by Ann Charles
“He’s my acting coach today.”
Harvey leaned back on his heels, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders. “You missed a patch while shavin’, boy.”
“Where?” Ray rubbed along his jaw.
He pointed at Ray’s mouth. “Right smack dab in the center there, where that godawful sneer of yers is sittin’.”
Ray’s face scrunched up. “Stay out of the way, today, old man. Don’t even try to get your face on film.”
“I’m not purtied up enough for the camera today, so don’t go gettin’ yer balls in a vice over lil’ ol’ me.”
I held up the tray of drinks. “If you’re done beating your chest and flinging poo, Ray, I’d like to take these inside.”
He stepped aside. “You have one too many. Honey isn’t here today. She’s back at the hotel with Rad, too sick to get out of bed.”
“That’s some cold.” First Rad, then Honey, and now Ben. I needed to up my vitamin C so I didn’t come down with it next. “Come on, Harvey.” I balanced the tray in one hand and tugged the ornery buzzard in behind me by the suspenders. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to change his mind about facing off with Prudence alongside me.
We found Dickie and Rosy in the kitchen discussing his preferred camera angles. They both fawned all over me for bringing them a caffeine hit. Dickie remembered Harvey from the day we found an old mining boot with some of the foot bones and dried flesh still in it out at the ranch. Rosy warmed instantly to the dirty bird, especially after he admired her tattoos and proceeded to tell her an unfiltered story about a “popular” prostitute in Winnemucca he’d known who had the words Bulls Eye written across her very rounded derrière. Luckily, Dickie had left the room by that point to take a phone call from Honey. Apparently, she was trying to run things from her hotel bed. Ray joined us in the midst of Rosy’s laughing and curled his upper lip at Harvey and me in turn. I thumbed my nose at him.
“Rosy, let’s get rolling,” Dickie called from the living room.
Ray caught my arm as we filed out of the kitchen. “I need to talk to you.”
Harvey paused on the threshold. “You might want to take care in this here house, boy.” He pointed at the ceiling. “The dead lady in the attic ain’t no fan of tough-talkin’ assholes.”
“I’m not afraid of any ghosts,” he told Harvey. “Especially some old broad who likes to play parlor tricks.”
I looked up, hoping the “old broad” had heard that. “He’s all yours, Prudence,” I told the ceiling.
“You two are real jokers.” As soon as Harvey left the doorway, Ray turned on me. “Listen, Blondie,” he said in a hushed voice. “Detective Hawke called me last night.”
Good, it was about time Hawke learned a phone number besides mine. I was getting tired of sending his calls to voicemail every day. “So?”
“He told me Eddie Mudder is missing.” When I didn’t react, he added, “He also said you were there shortly before Eddie disappeared.”
I kept silent. What else had Hawke mentioned? Was Ray privileged enough to know about the faceless body we’d found at Harvey’s, and that it had disappeared along with Eddie?
Ray’s gaze narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me Eddie was missing?”
I did a double take. “I was unaware that you and I were on more than a barely speaking level.”
“I told you about Mr. Black.”
“Grudgingly.”
“You should have told me about Eddie.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Black may be coming for me next.”
“Violet?” Dickie called from the other room. “You’re up now.”
“One minute, I’m touching up my makeup,” I called back. I dragged Ray to the pantry so they couldn’t hear us. “You think Mr. Black is responsible for Eddie’s disappearance?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Detective Hawke that?”
“Hell, no.”
“Why not?”
“I told you, even mentioning his name aloud puts me at risk. If the cops start throwing it around, he’s going to know I’m the source.” Ray frowned over at the kitchen entryway. “You didn’t run your mouth to the police, did you?”
“Of course not.” I didn’t want Mr. Black linking anything back to me, either.
“Jesus,” Ray combed his fingers through his hair, messing up the moussed look he’d been sporting. “This could go really bad fast.”
“You mean for Eddie?”
“Who cares about Eddie? I don’t want that big ugly bastard coming for me.” He poked me in the shoulder. “You should keep your head low, too, if you know what’s good for you.”
I poked him back. “Poke me again and I’ll bite your finger off.”
“You shouldn’t have killed his twin, Blondie. Now we’re both fucked.”
Oh, please. I was fucked for way more reasons than just killing an albino bully—if he really was dead and gone. Aunt Zoe had made my state of fucked-ness crystal clear yesterday, her warnings inspiring a red-eyed morning after a night of repeated pillow beatings followed by lots of tears, both anger and fear-filled.
“Yeah, well, good luck with that, Ray.” I pushed past him. “I need to go smile for the camera.”
Harvey was on his best behavior all morning as we moved through the house. Well, except in between takes when Rosy encouraged him to share more of his sordid past while she double-checked that her recording was actually capturing video and sound.
Ray on the other hand was downright surly, pulling me aside to chastise me for not delivering my spiel with enough gusto, for having a sloppy shirt collar, and for not using enough hairspray to tame my “curly mess,” which kept escaping the bobby pins. I understood him being scared shitless about Mr. Black coming for him, but I didn’t appreciate the butthead taking out his anxieties on me.
We were about to take a break for lunch when Dickie decided he wanted to go upstairs and do one more take. His choice of setting was the bedroom where I’d been tied up in the closet with a seam ripper my only weapon not so long ago. I had claustrophobic issues now in that room, so when Dickie told me I could wait for them down in the living room, he didn’t have to say it twice.
Harvey followed on my heels, muttering about how hungry he was while making a beeline into the kitchen. I sat down on the sofa that the Brittons had bought from Wanda along with the house.
“Been all quiet on the ghost front so far,” Harvey said when he joined me, plopping down on the other end of the couch.
I heard the sound of crackling paper and looked over to find him with his hand buried in a box of Chicken in a Biskit crackers.
“What are you doing?” He must have gotten into Wanda’s pantry.
“Eatin’.” He shoved a few crackers in his mouth. “Wanda won’t miss these. Stale as cardboard.”
I leaned toward him, my hand out. “Share, please.”
He scooted away, hugging the couch arm.
I slid closer. “Quit being so stingy.”
“Stay back, girlie,” he tossed several crackers my way. “I don’t want you touchin’ me none.”
“You’re the one with cooties, not me.”
“It’s not yer cooties that I’m fussin’ about. I don’t want that kooky ghost tappin’ into here,” he touched his temple. “She don’t need to scramble my brains any more than she already has.”
I chomped on a cracker. Harvey was right; they were stale, but my stomach didn’t care. “I have a feeling Prudence won’t be bugging us today.”
“Why’s that? You lock the ol’ gal in the attic?”
“No. I left her a present under the bathroom sink.”
“What sorta present?”
“Her box of teeth.”
Harvey harrumphed. “A harebrained idea if ya ask me.”
“Why? That’s what she’s been wanting ever since I took her collection of teeth out of the attic.”
“What she’s been wantin’ is to chew the fat with you.”
>
“You’re wrong.” I held out my hand for more crackers. “She’ll leave us alone now, at least for today.”
“That there box of teeth is like a big piece of cheese in a rat-filled house.” He went to dump some crackers into my palm, but too many spilled out at once. Crackers scattered all over the carpet at our feet. “Shit-fire.” Bending over, he picked up a couple of crackers, blowing each of them off and then shoving them in his mouth.
“Not cheese. They’re her trophies.” I got down on my knees next to him. “She just wanted them back. Now that she has them, she’ll be happy.” At least I hoped so, anyway.
“Bull-hockey. They’re bait, girl. I’ll bet my left nut on that,” he mumbled through a mouthful of crackers, his beard dusted with crumbs.
“How many times do I need to tell you to keep your testicles out of the betting pool?”
He reached for another cracker. “I’m just waitin’ for the spook party to kick off and your noggin’ to begin spinnin’ around.”
“The teeth are not bait.” I stuffed a couple of crackers back into the box.
Ray’s feet came into view, his Tony Llama boots parking almost on top of one of the crackers.
I sighed. “Now what are you gonna bitch at me about, Ray?”
He lowered his hand in front of my face, his palm cupped like he had something in it to give to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, holding my palm out under his.
He tipped his hand and a tooth fell into mine.
A human tooth.
A canine tooth with bloody root strings still attached.
“Ah!” I held my hand out like it had contracted instant leprosy, but after all of the baby teeth my kids had pulled and handed to me over the years, I refrained from flinging the bloody thing across the room.
Harvey nudged me with his knee and pointed up at Ray’s face.
Wincing, I slowly looked up. The whites of Ray’s eyes were showing, his jaw slack with drool leaking out one corner.
Oh, hell. I’d seen that expression before. Honey had worn it a couple of weeks ago when Prudence was running the controls. And before that when Wanda had been used as Prudence’s personal ventriloquist’s doll in this very living room. No matter how many times I witnessed it, though, it still gave me the heebie jeebies.
“A gift for you,” Prudence’s voice came from Ray’s mouth, reminding me of Kathryn Hepburn the way it quavered on some of her vowels, “to express my gratitude for the return of the teeth.”
I scrambled sideways, bumping into Harvey’s legs. I’d have scrambled all of the way out to the Picklemobile if he hadn’t clamped onto my shoulder, staying me.
“Whoa there, mustang. Keep ‘er steady, don’t start buckin’ yet.”
I got his point. As much as I wanted to throw her gift tooth across the room and scrub my palm off on the carpet until I had some serious rug burns, I closed the tooth within my fist. “Thank you for the tooth. I’ll treasure it.”
Prudence leaned down so that Ray’s nose was almost touching mine, a thick wave of his cologne making me want to gag. A whimper escaped my throat as I pushed back harder against Harvey’s legs.
“What news have you brought me, Violet?” She stared into my eyes with the whites of Ray’s, not blinking once.
My brain stalled out, fear flooding the engine.
Harvey snapped my ear, making me yip in surprise more than pain. “Answer her,” he whispered with a growl.
What could I possibly have to tell a long dead … then I remembered an important detail that might concern her. “Some of the timekeeper’s clocks are missing.”
“Yes? Go on.”
“Maybe five or six of them.”
She pulled back, giving me a little breathing space. “This is an unfortunate turn.”
So was Ray’s habit of using too much of that damned cologne. Between it and his hair mousse, he was a walking fire hazard.
“One of the clocks kept going off while I was there,” I continued, “but only in the mirror. It wouldn’t stop, just kept cuckooing and cuckooing. What does that mean?”
One of Ray’s tweezed eyebrows lifted. “Interesting.”
“That it was cuckooing?”
“That you could hear the toll of the death bell.” She cocked Ray’s head sideways a little too far to look normal. “I wonder.”
“You wonder what?”
She leaned in close again, even closer than before, and sniffed me from my temple down to the pulse at the base of my neck.
“Steady,” Harvey repeated, squeezing my shoulder.
I obeyed like a good horse, holding still, taking a deep breath to keep my trembling at bay. But if I felt Ray’s tongue licking me, I was pulling a Road-Runner and leaving Harvey and Prudence sitting there in a cloud of dust.
“You have grown stronger since last I saw you.” She reached toward the base of my throat.
A squeak slipped out as I tried to suck my chest inside out rather than let her touch me.
Her fingers brushed my sternum. “And this? What is this?” She lifted the necklace charm from Aunt Zoe, turning it one way and then the other. “Perhaps it is a patronus? A protector, if you will, from the others?”
The others? That was the same word Aunt Zoe had used.
“What others?” I whispered.
“Our enemy. They are numerous in the Hills.”
“How do you know about the others?”
She dropped the charm. “I have slain many.”
“You were a … a killer?”
Her nod was slight. “As are you.” She looked back up at me, still close enough that I could read the tiny blood vessels in the whites of Ray’s eyes like a road map. “I, however, was proficient, more dexterous and adept. Your line has always been lacking finesse. Brutal even.”
My line? “You mean my family line?”
“But of course. You are notorious, Violet. A Scharfrichter from the Black Forest region. A very small world it is among our kind.”
“Our kind? You mean executioners?”
Ray’s forehead wrinkled at the sides near his temples. He must have had a Botox treatment recently.
“Executioner,” she said, as if trying the word out on her tongue. “Such an unpleasant word for our particular occupation.”
And here I’d always thought Assistant Broker was belittling. “Are there more of you?”
“I was the last of my line. That is why I remained. I was waiting for you.”
Swell. A ghost with a tooth fetish hanging around just for me. Considering what I’d learned last night about my imminent death, I was having a banner week. I couldn’t wait to see what surprise lurked around the next stroke of midnight.
“Why me?”
“You need me.” She stretched out with Ray’s index finger and touched my forehead, running his fingertip across my skin as if writing on a steamed mirror.
I heard a crunching sound over my head. A sprinkle of crumbs drifted down over my shoulder. What in the hell? Was Harvey eating during my freak-out show?!!
“The others are strong,” Prudence continued amidst Harvey’s cracker-fest. “You will not succeed on your own.” Ray’s finger moved to my cheek, still writing on my skin. “Especially considering what they have already unleashed.”
What’s been unleashed? Was she talking about that thing in the bottom of the Open Cut again? “What makes you so sure about that?”
“They will end your line,” she whispered. A tear slipped down Ray’s cheek. “As they did mine.”
Her words confirmed what Aunt Zoe had said. The others wouldn’t stop with me. Addy and Layne would be killed, too, just as Prudence’s son and husband had been murdered right before her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Prudence.”
Ray’s face south of his forehead crinkled with fury. “Save your pity.” Spittle flew from his lips.
I recoiled, the back of my head connecting hard with Harvey’s knee. He grunted in pain, puffing out a breath of crumbs all
over my shoulder.
“You have wasted precious time, Scharfrichter.” She shoved Ray’s face into mine again, bumping my nose with his. “And you smell of death.”
I reacted without thinking, slapping Ray’s cheek hard.
He jerked back, his eyes closing over those hideous white orbs. When they opened, his blue irises were showing.
I reached out and slapped him again.
“Jesus Christ, Blondie!” He fell back onto the carpet, holding his cheek. “What in the hell was that for?”
“I was making sure.”
Harvey snickered. “Maybe you should make sure one more time.”
“Don’t come near me.” Ray watched me warily as he rubbed his jaw. Suddenly his face paled. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing, I just slapped you a little.”
“A little?” He opened his mouth and pointed at his lower row of teeth. “Then where in the hell is my tooth?”
I gasped and then looked down at my fisted palm. Slowly, I peeled back my fingers, flinching at the sight of the bloody tooth.
“You mean this one?” I held it out to him.
Chapter Nineteen
Meanwhile, back at the Halloween party …
Harvey had saved my bacon again. This time, it had been by acting as my alibi when it came to being accused of cold-blooded tooth murder by Ray.
I had no doubt that Harvey’s good word would cost me a few meals at Bighorn Billy’s.
Ray and his tooth had left shortly after my second slap, an emergency trip to the dentist in the cards for his Halloween fun. My parting comment to the crybaby about having proved the rumor to be true—eating too much Halloween candy really did make teeth fall out—had gone over like a cast iron chicken.
Dickie and Rosy followed in Ray’s wake, heading out to grab some lunch for all of us, leaving Harvey and me to sit and wait for their return on the front porch. Neither of us was interested in waiting inside, happy to sniff and shiver in the crisp October air instead.
“Girl, you got some explainin’ to do.”
“I’m not sure where to start.” I stared down at my palm where Ray’s tooth had lain. If I’d never moved to Deadwood, would all of this crazy executioner business still be dormant inside of me, waiting to spark and catch fire?
