by Ann Charles
He stared at me for several seconds, his expression sobering. “You do realize this isn’t about your bedroom door, don’t you?”
I thought on that for a moment, letting it sink into my foggy brain. No, I didn’t. “Of course.”
“Your nose twitches when you lie, Boots.”
Covering my tell-tale appendage, I asked, “Okay, what’s it really about?”
Was it me? My morning makeup-less face? My breath? Hair? Or was it something deeper, like the commitment that came with sleeping semi-regularly in a single mother’s bed? Was he afraid if he had sex with me in my bed routinely with the kids down the hall that I’d think a wedding ring came next?
He picked up his duffle bag and hung it from his shoulder. “Think about it, and when you come up with a possibility, I’ll be all ears.” He bridged the distance and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Until then, beautiful, you know where to find me.”
“On the couch?”
He smiled and left. I watched him close the door behind him, wishing I’d stuck with Plan A for the day and stayed hidden under the covers.
The kitchen was empty, thank the stars. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone yet this morning, especially with the worries buzzing around my head thanks to Doc’s cryptic reply.
And men complained that women were hard to figure out.
Oh, that was rich.
Doc had made fresh coffee. I grabbed a quick breakfast of yogurt and toast, chugged down a cup of coffee, and headed back upstairs to shower and get dressed. Harvey and the kids were stirring by the time I was ready to go talk to Jerry.
“Thanks again, Harvey,” I said as he came down the stairs.
He helped me with my coat. “You owe me, girlie. How ‘bout ya leave me out of the Prudence field trip in return?”
“Nope. There’s no way I can handle Prudence and your prickly nephew on my own. You’re stuck, so quit trying to weasel out of it.”
Grumbling and sputtering, he waddled off toward the kitchen. I kissed each kid goodbye and threatened eternal grounding if they didn’t behave for Doc when he took them to “exercise” at the Rec Center after school.
There was a dusting of snow on the ground this morning, making it look like someone had dropped a big bag of flour above the town on Mount Moriah. The streets were clear without any slipping and sliding, the ground not cold enough to keep the snow from melting.
The Picklemobile wasn’t parked in Doc’s usual spot, but then I was a half an hour early coming into work this morning. Jerry’s Hummer was the only vehicle on the scene. I climbed down from my SUV, breathing in the fresh, cool pine-scented air as I made my way to Calamity Jane’s back door.
When I stepped inside, I could hear Jerry’s voice. His office lights were on but the door was shut. His voice was too clear for him to be behind a closed door. The bathroom was dark, the door open. I made my way out front and found Jerry sitting at Ben’s desk, talking on his cell phone.
“Sounds good, Dickie. We’ll meet you there in an hour.” He hung up and smiled at me as I set my purse down. “Good morning, Violet. Thanks for coming in early. This filming business has me burning the candle at both ends.”
Why him? He hadn’t shown up yesterday at The Old Prospector Hotel until the afternoon, and then he’d only stayed for an hour and left again.
“No problem.” I glanced down the hall toward his office. “Do you want to talk out here or in your office?”
“I don’t want to go in there right now,” he said, scowling in the direction of his office. “How did it go yesterday?” He leaned back in Ben’s chair, his fingers laced behind his head. “Did you have any luck with the ghosts that I’ve heard haunt the place?”
Hadn’t he been speaking with Dickie a moment ago? Surely Rosy had shown Dickie and Honey the Wilda footage. The clown doll shoved in the camera’s eye? I would think that piece of film would be gold for the show and Dickie would be raving about it on the streets of Deadwood. The idea of how this piece of film would affect my reputation and future as a Realtor had been one of my middle of the night worries last night, right after my nightmare about Caly stabbing me in the eye with a broken piece of glass over and over and immediately before the one where I woke up next to that half-burned clown cackling at me with its big frozen mouth.
“I’m not sure.” I played dumb, heading over to the coffee machine so my nose didn’t get all twitchy about my answer. “I didn’t notice anything while we were filming.” No lie there.
Until Rosy told everyone about the segment we’d caught with Wilda, I wasn’t going to say a peep.
“I liked your outfit yesterday. It turned out better than the pink one we’d discussed.”
I stirred some sugar into my coffee, waiting for the “but” that was sure to come. When it hadn’t by the time I tossed the stir stick in the trash and returned to my desk, I smiled. “Thanks. I tried to keep your clothing tips in mind when I picked it out. I spilled toothpaste on the pink dress.”
A note was stuck to my desk. Mona’s writing was on it, telling me she was still working on finding out if the owner of the Sugarloaf Building was interested in selling to Katrina King.
“Is the pink dress still usable?” Jerry asked.
“Sure. I dropped it off at the cleaners on the way to the shoot yesterday. They said the toothpaste should come out without a problem.”
“Good. You can wear it on Monday. Or maybe the white one with cherries on it.”
I wasn’t a fan of either dress, but the cherry covered dress made me cringe the most. “What’s Monday?”
“You’re on camera again.”
“I am?” I thought The Old Prospector Hotel had been my last gig.
“Yep. Ray overheard Mona making some phone calls about a place up in Lead called the Sugarloaf Building. He said it’s a well-known haunt, and he was able to get permission from the management company overseeing it to film on the bottom floor.”
I more or less fell into my chair. Why did it seem like someone or something was trying to get me into that building come hell or high water? “But I don’t know anything about the Sugarloaf Building.”
“Ray is putting a script together on it for you. He knows a little of its history and says he can come up with enough to satisfy Dickie and his crew.”
“Then maybe Ray should be the one on camera.”
Jerry snickered, shaking his head. “Ray’s no good on camera, Violet. He doesn’t shine as bright as you and Ben.”
I didn’t fully believe that, but I could tell Jerry had his mind made up, which meant I was stuck. “Okay, Monday I’ll wear whichever dress you choose.” Please not the cherry dress. “If you see Ray before I do, tell him I’ll need a day to go through the script so I can memorize it.”
“Will do.” He knocked twice on the desk, reminding me of a judge with a gavel. Court adjourned, onto the next hearing. “How are things going with Rex Conner?”
Not well enough, considering the bastard was still breathing. Maybe if I threatened Rex with my new medieval war hammer he’d leave me alone. “I haven’t really had time to work with him between both of our busy schedules.”
“How do you feel about letting Mona help out with finding him a place?”
It took everything I had not to hop up on my desktop and dance the Charleston. Mona, my guardian angel, had stepped in to help me. “I’m okay with that.”
“You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like she’s stealing your client.”
“Oh, I don’t feel that way even a little. I’d love to have her help with …” castrating the bastard, “… finding him a place to live.”
Two more knocks on Ben’s desk said we were done with that, too.
“Your client, Cornelius Curion, is supposed to be some kind of paranormal investigator, right?”
I nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. “He tells people that he can hear ghosts.” These days he wasn’t so happy about that fact, either. “Why do you ask?”
Jerry gri
maced, drawing circles on Ben’s desk with his finger. “I’d like to have him pay a visit to our office.”
“He’s been here before.”
“With his paranormal gadgets.”
I glanced back toward his office, where Doc had picked up the scent of Jane’s ghost last month. “You think we have a ghost in here?”
Again, his face scrunched up. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.” Jerry hadn’t really said one way or another, but for some reason I’d gotten the feeling he was a skeptic when it came to the paranormal world.
“I didn’t think I did either, but odd things have been happening here lately, especially in my office.”
“Like what?” Had he smelled Jane’s perfume? Did she tip his chair over with him in it like I suspected she had to Ray?
“I was the last one to leave here last night and the first one in this morning. When I arrived, I saw something in my office that has me scratching my head.”
“What?”
He stood and waved for me to follow him down the hallway. When we got to his office door, he unlocked it with a key and opened the door. “See for yourself.”
I stepped over the threshold and stopped short.
It was a déjà vu of the morning I’d walked in on Jane passed out at her desk after having had sex with Ray. The smell of her perfume was thick in the air. There were papers strewn about, file drawers and desk drawers left open, and one of the plants was knocked over. Heck, I could even pick up the faint smell of liquor in the room again.
Then I realized something else—the furniture was moved. When Jerry had taken over, he’d rearranged the desk and file cabinets, changing the room to suit his size and needs better. The furniture was now back where it had been pre-Jerry. Even the pictures on the walls were moved.
I turned to Jerry, my mouth open and catching flies. “When you left last night …” I started.
“The room was clean and the furniture set up the way I moved it after taking over.”
I returned to the doorway where he waited. “Are you sure somebody here isn’t playing tricks on you?”
“Oh, I think someone here is playing tricks all right, but it’s not any of my employees.” He left the lights on and closed the door behind me, locking it again.
“What do you mean?”
“I keep smelling her perfume when I’m in my office.”
“Whose perfume?” I knew exactly whose, but I was going to play dumb on this one.
He hesitated, running his fingers through his hair. “Violet, this is going to sound nuts, but I think my ex-wife is back.”
“Jane?” I wanted to make sure we were on the exact same page.
“Yes, and judging from my office, she’s not happy about the way I’m running things around here.”
The back door swung open, making me jerk in surprise. Mona blinked at the sight of us standing in the hall, then her eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Jerry said, leading us back out front. “Violet and I were discussing you taking over finding Rex Conner a place to live.” The look he shot me told me that he didn’t want Mona knowing about his ghost suspicions, so I returned to my desk without a word.
Mona seemed to accept Jerry at his word and went to pour herself some coffee.
Ben showed up a minute later and distracted both Jerry and Mona with a story about a car accident he’d witnessed on the way into work.
At exactly nine-twenty-eight I stepped out back and called Cornelius, as instructed. He answered and thanked me for the wake-up call, then wished me a good day and hung up. I returned to my desk grumbling about being confused for his secretary.
Two hours later, Mona and I were the only two left in the office. While she was busy on the phone, I figured it was a good time to step out back and call Zelda Britton about a visit from Cooper, Harvey, and me.
I buttoned my coat up to my neck, cursing that damned chicken for the buttons that were still missing, and dialed Zelda’s number. I had a couple of ideas on possible lies I could use to convince her, but I wanted to get a feel for how her day was going first. Who knew what living with Prudence was like? Wanda seemed fine with it, but she’d also witnessed her son kill her husband and then her daughter shoot her son. As sweet as she’d been, I’d always figured Wanda had a few screws loose after experiencing such carnage on a personal level.
Zelda Britton answered my call after a couple of rings.
“Zelda, it’s Violet Parker.”
“Violet, I’ve been thinking about you this morning.”
Really? “Is everything okay with the house?”
“Everything is wonderful.”
“Good. Listen, I was wondering,” I hesitated, licking my lips.
“You were wondering if you could come for a visit.”
Wow, she must be able to read minds through the phone. “Yes, but I won’t be alone.”
“That’s okay with me, but I’m not sure how Prudence will feel about company.”
“Prudence?” Had Zelda actually said that name aloud?
“She is who you’re coming to see, I presume.”
“Uhhh,” Zelda’s familiarity with Prudence had me twisting in the wind for a moment, trying to get a foothold.
“It’s not the house that has me thinking about you this morning, Violet, it’s Prudence. She told me you’d be coming to visit.”
“Did she happen to mention why I’d be coming?” I hoped Prudence hadn’t opened her big ghost mouth about my being an executioner.
“Yes, she did,” Zelda spoke nonchalantly, as if we were discussing the chance of more snow later tonight. “Prudence said you’re going to need her help avenging Wanda Carhart’s death.”
Chapter Fourteen
According to Zelda, Prudence demanded my presence at her home immediately. For a woman who had been dead and loitering around the house for over a century, Prudence sure was short in the patience department. Since my afternoon was wide open, I told Zelda I’d stop by after lunch.
After I hung up with Zelda I called Cooper. The last thing I wanted to do today was have tea and biscuits with a skeptical cop and a haughty ghost who thought her family line of executioners was superior to mine, but I knew from experience that avoiding either would make them even bigger pains in my ass.
The phone rang on Cooper’s end five times before he bothered to answer it. “Make it count, Parker,” was his greeting. “I don’t have time to listen to you prattle on about your nail color this morning.”
“You know what, Cooper? Screw you.” I hung up and cursed out several puffs of breath at the cold gray sky. This was the thanks I got for delivering on one of his demands?
“Lesson learned, Detective,” I told my phone.
My cell phone rang. I let out one more puff of steam and then took the call. “Are you going to be nice this time, Cooper?”
“The only reason ‘nice’ is part of my vocabulary around you, Parker, is because it’s your boyfriend’s last name. Now what do you need to talk to me about?” His tone was much less snippy this time, almost friendly. Almost.
“Meet me up at the Carhart’s place at one o’clock today.”
“What?! This is pretty short notice.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to clear an appointment to interrogate a ghost with your secretary first?”
“Watch that mouth, Parker. I can still arrest you.”
“For what?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “The list is long, trust me.”
“Yeah, but the question is—can you or your bumbling gumshoe partner make it all stick?” When he grumbled something unintelligible in reply, I smirked. “I thought not. Remember, this was your idea, not mine. Besides, I’m not the one who insisted we do this today, Prudence did.”
“A ghost is demanding our attendance?” he asked in a much quieter voice. Had someone walked within listening range? Detective Hawke? The Chief of Police?
�
��No, Prudence wants to see me as soon as possible. She believes I’m in need of her help avenging Wanda Carhart’s death. I’m merely bringing you along for your charming company as far as she is concerned.”
“Listen, Parker,” he lowered his voice even more, making me press my phone closer and plug my other ear. “You promised Nyce to keep your big nose out of this case. You’d better stick to that promise or things down here at the station are going to get messier concerning your status as a Suspect.”
“I gave Doc my word and I plan to stick to it. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be going to see Prudence. So, don’t start gnawing on me because the ghost you insist I introduce you to wants to talk to me about the death of a mutual acquaintance. And on that note, let me add up front that any snags in Wanda’s case that arise due to today’s visit are your fault, not mine.”
“I’ll remember this conversation when you’re knee deep in Wanda’s murder and calling me to save your ass.”
“You save my ass? Ha! Monkeys on broomsticks will fly out of it before that happens.”
“Jesus, Parker,” he paused to growl in the phone. “I swear, you’d argue with a fence post most days. Why do you always have to come at me shooting with both barrels?”
“Because your stinger is usually sticking half out.” I stole one of Harvey’s lines. “Now quit your bawling and meet me up at the Carhart house at one. And don’t be late. Prudence hates tardiness.”
I hung up before he could get in the last word and returned to my desk with hopes of burying myself in my job to kill time. After several long, worry-filled, unproductive minutes, Mona returned from lunch.
I grabbed my coat. “I have a house to show Detective Cooper,” I told her and headed for the door. She didn’t ask any questions, so there was no need to clarify that the house was known for its notorious past or that I’d already sold it last month.
I swung by Cooper’s place first to pick up Harvey on the way to the Carhart … make that Britton house. Maybe I should call it Prudence’s place from now on, since the other living residents came and went over the decades while she kept on being dead within its walls year after year.
After a minute of waiting for Harvey to come out, I honked the horn. He knew I was coming. I’d texted him before leaving work.
