Cashing In (Luck's Voice Book 2)

by Daniel Schinhofen

  Doc shrugged. “Offer’s still open, and we’ll need the help soon.”

  “With the way the Beavertons are working, I’d say so,” Spot replied as he took a few steps back into the alley.

  Doc gave the deputy a nod and started walking again.

  He had just about reached the Lily when a body came flying out the doors. Stopping, he watched the man roll, ending up inches away from a pile of horse dung.

  “That was almost bad,” Doc said.

  “Fucking mutt!” the man snarled and tried to stand up. That action ended up differently than the man imagined— his hand landed square in the pile of excrement, and his upward momentum ended when his hand shot out to the side, sending him face first into the pile.

  Doc grimaced. He felt a little sympathy for the man who just ate shit, but not too much, considering his words just beforehand. “You might want to find a place to clean up,” Doc suggested.

  The man, spitting and gagging as he staggered to his feet, glared at Doc before he went shambling off down the street.

  “Interesting welcome,” Doc muttered and peeked into the doorway. The tables were full and the games lively. Fido was walking back to the bar, having made sure the man wasn’t coming back in.

  Entering the Lily, Doc grinned at Heather’s back. She was playing a jaunty song that was similar, but different, to the one he’d shown her before he left. Cassia’s smile widened when she saw him and waved. Doc gave her a smile and nod as he headed for the door to the back hallway.

  The song came to an end just before Doc reached the doorway. “Doc, welcome back,” Heather called to him. “Maybe a song or two soon?”

  “No promises, but hopefully,” Doc told her before pushing into the back.

  “Welcome back, Doc,” Posy said from the kitchen doorway. “I’ll get your clothes when you’re done. Fiala already got clean ones for you both.”

  “Thank you, Posy. You been good?”

  “Yes. I’ve been studying hard.”

  “Oh?”

  “Posy wants to be able to help you when she grows up,” Daf said from behind her daughter. “She’s focused on her numbers, but has also been working on her reading and writing, too.”

  Doc smiled. “That’s good. I’ll have to test you later.”

  Posy stood up straight. “I’ll be ready.”

  Daf shook her head, a broad smile on her face. “Come on, Posy. He needs to clean up.”

  “Yes, Momma.”

  Turning away from them, he’d almost made it to the bathroom doors when Lia stepped into the hall from her room. “Welcome back, Doc. Did everything go okay?”

  “Went fine. The mine is good, better than, and there wasn’t any trouble.”

  “I had wondered. I half expected you to be back for the tournament,” Lia said.

  “Fiala and Rosa met,” Doc said. “Luckily, they get along.”

  “Lucky, indeed,” Lia laughed lightly. “I’m glad to hear they didn’t have trouble. I’ll talk with you after you get the chance to clean up. Over dinner, perhaps?”

  “Good idea. Can you send word to Ayla for me?”

  “I’ll make sure she’s told, but I expect her to be here tonight like she was last night.”

  “Okay. See you in a bit.”

  “Of course. I would ask that you keep the… play… to a minimum in the bathrooms. They aren’t that soundproof.”

  Doc coughed, thinking about how hard he and Fiala had bent the rule about no sex in the bathrooms before. “Yeah, uh... sorry about that.”

  Lia merely smiled as she stepped back into her bedroom.

  ~*~*~

  The bath had been relaxing and refreshing. When Doc told Fiala what Lia had said, she blushed.

  Done bathing and dressed, the two left the bathroom to find Posy coming their way. “Finished?” she asked.

  “Clothes are in the hamper,” Doc told her. “Thank you, Posy.”

  Posy smiled broadly as she bounced past them to collect their dirty clothes.

  “What do you plan to do until dinner?” Fiala asked Doc.

  “I was thinking of checking on Sigmund. Maybe I can talk him into coming over here so I can heal him a little more.”

  “He’s weird, but he does seem nice, if fixated on hats.”

  “What about you?” Doc asked.

  “I’m going to go talk with Sonya,” Fiala said. “If she agrees, we’ll go speak with Henrick.”

  “Moving fast,” Doc said as he pulled her into his arms. “Are you sure?”

  Fiala rested her head against him. “Yes. Rosa helped me see that sharing you can be beneficial to all of us.” She turned red, and her words became a whisper, “And seeing you with Rosa was very erotic.”

  “I agree. Watching the two of you together was captivating,” Doc murmured. “If you’re sure about Sonya, I’ll ask her tonight. That means I have another couple of places to stop by to get things in order.”

  “If she comes with me to dinner, the answer is yes,” Fiala said.

  “I’ll be ready to see you both or to be sad that she wasn’t what I thought.”

  Fiala put a hand behind his head and pulled his lips to hers. Their kiss was soft, gentle, and loving— nearly the complete opposite of their last couple of days, when passion and need dominated them.

  “See you tonight,” Fiala said when the kiss broke.

  Doc smiled as she walked away, watching her tail twitch from side to side with each step.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Excuse me?” Doc asked as he entered the clerk’s office.

  Elta looked up, her eyes red and with her handkerchief in hand. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, are you okay?” Doc asked, shutting the door and going to the counter.

  Seeing who it was, the clerk sniffled, trying to hold her emotions in check. “No... My husband passed away yesterday. Adrian took a sudden downturn the day you got married, and his health rapidly diminished day after day. I went to find you nearly a week ago, but you’d left town. My daughter and I checked every day to see if you’d come back, but you hadn’t.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss,” Doc said softly, feeling a little guilty that he’d delayed so long with Rosa now.

  “McIan said he died because Apoc turned away from him...” Elta sobbed, “because he was foolish enough to trust a spirit healer...”

  “Elta,” Doc said gently, “your husband was healed. Completely healed. After I helped him, he got better, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but why did he die, then?” Elta asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “His body? Where is it?” Doc asked.

  “The undertaker has it, preparing him for burial tomorrow.”

  “Do I have your permission to see if I can find out why he died?”

  She blinked at him slowly. “Can you?”

  “I honestly don’t know, but I can try.”

  Swallowing, she nodded. “Please? Take Sophia with you. This way, you’ll be allowed to see him.”

  “Okay. I do need one more thing, and I’m sorry for the timing, but can I have the paperwork for filing a marriage?”

  Sniffling, Elta walked away and got him a few pieces of paper. “Here... but you just got married.”

  “Probably be marrying again, soon,” Doc said. “Thank you.”

  Taking the papers, Doc left Elta and went down the hall to records. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and saw that the office was empty. It was silent, except for the soft sound of muffled sobs.

  “Sophia?” Doc called out to her as he shut the door.

  A quick scrabbling came from the far side of the room, and a moment later, a watery-eyed Sophia came into view. “Can I… why? Why did he die?” Sophia’s question faded and she asked another when she saw him.

  “I don’t know,” Doc told her gently. “Your mother said I could see his body to see if I can find out why, but that I need you to go with me.”

  “He’d been doing so much better,” Sophia said as
she dabbed at her eyes. “Then he got worse, much worse, and you weren’t there. You weren’t here to help him...”

  “I was out of town,” Doc said. “If I’d known, I would’ve come back sooner. If I had, though, do you think he would’ve let me heal him?”

  Sophia began to sob again, leaning on the counter. “No… He hated you. ‘Abomination.’ ‘Liar.’ ‘False-god lover.’ He kept saying that... until the very end. The preacher couldn’t help him... Whittaker, either.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Sophia, yours and your mother’s. Will you come with me?”

  “Yes. I need to put up the sign.”

  “I’ll wait for you out front.”

  “Okay.”

  It didn’t take her long to join Doc on the porch. Sophia had mostly composed herself, though it was still very obvious that she’d been crying. The undertaker was only a few yards away, on the other side of the gallows. A single noose was swaying slightly in the light breeze.

  Stepping into the undertaker’s, Doc was surprised by the lack of pungent chemicals that he expected. The front room displayed three coffins; one of plain, rough wood; one made from polished oak with metal handles; and an ornate one with silver inlay and silk-lining.

  “Digger? Are you in?” Sophia called out.

  “A moment,” the undertaker replied from a back room.

  It took a minute before the tall, gaunt man came into the room. Doc wondered about the man, who looked like death warmed over. Sophia’s lips trembled and she sniffled, obviously trying to find words and failing.

  “Sir, we’d like to see her father,” Doc said into the moment of silence.

  “Unusual,” the undertaker replied. “Miss?”

  Sophia nodded, her voice broken when she managed to speak, “Yes... please...”

  “Very well. Follow me, but please understand I am working on him. This might not be what you want to see.”

  Sophia didn’t move. “Mr. Holyday, not me. Thank you, Digger.”

  Doc nodded to the undertaker. “After you, sir.”

  Digger gave Doc a long look before he turned and walked toward the back, ducking to get under the door jamb. Doc followed him into the back room, which was more in line with what he expected from an undertaker. There were slabs on the edges of the room, and one was currently occupied with Adrian’s body.

  What took Doc a little by surprise were the buckets and tubing. The undertaker moved over to the corpse and began fiddling with tubing again. A moment later, dark fluid flowed down through it and into the bucket.

  “Draining the blood?” Doc asked.

  “Easiest way to keep the body fresher longer,” the undertaker intoned.

  “Excuse me if the question is indelicate, but Sophia called you Digger?”

  “My family name,” Digger said. “It’s also my family’s occupation, as happens so often for people. Yours is Holyday, but you don’t appear to be a preacher of Apoc.”

  “I’m not. Do you mind if I look him over?”

  “Feel free. Unless you’ve dealt with bodies before, though, I don’t know what you could possibly find.”

  “Let’s find out,” Doc said, taking his jacket off and draping it over the only chair in the room. Unbuttoning his sleeves, Doc rolled them up and walked over to stand beside the tall man.

  Adrian’s body was pale with most of his blood drained out. Doc took a moment to just look over the body— a number of cuts had been made where Digger had been working to extract the blood.

  “Only your wounds on the body?”

  “He wasn’t murdered,” Digger said. “No obvious wounds that I noticed when dressing the body.”

  Doc frowned and he reached out to touch the corpse. Ice, was the first thought that touched Doc’s mind. The body has been sitting in here and it’s cool, but not this cold. This coldness reminds me of the se’sxac.

  Taking a deep breath, Doc triggered healing hands, ignoring the sudden, sharp indrawn breath from Digger. The body didn’t respond to the energy, as it was dead, but that didn’t mean the body didn’t react at all. The Darkness rushed up, slamming into Doc’s consciousness.

  God-touched fool. You idiot. Your death will come soon unless you join us. We can save you and raise you higher. The image of Doc sitting behind a wide desk appeared to him. His lovers were standing behind him with wide smiles while a man addressed him as Governor Holyday. See what you could be? Powerful, with all your women behind you, and able to decide the fates of many. We can even give you your pet. The view shifted and Doc caught sight of Rosa under the desk, working her mouth on his shaft.

  Doc gritted his teeth as he pushed with his energy. The iciness of the body dimmed under his hand and the voice cut off. Fuck you and your empty promises. The body grew warmer, and Doc felt the presence vanish. Taking a deep breath, he shut down his magic.

  “What was that?” Digger asked.

  “Faith,” Doc replied. What do I tell his wife and daughter? That the church killed him? I can’t imagine that going well.

  “The preacher will not take kindly to that,” Digger said.

  Doc looked up at Digger and couldn’t get a read off the expressionless man. “We were never going to be friends. Diametrically opposed views.”

  Digger let out a dry laugh. “Yes. That will bring more business for me.”

  “Probably right,” Doc agreed. “Are you not an Apoc-fearing man, Digger?”

  “My family crossed the church ten generations ago. We are now cursed, but we accepted that and found a way to make it work for us.” Digger gave Doc a flat stare. “If anyone could upset them and make it stick, I wouldn’t be terribly upset.”

  “Good to know. What curse?”

  “Unless you can absolutely cure it, I’d rather not say.”

  Doc thought about his status and checked his faith. It had gone up, but not enough to let him look beyond his current cleansing. “When I can, I’ll let you know.”

  “That means you have to survive. I won’t hold my breath.”

  “Fair enough. Thank you for letting me in to see him.”

  “The family asked.”

  “Do you have any soap?” Doc asked.

  “Soap? I’m not a doctor. I’m an undertaker.”

  “Everyone should wash their hands more often,” Doc said. “Any high-proof alcohol?”

  “Top shelf, green bottle,” Digger said, pointing to a bunch of shelves.

  Doc went to the shelf and pulled down the single green bottle. Popping the cork off, Doc caught the scent of alcohol, and his eyes watered. Coughing, he held the bottle away from him. “What is that?”

  “I didn’t ask. All I know is that it burns going down.”

  “Might blind you,” Doc said. “Don’t drink a lot of it.” He splashed a little into his left hand and set the bottle down, quickly rubbing it over his hands.

  Digger raised a single eyebrow. “Wasteful.”

  “Best use for this, I think,” Doc said as he recorked the bottle and put it back.

  “If you’re done using my drink for your hands, you can go.”

  “Have a good day,” Doc said, buttoning his sleeves back up.

  Picking his jacket off the chair, Doc tried to think of how to explain what he had found, wondering if Sophia would even believe him.

  Sophia was wiping her eyes when Doc came back into the front room. “Did you find anything?”

  Doc went with his gut. “Yes, but I’m not sure if you’ll believe me. I can’t prove it to you.”

  Sophia sniffled and gave Doc a resolute look. “Tell me, please?”

  “The church killed him. They sickened his soul. I’m sure they’ll try to blame me for it, but that’s what I found.”

  Sophia’s face hardened when he told her and her jaw clenched. “He believed in them... for years, he believed.” Her hands balled into tight fists, and her voice became hot with anger, “And this is what they do? Why?”

  Doc took a slow breath. “Honestly, so they can try to lay his death
at my feet. If they came to you earlier and said it was my fault, what would you have believed then?”

  Sophia hesitated, her anger dimming some. “Oh... but he believed in Apoc. Why kill him? Why not just use him to implicate you breaking the law?”

  “I don’t know,” Doc said. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.”