Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6)

by Ann Charles

  If so, I hoped Prudence hadn’t mentioned my name again on film.

  “No, Honey was fine, although she did seem pretty antsy while we were in there.”

  Rosy looked up toward the porch and waved at Honey, who’d poked her head out the front door. “Be in shortly.”

  A cold blast of air whipped through the front yard, making me and the pine trees behind the house shiver, nearly taking Rosy’s SDSU Jackrabbits baseball cap with it. “I’m glad Honey didn’t suffer another seizure. One was scary enough.”

  “Honey might have been seizure-free, but my camera wasn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I must have recorded twenty minutes of film moving through that house, but when I went to view it last night, all that was there was me filming the porch and walking into the front door. Then it all goes dark. No video, no sound.”

  “Could you have accidentally turned the camera off?”

  “No, it was running. I know my camera and how to use it. Besides, I didn’t say there wasn’t a recording; it’s just all dark with no sound. At first I thought there was something wrong with it, but when I tested it after watching the non-video last night and then again this morning, it worked fine.” She tugged her hat on tighter as another wind whipped passed us. “I’ve had my batteries drained in a haunted church before, but nothing like this has happened until now.”

  “It is peculiar.” Prudence was anything but normal when compared to the other ghosts I’d been around since moving to Deadwood and meeting Doc.

  “Have you had any other experiences similar to this in the Carhart house?” Rosy asked. “Like when you were taking pictures of the house before putting it up for sale.”

  “I actually never took pictures of it. My clients provided pictures for me to use.” I purposely avoided answering the first part of the question.

  “Hmmm.” Rosy stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. “This makes me nervous about filming inside of the house.”

  “You must be used to feeling invisible fingers brush your neck or hearing footsteps coming from empty rooms by now.”

  “Yep, but I’ve never come across anything that could mess with my camera.”

  “We’re still not sure it was a ghost.” I wanted to downplay this somehow before stepping foot inside of Prudence’s lair with Rosy and her camera in tow. “The ground under that house and most of Lead for that matter is worm-holed with mine shafts and tunnels. Maybe there is some powerful magnetic source underneath the ground that affected your camera.” Hell, as kooky as Wanda Carhart’s family had been, I’d buy that a strong magnetic force had stirred up their brains.

  “Usually magnets don’t affect the camera, but I wonder if it could be affected by powerful electromagnetic pulses or radio waves. I’ll have to ask Rad if he knows anything about it.” She patted my shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Violet. You were great today on film.” Without a backward glance, she strode back into the Galena House.

  Rosy should have seen my performance when I freaked out earlier in Ms. Wolff’s apartment. That was Oscar-winning stuff in there.

  I made it to the Picklemobile without a hitch and cruised home to Aunt Zoe’s, my gut rumbling, my mouth watering for another lemon bar or three.

  The sight of Reid’s red dually pickup parked along the curb across the street made me do a double take. I rolled into the drive and cut the engine, waiting for any other loud bangs besides the one that came from the Picklemobile’s exhaust pipe.

  All was silent on the home front.

  No, wait. I craned my neck, listening. A hammering noise came from behind Aunt Zoe’s house.

  I detoured from the path to the front door and cut through the side gate. Elvis greeted me as I reached the back yard, clucking along after me. Knowing Elvis, she was probably bitching at me for not letting her lay eggs in my closet anymore.

  “You’re lucky I don’t decide to wiggle my nose at you and ‘poof’ you into a basket of fried chicken.”

  “Hey, Sparky. Talking to chickens now?”

  I was so distracted with Elvis that I didn’t notice the flannel-shirted man on Aunt Zoe’s workshop roof until I was almost standing next to his ladder and the pile of shingles on the grass beside it.

  “Hi, Reid.” I took in the hammer in his hand and tool belt around his waist. “Something wrong with Aunt Zoe’s roof?”

  “That wind we had last week blew some of the shingles loose. Figured I’d better fix the roof before the snow starts or she’ll have some leaks.”

  “She called you?”

  “No. I stopped by while she was in Denver to check the place for wind damage. You were probably at work.”

  I pointed my thumb at the house. “Does she know you’re out here?”

  “She threatened to take my ladder away if I didn’t leave.”

  “This ladder?” The one still leaning against the side of the building?

  He grinned down at me. “Yeah. I won the battle.”

  “How?”

  “I told her that if she took my ladder, I’d call for the fire truck to come rescue me and the city would undoubtedly bill her for the mess.”

  I laughed. “I’m amazed she didn’t threaten to shoot you down.”

  “She did, so I showed her this.” He unbuttoned several of his shirt buttons, pulling the flannel aside.

  “Is that a Kevlar vest?”

  “Yep. I borrowed it from Coop.”

  That made me laugh again, something much needed after a day of cuckoo clocks and Ray. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

  “Do me a favor, Sparky.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When she’s not looking, take those shotgun shells out of the gun she keeps pointing out the back door.”

  “You got it. I’ll sneak you a few of her lemon bars when I can, too.”

  “You’re an angel, Sparky.”

  Actually, my label was much darker than that.

  I headed inside the back door. A shotgun lay across the top of the refrigerator, out of the kids’ reach. That reminded me of old man Harvey’s grandpappy’s wire-triggered shotgun. Was it still stuffed under the back seat of his pickup, or had he stashed it somewhere else?

  “Annie Oakley?” I hollered, shucking my coat. “Where are you, sharpshooter?”

  Aunt Zoe strolled into the kitchen as I was hanging my purse on the back of one of the chairs. “I take it you talked to our trespasser.” Her eyes practically shot sparks.

  Reid was smart to wear Kevlar. “Him fixing the roof is a very sweet gesture.”

  She stared out the back door window at Reid. “It’s a ploy. When he finishes, he’s going to expect me to give him something in return.”

  “Maybe.” I joined her at the window. “Maybe not. He sure looks handsome in that red flannel, doesn’t he?”

  “Red has always been a good color on him. It brings out the deep blue in his eyes and makes it hard to look away.”

  I glanced her way. “Like now?”

  She aimed a crooked smile my way. “Knock it off, cupid. I told you I wasn’t going back to that fishing hole no matter how big and shiny the fish look under the water.”

  “Speaking of fish.” I went over to the container where she was storing the remaining lemon bars and took one.

  “What do lemon bars have to do with fish?”

  “They’re both food,” I said through a mouthful of lemony goodness. When she turned back to the window, I sneaked two more bars out and hid them in a bowl in the cupboard to take out to Reid later.

  “How was work today?” Aunt Zoe asked. “Anything exciting happen over at the Galena House?”

  I wiped my hands on a napkin. “As a matter of fact, it did.” I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured myself some water.

  That captured her attention. She joined me at the sink. “What?”

  I finished my water and set the glass down next to the sink, and then I told her about my visit to Ms. Wolff’s apartment, the cuckooin
g clock, and the thundering mirror. When I finished, she led me over to a chair.

  “Sit there and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the dining room. I heard the stairs creak.

  While I obeyed Aunt Zoe like a good little puppy, I listened for sounds of my kids. The house was unusually quiet. No fighting. No doors slamming. No TV. Where were my children?

  Off and on all morning, I’d been dying to call Doc, anxious to see how his talk with Layne had gone. But I’d resisted, wanting to discuss it in person with Doc first, and then Layne, so I could try to read each when they told their side of the story. But Ray had been chomping on my heels every time I’d paused to take a breath.

  Midway through the day I’d finally escaped the slave driver and called Doc, but Ray had found me before we’d made it much past how the filming was going. The big jerk had insisted I get back inside to reshoot a scene, making me hang up before I’d had a chance to tell Doc about Ms. Wolff’s apartment, let alone get a feel for what had come of his talk with Layne.

  I glanced out at Reid, and then back toward the dining room. The opportunity to slip him the lemon bars had arrived. I stole outside and raced over, leaving the bowl on top of the pile of shingles.

  “Thanks, Sparky. You’ve got my money in the boxing ring, too.”

  “Cooper’s going to pay for running his big mouth.”

  He laughed. “Doc’s a lucky guy, but after seeing a demo of your windmill swings, he’d better watch his Ps and Qs.”

  “Damned straight.”

  I waved goodbye and hurried back inside, sliding into my chair seconds before Aunt Zoe returned with a wooden box in her hands. It was mid-sized, looking like a small foot locker. She set it on the table, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Why are your cheeks pink?”

  “I had a hot flash.”

  “You’re too young for that yet.”

  I changed the subject. “Where are Addy and Layne?”

  “Addy is over at Kelly Wymonds’ house working on a project they are doing together in school. Jeff said he’ll bring her home around seven-thirty.” She unlocked the box lid and flipped it open. “Layne’s with Doc.”

  I blinked. “Come again.”

  “He swung by around four and picked up Layne to drop off some books due at the library. Doc told me to tell you they were going to be in the South Dakota room researching a few things about some old mining claims. He figured they’d be back in time for supper.”

  “You’re talking about Doc Nyce, right? And my son.”

  “Yes, Violet. You did send Doc over this morning to have a talk with Layne, remember?”

  “I didn’t expect them to turn into bosom buddies.”

  “I don’t know that I’d call it that, but I told you before, Layne can relate to Doc when it comes to books.”

  Speaking of books, she pulled one out of the box and blew off a thick coat of dust. Actually, it looked more like an old, leather bound scrapbook.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your past.” She carefully set the thick book down on the table in front of me. “And your future.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “After the day I’ve had, I’d rather read a dictionary.”

  “Violet Lynn,” her tone had that strict aunty-tone that always made me sit up straight and close my lips. “Your head has been buried in the sand long enough.”

  “But I like the sand. It’s not as scary down there.”

  “Listen, baby doll,” Aunt Zoe said, using a nickname I hadn’t heard in a long, long time. She pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Whether or not you accept this role as an executioner, it is who you are inside of here,” she tapped on my forehead and then my chest, “and here. Trust me, if I could change it or take your place, I would in a heartbeat. I don’t like the idea of you having to go through this any more than you do.”

  I ran my finger along the spine of the book. “What if I don’t learn and keep my head in the sand? What happens then?”

  Aunt Zoe stared at me, her gaze haunted. “You’ll die.”

  “As in sooner rather than later?”

  She nodded. “Things have already been set in motion, Violet. There is no running away or hiding now. The others know you’re here.”

  “Others?”

  “It’s only a matter of time before they come for you.”

  “Come for me? What … what does that even mean?”

  “They’ll come to kill you,” she spelled out.

  “Why? What if I haven’t done anything?”

  “But you already have. Like I said, they know you’re here. Before, you were unrecognizable.”

  “What if I promise not to do anything more? Will they leave me alone then?” I wasn’t even sure who we were talking about yet, but I had a bad feeling Mr. Black and his brother were two of “them.”

  “No. By being alive, you’re a threat. They will want to remove the threat so they can continue as they have been without fear.”

  “What about my kids?”

  “I told you before; this is passed down through the female line.”

  “So Addy is also a threat?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gaining the strength to go on. “They will take her life, too.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “Oh, God.”

  “What I’m not certain about is Layne’s future.”

  “You said this is only passed through the female line.”

  “Yes, but Layne is the twin of Addy. There have been twin executioners in our family’s history. But from what I can determine based on what’s in this book, all of the other twins have been two females.”

  “So he could be safe.”

  She grimaced. “Maybe, but probably not. He can reproduce, just like your father did, and create another executioner. If they want to be thorough, now that they’ve found you, they will wipe out your whole family.”

  “Oh, God,” I whispered, brushing away a tear sliding down my cheek. “How can I protect my kids?”

  She placed her palm on the book. “By letting me show you what you need to know, to teach you what we’ve learned over generations on how to survive.”

  “You mean like witch spells and hexes?” Maybe Detective Hawke was onto something when it came to me and flying broomsticks.

  “No. We’re not witches. They’re an entirely different breed. We are executioners.”

  “Cold-blooded killers.”

  “More like selective killers.” She took my hands, squeezing them between hers. “We take out the trash.”

  That made me snort-laugh. “Great tagline. Do I get to wear a cape?”

  She grinned. “No cape, kiddo. It’ll get in the way.”

  “After I read this book, I’ll know what to do to protect Addy and Layne?”

  She shook her head. “The book is a history lesson. Over many generations, instructions have been passed down through our female line for those of us who become a magistra. A teacher. Magistra are those who don’t become executioners. Your great grandmother was one.”

  “I always thought she was some kind of witch with the way she used her rune stones all of the time.”

  “She was an amazing magistra, determined to protect the family line at all costs. She could see things in people, sniff out who was a threat and who wasn’t without getting too close. I’ve never been able to hone my skills enough to tell a bad egg without the help of triggers.”

  “Triggers?”

  She pointed at my necklace charm that she’d made and insisted I wear every day. “That looks like a charm, but it’s really a trigger. For instance, remember how you told me the big albino coming out of the Galena House looked at your necklace and his eyes turned snake-like?”

  I nodded, fingering the charm.

  “He saw your necklace and it triggered a reaction in him, something non-humans cannot control.”

  “When you said this was a protection charm, what you meant was it will help me to determi
ne who is a threat.”

  “Exactly. It won’t keep you from getting killed; only you can do that. The charm is merely a warning light.”

  “And all of the other charm covered bracelets and trinkets you’ve made for me and the kids over the years? Were those triggers, too?”

  “Yes. I was waiting for the day when you came to me and told me someone … or rather something … had reacted to one of them.”

  “Why didn’t you mention any of this executioner and magistra family business before?”

  “I had to wait for a sign. That is the way.”

  “So Grandma-great waited for a sign from you?”

  “She didn’t have to wait. Remember, she had mastered a way to see things in people, including her own family. She knew from early on that my mother and I were not executioners. She also understood that my mother was a weaker link in the family line, and that I would make a stronger magistra. So she focused her energy on training me instead of Mom.” Aunt Zoe walked over to the kitchen sink. “Your great grandmother also knew about you.”

  I remembered back to a day long ago in my grandmother’s attic with the sunshine pouring in through the dirty window, shining down on Grandma-great’s craggy face as she cast her rune stones over and over. The clack of the stones had seemed so loud in the heavy quiet. The smell of varnish and stale dust had been thick, the warm air almost suffocating. When she’d looked up, her watery eyes had locked onto me and then narrowed as she cast the runes yet again. One particular rune stone had appeared in a negative position, Merkstave, just as it always had whenever I was around her.

  “You smell too strongly of death, little Violet,” she’d said in her scratchy voice. “You’re clouding up the runes. Leave me and take your threats with you.”

  Her gnarled hands had shooed me away. I’d raced down the attic stairs, not stopping until fresh air surrounded me and sunlight melted away the shadows filling my head.

  I looked at Aunt Zoe, who was watching me while she drank a glass of water. “I always thought Grandma-great didn’t like me. She’d give me this scary glare and tell me that I traveled with hidden danger in my pockets. After she’d leave, I’d search my pockets but only find lint.”

  “She warned me about you.” Aunt Zoe set the glass in the sink. “She’d seen the strength of a fighter sprouting in you from the start. As you grew, she told me she could sense the killer budding inside of your young heart. On her deathbed, I was instructed to watch over you, to protect you with what she’d taught me, and to wait for you to blossom into the next executioner in our family line.”