A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (26 page)

The elevator slowed to a stop. A rush of relief filled my legs, making them wobbly and weak. A ding sounded outside the doors. I backed up against them, keeping my eyes on the shadow-thick corners, wishing the damned doors would hurry up and open.

The lights overhead flickered on, the sudden brightness making me recoil.

Then I saw my phone. It rested on the handrail that lined the opposite wall. Next to it, with its legs splayed over the rail, was the half-burned clown doll I’d seen earlier in the video playback.

It took a second for me to remember to breathe.

Why weren’t the doors opening?

I had a feeling it had something to do with that clown and the little girl who’d been holding it earlier.

Stepping forward, I reached as far toward my phone as I could without one foot leaving the doors. My hand trembled as it neared the phone. My gaze moved to that damned clown in case it decided to come to life and go all Chucky the killer doll on me. As soon as I grasped my phone, a cackle of clown laughter filled the elevator. I cried out and plastered myself back against the doors, which were now opening, thank God.

“Wilda,” I said over the cackling while backing out of the elevator, “leave Cornelius alone.”

The cackling stopped as suddenly as it had started.

As the elevator doors started to close, the light flickered out again. From out of the darkness I heard two words spoken in a high, scratchy voice:
Kill her
.

Chapter Thirteen

After joy-riding in an elevator with a bitter ghost and her freaky-ass clown doll, I drove straight home. I wasn’t even going to try to keep from giggling hysterically in front of my coworkers for the last hour of the day and called in to say that I had a stress headache and would be in tomorrow morning.

I checked my arm every other minute on the ride home, looking for teeth marks, but nothing ever showed up—no indentations, no bruises, not even a single red mark. Maybe I was starting to crack up.

When I pulled into Aunt Zoe’s drive, I groaned at the sight of Jeff Wymonds’s pickup and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. “Oh, hell. Not this. Not tonight.”

Before I’d even opened the door of my SUV, Harvey stepped down from the porch, followed by Jeff. The two approached, waiting for me to join them. Judging from Harvey’s smartass grin, there’d be no skirting Jeff and the subject of counter-top sex.

I grabbed my purse and braced myself for the late afternoon cold breeze and Jeff’s crass mouth.

“Looking good, Violet Parker,” Jeff spoke before my feet touched the ground.

“Is Kelly here?” I asked, my fingers crossed that Jeff’s reasoning for hanging out on my doorstep had nothing to do with his sexual escapades.

“Nope. I came to talk about what happened the other day.”

So much for finger-crossing. I wrinkled my nose. “I’d rather not go there.”

Harvey snorted.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked the old goat.

“Listenin’ over yer back fence ‘bout what happened the other day.”

“I told him how you stopped by and watched me getting busy with my girlfriend.” Jeff made a crude gesture with his index finger and closed fist, as if reliving it in my head wasn’t enough torture. “And now you won’t take my phone calls.”

I wrinkled my upper lip along with my nose. “I wasn’t watching you, Jeff.”

“Sure you weren’t.” He winked exaggeratedly at me.

I resisted the urge to pop him in the eye and started walking up the sidewalk toward the house. I needed something to take the edges off of this day—fast.

Jeff caught up with me. “There’s nothing wrong with liking to watch, Violet.”

I whirled on him, glaring holes through his thick skull. “I was not staring at you and your girlfriend because I was getting my rocks off, Jeff. I was in shock. You weren’t supposed to be home. Your truck wasn’t in the drive.”

Harvey joined us, his grin now bridging his earlobes.

“My truck was hidden in the garage. We like to sneak in a nooner every now and then for a little excitement.” He moved in close enough for me to see a line of blond stubble he’d missed on his neck. “Speaking of making it more exciting,” the glint in his eyes made my defenses raise their shields, spears at the ready. “My girlfriend said it made her really horny to have you watching us.” He held up three fingers and wiggled his eyebrows.

Harvey whistled. “That’s a hat trick.”

“Blech!” was all I could think to say.

“We were wondering if you wouldn’t mind stopping by again tomorrow say around twelve-thirty-ish for another ‘surprise’ visit? Maybe leave your hair down and look all wild and sexy this time.”

“Oh, dear God.” I scrubbed my hand over my eyes, trying to wipe away the vision of nipple rings bouncing in my head. “Jeff, please go away. I don’t need this tonight.”

“You could bring your boyfriend if you want, get in on some of the action.”

Harvey’s shoulders quaked with laughter. He was enjoying the pre-dinner show way too much for
my
own good. It was going to take a long time to live this down.

I walked away without replying. I’d rather stick my head in the toilet and hit the flusher than talk about Jeff and his girlfriend’s sex-capades anymore.

“Think about it, Violet Parker. I’ll park my truck in the garage again tomorrow and leave the front door unlocked.”

I reached for the screen door handle. “Ask Harvey. I’m sure he’d be game.”

“He won’t do. My girlfriend digs blondes.”

“Goodbye, Jeff. Tell Kelly that she can spend the night on Saturday if she’d like.” Addy and I had agreed to a sleepover in exchange for her cleaning the upstairs bathroom yesterday.

I slammed the door shut behind me, not waiting for Harvey. Detouring straight upstairs, I changed into a long black cardigan sweater over one of my favorite old Elvis Presley T-shirts and yoga pants. I wasn’t sure if Doc was coming over for supper or not, but I wasn’t in the mood to dress in anything beyond the basics of comfort.

When I made it back down to the kitchen, Harvey was raiding Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar while she fried hamburgers on the stove. My stomach growled, happy about the meat after a day of protein bars and pretzels from the hotel casino’s bar.

I dropped into the chair next to Harvey and stole the cookie jar from his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told him before he’d opened his mouth to speak.

He wheezed with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Aunt Zoe asked, glancing at us over her shoulder.

“I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Was she wearing those fancy nipple rings he bought her?”

Yeah, and a bunch of tattoos. Something about that visual was stuck in my brain, and it had nothing to do with the actual act of sex. I blinked it away and crammed a chocolate chip cookie in my mouth.

“Shush it,” I muttered, spitting a few crumbs in Harvey’s direction by accident.

“Violet Lynn,” Aunt Zoe said, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I saw Wilda today.”

Harvey’s laughter fizzled out.

Aunt Zoe turned, spatula in hand. “But you can’t see ghosts.”

“I saw her when the camerawoman played back some of the filming we did.”

Wrinkles filled Aunt Zoe’s brow.

The doorbell rang.

I growled at Harvey. “If that’s Jeff again, you’re in trouble.”

“Why am I in trouble? Yer the one playin’ Nosy Parker through his kitchen window, not me.”

I wish it had been through a window, then they wouldn’t have heard me cry out in surprise. “He wasn’t supposed to be there, dammit.” I grabbed another cookie and headed for the front door, grumbling all of the way. When I opened it, Doc stood there holding a long wooden box in his arms.

His smile faded as he searched my face, turning into an all-out frown when he locked onto my eyes.

“What happened?”

“Jeff wants me to watch him and his girlfriend have sex again tomorrow because it makes their sneaky tryst more exciting, and Wilda accosted me in the elevator with a half-charred clown doll.” I wasn’t sure which was worse at the moment. Both gave me the heebie-jeebies in new and unique ways.

I held the door open for him while taking a bite of my cookie. He stepped inside, smelling fresh from outside, and paused in front of me to brush crumbs from my face. His kiss tasted better than the cookie, and I really liked Aunt Zoe’s chocolate chip cookies.

“How about I stay over tonight and help you forget about both Wymonds and Wilda?”

When I nodded, he set the box down and stole the last half of the cookie from me. “Your aunt makes the best cookies.”

“Between her treats and Harvey’s mastery in the kitchen, my hips are starting to bulge.”

“Mmmm, I love your hips.” He ran his hand down over one, palming it.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Nyce.” I pointed at the box. “Whatcha got there?”

“I don’t know. It has your initials on it.”

I knocked on the wooden lid, remembering the crates I’d found at Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor months ago. This box reminded me of them, only smaller. On the front was a rectangular piece of tin screwed into the wood. V.P. had been etched into the tin.

“What do you think it is?” I asked, lifting it. It weighed about as much as a toddler, only it was much less wiggly and sticky. Had Jeff left me a bribe? This was too big to be another set of nipple rings.

“We’ll need something to pry it open.” Doc took it from me. “Is Zoe’s toolbox still in the laundry room?”

“I think so.”

“Mom!” Addy yelled from the top of the stairs. Elvis clucked in her arms, wearing the green sweater with yellow baby chicks decorating it that my mother had crocheted for the damned bird.

“What?”

“Is supper ready?”

“Yes,” Aunt Zoe answered from the kitchen. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”

“Put that bird in the basement, Adelynn, and then scrub your hands.” I took the box back from Doc and stuffed it in the hall closet. If it was from Jeff, I certainly didn’t want my kids to see it.

We followed Addy and Elvis into the kitchen with Layne bringing up the rear. I set the table with Layne’s help, and then we all took a seat and dug into burgers and salad, along with some tater tots for the kids. Any talk about Wilda and Jeff Wymonds was put on hold until supper was over.

Before asking to be excused from the table, Layne shot Doc a sly look. “Are we going to go exercising again soon, Doc?”

I started to interfere, not wanting Doc to feel obligated to entertain my kids, but he beat me to the punch with, “I was thinking I could pick you two up after school tomorrow if that works for you?”

Addy nodded so fast and hard I thought her head might bobble right off.

Layne grinned. “Sure.” Then he turned to me. “Mother, may I be excused so I can go upstairs and do my homework?”

“Me, too,” Addy said, collecting her empty plate.

I squinted at each of them in turn. Something smelled like phony-baloney in Deadwood tonight. Getting my kids to do homework, especially Addy, usually required a lot of yelling and a good dose of threatening. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they jinxed each other.

I looked over at Doc. He was too busy inspecting his fork to return my stare. “Fine, but put your dishes in the sink first. Addy, don’t forget to clean Elvis’s cage tonight. We don’t want Aunt Zoe’s basement starting to stink like a chicken coop.” The bird didn’t go outside as much since the weather had cooled.

They jumped up and rushed to the sink, giggling together as they raced out of the room.

“You know that you don’t have to take them to the Rec Center if you’re busy, right?” I asked Doc.

He set down the fork that had held him entranced moments ago. “I like to take them to the Rec Center.”

“What do you guys do there?” I pressed.

Aunt Zoe cleared her throat, giving me a hard look.

Harvey leaned forward. “Yer makin’ kitten britches for tomcats.”

Doc chuckled. “I haven’t heard that saying since my grandfather was alive.”

“What does that mean?” I asked Harvey.

“It means mind yer own business, girlie.”

“You’re one to talk, you eavesdropping old man.” I stood and collected plates. “Is it so wrong for a mother to be curious about what her children are up to when they’re out of her sight?”

“Would you ask Wymonds what he was up to if he took them to the Rec Center?” Doc challenged.

He had me there, but that was only because I wasn’t head-over-heels for Jeff, wanting him to spend the rest of his life having supper with us every night.

“Violet,” Aunt Zoe cut in, “finish telling us about what happened today with Wilda.”

I told my tale while I collected the rest of the dirty dishes from the table and put away the leftovers, ending with that goosebump-inducing clown in the elevator. The normalcy of my task helped keep my anxiety from bubbling up and burning my throat like it had on the way home.

“What I want to know,” I directed at Doc, “is how can a ghost make a clown doll appear out of thin air?”

His frown deepened.

“I mean, earlier it was just a wispy image, like Wilda was. And then all of a sudden it was there with me in the elevator.”