A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7)

by Ann Charles

I held his stare. “Cornelius is my friend.”

  “Your friend.”

  I nodded.

  He took the hanger from me and hung it back on the rack. Then he hooked his finger in the neckline of my sweater and pulled me closer. “I missed you today, Boots,” he said when the tow line slackened. “How come you didn’t call me when you got that creepy phone call?”

  “I tried, but your voicemail was full.”

  His upper lip curled in what looked like disgust or frustration or both. “I cleared her messages as soon as I had cell service again.”

  “Did you listen to any?”

  He shook his head.

  I opened my mouth to tell him that Tiffany had also texted me this morning but hesitated. Knowing my big mouth, things would take an awkward turn right off the line and end in another one of my infamous crash and burns.

  “What?” he asked, taking my hands in his and lacing our fingers together.

  “I … uh,” I licked my lips. “Never mind.”

  “Tell me.”

  After the day I’d had, I wasn’t in the right place mentally to go down that particular rabbit hole, so I hopped to a different one that was also awkward but much safer.

  “I stopped over at Jeff Wymonds’s house today to do a sweep of the place. You know, check for other Realtors’ business cards and make sure the property was still show-ready. I didn’t see his truck in the drive, so I let myself in without knocking.” I made a face. “But someone was there.”

  “Who?”

  “Jeff. I walked in on him and his girlfriend having sex.”

  “No!” Doc’s jaw gaped.

  “Yep. They were in his kitchen. She was on the counter while he …” I made some hip thrusting gestures. “You get the picture.”

  “Not as clearly as you apparently did.” His mouth twitched.

  “She had lots of tattoos. Oh, and those nipple rings he showed off to us in Aunt Zoe’s backyard.”

  His grin broke the surface. “You saw the nipple rings?”

  I scowled in reply. “Jeff’s pants were around his ankles and he had on this lacy red thong. I’m pretty sure it was something you’d find in the women’s department.”

  Doc chuckled under his breath. “Oh, Boots, I’m so sorry.” His chest shook with silent laughter.

  “That’s not all.”

  “It isn’t?” he said, as if he couldn’t believe there was more.

  I wished that had been it. I wished I were the only one who knew I’d walked in and witnessed the scene.

  “Jeff caught me watching them.”

  “How long were you standing there?”

  “Only seconds, but I said something in surprise and he heard me.”

  Doc covered his mouth, trying to hold his amusement inside.

  “He even said my name.” I scratched absently at the back of my neck, feeling itchy to run again at the mere thought of what had happened. “Then he just kept going at it, telling me over his shoulder that he was almost in the end zone. Or was it that he was driving in for a touchdown?” I shuddered at the sordid memory.

  He lowered his hand to ask. “What about his girlfriend?”

  “What about her?”

  “Did she say anything?”

  I shook my head slowly, as if in a trance. A horrible, embarrassing, brain numbing trance. “She just cheered him on, nipple rings bouncing and bouncing and bouncing.”

  Both of Doc’s hands now covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes were peeking over his fingertips, shining extra bright.

  “It’s not funny, Doc.” Well, maybe for him since he wasn’t standing in my boots. “How am I going to ever look Jeff in the face again?”

  “You could …” he paused to laugh, “skip looking at his face and …” more laughter, “have him turn around and drop his pants again.”

  A volley of laughs escaped his mouth at my glare.

  I punched him in the shoulder, which only spurred him to double over and really let the guffaws fly.

  “I’m sorry … Violet.” He swallowed a few times and tried to collect himself, but hiccups of laughter chirped out a few more times. “So, did you … wait around and cheer for him to make a touchdown?”

  “No, Mr. Giggle-Pants, I did not. I raced out the door and drove up to the Piggly Wiggly, which is where I ran into Reid.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Jeff had called when I’d pulled into the parking lot, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. It was all still too fresh and sticky.”

  “Damn.” Doc wiped at the outside corners of his eyes. “You really had one hell of a day, didn’t you, Tiger?”

  At my nod, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, pulling me back toward him. His hands pushed aside my mass of curls and settled onto my shoulders, massaging out the day’s knots. I closed my eyes and let my head hang down, groaning as he worked out one angst after another.

  “Was there anything else?” he asked, the laughter gone now.

  “You mean with Jeff?”

  “No, in general.”

  The text from Tiffany moved back to the front of the line. It bounced a few times on the end of my tongue, prepping to dive off into the deep end. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear his answer. If he had told Tiffany he loved her, how would that change things for us? Maybe it was better not to know the truth and let myself hope that when he’d said those three words to me that night in the haunted brothel, he was serious.

  “That was it,” I answered.

  “Tell me something,” he said while rubbing on a sore muscle bunched up under my shoulder blade.

  I grunted in agreement.

  “Are you really going to let Coop and Detective Hawke figure out who’s sending those notes? Or are you going to start digging on your own?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Doc.”

  He snorted in disbelief.

  “I’m serious,” I said. “If you’re willing to help me with Cornelius and Wilda, I’ll do as you say when it comes to Wanda.”

  “Okay.” I felt his lips brush over the back of my neck and shivered.

  There was a long moment of silence as he squeezed and rubbed, broken only by the sounds of my moans and groans. My body began to thrum, electricity building.

  “Doc?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

  “I thought we agreed I was staying here.”

  “No, I mean where are you sleeping in the house?”

  “I figured on the couch, why?”

  I turned in his arms. “Because I want you.”

  “Is the massage seducing you?”

  “No, you are.” I went up on my toes and kissed him. “I want you to make it all go away for a while. Wilda, Wanda, the phone call, Jeff.” And Tiffany’s words. “Take me somewhere else.”

  “But what about—”

  I didn’t let him finish, kissing away any “buts” until he was too focused on kissing me back to come up with more excuses. When we paused to catch our breaths, we were well on our way to steaming up the small window that looked out into the backyard. Thankfully the curtains were closed, because somewhere in the process of convincing him to have his wicked way with me tonight, my bra had slipped off and Doc’s hands had taken its place.

  “You want to stay in my room?”

  He groaned deep in his chest, his body obviously in favor of a slumber party in my bed. “That’s a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, but there are these to consider.” I lifted my sweater to show him what I had to offer.

  He sucked a breath in through his teeth, his eyes locked below my chin. “Your kids might wake up in the night.”

  I lowered my sweater. “How about if I didn’t actually sleep in there with you?”

  His gaze lifted to mine. “Am I reading between the lines correctly?”

  My fingernails scratched down his shirt, heading further south. “We could lock the door and make it a quick hour of debauchery.”

  “You
keep touching me like you are right now, Boots, and we won’t even need to leave the laundry room.”

  “Really?” I pressed the heel of my palm into him. “Tell me more.”

  “How about I show you?”

  I reached behind me and hit the lights, shrouding us in darkness. The faint glow of moonlight seeped through the curtains, shadowing his face.

  “Okay, Doc.” I breathed in the semidarkness. “Show me.”

  “Wait,” he stopped my hand. “What about your aunt?”

  “She’s working out in her glass shop until late tonight.” I unbuttoned his jeans. “You’re out of excuses, big boy.”

  “Tease,” he whispered and slid his hands inside the back of my velvet pants, his palms cupping me, hauling me against him. His lips came down on mine, hungry and fierce. The whirlwind of lust that came with his kiss made me dizzy. His heated touches made my whole body tremble in anticipation.

  “Doc,” I gasped at the ceiling when he rubbed me just right. “I … I …” I was trying to tell the man that I loved him, but the delicate stroke of his fingers blasted the words from my brain.

  The laundry room door creaked open, the light from the kitchen spotlighting us. Doc grabbed a shirt hanging from the rack and shielded us from view, while my brain tried to yank on the brake handle and stop my body from finishing what Doc had gotten rolling.

  “Hot damn!” Old man Harvey’s voice cut through the fog of lust in my brain, sounding the alarms. “Looks like I caught me a fox in the henhouse.”

  “Willis, would you please close the door for a moment,” Doc said, since my red face was currently hiding in his chest.

  “How about I go see a man about a mule and come back when my prostate finishes its usual drippity-jig?”

  The door closed. The room was dark again, thank God.

  I sighed, frustrated and mortified at the same time. “I’m going to put a lock on the laundry room door.”

  “Good thing I wasn’t wearing my lacy, red thong tonight.” Doc chuckled when I pinched his stomach.

  Five minutes later, clothes intact, we were in the kitchen keeping our hands to ourselves when Harvey moseyed back into the room. His grin reminded me of an upside-down rainbow, which matched his colorful suspenders. His beard looked combed and crumb free; his hair was slicked back.

  “What are you doing here, Harvey? I thought you had a big date tonight.”

  “I did. She wasn’t in the mood for hanky panky—unlike you two, so I dropped her off early and came to see if the rumor is true.”

  “What rumor?” Doc grabbed a beer from the fridge. He offered me one, but I shook my head. Harvey took it instead.

  “The one Coop was tellin’ me about when he stopped by earlier to grab some fresh clothes and his other Colt .45.”

  “What’s wrong with the gun Cooper carries already?” Did that mean one wasn’t enough these days?

  “Nothing. He’s lending it to Doc.”

  I hit Doc with a set of raised eyebrows.

  Doc shrugged and then took a swig of beer. “He wants me to keep it handy until they find whoever killed Wanda.”

  “Don’t you have to have some kind of permit to carry?”

  “Coop’s taking care of that for me.”

  Harvey pointed his beer bottle at me. “So, did you really get a call from the boogeyman like Coop said?”

  “It was more like a boogey-woman.”

  “Sounds to me like a job for your bodyguard.”

  “What do you think Doc is doing here?”

  Harvey snickered. “Judgin’ from that peepshow in the laundry room, I’d reckon his plan has more to do with playin’ with your body than guardin’ it.”

  Doc’s grin had GUILTY stamped all over it. “I was planning on multitasking when it came to Violet’s body.”

  “Me, too. Only mine included watchin’ a movie while I guarded it. Who’s game for the Duke tonight? After catchin’ you foolin’ around in her henhouse, I got an itch for some Rooster Cogburn.”

  * * *

  Tuesday, November 13th

  Harvey was still around come morning. He’d fallen asleep in Aunt Zoe’s recliner. Whether or not he’d stayed there, I wasn’t sure because I went up and fell asleep in my bed around midnight, knowing the film crew might show up the next day and beauty rest was a must when the cameras were rolling.

  Doc had still been down on the couch when I’d gone to bed. In the morning, the pillow next to me had an indent and smelled like him. The covers looked like someone had slept on top of them, but there were no other signs of him, not even down in the kitchen. Harvey confirmed Doc had left early to go to the Rec Center and asked the old goat to give me a message—I still owed him breakfast.

  That painted a happy face on my heart that lasted until I drove into the parking lot at work and my cell phone rang. The number was local. Warily I answered, “Hello?”

  “Is this Ms. Parker?” Detective Stone Hawke asked.

  I made a face at the sound of his voice. I’d almost rather the call had been from Wanda’s killer again.

  “Who’s calling?” I purposely played dumb.

  “Detective Hawke.” Even the sound of his breathing through the phone made me bristle. “You know, the policeman whose calls you’ve been avoiding.”

  “Your name rings a bell.”

  “You might want to write it down then, Ms. Parker, with your spotty memory and all. Or have you broken all of your pens in another one of your estrogen-fueled rages?”

  Ahhh, the dense cretin was still sore about that stupid pen of his I’d stomped into pieces. “Have you called to harass me, Detective, or is this a social call to compare outfits today?”

  That gave him pause. “I see that your sarcasm is just fine this morning in spite of your claim to have received a call from Wanda Carhart’s killer.”

  My claim? I ground my molars. Cooper must have told him about the call and Detective Hawke had taken it upon himself to poke holes in my story. “Is there a purpose for this call, Hawke?”

  “That’s Detective Hawke to you, Parker.”

  “That’s Ms. Parker to you, Hawke.”

  Judging from the intensity of his exhalations, his nostrils had to be flaring wide enough to fill with ping-pong balls. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re difficult to work with, Ms. Parker?”

  “Detective Cooper might have implied it once or twice.”

  “Do you realize that your defensiveness makes you seem suspicious?”

  I was in no mood to analyze my personality this morning with Detective Hawke. “Do you realize that your grandstanding makes you seem like an asshole?”

  He hung up on me.

  I stared at my phone in surprise. How in the planets had I managed that? I must have woken up with magical powers this morning.

  Collecting my purse, I headed toward Calamity Jane’s back door. Apparently, my magic quit working when I got inside, because Detective Hawke was waiting for me at my desk. He must have run across the street as soon as he hung up on me. Wonderful. Just wonderful. He really needed to use cologne that was less nose burning.

  Mona shot me an inquisitive look. Her SUV had been the only one in the lot, and I crossed my fingers and toes that we stayed the only two in the office until I could shoehorn Detective Hawke from the building.

  “Morning, Mona,” I said, avoiding eye contact with the surly detective standing at my desk. “That color of red makes your hair really shine. Is that cashmere?” I nodded at her sweater.

  “Let’s try this again, Ms. Parker,” Detective Hawke interrupted my morning pleasantries. His sideburns seemed extra bushy today, his eyes as beady as his namesake. “Maybe we can be more civilized in person.”

  I doubted it knowing me and my history of friction around alpha males. The mere sight of his mustard corduroy blazer had me gnashing my teeth on the inside, and his condescending smile was like a magnet for my size 8 boot. But if Detective Hawke played nice, and that was a Mount Rushmore sized IF, I might be a
ble to resist face-planting his smug mug on my desktop.

  “Okay, Detective Hawke. How are you this morning?”

  “Resolved.”

  I stuffed my purse in my drawer. “About what?”

  “You and that film crew will not step foot on Willis Harvey’s ranch.”

  Ah, so he had received the request I’d delivered per Jerry’s instructions. “You do realize that since Willis Harvey is my client, I have his permission to be on his property.”

  “Fine, you can go, but if I find out any filming was done, I’ll file charges against you for obstruction of justice.”

  I blew a raspberry. “Good luck making that stick.”

  I’d be sure to let Jerry know the Deadwood police’s answer to his filming request as soon as possible. For once, I was happy with something that had come out of Detective Hawke’s mouth.

  Hawke’s square jaw jutted. “I’m also curious.”

  I walked over to the coffeemaker so that I could do something other than look at the doofus. “Curious about what?”

  “If the phone call you claim to have received yesterday is legitimate.”

  “Why would I make up such a thing?”

  “To add cement to your alibi and throw the investigation off track.”

  I poured extra sugar in my coffee, crossing my fingers that the sweetness would work on my personality as well as my blood. “So, you think I fake-called myself from a burner phone?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  As was dumping my cup of hot coffee in his lap. “If we’re playing your game, then I also put the note in my purse that day Detective Cooper had me locked up behind bars.”

  “We have no proof you didn’t.”

  I glanced at Mona on my way back to my desk, my steaming, caffeinated weapon in hand. She was pretending to type, her brow pinched in a worried frown when she looked my way. I knew how she felt.

  “Okay, you think I faked the threatening call yesterday and the note. What else, Detective Hawke?”

  “What do you mean what else? Isn’t that enough?”

  “Nope.” I lowered myself into my chair. “I need more coffee in my system to understand your police subtlety. How about you spell out your purpose for being here with me today?”

  He shot a quick frown in Mona’s direction. “Maybe we should step outside.”