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

by Ann Charles

  Freesia’s forehead furrowed as she looked toward Main Street. “Every now and then she’d talk about a man she used to go on picnics with years ago and this forlorn smile would creep onto her lips; otherwise, she was a textbook version of a loner. Most days, she went out only if she needed groceries. My parents would take her to the store in the winter. After they moved away, I drove her around when she needed a ride. When I was busy, she’d ask the other residents.”

  “Did they get along with her?”

  “Sure. She was very kind. She baked for us as a ‘thanks’ for helping her. Her rum cake was to die for, and her homemade peppernut cookies would make this place smell wonderful for days.”

  “What was her first name?” I asked.

  “None of your business, Parker,” Cooper answered, his voice hard and tight. He grabbed my elbow, a gesture that appeared polite, but his grip was all dominance and irritation. He pulled me several steps away from Freesia. “I thought I told you to stand here and not talk to anyone.”

  “I thought you specified no phone calls.”

  “I said talk to nobody.”

  “Freesia’s not a nobody. She’s the house’s owner.” I tugged my arm free. I was allergic to dominant males. They made me break out in fights. “Besides, it would’ve been rude for Harvey and me to ignore her, right, Harvey?”

  The old buzzard held up his hands. “Don’t make me the monkey in the middle on this one.”

  Cooper looked at Freesia, his scowl dissipating. “How are you doing, Ms. Tender?”

  The sound of Big Jake’s last name reminded me of what I’d learned about the Galena House. Suddenly the old place seemed more forlorn than unkempt.

  “I’m okay, just sad. Ms. Wolff was a sweetheart. Were you able to determine how she was killed?”

  Harvey and I exchanged a wide eyed glance. The detective must not have filled her in on the condition of the body. I turned back and caught a steely look from Cooper, warning me to keep it that way.

  The detective’s focus returned to Freesia, his rigid features softening. “If you’re up to a visit to the station, I’d like to have you come with me to answer a few more questions.”

  A few? No fair. He was going to take it easy on her. I usually got the full neck bobbling shakedown followed by a rubber glove inspection.

  A few weeks back, Harvey had mentioned that Cooper had the hots for someone. Maybe Freesia was that someone. She was young for the detective by about fifteen years or so I guessed, but age might not matter to either of them. I hoped she used protection when getting naked with him. Chainmail underneath a hazmat suit should be enough.

  Harvey joined me off to the side while Cooper treated Freesia with kid gloves. I watched with a pout, waiting for him to offer her milk and cookies. I leaned over and whispered, “How come he’s so nice to her?”

  “Probably because she didn’t drop another murder in his lap that could cost him his job if he can’t solve it.”

  “It wasn’t my fault. Ms. Wolff called me.”

  “Maybe so, but why?”

  Cooper shouted for one of his men, who shielded Freesia under an umbrella and led her to a police car. The hail had stopped, replaced by a steady drizzle. Freesia waved goodbye to us before sliding into the passenger seat.

  After speaking in grunts and growls on his cell phone, Cooper hung up and stalked back to where his uncle and I waited for our flogging. “You can leave for now, Parker. I’d advise you to stay in town for a few days.”

  What? “You’re not hauling me to the station, too?”

  “Not now but don’t get too comfortable.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt anything even remotely close to comfortable since making the detective’s acquaintance back in July.

  “What about me?” Harvey asked.

  “Keep your phone handy.”

  “Did you see the twits I sent you earlier?”

  Cooper did a doubletake. “You sent me what?”

  “He calls texts ‘twits,’” I explained.

  “The pictures of the cow,” Harvey added.

  The canyons in Cooper’s forehead deepened. “I’ll call you later about those.”

  I palmed the keys to the Picklemobile and pulled the neck of my sweater up over my head to shield my hair. Rain tended to morph my curls into a clown wig. “Let’s go, Harvey.”

  “Parker,” Cooper called out, stopping me halfway down the sidewalk.

  My shoulders tightened. I turned. “What?”

  He joined us in the rain, his dark blond hair, crooked nose, and windbreaker dotted with water drops. “I cannot emphasize how important it is that you keep your big mouth shut about this damned mess until I get to the bottom of it.”

  Now that I thought about it, chainmail wasn’t enough. “What do you think, Cooper? I’m going to place an ad on the front page of the Black Hills Trailblazer?” I took a step toward him, thinking it might be nice to add another crook to his nose with my fist. “Having another murder on my résumé is not exactly going to help my reputation, you know.”

  He held his index finger to his lips. “Not a word to anyone other than Nyce. Not even to your boss.”

  Harvey tugged on my sweater. “Unless you two wanna slice thumbs and share blood over it, I suggest we get goin’.”

  “I don’t want to hear about either of you sneaking around this place later,” Cooper hollered at our backs. “Leave this one to the police, Parker.”

  “I’d be happy to,” I yelled over my shoulder while Harvey dragged me along. “It’d be wonderful if you could actually solve it before I’m forced to!”

  Chapter Three

  “Where can I drop you?” I asked Harvey as we headed back across Main Street.

  “There’s only one place I can think to go right now.”

  “Where’s that?” I knew where I wanted to go to unload the weight of Ms. Wolff’s death.

  “Doc’s office, our pow-wow headquarters.”

  He must have been reading my mind.

  I parked the Picklemobile behind Calamity Jane Realty. The exhaust pipe announced our arrival with a loud bang; the backfire was its version of a car alarm’s beep-beep. Jerry’s Hummer wasn’t in sight, nor Ben’s Subaru; only Mona’s and Ray’s SUVs were parked in their usual spots.

  “I need to go into the office and touch base.” I hoped Mona wouldn’t ask too many questions about my whereabouts for the last two hours. I hated to lie to her, but Cooper had insisted, so this one was on his conscience, not mine. “I’ll be over there in a few.”

  “I’ll fill Doc in on the mess we waded into back at the Galena House while we wait.”

  “Don’t let Detective Cooper find out you were talking about Ms. Wolff.”

  Harvey reached for the door handle. “Coop told you to keep your big mouth shut. He didn’t say a peep about stopping my chin from waggin’.”

  We crawled out of the pickup and dodged raindrops all the way across the lot. Harvey veered next door to Doc’s as we neared.

  I stepped inside Calamity Jane’s and shook out my sweater, hanging it on one of the pegs lining the back wall. I could smell remnants of my boss’s cologne as I passed his office, but as I’d figured when I hadn’t seen his Hummer, there was no sign of him. The overhead lights were on, but nobody was home. After his latest absurd marketing idea, I was beginning to think that was true inside of his head, too.

  Mona looked up from her laptop as I stepped into the front room where four desks formed an open circle, like Conestoga wagons ready for an ambush. Our desks used to be lined up like school children, but Jerry didn’t think that inspired a team atmosphere. Now we were huddled together so that we could gaze into each other’s eyes in between clients coming and going. Lucky me, I got to face off with the scowl of my favorite coworker, Ray the Horse’s Ass, hour after hour. I could only imagine what fun form of torture Jerry would come up with next for us. Thumbscrews? Matching iron maidens? A company retreat?

  I looked over at R
ay’s desk, noting his cell phone and keys weren’t in their usual corner. The bathroom door stood open, the room dark. He must have taken off with Ben, his nephew, the newest member of our “five-man team.”

  “Where’d you disappear to after lunch?” Mona asked, her red fingernails clacking on her keyboard. As much typing as Mona did every day, I had a suspicion she was either writing a book or having a torrid email affair with some lovesick prison inmate … or maybe a cell block full of them.

  I tucked my purse into my desk drawer, glancing at the clock. Only two hours had passed since I’d left Bighorn Billy’s. The fire in my gut over Jerry’s reality TV idea had been stomped on and doused by a dead woman.

  “I had a few errands to run.” Guilt warmed my cheeks at my lie. “Where’s everyone?”

  “Jerry had to meet with Jane’s lawyer about some title paperwork. Apparently her being murdered gums up the transfer of ownership.”

  Melancholy plopped down on my chest. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t miss Jane with her level-headed career plans and her ability to converse without a single sports-based metaphor. I crossed my fingers that this paperwork problem acted as tar under Jerry’s marketing machine.

  “Ray and Ben headed out after lunch to meet a client who is interested in purchasing the High Stakes Casino.”

  My desk phone was blinking. Because it was Sunday, I suspected my son had called to ask me to pick up some household chemical, superglue, or pizza before coming home. I sat down and scanned through a few new listings posted to the MLS database. My eyes glazed over, my brain still back in apartment four with all of those clocks. Why had there been no blood? “That casino closed down last winter, right?”

  “Yes,” she paused to shuffle some papers around and then returned to her keyboard. “One of the pipes burst during that below zero spell we had and flooded the second floor, ruining a good portion of the first floor’s ceiling. Not to mention the wreck it made of the carpet and underlying floor boards on both levels.”

  What had Ms. Wolff said, or whoever it was that had called me to come over? Something about “nine shark trickster”? Or was it “nine shaft rigger”? No, there was a “kst” sound in there, I was pretty sure. If only a damned pickup hadn’t driven by at that very moment.

  “Some of the original molding was warped,” Mona continued, “which is too bad because it was really ornate.”

  What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, the High Stakes Casino. “This client of theirs must have an impressive bank account.”

  “Or a group of investors in his back pocket. Ray said the guy wants to turn it into a high-end gentlemen’s club reminiscent of the old days, including a cigar smoking lounge, pool hall, dance stage for vaudeville type performances, and a high roller gamblers’ den.”

  “In Deadwood? He has us confused with Vegas.”

  “According to Ben, the buyer believes the future of the gambling industry is in returning to successful methods used in the past. He wants to have the place reminiscent of old style Vegas, with Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Bugsy Siegel.”

  “I’m sure Detective Cooper will love taking on the mob.” Maybe he’d quit harping on me so much if tommy guns and pinstripe suits filled the streets of Deadwood.

  I locked my computer and pushed back from my desk, wondering if Harvey had finished filling Doc in on our discovery in apartment four.

  Mona lifted her rhinestone reading glasses, resting them on top of her auburn tresses. “Hold on a minute while I picture Cooper with sweat trickling down his sideburns, guns a’blazin.” She purred in her throat. “It’s too bad he’s a little young for me. What about you?”

  “What about me?” I pulled out a compact mirror and tube of lip gloss from my desk drawer, tucking my hair back, freshening up for Doc. Even if he had seen me first thing in the morning a few times now, he hadn’t seen me in all of my frizzy glory.

  “I know Detective Cooper is not your favorite person, but you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about hitting that?”

  Hitting that? I paused mid-gloss and shot her an open-mouthed look over the mirror. “You’ve been hanging around Ray too much. His vernacular is rubbing off on you.”

  She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Answer the question, Vi.”

  I finished touching up my lips. “Sure, I’ve thought about ‘hitting that’ many times.”

  “Ha!” Mona grinned wide. “I knew it.”

  I tucked the mirror and gloss back into my desk. “In most of my fantasies, I use my shoe. Sometimes it’s with a wooden spatula or a serving tray. Once I even daydreamed about using a rubber chicken on him until he cried like a baby.” I sighed like a lovesick groupie. “That one really got me all jazzed up.”

  She chuckled, lowering her glasses back onto her nose. “You can joke all you want, but he’s one hot cop.”

  “That’s true. I’ve seen him spit fire with my very own eyes, and then had to be treated for the burns.”

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  What I felt for Detective Cooper was much more complicated than circling YES or NO on a do-you-like-me note. There were levels of frustration and anger sandwiched with humiliation and fury, yet slices of respect and trust were melded in between it all. However, it would take way more time than I had at the moment to explain it all, so I kept it simple. “Mona, I can’t emphasize enough how much Cooper does not ring my bell.” Except for the one signaling the end of yet another round of fighting between us.

  “He’s such an alpha male, all dominant and chest pounding.” She leaned her chin on her palm. “And so big.”

  Big? Cooper was long-legged, rip-corded, and lean, built like an old West gunfighter, but not really “big.” I was beginning to wonder if we were still talking about the detective or if Mona had moved on to another alpha male who was messing up my world with his marketing schemes.

  “I bet he’s an animal in the sack,” she said.

  I stared at Mona, taken aback at our topic of conversation this afternoon. This was the first time she and I had delved into the subject of sex. Until now our friendship had been centered on work and my kids with her sharing only brief snippets of her family and past. What had changed? Jane dying? A camaraderie because we were now outnumbered by men in the office? Maybe she had something she needed to share about a certain man and I was replacing Jane as Mona’s new confidante.

  “An animal, huh?” I shrugged, playing along. “He definitely has sharp, pokey parts. Personally, I prefer to be bitten, not clawed.”

  “Doc’s a biter, huh?”

  I’d filled her in last week on the situation between Doc and me while sipping on lattes at the Tin Cup Café. I’d been afraid she’d shake her head about me getting involved with a previous client, so her smile had been a relief.

  “He bites some,” I grinned, “but he licks a lot more.” Enough about Doc. “What about Jerry?”

  “Jerry?” She jerked upright, her eyes glancing toward his office. “What do you mean? We’re talking about Cooper.”

  “Come on, Mona. I’m not blind. There’s something going on between Jerry and you.” Something that had her wanting to exchange locker room talk about sex and boys with me.

  “You’re reading things wrong. He’s my boss and that’s it.” She returned to her keyboard, clacking away, but her cheeks were full of roses.

  “Sure, Jerry is your boss right now. What about before?”

  “Before, he was Jane’s ex-husband.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That’s all there ever was and all there ever will be.”

  She wasn’t going to budge today. Fine. I wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she or Jerry. I’d try again later. “If you say so.” I headed toward the front door. “Speaking of Doc, I need to run over to his office for a few minutes.”

  Her eyes remained glued to her screen. “Got it.”

  I jangled my keys. “If you need to leave, lock up.”

 
“Will do. Say ‘hello’ to your biter for me.”

  Chuckling, I pushed outside. The cold, damp air chilled my skin, making me wish I’d grabbed my sweater even if it was still soggy. The change in seasons had cooled things down quickly up in the hills, where Old Man Winter always nipped at autumn’s heels right out of the gate. Most years, snowflakes started falling in October and kept flurrying off and on all of the way into May. That reminded me that I needed to dig the kids’ winter coats out of the boxes I had stacked down in Aunt Zoe’s basement and see if they still fit.

  I didn’t waste time watching my breath turn to steam and dashed into Doc’s warm office closing the door behind me, shivering in my damp silk blouse.

  “It’s ‘bout damned time, girl,” Harvey twisted in his chair opposite Doc’s desk. “We gotta hit the road soon. Coop and I need to figure out what to do with that cow mess.”

  Doc rose from his desk chair and shrugged off his tan corduroy jacket. “Here,” he said, coming around and draping it over my shoulders. His dark brown gaze lingered below my chin until I pulled the jacket closed over my chest.

  Warmth cocooned me; the scent of his skin and woodsy cologne were exactly what I needed to soothe some of the scrapes left after my brush with Cooper’s scratchy personality.

  “Thanks,” I looked up at him, hungry for more of his body heat. His black hair looked finger plowed, his chin and jaw shadowed with stubble.

  “You’re welcome, Boots.” Doc’s focus stayed locked on my lips for a heartbeat or five, making me glad I’d taken the time to gloss them up for him. “Is that the cherry flavored stuff or strawberry?”

  “Ah, shitfire.” Harvey pushed out of his chair. “Come on you two horny toads, don’t make me get a hose.” He caught my arm and led me to his seat, shoving me down into it.

  It wasn’t my fault. Doc did things to me, all kinds of things, sometimes with his fingers, often with his tongue, especially when we were alone. If Harvey looked up the words hopeless, pathetic, and lovesick in the dictionary, my picture would be smack dab in the center, my grin goofy and sappy as hell.

  I did my best to keep my heart from popping up into my eyeballs when I stared at Doc. Knowing that he’d dumped his last girlfriend at the mention of marriage, I had to play it iceberg cool. If he knew I’d gone and fallen head-over-boots for him in three short months, he might kick me to the gutter, too. Aunt Zoe kept telling me that Doc wouldn’t do that, claiming I was “special,” which I interpreted as mental but harmless and means well. Clearly she was biased due to our shared DNA. When it got down to bedrock, I didn’t want to take any chances with the M-word. I had two kids to take care of, so drowning my broken heart in tequila was not an option.