by Ann Charles
“What day was the 9th?”
“Last Friday,” Cooper supplied.
“Let’s see, last Friday evening I was home with my children.”
“Do you have an alibi that will back you up on that?”
“Yes, two—those same children.”
“What time did they go to bed?”
I thought about that for a second or so. “Around eleven.”
“Isn’t that a little late for young children to be going to bed?”
His tone pricked me like a sharp needle. “It was a Friday night.”
“Do you often let your children stay up so late or was this a special occasion?”
“What time my kids go to bed is none of your business!” I was starting to get loud and I knew it, but who was this jackass to question me about my parenting?
“What’s with the questions about her kids?” Cooper asked Detective Hawke.
“She could’ve gone over to Wanda Carhart’s house earlier and killed her, and then returned home and purposely kept her kids awake so she’d have an alibi.”
“What kind of parent do you think I am?”
“For all I know, you could be the kind who kills innocent old women and then hides behind her kids.”
I glared at him, trying to make him go away with my mind powers. Unfortunately, my mind powers sucked.
“How would you describe your relationship with Wanda Carhart?” Detective Hawke asked.
“She was my client.” I thought about Wanda and the times she’d saved my life. “And a friend.”
“Do you make a habit of becoming friends with your clients?”
I hesitated on that question. Truth was, I had trouble differentiating between clients and friends much of the time. Doc and I were way beyond friendship, let alone client-Realtor relations. I was about to try to help Cornelius rid himself of a ghost via yet another séance. Harvey was my backup when it came to hauling my kids to and from school and declared himself to be my personal bodyguard. And Jeff Wymonds—well, I’d rather not think about Jeff and his lacy red thong, especially after my nightmare this morning.
However, there was one client that didn’t fit the bill. “I wouldn’t call Detective Cooper and me bosom buddies.” Although he was living in my boyfriend’s house at the moment and had been to supper at my aunt’s twice this week already.
“Were you aware of—”
The theme song to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly whistled from under my poncho again. I let it keep playing.
“What is that?”
“Was I aware of what, Detective Hawke?”
Hawke opened his mouth and then closed it again, frowning. “Don’t you hear that?”
My phone stopped suddenly. Harvey hung up, as planned. “Hear what?”
Hawke turned to his fellow detective. “What’s going on here?”
I peeked at Cooper, whose face was a blank slate. “You’re interrogating Parker about Wanda Carhart’s murder.”
“I know that,” he sounded disgusted, turning on me. “These silly games aren’t going to work, Parker.”
I pulled a pack of candy cigarettes from the pocket of my sheepskin vest and tapped one from the pack. “Listen, Detective Hawke, I have a job to get to, so if you could keep on track here, I’d appreciate it.”
“You can’t smoke in here,” he snapped at me.
I could see his edges starting to unravel.
“Oh, these aren’t real cigarettes.” I stuck one in my mouth. “It’s just candy.”
“Why do you have candy cigarettes?” he asked.
“Detective Hawke,” I said, “I’m having trouble understanding what candy cigarettes have to do with Wanda Carhart.”
I bit off the end of the candy cigarette and leaned forward to spit it into Cooper’s wastebasket, mimicking Eastwood in the movie.
Cooper muttered something behind me that sounded like, “Un-fucking-believable.”
Detective Hawke ran his hand through his rumpled dark hair. “Listen, Parker. This is no joking matter. A woman is dead here.”
“Not just any woman, Detective Hawke. My friend is dead.” I leaned forward, glaring up at him. “Do you see me laughing?”
Detective Hawke glared back at me, squint for squint.
My phone rang again, playing the whistling tune.
He jerked back at the song. “Shut that damned thing off.”
I reached inside of my poncho and hit the silence button on the side of my phone. “Detective Hawke,” I said, sitting back and lacing my fingers over my lap. “You know from Detective Cooper that I’m receiving the same messages that Wanda received. Why would I hurt my friend and send myself these messages when I have two kids I’m trying to raise?”
“Maybe there’s money in it for you. Wanda had recently received a sizeable inheritance.”
“I know about her aunt dying and leaving her a chunk of money. I know that Wanda’s dead husband and his lover had plans to take that money and move to Florida. I know that Millie and Lila Beaumont had probably hoped to get their hands on that money. But what does that have to do with me? I was in no way going to benefit from Wanda’s death. I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Now, if you’re done stomping about and pointing fingers at shadows, why don’t you tell me if you have something that ties me to this murder. If not, I’m walking out of here with my spurs a-jingling.”
Detective Hawke reached inside his blazer and pulled out a plastic bag with what looked like pictures in it. He tossed the bag on the desk in front of me.
“Here kitty, kitty,” he said.
I frowned at the bag but didn’t touch it. “Is that code for something?”
“No.” He opened the bag and pulled out the pictures, shuffling through them until he came to one that appeared to suit his fancy. “Here kitty, kitty,” he said again and held out a picture for me.
I took the picture and examined it. From what I could tell, the picture was of a mirror with words written on it. I realized I had it upside down and rotated it, reading under my breath, “Here kitty, kitty.”
“That was written in blood on the victim’s bathroom mirror.”
Written in Wanda’s blood? I grimaced and then repeated the words under my breath, my pulse picking up speed as another voice echoed it in my head.
“Wanda’s body was in the bathtub.”
“That’s enough, Hawke,” I heard Cooper’s voice in the distance as those damned words kept echoing in my head.
Here kitty, kitty.
“The old lady was torn into pieces, just like your ex-boss, Jane Grimes, had been at the bottom of the Open Cut.”
In my memory, I heard the sound of something metal being dragged across bathroom stall doors.
Here kitty, kitty.
My breath whooshed from my lungs as if invisible arms had wrapped around me and squeezed tight.
“Violet,” Cooper said, standing in front of me.
“See,” I heard Detective Hawke say. “I told you she’d know something. She always seems to have inside information when it comes to your case files. How you can think she’s not in on this is beyond me.”
My heart was pounding its way up my throat. I looked away from the picture, letting it hang between my knees, and latched onto Cooper’s steely stare.
Whatever Cooper saw in my eyes made his jaw tighten. “Hawke, go get some water.”
“I’m not your errand boy.”
“Just go!” Cooper’s tone left no room for arguing, yet Hawke bickered and tossed a dirty look our way as he left.
As soon as the door closed, Cooper pinched my outer thigh.
“Ouch!” I cried, smacking his hand away. “Damn it, Cooper, that hurt.”
“Good. Now what’s the deal with that mirror?”
“She’s back,” I whispered as if she’d hear me if I spoke too loud. “Here kitty, kitty was what she called when she was hunting me down that night in the
Opera House.”
“Parker, who are you talking about?” When I didn’t answer right away, he threatened to pinch me again.
I lifted the picture, holding it in front of his face. “I’m talking about Calypso, Dominick Masterson’s minion. This message on the mirror is for me.”
He took the picture from me and frowned at it. “You mean that white-haired girl who used to run the tours at the Opera House?”
“Bingo. Caly’s back, and it looks like she’s on the hunt again.”
Chapter Eleven
An hour and plenty of knuckle-chewing later, I sat at my desk in Calamity Jane’s and stared blankly at my computer screen.
There’d been no word yet from Doc about how his visit had gone with Cornelius and any of his ghostly lemmings. I’d picked up my cell phone to call Doc so many times that I’d finally given the damned thing to Mona, my only coworker in the office this morning, and told her to let me have it only if someone called.
Katrina King-Mann had rescheduled this morning’s appointment, moving it from nine to eleven, thankfully. I needed those extra two hours to stop my world from cartwheeling enough to handle a meeting with the ex-wife of the philanderer whose secret lover had tried to kill me.
Good old small towns and the twisted relationships tangled up in their nets.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Vi?” Mona asked.
She’d checked on my well-being multiple times since I’d stumbled through the front door with my spurs jangling. After leaving the police station, I’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Caly and what she’d done that night not so long ago in the Opera House bathroom that I’d neglected to go home and change.
“I’m fine,” I told her and returned to my stare down with my computer. “I just need a few more minutes to work something out.”
“You know, when something is bothering me, I either talk to a good friend or write my thoughts down on a piece of paper.”
“Trust me on this, Mona, you don’t want to know what’s going on.” I grabbed a pen and paper, taking her up on her other advice though, and started with what I knew about my current location several miles up shit creek:
—Caly killed Wanda.
—Caly wants to kill me next.
—Caly is an “other” who belongs to the same species as the albino-like twins.
—Caly worked for Dominick Masterson.
—Dominick disappeared the night of the Opera House showdown between Caly and me.
—Dominick warned me, “Now it’s in your hands.”
—Dominick owns the Sugarloaf Building.
—Reid needs to go into the Sugarloaf Building for some reason.
—Katrina is interested in the Sugarloaf Building.
—Something dangerous is living in the Sugarloaf Building according to Aunt Zoe.
—Detective Hawke believes I’m dangerous and that I had a hand in killing Wanda.
—Detective Hawke is a thick-skulled buffoon who dresses like a 1970s private dick.
—Detective Hawke gets all pissy when I call him a prick.
—Cooper says I have to stop making fun of Hawke in front of other police officers, especially while standing in the middle of the police station.
—Cooper believes me about Prudence’s warning to check up on Wanda.
—Cooper wants to meet Prudence.
I laid my pen down and sat back, frowning down at my list. Even though I hadn’t really solved anything during that ink gusher, my thoughts felt a little less chaotic for the time being.
Although that last one still had me spinning.
Cooper had sprung that request on me while we stood outside of the station. I wasn’t sure how to orchestrate such a meeting since the Brittons now lived in the Carhart house with Prudence, or if it was even a good idea. Prudence was a stubborn ghost who played by her own rules. I could try to bring that horse to water, but there was no way of making her drink if she wasn’t in the mood.
The office’s front door opened. I forced a smile and looked up … right into Rex Conner’s sneer. His disheveled blond hair matched his wrinkled shirt and crooked tie.
He stormed over to my desk. “We need to talk outside right now,” he spoke low and tersely.
Mona’s clacking stopped. “Is there something we can help you with today, Mr. Conner?” she intervened.
His glare stayed fixed on me. “I need to speak with Violet in private about a particular location I’m interested in seeing again.”
There was no way in hell I was going anywhere with him, not after how touchy-feely he’d gotten more than once.
“We can talk here about this,” I said, in no mood to boogie to his tune today. I had a revenge-crazed killer coming for me. A selfish ex-lover would have to wait for an opening on my dance card. “Mona is aware of your needs.”
That was a bald-faced lie. She didn’t know Rex was the father of my children. But to hell with it, maybe now was as good a time as any to come clean with her on this mess, too.
“Violet,” Rex’s voice grew more threatening. “Step outside with me.”
I turned to Mona, who was watching the two of us over the top of her reading glasses. “She knows you’re the sperm donor, Rex.” With that cat out of the bag, I focused on the bastard. “Now what do you want?”
His gaze narrowed. “Leave my car alone.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you think these little games of yours will derail me you can think again.”
“Rex.” I sat back, crossing my arms over my poncho. “Whatever you’re accusing me of is unfounded. I don’t have time to play these ‘little games’ of which you speak. I’m raising two children without any financial support, remember?”
He put both hands on my desk, leaning closer. “Stop calling me every thirty minutes and breathing into the phone.”
My surprise at his words was the real deal. “I haven’t called you.” I didn’t even know where I’d put the business card he’d left. I’d thought it was in my purse, but when I had gone to dig his card out and throw it away before my nosy daughter found it, it had been gone. “I made a point of not retaining your phone number.”
His upper lip curled in a snarl. “I don’t believe you.”
I hooked my foot around the desk leg and yanked. Rex stumbled forward, sprawling across my desk and sending papers and my costume fedora flying. That trick was really starting to come in handy.
I stood, smiling down at him. “Gotta watch this desk. It has a way of bucking assholes.”
He pushed himself back upright. “You did that on purpose.”
“I think it’s time for you to go.”
“We’re not done.”
“Oh, I think we are for now.” I grabbed my hat from the floor and then made for the front door. “I’d hate to have to call my good friend, Detective Cooper,” I fibbed over my shoulder, “and have him throw you out of here.”
He strolled toward me, chin high, back to being cock of the walk. “Is he your new fuck buddy?”
I flinched. I couldn’t help it. Whenever anybody mentioned Cooper in that role it made me recoil. Cooper was way too sharp-toothed and sandpapery for my taste in bedfellows. It would be like skinny-dipping with a great white shark.
“I’m not going to justify that crude question with an answer.” I raised my chin at Rex. “But to be clear, I’m still in a relationship with the guy who lifted you off this very floor and threatened to remove your kidneys.”
He scoffed. “You’re the one who threatened to remove my kidneys.”
“That’s right.” I held the door for him, a blast of cold air finding the holes in my poncho. “Aunt Zoe has the perfect fish gutting knife for the task.”
He paused on the threshold. “Prank call me or touch my car again, and I’ll pay a visit to the kids, tell them a story or two about their mother.”
“Step one foot on Aunt Zoe’s property and I’ll fill you full of rock salt.”
He b
ent closer, his usually cool blue eyes flashing hot. “You don’t want to fuck with me, Violet.”
“You’re right about that.” I reached up and locked onto his nose in a Three Stooges style pinch, twisting it.
He howled, dropping to his knees in pain.
“Watch where you stick this thing, Rex.” I twisted his nose the other way, toward the street. “The next time you shove it into my life, I’ll break it, I swear.”
With a push between the shoulder blades, I sent him outside nose first and slammed the door behind him, locking it.
Across the room, Mona was standing behind her desk, her mouth and eyes wide.
“Is he glaring in at me?” I asked, my back to the door.
She nodded.
I raised my left hand and flipped him off through the glass, then walked over to the coffeemaker and poured myself a cup of acid-inducer in case I needed to breathe fire on the son of a bitch to make him go away.
“He’s gone.” Mona fell into her chair. Her focus stayed locked on me as I returned to my desk and settled back into my seat. “So, that’s what’s going on between Rex Conner and you.”
I nodded. “Now you know.”
“I thought Addy and Layne’s father left you when you were pregnant and wanted nothing else to do with you and the kids.”
“That used to be correct.”
“But now he’s back.”
“And insisting on me finding him a place to live.”
“Oh, Lordy.” She pursed her lips.
“He’s working at the research lab up in Lead for the next year or so.”
“If he wanted nothing to do with his kids, why is he bothering you?”
“He wants me and the kids to play ‘family’ with him in front of his family-oriented bosses so that he can land some big promotion.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.” I sipped on the black coffee. “If I don’t agree to play the part of loving wife and mother, he’s threatening to tell the kids he’s their father. If I do agree to play his game, we’ll play family for a short time with the kids thinking he’s just a boyfriend. Then he’ll go on his merry way, leaving us alone again.”
