An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014

by Ann Charles

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  Dear Reader,

  Of all of the crazy things I could’ve decided to try while writing this fifth Deadwood book, I opted for moving. On top of that stressful life event, my husband and I decided to double up on this dose of insanity and buy a house 1500 miles away in Arizona.

  In spite of all the highs and lows of dragging our two kids and ornery cat across the West, I finished the book. I wrote through weeks of painting the old house, weeding our many gardens, shopping for a new house both in person and online, jumping through the financial hoops of buying, and pulling my hair out as we lined up the closing of our old house only five days before the closing of our new house several states away.

  Two days before we hit the road for Arizona, I wrote, “The End … for now,” finishing the first draft. When I finally got a chance to go through the whole book in one read through, I was amazed that not only was it legible, but it even made sense.

  Today, after more editing and polishing, I’m happy to share with you the next chapter in Violet’s crazy life.

  On a side note, I’m a huge fan of James Garner, as some of you may have figured out via my stories (where do you think Mac Garner from my Jackrabbit Series got his last name?). I had no idea this year would be James’ last. I’m sad to say good-bye to such a charming, charismatic screen legend. I’m so glad we have many movies and television shows to keep him alive in our hearts and memories.

  Now, as old man Harvey says, “Pull your hat over yer ears and hold on for dear life,” because you're in for another wild ride in Deadwood with Violet and her friends … and her enemies.

  www.anncharles.com

  To my husband.

  You still laugh at my silly wisecracks and screwball antics.

  Te amo.

  Also by Ann Charles

  Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series

  Dance of the Winnebagos (Book 1)

  Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (Book 2)

  The Great Jackalope Stampede (Book 3)

  Deadwood Mystery Series:

  Nearly Departed in Deadwood (Book 1)

  Optical Delusions in Deadwood (Book 2)

  Dead Case in Deadwood (Book 3)

  Better Off Dead in Deadwood (Book 4)

  Short Stories from the Deadwood Mystery Series

  Deadwood Shorts: Seeing Trouble

  Deadwood Shorts: Boot Points

  A Short Story from the upcoming Goldwash Mystery Series

  The Old Man’s Back in Town

  Coming Next from Ann Charles

  A Dig Site Mystery

  Look What the Wind Blew In

  (A novel starring Quint Parker, the brother of Violet Parker from the Deadwood Mystery Series)

  The Rowdy Coyote Rumble

  (Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series: Book 4)

  Title TBA

  (Deadwood Mystery Series: Book 6)

  Cast

  **KEY: Character (Book # in which they appear)—Description**

  Violet Lynn Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Main heroine of the series, Doc’s girlfriend, Aunt Zoe’s niece

  Willis “old man” Harvey (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s sidekick and so-called body guard

  Dane R. “Doc” Nyce (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Main hero of the series, Violet’s boyfriend

  Detective “Coop” Cooper (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Deadwood and Lead’s only detective

  Zoe Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s aunt and mentor in life; Violet lives in Aunt Zoe’s house

  Layne Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s nine-year-old son

  Adelynn Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s nine-old daughter

  Natalie Beals (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s best friend since childhood

  Jerry Russo (4,5)

  —Violet’s boss, owner of Calamity Jane Realty

  Mona Hollister (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s co-worker and mentor in realty

  Ray Underhill (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s co-worker and nemesis at work

  Benjamin Underhill (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s co-worker and previous secret admirer

  Cornelius Curion (3,4,5)

  —Violet’s client; self-acclaimed ghost-whisperer

  Jeff Wymonds (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s client; father of Adelynn’s best friend

  Beatrice Geary (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet and Aunt Zoe’s neighbor across the street

  Reid Martin (2,3,4,5)

  —Captain of the Fire Department, Aunt Zoe’s ex-lover

  Tiffany Sugarbell (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s rival Realtor; Doc’s ex-girlfriend

  Susan Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s evil sister; aka “the Bitch from Hell”

  Quint Parker (1,2,3,4,5)

  —Violet’s supportive brother; Layne’s hero; giver of her famous purple boots

  Freesia Tender (5)

  —Owner of the Galena House

  Stone Hawke (5)

  —Cooper’s ex-partner; detective called in to help solve cases

  Dickie Dowdin (5)

  —Host of TV series called “Paranormal Realty”

  Honey (5)

  —Dickie’s assistant

  Rex Conner (3,4,5)

  —The biological father of Violet’s children

  Chapter One

  Sunday, September 30th

  Deadwood, South Dakota

  Just when I thought my career couldn’t sink any deeper, some asshole flushed it down the toilet.

  “Jerry had another one of his genius marketing ideas,” I said into my cell phone. “He’s decided he’s going to make me a freaking reality TV star.” I rattled off a drumroll of curses to my best friend on the other end of the call, in case she couldn’t hear how pissed I was about this latest swirling mess.

  A pair of skateboard-toting teenagers dragging their pant hems across the parking lot of Bighorn Billy’s Diner gave me a pair of thumbs up on my medley of swear words. I waved back. I appreciated the positive reinforcement after spending the last hour choking down a burger with a side of my boss’s newest promotion plan.

  “No freaking way,” Natalie replied without the emphasis such a disaster required.

  I’d already used the word freaking. Was she paying attention? It didn’t sound like it. Damn it, she needed to get her butt home from Arizona so that we could slam tequila shots over my current problem until we came up with a solution … or passed out trying.

  A cool fall breeze blew through the parking lot, fresh with the scent of pine trees. The Black Hills oozed pine perfume since they were covered from head to toe in the evergreens. The wind stole my warmth—but not my fire.

  I pulled my thick sweater tighter around me, the faux-fur trim tickling my chin. “Nat, did you hear what I said? This is bad, like getting caught picking my nose on national TV bad.”

  Okay, so maybe it was only a regional television program, but it could muddle up my world like a paint can shaker at the hardware store. I kicked the tire of the Picklemobile, the old green dilapidated pickup that I was borrowing to get me from here to there until I could af
ford a new set of wheels.

  “Jerry is determined to turn my career into a circus side show,” I continued, “complete with clown hair and makeup. Next he’ll have me swallowing swords. I’ll be damned if …”

  “Wait, wait!” Natalie said, her voice louder, her attention finally mine. “You need to back the truck up and tell me how all this started.”

  Tell her how it started? Had her brain turned into a tumbleweed and rolled away into the desert? “My old boss was murdered, remember? Then her giant ex-husband rode in on Paul Bunyan’s ox, took over Calamity Jane Realty, and turned me into a billboard bimbo.”

  I’d almost driven off Interstate 90 when I saw the billboard yesterday on my way down to Rapid City. There I stood, larger than life in that god-awful pink silk suit Jerry had bought me for the photo shoot. My blonde hair spiraled every which way and my lips glistened with a red coat so glossy it looked like I’d just finished sucking the blood from my last victim. As if that weren’t enough to make me want to flee the state, the caption underneath my image made me scream loud enough to rattle the Picklemobile’s windshield:

  Looking for love in all the wrong houses?

  Call Violet at Calamity Jane Realty. She’ll show you a magical place you’ll love coming home to every night.

  “I know all of that, Violet,” Natalie said, adopting the calming voice she’d used while talking me through delivering my twins into the world almost a decade ago. “I left the state, not the universe.”

  “After seeing that billboard, I’d like to leave the universe.”

  “The billboard isn’t that bad. You look good with crazy curls.”

  “Liar. I look like a vampire poodle that just peed on an electric fence.” I’d sent a picture of the billboard to her phone last night. She’d called back laughing so hard she could barely speak.

  Natalie chuckled. “Anyway, what I meant was did Jerry explain why he thinks this will help your career and how soon they will begin filming?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to breathe through my anger before my skin turned green and I went on a rampage. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know the why or the how part?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Did he tell you about his idea over the phone?”

  “No. He was sitting across the lunch table.” All three of my coworkers had been there, too. Judging from their reactions, which ranged from a growl of disapproval to a gasp of surprise, none of us had expected this to be the reason Jerry had insisted on a work lunch meeting today.

  “Were you daydreaming about Doc again at the time?” Natalie asked.

  “Doc was the furthest thing from my mind,” I fibbed.

  Yes, my boyfriend had been on my mind throughout the meal, especially after last night, but not at the moment Jerry had dropped the bomb about the TV show. I wasn’t going to admit that to Natalie, though. She said she was over the betrayal of my sleeping with Doc, but I wasn’t entirely convinced by her “we’re good” claim.

  “Then how come you weren’t paying better attention?”

  “Old man Harvey sent me a text.” I didn’t elaborate that it was actually a picture of a dead cow. At least the bigger chunks appeared to be bovine—hooves, head, and sections of hide.

  After my eyes had registered what I was seeing, it had taken me a few gulps of water to keep my burger and salad contained in my stomach. During the internal struggle not to vomit, I’d missed everything Jerry had been telling us.

  “Harvey has a cell phone now?” Natalie asked. “That’s gonna make him more dangerous to the local female population.”

  “Doc got it for him a few days ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Harvey insisted he needed it to protect me better when Doc wasn’t around.”

  “Jeez, Harvey’s really taking this self-appointed bodyguard duty seriously.”

  “Yeah, well, after that creepy shit at the Opera House.” And the even weirder stuff going on out at Harvey’s ranch. “I don’t mind the company and you’re like five states away. When are you coming home?”

  “I told you last night that I leave in a week. Do you still have Harvey’s booby trap set up outside the back door?”

  “No, Aunt Zoe made him take it down. She didn’t like having a stack of old truck batteries wired to her porch light.” A Deadwood police car slowed on the road in front of the diner. I ducked out of view behind the Picklemobile. “I can’t see this ending well.”

  “You mean old man Harvey and his phone or Jerry and his big idea?”

  “Both. If I didn’t have two kids to support, I’d …” My phone beeped in my ear. “Hold on, Nat. I have another call.”

  I looked at the screen. An unknown number with the local area code appeared. My finger hesitated over the IGNORE option. What if it was an emergency about one of my kids?

  I accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Violet Parker?” a woman whispered with a hitch in her breath.

  I plugged my other ear to block out the sound of passing traffic. “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you.” There was an accent there, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  I pressed the phone harder against my ear. “Is this about a house to buy or sell?”

  “It’s about what you are.”

  What I was? I doubted she was referring to my status as a single parent with an ever-shrinking savings account. Maybe she’d heard about my ghost-loving reputation … or seen my billboard. “Have we met?”

  “Nein, Scharfrichter.” The engine growl from a passing diesel pickup made the caller’s words sound garbled.

  “Nine what?” I asked.

  “I must see you immediately. Come to the Galena House on Williams Street, apartment four. Knock seven times.”

  Right now? “I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

  I wasn’t finished venting to Natalie. Not to mention that I’d planned to head up the road to the grocery store after hanging up to grab a gallon of milk for the kids and a tub of peanut butter fudge ice cream for me. It was going to take more than a spoonful or three tonight to lull me into subordination so that I didn’t start my day tomorrow with a hard kick to Jerry’s shins.

  “You will come now,” the woman said, louder, no longer whispering. “I will be dead soon.”

  I blinked. “You what?”

  “Do not delay!”

  Sheesh! “Who is this?”

  “I will be waiting.” She hung up, leaving me standing there coated with a layer of goosebumps.

  I frowned down at my phone and then realized Natalie was still holding on the other line. “Nat? You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was really bizarre.”

  “What? Did Harvey find another decapitated body?”

  “No.” Well, yes, sort of, only the reverse being that there was a head but not much else, and the victim was a cow. But I didn’t want to think about that after that unnerving phone call. “It was some woman. She insisted on seeing me immediately.”

  “Who?”

  “She didn’t say. She told me to meet her at the Galena House on Williams Street.”

  “The old boarding house? You know that’s haunted, right?”

  “Whatever.” I was tired of hearing how everything in this town was haunted.

  “Maybe it was a ghost calling you.” She hummed the Twilight Zone theme in my ear.

  I shivered, peering around the parking lot, feeling like I was lined up in someone’s crosshairs all of a sudden. “That would be just my luck.”

  “Are you gonna go over there?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. She sounded desperate.” Or insane.

  “Maybe you should call your bodyguard and have him go with you.”

  “I think I can handle visiting a boarding house in broad daylight.”

  “Fine, but you better call me tonight and tell me what she wanted.”

  “Deal. Say ‘Hi’ to your cousins for me.”
<
br />   “Will do. Be careful, loony-toon. You have a way of stumbling into the kind of trouble that ends with you standing waist deep in guns and bullets.”

  Actually, firearms weren’t even cutting it these days.

  The Picklemobile smelled like cinnamon and old grease. The former thanks to an air freshener I had hanging from the rearview mirror, the latter because it was an ancient truck that belonged to old man Harvey. It grumbled and hiccupped to a start, belching black smoke as it got humming, reminding me of its owner.

  I thought more on Natalie’s warning as I twisted and turned my way into Deadwood and decided to give my bodyguard a call after all. I pulled into the lot across from the hospital and let the Picklemobile idle while the phone rang.

  “Where you been, girl?” Harvey answered. “I’ve been sendin’ you twits for the last hour.”

  “Twits?”

  “Yeah. You know, those lil’ notes on your phone.”

  “Those are called texts, Harvey.”

  “You sure about that? I think ‘twits’ sounds ‘bout right.”

  I was not going to talk technology with one of Deadwood’s pioneers. “I was at lunch with my boss.”

  “Where are ya now?”

  “Heading to the Galena House on Williams Street.”

  “That there’s a bad idea if I ever heard one.”

  “If you’re going to tell me it’s haunted, I already know about that.”

  “It’s extra haunted and more.”

  Being that I was a big fat dud when it came to seeing, hearing, smelling, or feeling ghosts, the degree of haunting made little difference to me. “Good for it.”

  “Pooh-pooh all you want,” he said, “but the last time you visited a ghostie, she turned a live woman into a ventriloquist doll.”

  I shuddered. My queasiness around those talking dummies had been amplified lately, thanks to the particular ghost up in Lead he was referring to who had insisted upon reaching out to me when I’d least expected it.

  Pushing my neurosis aside, I focused on the haunted house I was about to visit. “What do you know about the Galena House besides it being haunted?”

  “I know that you shouldn’t dilly dally there without your bodyguard.”

  “Dead people can’t hurt me, Harvey.” At least none had yet; only live ones had left bruises and scars.