by Ann Charles
“She keeps stomping around up in the attic and yelling.”
How very ghostlike of her. Maybe I should bring along some chains for her to rattle next time I paid a visit. Wouldn’t that just piss off the haughty spook. “Yelling what?”
“Something about a Duzarx.”
“A what?” Where had I heard that word before?
“A Duz—” Zelda stopped and was silent for a few seconds. “There she goes again. Violet, I’m worried about her. Can you come over here and calm her down?”
I scoffed. Every time I went near Prudence she proclaimed how disgusted she was with my boorish lineage and threatened to pull out one of my canine teeth to add to her macabre tooth collection.
“I don’t think I’ll be much help, Zelda.” Especially on my own. I usually preferred to take someone along with me as a backup when I visited Prudence, like Harvey, or anyone with a steady heartbeat. Even after all I’d been through since moving to Deadwood last year, the dead Executioner’s parlor tricks often made my feet itch to run far and fast.
Zelda let out a squeak. “Oh my, she’s really getting loud now. Violet, I need you here. Prudence is scaring me.”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. Crikey! After the day I’d had so far, the last thing I wanted to do was face off with Prudence. But Zelda was my friend, and a situation like this wasn’t something she could ask just any old Tom, Dick, or Cooper to handle, let alone Detective Hawke or any of those snickering chimps down at the cop shop who enjoyed throwing bananas and poo at me whenever I got dragged into the station after being wrongly accused again for yet another … I stopped that runaway thought train and took a calming breath, returning to the problem at hand—Prudence.
“Please, Violet,” Zelda whispered.
I caved. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Maybe Harvey was at home cleaning Bessie, his favorite shotgun, and could go with me.
“Hurry,” she said and hung up.
“What’s wrong?” Mona asked as I collected my keys and purse from my desk drawer. “Is Zelda okay?”
“She’s fine.” No lie there. It was Prudence who appeared to be having a meltdown. “I just need to help her … uh …” I hesitated, feeling my face warm under Mona’s steady gaze. “Deal with an upset neighbor,” I finished. That was sort of true, too.
One of Mona’s expertly shaped eyebrows lifted. “She called you for help with an irate neighbor?”
“Yeah.”
“Rather than contacting the police?”
I nodded.
“You don’t really expect me to buy that story, do you?”
“Of course. It’s mostly the truth.” I rushed past her. “I probably won’t be back today. If Jerry returns from Rapid before you leave, ask him what I’m supposed to wear to this damned party of his.”
Hell, knowing Jerry, he’d probably already bought a new ruffle-covered pink ensemble for me.
“Violet,” Mona called after me, but I kept walking.
“Bye, Mona. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I flew out the back door and ran smack-dab into Cornelius Curion, our upstairs neighbor who’d been hired by Jerry to spend his days and nights searching Calamity Jane Realty’s airwaves for ghost chatter—in particular that coming from Jerry’s dead ex-wife, Jane, who also happened to be my previous boss.
I’d first met Cornelius last summer when he’d shown up out of the blue at Calamity Jane’s looking like Abe Lincoln’s doppelganger. The paranormal investigator announced he wanted me to help him buy a haunted hotel and then confided that he could chat with the dead. Since money didn’t grow on trees in the Black Hills, I’d agreed to be his agent in spite of his many, many eccentricities. Fast forward several months and multiple séances shared, and now the fellow misfit periodically joined my family at the dinner table when he wasn’t too busy hunting down ghosts.
Our collision knocked me sideways and sent Cornelius spinning in the slush.
“Great Scott!” Cornelius said when he’d regained his balance. “You hit me like an incoming meteor, Violet.”
I looked him over, taking in his black jeans, long wool coat, and crooked Russian Cossack hat. An idea sparked. “What are you doing right now?”
He straightened his hat. “I am in need of some protein.”
“Hold that thought.” I grabbed him by the coat sleeve and started tugging him along behind me. “You’re coming with me first.”
He dragged anchor. “But I’m hungry. I need protein in the next twenty-three minutes or I risk spiraling into a physical condition I rarely enjoy.”
I looked up into his cornflower blue eyes. “You mean low blood sugar?”
“Worse. Hiccups.”
I rolled my eyes and tugged on his sleeve again. “I’ll find you some protein along the way so you can avoid those deadly hiccups.”
“Poke fun, Violet,” he said as we neared my SUV. “But hiccups can be the precursor of something much worse.”
“Like what?” I asked holding open the passenger door for him. “Charges for disturbing the public?” I could see Detective Hawke trying to use them against me out of desperation.
“Kidney failure, for starters.” He held up one long, bony finger and then began ticking off his other fingers. “As well as digestive issues, lung tumors, and even a heart attack.”
“No shit?” Cornelius might appear to be one bubble off-plumb at times, but the man knew his random facts better than Cooper knew his guns. “Well, then we’d better get you fed.” I closed his door. Maybe Zelda would have something to feed him.
The thick bank of clouds now cluttered the western horizon. The last of the sun’s rays had been swallowed whole, leaving Deadwood to limp along in growing darkness. I could have used less gloom and doom ambiance for my trip to see Prudence, but beggars and Executioners couldn’t be choosers.
After I settled in behind the wheel, Cornelius asked, “Where are you dragging me off to, Violet?”
“To meet a ghost.”
“Really?” He stroked his pointy black goatee. “That might present a problem.”
“Why?” He was no stranger to the wispy folks, claiming to prefer them to the living most days.
“I should be wearing a different hat.”
I glanced over at his furry headpiece. “What’s wrong with what you have on?” Besides it looking like some sort of wild animal that might come to life and bite me at any moment?
“It tends to irritate the dead.”
Not only the dead.
I started the engine, turned on my headlights, and shifted into reverse, thinking about the way Zelda had described Prudence stomping and shouting. “Don’t worry. That hat won’t make much of a difference with the ghost we’re meeting today.”
At least I hoped not.
Chapter Three
What in the hell was a Duzarx and where had I heard that name before?
Maybe my son had mentioned it. Layne was certainly reading all of the mythology books he could get his hands on these days. His quest for knowledge was pretty much an obsession. Unlike Addy, his twin sister, whose goal of late had been to convince me she needed a pet frog so she could train it to ride on Elvis-the-chicken’s back and enter them as a team in Deadwood’s upcoming chicken races this Easter, Layne preferred to scour the pages of a book for entertainment.
Cornelius and I were passing under the towering trestle sign that greeted visitors driving into Lead when my cell phone rang again.
Thinking maybe Zelda had changed her mind about needing me, I fished my phone from my purse, careful to keep my eyes on the oncoming snowplow hogging the road, and held it out toward Cornelius. “Here.”
He didn’t take it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Answer it.” I nudged his arm with the phone.
He tipped his head and looked down at the screen. “It’s not for me.”
“Of course it’s not for you. It’s my phone.”
“Then you should answer it.”
&nbs
p; “Criminy, Cornelius, would you just answer the freaking thing and put it on speakerphone for me so I can focus on not crashing.”
“Your aggression levels appear to be spiking today.” He took the phone, which continued to ring, but wouldn’t for much longer if he didn’t hurry up and hit the button.
“Who’s calling me?” I asked as he stared down at the screen.
“Someone named Gomez.”
As in Gomez Addams from The Addams Family, my favorite Goth loverboy. “That’s Doc.”
“What’s Doc?”
“Gomez.”
“Who’s Gomez?”
“Doc.”
“You’re not making any sense, Violet. I must be extremely low on protein.”
“ ‘Gomez’ is my nickname for Doc.”
“You mean the Tall Medium?”
Which was Cornelius’s nickname for Doc. “Yes!”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“Just hit the stupid button!”
The snowplow blew past, plastering my window with dirty slush.
“Fine, but I don’t like sharing phone germs with you. There’s a rather troubling cold going arou—”
“Cornelius!” I yelled in the cab, making us both wince.
He accepted the call, holding the phone out toward me with the very tips of his fingers, as though it were a dirty diaper.
I reached out and tapped the speakerphone option, and then made a shushing motion to Cornelius. “Hi, Doc.”
I wasn’t sure how Doc would feel about me taking Abe Jr. up to meet Prudence, and at this point I really didn’t want to overthink what could happen when they met. Wasn’t there some saying about unplanned days and spontaneous nights making the best memories? Yeah, that’s what this trip would be when it was all over, a fun memory.
I ignored the tight knot of worry in my chest that hinted things might go south in a flying-human-cannonball way and focused on sounding bright and sunny. “How’s Spearfish this afternoon?”
Doc had headed over this morning to meet with a couple of new clients interested in having him work his magic with their money. With the holidays behind us and tax season on the horizon, Doc’s financial planning business had ramped up again, keeping him working late into the night at times.
“Cold and snowy, Killer. I have one more appointment and then I’m heading back to Deadwood.” Through the phone speaker, I heard the sound of his truck door slam. “I got the oddest text from Harvey a bit ago.” His voice was coming through louder now, his surroundings more muted. “He wrote something about you beating up Coop and freeing some kind of weird critter.”
I grimaced. I’d planned to explain this afternoon’s events at the Sugarloaf Building to Doc in person after he was done thinking about numbers and dollars. There was no need to distract him at work with what was probably no big deal. At least I hoped it wasn’t a big deal. It was one tiny gremlin—or an imp, or whatever that ugly creature was. How much trouble could something no bigger than a cat cause?
“Harvey has a bucket mouth,” I grumbled.
Doc’s low chuckle came through the speaker. “So, what happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Give me the abbreviated version.”
“Uhhhh, let’s see. I sort of walloped Cooper a couple times with my purse, and then I belted a little gremlin out an upstairs window.”
Several beats of silence followed, along with a double take from Cornelius.
“That doesn’t clear up anything for me,” Doc said.
“I told you it’s a longer story.”
“A little gremlin?”
“Teeny-tiny. It might be an imp, I don’t know.” So maybe I was exaggerating a hair. Now was not the time to delve into size specifics.
“A gremlin or an imp?”
“I’ll explain more at supper.”
“I’ll be all ears.”
Through the phone, I heard the sound of the pickup engine turning over. Doc was driving Harvey’s old green Ford, the Picklemobile, these days. He had the old beast running much smoother than when I’d motored around in it after my Bronco was torched by a crazy bitch in heat.
“Whose turn is it to cook tonight?” Doc asked.
“Reid’s, I think.”
I slowed as we wound through a shallow valley with the Sugarloaf Building overlooking us on one hillside and Homestake’s remaining buildings on the other. The stone walls of the Open Cut, a huge open pit mine left over from Homestake’s glory days, loomed ahead on the right. I could see the upper half of Zelda’s house high up on the edge. I blew out a breath, trying to prepare mentally to face off with a snooty ghost.
“Did you say Reid?” Doc asked.
“Yep. And supper is going to be an hour later than normal, because we have to wait for Reid to get off work.”
“Since when is your aunt allowing her old flame to come over and cook food in her kitchen?”
“Since she has a new glass order that’s keeping her busy out in her workshop day and night.” Aunt Zoe made all sorts of fancy glass pieces in her workshop behind the house, some for custom orders by various gallery owners throughout the West and others to sell out of her small store on Main Street. “Reid offered to take her turn at the stove in exchange for letting him join us tonight.”
“More like join her,” Doc said.
“Exactly.”
Reid had been trying to win Aunt Zoe back for months, and he was really cranking up his efforts now that Dominick had threatened to steal Aunt Zoe away. Although Dominick was cheating, using some kind of enchanted charm mumbo-jumbo that turned most folks in his path into starry-eyed fools. So far, only Harvey and I were able to resist his strange magic—me because I was genetically immune to Dominick’s kind, and Harvey because … well, nobody knew why. Maybe he was just too ornery to be wooed by the slick devil.
A young punk in a souped-up Mitsubishi sped out of the mine’s visitor center parking lot and nearly clipped the passenger side of my front bumper. I slammed on the brakes and swerved the other way, making Cornelius drop the phone onto the floorboard on my side.
“Nice driving, dick!” I yelled at the windshield.
“Violet?” Doc’s voice came from the floor near my feet. “Where are you?”
I scooped up the phone and handed it back to Cornelius. “In my Honda.”
“Going where?”
I wanted to fib, but it was Doc on the line, and we’d agreed to be honest with each other at all times, especially when it came to paranormal fun and games. “I’m going to see Prudence.”
Silence came from his end of the call once again.
“Why would you go there?”
“Would you believe I’ve missed her and felt like dropping in to enjoy some hot chocolate with a side of her contempt?”
He scoffed. “Try again, Killer.”
“Prudence is upset about something called a Duzarx and she’s making a commotion in the attic, which is freaking out Zelda, who called and asked me to come help calm her down.”
A glance at Cornelius found him staring back at me with his black eyebrows wrinkled.
Duzarx? he mouthed.
I shrugged and nodded.
“Christ,” Doc muttered. “I should cancel this last appointment and head up there to go with you.”
“I’ll be fine, Doc. Don’t worry about me.”
“Who are you trying to kid? You hate going anywhere near Prudence on days when she’s not agitated, let alone when she’s snorting fire.”
“That’s true, but Zelda will be there.”
“Right,” he said, his tone doubtful. “Zelda doesn’t count since she and Prudence share the same ‘vessel’ during your chats. Who else are you taking with you?”
“What makes you think I’m taking anyone else? I’m a big girl, you know.”
“Violet,” he said simply.
“Cornelius is here,” I ’fessed up.
Silence again, this time long enough that I
glanced at the phone to make sure we hadn’t lost the connection. “You still there, Doc?”
“Is he in the vehicle with you right now?” Doc asked.
“Yes.”
“And you have me on speakerphone?”
I shrank away from the phone, anticipating Doc’s reaction to my answer. “Yes.”
He sighed. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“No. I probably should’ve come clean about having you on speakerphone right out of the gate,” I joked and forced out a few chuckles.
Doc didn’t chuckle back.
“The Tall Medium is not laughing,” Cornelius said, pointing out the obvious.
“I know. My ears are working.” Maybe not my brain so much at the moment, but it had a good excuse for going offline. Dealing with Prudence was tough on my gray matter.
“Perhaps he does not understand your style of humor,” Cornelius continued. “It’s a common problem between people from different cultures.”
“We’re not from different cultures.”
“He’s an Oracle.”
“That’s just a title.” Okay, so maybe it was more than a title, but Doc still bled red, just like me, and all of his parts were regular man parts. I pictured him fresh out of the shower. Or not so regular, I thought, and smiled.
“According to my research,” Cornelius said, ruining my short, post-shower fantasy, “Oracles are descendants of the ancient realms.”
“What’s your point?”
“Your breed is more of a common mutt.”
He was already sounding like Prudence and we hadn’t even reached her street yet. I held my fist under his nose. “Call me a mutt again and I’ll rearrange your—”
“Violet,” Doc interrupted us. “Have you considered the possible outcomes of an encounter between an ethereal entity with medium abilities and the spiritual-world equivalent of a pied piper?”
It took me a moment to figure out who was who in his question.
“Maybe,” I answered.
“Maybe?” Doc’s voice sounded higher.
“Listen, Cornelius has seen plenty of ghosts over the years thanks to his paranormal investigator gig, so he shouldn’t be too spooked by Prudence.”
Hell, according to what Cornelius had told me before, he’d spent a good amount of his adult life, along with a sizable chunk of his large inheritance, chasing much scarier entities in the dark with those expensive ghost-hunting contraptions of his.
