A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (18 page)

“Why not?”

“I still have one foul in his playbook from landing in jail back in September.” Although now that I thought about it, he had said that if I sold The Old Prospector Hotel, he’d remove that foul. I continued with, “I don’t need any more fouls.”

She took my hands in hers, squeezing them. “This isn’t your fault, Vi. You’re a victim here.”

“Not according to Detective Hawke, and he may be the one in charge of this case. So, let’s keep this between you and me for now, and if it blows up bigger,” or I get killed, “we’ll involve Jerry. Deal?”

She rubbed her lips together for a few seconds. “Fine, deal. But you need to keep me in the know on what’s going on with the investigation and if you receive any more calls. Deal?”

I hated to involve her in my problems, but it was a good idea to have someone in the office who could cover for me, if needed. “Yes.”

We didn’t spit and shake, but the contract was binding nonetheless.

I rolled over to my desk and blew out a breath, trying to get my head back into the world of real estate. Mona’s fingernails began to clack away on her keyboard.

“Oh, Vi.” The clacking halted. “Detective Hawke’s sudden appearance this morning made me forget to tell you that you received a phone call right before you arrived.” She carried a small note over and handed it to me.

I read the name on the note. “Who’s Katrina King-Mann?” How did I know that name? There was something familiar about it.

“She’s Douglas Mann’s wife. Actually, I think they are in the process of a divorce now, but with him in prison it’s slowing down the proceedings.”

Clink!
It all fell into place in my head. Douglas Mann was the ex-lover of Lila Beaumont, aka the crazy, demon-loving bitch from my Carhart funhouse days. Like Wanda’s daughter, Millie, Douglas Mann had landed in prison after that ugly night of betrayal and bloodshed in the Carhart living room. I couldn’t remember the exact charges that had put him behind bars, but I was pretty sure it went deeper than screwing around on his muckity-muck wife with a demon junkie.

“Why would Katrina King-Mann call me?”

Mona headed back to her desk. “She mentioned something about being interested in the Sugarloaf Building up in Lead and you representing her.”

“The Sugarloaf Building,” I repeated, almost struck dumb. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Reid was over last night asking Aunt Zoe about it and saying he had to go inside of the building again, could it? And why would Katrina want me as her Realtor? Hadn’t she heard about my ghost-loving reputation?

Or maybe she had.

Clueless that she’d knocked me completely out of the water, Mona squinted at her computer screen then slipped on her glasses. “Didn’t Jane have you look up information on that building?”

“Uh, yeah.” I picked up a pen and wrote the names
Jane
and Reid on the note with Katrina’s information. How were those three tied together? Was there a connection, or was this some weird happenstance? Lead was a small town, after all. “She said it was for sale.”

“That’s funny,” Mona said, looking across at me. “I don’t remember it ever showing on the commercial MLS listings. You sure she said it was actually up for sale, or was the owner just flirting with the idea?”

“I believe she said it was for sale, but I never asked for any details.”

Mona focused back on her computer.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who the current owner of the Sugarloaf Building is, would you?” I asked

“Let’s see.” Her fingernails clacked, and then she leaned forward to take a closer look. “According to the records, it’s owned by D. Masterson of Lead.”

“D. Masterson? As in
Dominick
Masterson?”

She looked over at me, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Probably. Didn’t he leave town recently and not come back? Seems like the rumor was he packed up and left in the middle of the night.”

He sure did, right after he ran straight through a wall in the Opera House. Apparently, Cooper had done a bang up job of burying Cornelius’s and my statements about Dominick’s wall-breaking exit.

“Yeah, something like that,” I told her, making a point of pretending to read my computer screen.

Mona’s phone rang, thankfully.

I pulled out my cell and texted Doc:
Feel like taking a field trip to the Sugarloaf Building with me?

A few seconds later he replied:
Not after the story your aunt told us last night. Why?

After a glance to make sure Mona was still preoccupied, I wrote:
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

I quoted one of the few lines I remembered from our high school’s production of
Hamlet
.

The pause was several seconds longer this time, then he wrote back:
Did you have tequila for breakfast again?

The back door of Calamity Jane opened. I heard the sound of Jerry’s booming laugh followed by a female voice, one I hadn’t heard in almost two weeks. The Paranormal Realty crew had returned to Deadwood.

I typed:
Gotta go. Coach is in the locker room.

I shoved my phone in my desk drawer and returned to the business of pretending to be a real estate agent while my brain fretted about the Sugarloaf Building and the names now connected to it.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my name was going to be added to that list soon.

Chapter Nine

Aunt Zoe’s house was oddly quiet when I arrived home from work. I shed my coat and tugged off my black boots, and then headed upstairs to change from my dress pants and satin blouse into yoga pants and a lightweight sweatshirt. The chance of my doing yoga moves tonight was pretty slim, but I could definitely see me eating ice cream and stretching out on the couch.

“Addy? Layne?” I called out as I stepped back into the hallway.

Nothing. I checked their rooms. Their backpacks were there but no kids. Hmmm. A few fingers of worry tickled down my spine, but I told myself everything was fine and headed downstairs.

Aunt Zoe was pouring herself a glass of water when I walked into the kitchen. I sized her up while her back was to me. Her braid was fraying, silver and brown strands popping out this way and that. So were the threads of her old green work shirt. Her jeans had a few burn marks along with some black smudges.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” I asked.

She turned toward me, a tired smile on her mouth. “Both.”

Her eyes looked weary as well—too many late nights toiling away in her shop. She’d even closed down her store on Main Street for a week so she could focus on getting this order done in time.

“Are my kids out in your workshop bugging you?”

She shook her head. “Doc came earlier and got them.”

“He did? Why?”

“He said the three of them had a date at the Rec Center. He assured me he’d have them back in time for supper, which he planned to bring with them.”

I fell into a kitchen chair, stunned. “He didn’t mention it to me.”

One of Aunt Zoe’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me, but they might be for him. Those two can be a handful.”

“They behave well for others. You get the worst of it.”

“I hope so, or he may dump them off and run far away, never to be seen again.” I was sort of joking but sort of not.

Aunt Zoe picked up on my teeter-tottering. She pulled out a chair and sat across from me. “If this thing between you two is going to develop into something long-term, you have to give him some opportunities to build relationships with Addy and Layne without you in the picture.”

“But I worry.”

“About the kids’ welfare?”

“No, I know he’ll protect them and treat them well. The thing is, if I’m not there with them, things could be said that might paint the future or past in a different color than I’d like.”

“You mean like him and the kids talking about marriage?”

“Yes, as in him not marrying me, like he told them last month.”

“Violet, you don’t know how that conversation went. You’re hearing one side of it, which was filtered through nine-year-old ears. If his telling the kids he wasn’t going to marry you still weighs on your mind, you should ask Doc what was said. You need to hear his side of the story.”

I shuddered. “No way.” Especially not after receiving Tiffany’s text about the L-word. “I’d rather keep working on pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Of course you would. Didn’t you once tell me that same thing right after you found out you were pregnant with the twins?”

“Maybe.” Yes, and I’d wanted to avoid reality then, too.

“And how is that pretending business going for you a decade later with two half-grown kids?”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “Point taken.”

She finished her glass of water. “Talk to him.”

“No way. There are too many ‘what ifs’ that make my mouth dry and my palms clammy.”

“Take it from someone who has loved and lost, kiddo. Enjoy the good stuff while it lasts, because you might bottom out when you least expect it.”

“But Reid’s back.”

She traced the rim of her empty glass. “Yeah, but how do I know he’s not here again because he’s bottomed out somewhere else?” She pushed up out of her chair, walking over to the sink. “How was work?”

A complete change of subject. It appeared we were done focusing on Reid for now. “Okay, I guess. The film crew is back in town.”

“When are you on camera next?”

“Thursday. We’ll be at The Old Prospector Hotel.”

“You think Cornelius is up for that?”

I blew out a breath. “I hope so. When I called him today, he said he’d make sure the place was camera ready.” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I had my fingers crossed it didn’t mean he’d have sheet-made ghosts hanging around like a haunted house.

“What did Doc say about the Wilda situation?”

“He wants to read up on a couple of things first, but we’re going to try to help Cornelius.”

She frowned over her shoulder at me.

I agreed with her nonverbal assessment, but I didn’t know what else to do to help Cornelius.

When I’d called him today, he’d begged again for my help, saying he hadn’t slept in almost two days. He’d even tried staying the night at a different hotel, but Wilda had followed him there.

Doc had once called Cornelius the Pied Piper of ghosts. According to what Doc experienced while working with him on the ghost-front, Abe Jr. had a way of drawing ghosts to him. The problem was Cornelius didn’t seem to realize he was attracting them. He mistook his ability as only being able to hear ghosts. He also had no experience with making the ghosts leave his side.

This crowd of specters always following Cornelius made it tough for Doc, because as soon as the dead realized Doc could “receive” them, they would swarm him, which pretty much knocked him out with the sudden rush of energy. At least, that’s how I understood it all.

“Please be careful, Violet.”

The tension in Aunt Zoe’s voice tugged me back to the moment at hand. “I will certainly try.”

That was the best I could do since I had no idea what in the hell I was doing when dabbling with the paranormal world.

It was my turn to change the subject. “Do you know Katrina King-Mann?”

“Sure. Her family has been prominent in Lead since Phoebe Hearst’s era of influence. Why?” Her gaze narrowed. “Is this about Douglas Mann and that mess up at the Carhart house that you were dragged into?”

“I don’t think so. Katrina called and asked for me today. I made an appointment with her secretary for tomorrow morning. According to her initial message, she wants to meet with me to discuss a certain property that’s for sale in Lead.”

“Which one?”

“The Sugarloaf Building.”

Aunt Zoe’s mouth widened for a second. “What’s with so much interest in that old building all of a sudden?”

“I was hoping you might know that answer.”

I heard the front door open and close. “Vi? Zoe?” Natalie called from the dining room.

“We’re in the kitchen.”

She joined us, her face alight with a grin, her eyes sparkling. The knees of her jeans looked wet and dirty, like she’d been kneeling in the mud. Her pink T-shirt had a smiling R.V. on it with Dancing Winnebago R.V. Park written across her chest.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Her cheeks matched the color of her shirt, wind-blown from the look of them.

“No, I’ve been running hot all afternoon for some reason. I think it’s my socks. They’re those thick, extra-warm suckers Gramps gave me. They’re supposed to be good for working outside in the winter.” Her grandfather had been a contractor for decades before he retired and headed down to an R.V. park in southern Arizona and married the owner—as in the R.V. park that happened to be on her T-shirt. He must have given her the shirt, too.

“Isn’t your grandfather up here in the hills with his new wife for a short visit?” I remembered her mentioning something while I was sick about him coming north.

“Yeah. I had supper out at his place the other night.” Natalie stood over me, her lips quivering like she was about to burst. “I have another gift for you.”

I rubbed my hands together, playing along. “I hope it’s one of Rex’s testicles.”

“In time, my queen. For now, you’ll have to settle for this.” She placed something shiny on the table in front of me.

I picked it up. “A jaguar?” Then it registered. “Is this Rex’s hood ornament?”

She nodded, biting her lip while she giggled.

My mouth fell open. “How did you get it off his car?” I turned it upside down. “It was bolted on, wasn’t it?”

“The Internet is a wonderful treasury of information.”

“Was he at work again?”

She shook her head. “He was parked outside of his hotel room.”

“You know where he’s staying?”

“Oh, honey,” she patted me on the head like I was being dense. “I know lots about your piece of shit ex. My diabolical scheme is in its infancy stages. By the time I’m finished with that no-good bastard, he’ll rue the day he stepped foot in Calamity Jane Realty.”

I held the shiny jaguar up in front of me, wishing I could see Rex’s face when he realized it was missing.

“Natalie, you are one in a million.” Aunt Zoe joined us, admiring the jaguar. “I’m going to make you some dark chocolate brownies as soon as I finish with this glass order.”