Optical Delusions in Deadwood

by Ann Charles

  “You’re not late. Are you okay?”

  I avoided Mona’s wrinkled brow and punched in Zelda’s number. “Fine and dandy.”

  “In spite of the two flat tires?”

  My finger stopped with one number to go. “How’d you—” Harvey! I hung up the phone. “I’m gonna give him a strawberry pie—right in the kisser.”

  “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

  “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

  “Sleeping much?”

  Damn. “You don’t miss a lot, do you?”

  “I sit six feet from you every day. You’re not exactly a vault.” She slid her glasses down her nose and peered over them. “Any idea who slashed your tires?”

  “No.” I wasn’t going to start pointing fingers until I was more certain.

  “You’re going to call the police now, right?”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “You should,” Mona said. “Two acts of vandalism on your vehicle within twenty-four hours—that’s police business.”

  I picked up the phone again. “You’re right, I’ll call.” Later. I had Cooper’s card somewhere. “But first, I need to see what Zelda wanted.”

  Less than a minute later, I hung up.

  “Well?” Mona asked.

  “They’re running late.”

  “Oh, good.” Mona’s fingernails went to work clacking on her keys. “That gives you time to call the police.”

  “Not yet. I need to prepare the offer.”

  “I thought you already had.”

  “I took it home last night to proofread and Addy’s chicken ate it for a snack.”

  The clacking stopped. “You lead an interesting life, Violet Parker.”

  She had no idea.

  Jeff Wymonds wasn’t home, so I left a message telling him to call my cell phone. With any luck, he’d finished prepping his house and was ready for me to bring over a For Sale sign.

  Zeke and Zelda made it in just before noon. Without much ado, they signed the offer and rumbled away on their Harley. The Carharts had until the close of business day tomorrow to accept or decline, which meant I needed to pay them a visit and drop off the paperwork. Unfortunately, I had no wheels, and Mona and Ray were both out to lunch with clients.

  Opening my cell, I decided to kill two birds with one Doc. Miracle upon miracle, he answered my call on the second ring. Our fling just might turn into a liaison yet.

  I greeted Doc with, “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I accept. What are you wearing?”

  That made me smile for the first time since breakfast. “Something green. I need to drop off some paperwork at the Carharts and I thought you might want to go with me and check things out.”

  “That’s not exactly a proposition, since you benefit from my going more than I do.”

  “I also need you to drive.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where’s your Bronco?”

  I hesitated. “Under the weather.” I didn’t want to explain more than that over the phone. “I forgot my lunch today, so if we could stop somewhere for a bite to eat, I’ll buy you lunch.”

  “This is beginning to sound more like a series of favors rather than a proposition.”

  “Maybe we can work out some form of payback that’s acceptable to you.”

  “Sure. Dust off your purple boots.”

  I chuckled. “What is it with you and those boots?”

  “Wear them and I’ll show you.”

  Whew! Was the air conditioner broken? Much more of this and I’d be charging over there and dragging him into that back room. “Shall we meet at your car in about a half-hour?”

  That would give him some time to do whatever mental preparation he needed to before stepping into the Carhart house. Plus, Ray should be back by then to watch the store.

  “I’ll pick you up out front.”

  “Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate this.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. The day’s young.” He hung up.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  A short time later, with my eyeliner smudge-free and my lips shiny with gloss, I stood outside on the sidewalk, waiting. Five minutes alone with Ray today was enough to turn my stomach, and his reeking of onions from his lunch didn’t help. I opted to swelter in the August heat rather than cram my tape dispenser up his nose.

  Doc’s black Camaro SS pulled up next to a nearby fire hydrant, the only curb space available. He hopped out, leaving the engine growling, looking edible in his khakis and maroon shirt, and held the passenger door open for me. “Nice shades, Marilyn Monroe.”

  I blew him an air kiss and slid inside the car. The black leather seats were hot to the touch, so I sat upright. The musky scent of Doc’s cologne teased me, making things even hotter.

  “Sorry,” he said as he crawled behind the wheel. “Your side was in the sun.” He adjusted the vent so that cool air hit my chest, then raised an eyebrow at me.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to tell me or do I have to pry it out of you?”

  Tell him what? That I wanted to see him naked again? I thought that was a given. “Umm, you look really nice in that shirt.”

  His mouth twitched. “Anything else?”

  “Natalie hasn’t returned my call.”

  He checked his rearview mirror, then shifted into gear and pulled out into the street. “I’m talking about your tires.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Did Harvey cruise Main Street with a bullhorn?”

  “You didn’t call me.” There was an accusation in his tone.

  “I did, too. About a half hour ago.” I was splitting hairs and I knew it.

  So did Doc, judging by the slit-eyed glance he sent me. “Have you talked to the police?”

  “Not yet.” I clasped my hands in my lap. “But Harvey probably has.”

  “You need to call them.”

  “I know.” Honestly, I didn’t think it would do me much good. Cooper would want evidence, of which I had zilch.

  “Today,” Doc said.

  “I will later.” Maybe.

  “Why not now?”

  Cooper in detective mode made me nervous. I preferred to make a bumbling fool of myself in private. “I’m busy.”

  “Doing what? Sitting there?”

  “I left my phone at work.”

  “Liar. Call.”

  “Later.”

  “Now.”

  “Jesus, Doc.” I glared at his profile. “Why are you being so damned bullheaded?”

  “Because I know you, Violet.”

  My feathers ruffled. “No, you don’t. You’ve barely scraped the surface.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “And what’s that ‘I know you’ supposed to mean, anyhow?” I hadn’t liked his implication one iota. I pointed out the front window. “Make a right up there by the gas station.”

  Doc held his silence as he turned and gunned it up the hill a couple of blocks. He followed my “left” and “right” directions without comment, but his sharp turns and tire chirps spoke plenty.

  “There it is.” Lila’s red Barbie-mobile was missing in action. My shoulders loosened in relief. I wouldn’t need body armor for today’s visit. “You can park out front.”

  He rolled to a stop and cut the engine. When I reached for the door handle, he grabbed my arm, holding me.

  “You’re right,” he said, his eyes roving my face. “I don’t really know you.” He reached out and lifted my sunglasses, resting them on top of my head. “Yet.”

  I held his stare, torn between pulling away and leaning in.

  “Why are your eyes so red?”

  I figured one honest admission deserved another. “I’m having trouble sleeping.”

  “Because of Natalie?”

  “Mostly Wolfgang.” It was just my luck that the first guy to ever confess his undying love for me followed up with a promise to burn me beyond recognition.

  “Nightmares?” When I dipped my hea
d, he grimaced. “How often?”

  “Nightly.”

  His palm slid to my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine. “Maybe you need to talk to someone.”

  “I’m talking to you.”

  He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m listening.”

  My heart drum-soloed in my ears. It was time to switch subjects. If we didn’t, between the afternoon heat and Doc’s warm touch, I might just melt into a pool of bubbling goo. “Are you ready for this?” I nudged my head toward the Carhart place.

  He glanced over my shoulder at the house, his lips flat-lining. “As ready as I can be not knowing what’s inside.”

  I gave into whim and leaned in, stealing a peck. I pulled away before I got caught up in the vortex that was Doc. “Let’s do it.”

  His lazy grin returned. “I’m your huckleberry.”

  I didn’t wait for him to open my door. We crunched our way up the gravel drive toward the porch. Gesturing toward the Open Cut mine, I asked, “Did you notice the missing scenery?”

  “Your buyers want property next to a big hole?”

  “They’re optimists.”

  “The world could use more of those.”

  I saw the sitting-room curtain twitch as we climbed the porch steps. Earlier, when I’d called to alert the Carharts that I was coming over with an offer on the house, Wanda had answered, whispering that Millie wasn’t there. I hoped she still wasn’t, since snooping would be easier with only the church mouse present.

  The door inched open before I had a chance to ring the bell. Wanda’s head appeared in the gap.

  “Hello, Wanda,” I said.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of Doc. I could relate.

  I opened the screen door. “I’ve brought the papers I mentioned on the phone.”

  She nodded and stepped back for us to enter the foyer.

  I heard Doc sniff behind me and sneaked a glance at him. His small nod propelled me inside.

  Something sweet and gingery perfumed the air. My stomach growled and gnashed. I tried to ignore the hollow ache and get back to the business of meddling. “Wanda, this is Doc Nyce.”

  Doc started to hold out his hand, but I pushed his arm down, figuring that’d just scare Wanda into another faint. “He’s here to see the house.”

  Doc shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carhart.”

  I could be wrong, but I thought I heard her squeak as she clicked the deadbolt behind us.

  “Let me grab the offer,” I said, opening my tote.

  Wanda chewed on her knuckle. “Millie’s on her way.”

  Which meant we didn’t have much time. “Perfect. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to show Doc the house while we wait.”

  She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, probably to find some cheese. I put the offer and my pen down on the sideboard.

  “Is that normal?” Doc whispered.

  I snorted “I’ve forgotten what normal is. Let’s get this done before Millie comes home.”

  Doc followed me from room to room, sniffing, pale-faced. In an extra-loud voice, I pretended to tell him about the molding, the wallpaper, the carpet, even the electrical switches and outlets—which earned a smirk from him.

  Well? I mouthed as we returned to the sitting room.

  He bobbed his head once and pointed at the stairs.

  “You sure?” I whispered.

  In answer, he put his hand on my lower back and nudged. “How many bedrooms are upstairs?”

  I caught a glimpse of Wanda peeking around the trim as I climbed the first step. “Follow me. I’ll show you. There’s also a full bath up here.”

  Doc’s face was pinkish-gray by the time we crested the top step, and his breathing was shallow. Maybe it was the heat. The upstairs had to be a good ten degrees hotter than the sitting room.

  I stopped on the landing. “Are you all right?”

  He urged me onward again, this time his cold palm on my arm.

  Frowning, I led the way into the bedroom where Lila had pounced on me before.

  “This is where I found the book,” I whispered and started to close the door behind us. The creak of a stair step stopped me. Wanda must have been trailing us, listening. Damn it. I needed to buy some time alone with Doc. I held up my index finger to Doc and crossed the threshold.

  “Wanda?” I strode back toward the stairwell and caught her poised at the top of the stairs, her eyes darting, avoiding mine. “Mr. Nyce is thirsty.” I fanned my shirt, partly for effect, mostly because sweat was beading in my cleavage. “Could you get him a glass of water?”

  “We don’t have any ice trays.”

  “Yes, I remember.” Still too bizarre. “Warm water is fine.”

  She nodded and shuffled down the stairs.

  When I returned to the bedroom, Doc sat slouched on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

  “Doc, are you okay?” A touch to his trembling back revealed a damp, cold shirt. “You’re freezing?” It came out a question because I had trouble believing it.

  “Give me a minute,” he spoke through his fingers. “Find the book.”

  “Right.” I checked the bookcase, the nightstand, the dresser, under the bed. I even nudged Doc over so I could check under the mattress, but I came up empty-handed. “I can’t—”

  The low snarl of a motor outside the window squeezed lungs into lockdown.

  “Uh-oh!” I rushed to the window, peeking through the gauzy sky-blue curtains in time to see Lila and Millie crawling out of the Barbie-mobile. While I watched, Lila pointed at Doc’s Camaro. Her face pinched into an ugly sneer as she spoke to Millie, who squinted up at the house, right at me.

  I stepped back, sweaty and breathy. My body flooded with adrenaline, kicking into flight mode. “Doc, we have to go.”

  “Not yet,” he said from the bed.

  “We have to get out of this room.” I was already halfway to the door.

  “I can’t.”

  I glanced Doc’s way and stopped. He looked like a ghost sitting on the bed. His wide, dark eyes stared over my shoulder, with a haunted, hollow-cheeked look Hollywood makeup artists spend hours trying to achieve. His whole body shuddered and quaked, his hands clenched into claw-like almost-fists at his sides.

  Chills peppered my arms and legs. “Doc?”

  Downstairs, the front door slammed open. Something crashed and shattered.

  “Doc?” I returned to his side, not sure how to help, where to touch. “We have to go before Lila finds us in here.”

  “Not. Yet.” His nostrils flared with short, sharp breaths. His eyes remained fixed on the open doorway.

  Was that a stair step creaking?

  Crap!

  “I’ll be back,” I said and turned to go head off Lila’s talons.

  “No!” Doc caught my hand and yanked me backward.

  I almost fell onto his lap. “What are you—”

  “She’s here.”

  He was right. Those were definitely footfalls coming up the stairs. “I know. I have to go stop her.”

  “Not Lila.” He pointed at the empty threshold. “Her.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Whether or not I believed in ghosts, Doc’s behavior and warning sparked a rush of goosebumps up my arms.

  “Doc, you’re scaring me a little,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the empty doorway.

  “If you could smell her, you’d be terrified. This one has some nasty secrets.”

  A piercing scream rang out from downstairs. I jumped, nearly peeing my pants. I heard more crashing and shattering, along with footfalls pounding away, back down the stairs. What in the hell was going on down there?

  I focused on the ghost at hand. “How can you tell she has nasty secrets?”

  “The intensity of her odor. She’s trailed it throughout the house.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “Trust me, she’s right here.”

  “Where?”

  “Just inside the
doorway.”

  More chills—this time, shivering down my spine. I backed into his knee.

  His hand on my hip steadied me. “Do you believe me?”

  I didn’t know what to believe. “You make a pretty persuasive Vincent Price.” I grabbed his hand and held on tight. “How do you know it’s a woman?”

  “I’m catching traces of rose water.”

  “Rose water,” I parroted. That reminded me of the little bowl of rose-shaped soaps my grandmother kept on the back of her toilet.

  “Plus, I can see her. Kind of.”

  “I thought you could only smell ghosts.”

  “When she stands still, there’s a slight blur.”

  “Is she standing still now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right in front of us?”

  “Yes.”

  The goosebumps spread clear to my toes. Okay, now I was totally creeped out. I tugged on his hand. “We need to get out of this room.”

  “I don’t know what will happen if she tries to pass through me.”

  “Pass through you?” I cast a grimace in his direction. “Can’t you walk around her?”

  “It appears not. She’s insisting.”

  “How does she know you can sense her?”

  “I haven’t figured that out, but they always do.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “You go first. I’ll try to follow.”

  “Try to?” I seemed to be having trouble processing his words today.

  “Be ready.” He shoved me toward the door.

  I skirted to the left, scurrying through the doorway as if my tail feathers were on fire. When I reached the safety of the hall, I spun around. “Ready for what?”

  Doc pushed to his feet. “This.”

  He walked three steps and then stumbled, careened into the door jamb with a whump, and slumped to the floor.

  Shit!

  “Doc?” I rushed to where he lay crumpled on the threshold and knelt over him. “Doc, are you okay?”

  His eyes didn’t open. I touched his pale cheeks, his forehead, his neck, searching for a bit of warm skin. He was cold. Impossibly cold, considering the heat trapped upstairs with us. Was he in shock? What were the signs, again?

  Sweat coated my arms and legs and trickled down my back. I reached for his wrist. My heart was pounding so hard that I couldn’t tell at first if I was feeling his pulse or my own. After a couple of deep breaths and a string of un-ladylike curses at myself for dragging him to this damned house, I found his pulse—strong and steady.