, flirting under her long eyelashes. “Soooo, you don’t want your present early?”
He stood stock-still for a few ticks of Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop clock, then he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her out of the room.
A squeal of laughter followed in their wake. “See you guys tomorrow,” she shouted right before the front door slammed.
Harvey reached for the cookie jar. “Zoe, how do you feel about puttin’ me up for the night in exchange for me makin’ breakfast come mornin’?” He pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and broke it in two, offering half to her. “Those horny toads will be busy hangin’ from the chandeliers and testin’ the mattress springs for half of the night. I need my sleep in case one of Sparky’s ugly critters comes callin’ out of the blue.”
She took the half cookie, popping it in her mouth, then grabbed her pen. “What did you have in mind, Willis?”
“Looks like yer fridge is full up on bacon and I saw some taters in the pantry. How about I make Sheepherders Breakfast?”
“You know where I keep the spare pillows and blankets.” Pen hovering over her notebook, she nailed me with a pointed look. “Now, Violet, how about you tell us your story again, and this time don’t leave out the part about the séance Natalie told me that you had with Cornelius down in the basement of The Old Prospector Hotel.”
Chapter Eight
Buttcrack of dawn
Friday, January 18th
“We need to have another séance with Cornelius in the basement of his hotel,” Doc said.
I opened one eye, frowning up at him from my pillow. He was shirtless, fresh from the shower by the looks of his wet hair and the towel draped around his shoulders. My one-eyed perusal drifted southward, meeting an unhappy ending at the waistband of his black pants.
“You’re dressed.” My voice was rusty. So was my brain.
He glanced down at his pants, as if they were a surprise to him as well. “Partly.”
A two-eyed peep toward the window furthered my grief. It was still dark out. “The sun isn’t up yet.”
“Have faith, it will rise again.” He hung the towel on the hook on the back of my bedroom door, closing it and shutting out the faint sounds of Harvey belting out Charley Pride’s old 1970s tune, “Kiss an Angel Good Mornin’,” down in the kitchen.
I groaned and turned away from the rest of the world, tugging the covers up over my head and closing my eyes.
I’d stayed up late last night, long after Doc and Aunt Zoe had gone to bed, watching a revenge-fueled Western with a strong female lead. Harvey had fallen asleep in the recliner partway through the movie, but I’d stayed awake, looking for inspiration from the tough-as-nails heroine.
After the film was over, sleep had remained elusive, sort of like that damned imp, hiding out of reach long into the early morning hours. Finally, the sandman had come knocking, and I’d tiptoed upstairs, sliding into bed without waking Doc.
I hadn’t had any coffee after supper, nor had I stayed awake fretting about the Nachzehrer or Detective Hawke or any of my other Executioner problems. All I could figure was that I’d suffered from a post-killing adrenaline rush that kept my motor running long after I should have been snuggling under the covers next to Doc.
The mattress sank behind me. “What time did you come to bed?”
“Around four.”
His hand found me under the covers. His fingers glided over my bare back above the top of my camisole, spurring delicious shivers down my spine. “Why so late?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Were you worried about something?”
“No more than usual.”
“Scoot over.”
I did as ordered, moving into the middle of the bed. The covers lifted behind me. A draft of air hit my skin, and then Doc was there.
“Come here, Tish.” He pulled me back against him, curling around me.
I popped my head out from under the covers, cozying up to his heat, breathing in the clean, spicy scents of his cologne and shampoo. Ah, this was the good life. I could stay right here for days and let those Nachzehrer roam the hills, hunting to no avail.
He pushed the covers lower, exposing my shoulder to the cool air and then his warm lips. “Talk to me,” he whispered against my skin.
I sighed. “How about we fool around instead, and then I go back to sleep?”
“Tempting, but I heard your aunt waking up the kids as I left the bathroom.”
“Buggers.”
Addy and Layne had sort of grown used to Doc being in my bed, but in their minds Doc was just camping out next to me since all of the other beds were full and there wasn’t anywhere else for him to sleep. They had yet to fully understand how the birds and bees worked, and neither Doc nor I wanted to burst their innocent bubbles. That meant we had to save any fun beneath the sheets for late at night or super early in the morning.
He rolled me onto my back, his palm resting on my hip. “Open those beautiful eyes, Boots.”
It took me a few blinks, but I managed to pry my peepers open. He was resting up on his elbow, staring down at me. My gaze started with his freshly trimmed beard, traveled up over his strong lips and nose, and ended at his dark eyes rimmed by even darker lashes.
“It’s not fair that you look so good without any makeup,” I told him, reaching up to run my fingers over his bearded cheek. “Nice. It’s way softer than the hair on my legs.” He must be using the conditioner I’d noticed in the medicine cabinet.
He cracked a smile. “Quit flirting with me and tell me what’s causing those little lines on your forehead.”
I touched my brow, feeling the wrinkles for myself, and then tried to rub them away. “I don’t want to have a séance in Cornelius’s hotel.”
“Why not?”
The answer to that was tricky. I didn’t want Doc to think I doubted his abilities, which was the basis of the disagreement we’d had last night after I told Aunt Zoe, Harvey, and him about the voices Cornelius and I had heard. When Doc had mentioned wanting to repeat the experience while he was there with us, I’d put my foot down and refused to budge in spite of his frustration with my “hinny-ness,” as Harvey had called it.
Instead of answering, I switched to something else I’d worried about in the middle of the night. “Who do you think Reid was talking about when he told Aunt Zoe he couldn’t come over because he had company in town?”
Doc’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to distract me.”
Yep. “Did you see the way Aunt Zoe scowled when she told us about his reason for declining her supper invite? She was jealous, I could tell.”
“Violet.” His voice was low and growly.
Under the covers, I took his hand and slid it up inside my camisole. “You don’t think Reid has another girlfriend, do you? I don’t want him to give up on Aunt Zoe yet.”
He looked down at the covers, under which his hand now rested on one of my fun-bags. “And that is distraction number two.”
I moved his palm around in a circle over my left lung-bongo since he wasn’t taking the bait. I pasted on my best blank look. “Why, Doc. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Boots, listen. The changeling is not going to possess me.” He stubbornly resisted my subject switcheroo, but his hand started moving on its own, not requiring any more assistance from me.
“We don’t know that for certain. You said yourself that you haven’t dealt with an entity before that has this much power.”
“Outside of Prudence,” he said, reminding me of the qualification he’d made during our disagreement last night.
“Prudence doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was an Executioner. We tend to have additional skills outside of killing assholes.”
His gaze dipped to my lips, his smile positively predatory. “You do have an extremely talented tongue.”
Now who was trying to distract whom?
I clasped his hand, stopping his fingers from further teasing. “For all you know, the changeling or its ghoulie parasite could possess both of us. Or worse, it could open up that locked door in Cornelius’s head that you and Prudence peeked into and then let something even worse out into the world.”
He tugged his hand free of my grip and relocated it to the other side of my chest, spreading his attention equally. “That seems a bit over the top.”
I pushed up onto my elbows. “Doc, you’re an Oracle. A hybrid species left over from ancient times when your kind were used by those who were hungry for power to conquer and devastate legions.”
At least that was the gist of what I’d learned about Doc’s ancestors from the elusive Mr. Black, who I had a feeling had also been used as a tool by those craving dominance—and still might be.
“That seems a shitload ‘over the top,’ in my opinion,” I continued. “We don’t know what the Hesslers or their sinister pals want with you. Nor do we know what capabilities these entities might have if they are able to latch onto you like the one did with Cornelius.”
His hand under the covers stilled. His gaze held mine. “We can’t just ride out this changeling situation. It won’t go away on its own.”
“I know that. All I’m suggesting is that we wait a little longer so we can bone up on this sort of infestation or whatever you want to call it. Then we go into it with more backup plans in place in case the séance takes a hard right, as it undoubtedly will.”
When he continued to stare at me without speaking, I reached out and cupped his chin, leaning toward him. “I’m just scared of something getting its ectoplasmic claws in you, mon amour.”
He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “Okay, Tish. We’ll wait a little longer.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, dropping back onto the bed in relief. “I’d just like to have a normal day for once. You k
now, go to work, try to sell real estate, pick up my kids from school, go out with my friends to celebrate a birthday, and then come home and go to bed with my boyfriend.”
His hand slid south over my stomach. “And then what?”
I looped my arms around his neck, wrapping my leg around his under the covers. “I’d show you, but you’re overdressed for the occasion.”
“Damn it, Boots.” He pulled me closer. “We don’t have enough time.”
“We never do, but we could make it really quick.” As I closed the distance between our lips, a knock rat-a-tat-tatted on the bedroom door.
“Mom?” Layne called out.
“Son of a biscuit,” I muttered.
Doc groaned under his breath, and then untangled from me, sliding out of bed.
“What do you need, Layne?” I called out, pulling the covers up to my chin.
“Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
I sent a raised brow look at Doc, who was sliding on his shirt. He nodded, walking over to the window.
“Sure, Layne.”
Still wearing his dinosaur pajamas, which were about a size too small now, Layne stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him. His dark blond hair was sticking up on one side. He glanced from Doc to me and then back at Doc, a grin surfacing. “I told you Mom was a bed hog.”
Doc laughed while buttoning his shirt. “She sure is.”
“If you’re going to keep sleeping at our house,” Layne continued, “you should buy her a bigger bed.”
I shot a surprised look at Doc. Was that my son’s version of a thumbs-up on Doc and me taking the next step in our relationship?
“Or you guys could get two twin beds like on those old TV shows. Then Mom wouldn’t knee you during the night anymore.” He eyed me with a half-pinched face. “Or we could put the extra bed in my room and you wouldn’t have to sleep near her at all. But my room is smaller, so it would be a tight fit.”
Right. So maybe that wasn’t an official green light from Layne, but at least he wasn’t making a big deal of Doc getting dressed in front of me.
Low in my stomach, a pinching pain off to one side made me flinch slightly. I rubbed my belly and the pain eased almost as quickly as it had started. That was weird.
