by Ann Charles
“Not as bad as Dominick.”
“That’s debatable on several levels.”
I took her hand, holding her knuckles to my cheek. She smelled like the candy apple lotion my mother brought her yesterday as a thank-you gift for hosting dinner. “I’m here if you need me.”
“I do need you, at least until I figure out how to block Dominick.” She patted my cheek, grinning at me. “Then you can keep your cute nose out of my love life, Violet Lynn.”
I scrunched up my face at her. “Fat chance, hot stuff.”
“So you and Doc are okay?”
I faked a swoon.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And the kids?”
I shrugged. “As far as they are concerned, it’s status quo for now.”
“Great. You need something to be going right for you with everything else in your life being so screwed up.”
“Hear, hear.” I finished my coffee, heading for the sink.
“What’s on your plate today?” she asked.
“House hunting with Cooper and Nat.”
“Natalie is going along, too?”
I nodded, leaning against the counter.
“Are you playing cupid?” she asked. “If so, you might make an even bigger mess than what happened when Nat thought she liked Doc.”
I held up my hand. “I promise not to play cupid today.”
“Then why take her along? Or was that Cooper’s idea?”
“Actually, he’s sort of not in favor of it.”
“Really?”
“He’s worried about seeing ghosts with her as a witness.”
“Ahhhh. But you’re going to include her anyway?”
I smiled. “It’s good for Cooper.”
“Maybe.” One of her eyebrows lifted. “But is it good for Natalie’s sabbatical?”
* * *
Old Man Winter had coated Deadwood’s Presidential District in a white, sparkling cloak. The deep blue sky made the cold air seem fresher, cleaner. I’d forgotten how happy snowy mornings in the Black Hills made me. Then again, there was the Doc factor still making me whistle under my breath while memories of yesterday in his bed kept those cockles in my heart superheated.
Cooper skidded and spun up Lincoln Avenue. Doc had been right. Being in the passenger seat with Cooper at the wheel had my palms much drier, especially since slipping backward down the hill would result in the police department’s vehicle being banged up and not my Honda.
“This is only like four blocks from Doc’s place,” Natalie said from the back seat as Cooper pulled into the driveway of a 1930s California-style bungalow that Mona had recently put on the market. Natalie sat behind Cooper, sipping on the coffee she’d made him stop for after what she said was a “busy night.” What she meant, I wasn’t sure yet, but I had plans to find out before the day was over.
“I thought the two boys could have play dates together,” I joked.
“Shut up, Parker.” Cooper was still scratchy when he picked me up at work, but more like a month-old, worn dish scouring pad that was starting to stink. Not that he stank, because he’d used my soap again this morning—mint chocolate, if my nose was working right.
“You’re a broken record today,” I told him as he parked and shut off the engine.
The three of us stared out at the one and a half story house with its sloping roof and dormer window facing the road. A partial front porch had been glassed in for the winter.
“It’s pink.” Cooper scowled.
“You can repaint the siding whatever color your spiky heart desires.”
“The chimney is missing a few bricks.”
“A few bricks short of a chimney,” Natalie said, laughing at her own joke. “That reminds me of you, Vi.”
“Stick to your day job, peanut gallery,” I said. “Which is why we brought you along.” I turned to Cooper. “You should have brought the police rig with a cage for the laughing hyena in the back seat.”
“She would have chewed through the wire in no time.”
“True. Her teeth aren’t super sharp, but her bite can pulverize.” I pointed toward the house. “Nat, can you fix that chimney pretty easily?”
“That depends on the shape of the chinking between the brick.”
“That means Layne’s superglue won’t do the trick,” I jested to Cooper.
“This is a busy road,” Cooper complained.
I looked up and down the empty street. Had we been in the Old West, a tumbleweed would have rolled across it. “You’re right. Interstate 90 is a wagon trail compared to this bustling freeway.”
“In the summer, Parker, this road is loaded with tour buses and cars heading up to Mount Moriah.”
“Like you’re ever home in the summer.” Natalie took my side.
“Yeah, what she said.”
He stared in the rearview mirror. “Keep it up, Beals, and I’ll handcuff you to the oh-shit handle behind Parker’s head.”
She chuckled. “Now you’re just flirting with me, Coop.”
I reached for the door handle. “Should we—”
Cooper hit the automatic door lock. “Hold on a second, Parker. While I have both of you captive, I have a question.” He looked from me to Natalie in the mirror. “Which one of you two messed with the tracking program I put on Parker’s phone?”
“Ummm” was my brilliant answer.
“I don’t know what you’re—” Natalie started.
“Don’t, Beals.” He turned in his seat and hit her with a hard direct stare. “Do not treat me like Detective Hawke. I want an answer.”
I opened my mouth to take the blame, but Natalie cut me off. “It was me.”
“Why?” he asked.
She held his stare, not shying away. “Because it’s Violet.”
“Where’s the line?”
“Which line is that?”
“The one at the border of how far you’ll go for Parker?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t reached it yet, but if I do I’ll send you a postcard.”
He turned back to the front. “That’s some loyalty.”
“It’s called love, Coop. You should try it some day. You might smile more often.” She leaned forward, sniffing between us. “By the way, what’s that smell? Do you have an air freshener hidden somewhere in here? It smells like mint chocolate ice cream.”
“He used my soap again,” I told her, still watching Cooper to see if he was going to keep his rubber gloves on or return to being my client.
He cast a smirk in my direction. “Parker doesn’t have any regular soap.”
“You can blame Doc for that,” Natalie said.
“Hey, no picking on Doc when he’s not here to defend himself.” I pulled on the door handle, looking at the mint chocolate-scented detective. “What do you say, Cooper? You want to take a look inside?”
He hit the unlock button. “It’s pink.”
“It’s more of a salmon color,” Natalie said, handing her coffee to me to stick in the cup holder.
“There’s a nice garage for your Harley. Focus on that, Grumpy Pants.” I pushed open the door.
Cooper got the door for Natalie since it could only be opened from the outside. The two of them trailed behind me onto the porch, waiting while I fished out the key. I led the way inside, pausing to take off my boots on the rug provided. Natalie followed suit. I grabbed a pair of booties from the sideboard next to the door, holding them out to Cooper.
Pushing them away, he took off his black snow boots and set them outside on the porch.
The front door opened to a cozy living room with polished wood floors and several thick white shag rugs. I could see Mona’s usual professional touches, like the vase of silk flowers on the ornate tile mantel, the subtle smell of cinnamon from the bowl of potpourri on the bookcase next to the door, and the beaded throw pillows she often used to dress up a couch.
Natalie crossed to the fireplace, pulling out the flashlight she’d brough
t along. She checked out the fireplace and then up the chimney. “The chimney looks like it’s in good shape on the inside.”
An open dining room adjoined the living room, the table set with holiday napkins and plates, another one of Mona’s touches.
“This is adorable,” Natalie said, following me into the dining room. She paused to take a closer look at the dinner plates, holding one out toward me. “Look, Vi, they have tiny Santas in sleighs circling the edges. We should get some of these for your kids.”
“You mean for them to break?”
She rolled her eyes and set the plate down. “You’re such a mom.”
Cooper brought up the rear, his focus darting around the room, his face rigid, unreadable.
The small kitchen was cute as a button, lined with well-crafted built-in cupboards with windowpane glass fronts. The sink was farm-style with a curtain hanging below that matched the other window dressings.
“Maybe I should sell my place and grab this one up,” Natalie said, sliding open a barn-style door to reveal a compact pantry.
Cooper grunted and moved on without us. I left Natalie to her nook and cranny inspection and found him a few minutes later upstairs in a long open room, ducking his head due to the sloped ceiling.
“It’s a little low,” I said and promptly bumped my head. “My kids would love this, though.”
“Maybe you should move in here.”
“I’m partial to Aunt Zoe’s.” At least until Doc offered his place.
I pondered that idea for a moment, trying to picture my kids in his place. For starters, they’d touch everything, stain his carpet with juice, and bounce on his furniture. Maybe we’d just live at Aunt Zoe’s until Layne and Addy were old enough to leave the nest.
If you live that long, a voice whispered in my head, sending chills down my back.
“Zip it,” I muttered.
“I didn’t say anything,” Cooper said.
“I was talking to the voices in my head,” I kidded, but not.
He studied me. “When it comes to you, Parker, I’d buy that you really are schizophrenic.”
“Says the man who sees ghosts.” I placed my hands on my hips. “What do you think?”
He walked toward the stairwell. “I think it’s pink.”
I shadowed him down the steps. “Cooper, you can paint it come spring.”
“It’s too small.”
“Uh, last I counted, there was one of you. How much space does one man need?”
“More than this pink dollhouse has to offer.”
“At least there are no ghosts,” I said when we returned to the living room.
He turned to me. “What makes you so sure about that?”
“You’re not acting skittish.”
“Nyce taught me a few tricks.”
Oh, yeah. Doc had been working with him. I leaned closer, whispering, “Is there a ghost here?”
He stared over my shoulder for several beats. “There’s an old lady in a gray wool dress sitting in the chair next to the fireplace.”
“What?” I whirled around, my heart thumping. “Which chair?” There were two bracketing the fireplace.
He snickered. “Got you.”
Natalie joined us. “What’s going on?”
“Parker needs a Scooby snack.”
“Paybacks are hell, Detective.” I bumped him out of my way as I headed for the door. “Cooper doesn’t like this place,” I told Natalie, sliding on my boots.
“Why not?” She joined me, pulling on her boots.
“It’s too pink for his masculinity.”
“But it’s so cute.”
He held the door for us, eyeing Natalie. “Trust me, Beals. A man doesn’t want to bring women to his house and have them ooh-ing and ahh-ing about the ribbon curl designs on the mantel.”
“How many women do you plan to bring here, Coop?” she asked, fiddling with a string hanging off her coat.
“Who’s counting?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a rhetorical question or if he really wanted to know who was going to be counting the women—as in Natalie.
“Your uncle,” she shot back.
Actually, she was probably right about that.
Natalie waited on the porch while Cooper pulled on his boots and I locked up.
When I turned around, I caught her staring at his butt as he bent over to slide his foot inside his boot. I cleared my throat, thumbing toward the porch steps when she looked my way.
Go! I mouthed.
After pretending to punch herself in the eyes with both hands, Natalie stomped down the steps.
After we all piled inside and I’d handed Natalie her coffee, Cooper started up the Durango and let it idle in the drive. “Where to next?”
“Just a minute.” I dug through my papers for the address of the next house.
“Do they monitor your mileage on these vehicles?” Natalie asked him.
“No. They figure we’re sticking close to town.”
“That’s pretty trusting.”
“We’re cops.” Cooper messed with the buttons on the radio as he waited for me.
I snorted. “That badge pins onto crooked cops the same as honest ones.”
“Speaking of crooked cops,” Natalie said. “Have you ever screwed around in one of these?”
“What do you mean by ‘screwed around’?” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.
“Like do doughnuts in an empty parking lot?”
“That would be reckless driving.”
I scoffed. “Do you even know how to relax, Cooper?”
“I relax every time I empty cartridges at the shooting range.”
Blah blah guns blah. “You should seek counseling about your need to pull triggers.”
“So should you.”
“What’s that—”
Natalie interrupted me. “How about having sex in the back seat?”
I whipped around. “Natalie!” Was that an invitation?
“What? I saw it once in a movie. The two cops were making out and accidentally locked themselves in the back seat since the doors only open from the outside. It was funny.”
“Does Cooper seem like the kind of guy who’d accidentally lock himself in a police car with a woman?”
“I don’t know. But I do know from experience that he can be pretty charming when he tries.”
Natalie must be talking about that night at the Purple Door Saloon and whatever went down between them. I glanced over at Cooper. His face could have been a carving up on Mount Rushmore.
“Well, Cooper?” she prodded.
“Of course not.” His voice was terse enough to snap a stick.
“Maybe you should,” Natalie said under her breath, taking a sip of her coffee while staring out her window.
I shuffled my papers, making noise to break the awkward silence in the vehicle. I tried to remember why I had thought bringing Natalie along would be a good idea. Harvey’s ear flicking was less squirmy to endure.
“Here it is,” I said and rattled off an address. The house was on south Main Street in Deadwood, near the junction to Central City.
We crunched and slid down Lincoln Avenue, weaving our way over to Main Street. Traffic was light thanks to the snow and it being Sunday, making the drive less harrowing. The sun had everything dripping. The periodic static outbursts from the police radio broke up the awkward hush that filled the cab.
The next house was larger, as in four bedrooms and two baths, which should make Cooper the Curmudgeon less snippy. And it wasn’t pink. We parked streetside in front of the white, early 1900s Colonial Revival with a full porch blocked in with multiple columns. The house was boxy without a lot of fancy architectural touches. Its curb appeal was its stateliness. Large rectangular windows bordered by dark green shutters broke up the house’s upper floor. A separate two-car garage sat to the left up a steep, snow-coated drive.
Before Cooper had a chance to get out, a call ca
me in for him on the police radio.
I stepped out and opened the back door on my side for Natalie. She slid across and climbed out, coffee in hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered as soon as I shut the door.
“What? Haven’t you ever wondered that?” She took a sip from her cup, frowning at me over the plastic lid.
“No, and you’re on sabbatical.”
Cooper’s door opened.
“My body is abstaining, Vi. Not my mind.”
He came around the front of the Durango, waiting for me to lead the way up the salt-sprinkled stone steps cut into the retaining wall. A recently shoveled sidewalk led the way to the porch. The salt crystals crunched underfoot as we made our way across the wide lawn.
Natalie didn’t follow us onto the porch. “The foundation looks a little rough. It could be deteriorating out from under this old place,” she said while frowning down at the base of the porch. “Fixing that alone will cost you an arm and a leg.” She headed out of sight around the side of the house.
I opened the front door, leading Cooper inside.
He stopped on the threshold long enough to take off his boots and leave them outside the door and then joined me, sniffing.
I grimaced. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Sniff.”
“Why not?”
“Doc used to do that when I took him through houses.”
“Do you have an issue with sniffing?”
“Only in that it was often followed with creepy ghosts that would sneak up on me and try to knock Doc on his ass.”
“Did you come across a lot of ghosts while house hunting?”
“More than I would have liked.” I smirked. “And Doc would always want me to bring him back again another time. At first, I thought he was Grade-A nuts.”
“And now?”
“Now I know he’s nuts because he still likes me in spite of this executioner shit.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Cooper chuckled when I pretended to box him in the eye. He sobered quickly. “But what about the ghosts part?”
I shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to there being wispy folks here and there, although they do still make me want to hide under the covers since I usually can’t see them.” Especially after a certain little girl ghost and her clown doll trapped me in an elevator.
