A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (29 page)

“Me, too.”

Cooper’s unmarked sedan was parked at the curb when we pulled into the drive. He stepped out in the cold still air and zipped his black leather coat up before joining us as we made our way up the walkway in silence. Neither Harvey nor I were in a big rush, in spite of Cooper’s attempts to herd us along.

“What’s with you two?” Cooper glared at each of us in turn as we stepped up onto the porch. “I don’t have time to waste smelling the roses all the way to the damned front door. Let’s get inside and wrap this up.”

“What’s got you chompin’ at the bit, boy?”

“The stack of paperwork on my desk isn’t going anywhere unless I’m there to move it.”

After a final squint in our direction, Cooper pressed the doorbell. When the door opened on the other side of the screen, he dragged me in front of him, holding me in place by the shoulders.

“Hi, Zelda,” I said with a smile, as if we were there for hot chocolate with marshmallows. “I brought my friend Harvey and his nephew, Cooper, along with me.” I purposely left off Cooper’s
Detective
title in case that caused any friction with Zelda or Prudence. Although, Cooper had been here before to interrogate Wanda, so Prudence might remember him.

“Come in out of the cold.” Zelda actually looked happy to see us. If she’d known our true reason for coming, I wondered if she’d be as smiley.

We log-jammed into the front foyer, handing Zelda our coats to hang in the hall closet. Zelda led the way into the sitting room, which still looked almost exactly as it had when Wanda had lived there, furniture and all, except for the personal photos on the sideboard and a bright oil painting of daisies now hanging on the wall. The place even smelled the same, only there was a hint of apple pie in the air, too.

“If you three will have a seat, I’ll dish up some pie.”

Ah ha, so the apple pie was the real deal.

Harvey licked his chops. “I’m hungry enough to eat a buffalo with the hide still on it.”

After Zelda left the room, I took a seat on the end of the couch. Harvey shook his head at me when I patted the middle couch cushion next to me.

“It’s safer over here.” He lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the coffee table.

That left Cooper the rest of the couch, but he chose to remain standing at the end opposite me.

“You might want to sit,” I told him. Prudence tended to knock the wind out of most folks.

“I prefer to stand.”

“This isn’t really an interrogation, you know. I was joking earlier when I said that.”

“You let me decide what it is.” He pulled out his hand gun and checked it before stuffing it back into his shoulder holster.

“Why did you bring
that
along,” I said under my breath. There was no need to bring a gun into this house, especially with its murder-filled history. The place was hair-raising enough without the potential for bullets flying.

“I always carry it.”

“I shoulda brought Bessie along.” Harvey tugged on his beard as his gaze warily roved the room.

“Guns will only piss her off,” I told both of them.

“The safety is on, Parker,” Cooper said. “So why don’t you relax and focus on playing patty-cake with your ghost buddy.”

Patty-cake? Oh man, Cooper needed to keep in mind the old adage: never underestimate the power of a woman. Especially when the woman was a dead executioner who could manipulate the living.

Harvey grimaced at his nephew. “Keep talking that blue streak, boy, and yer gonna wanna hold onto yer teeth.”

The old man was right. Prudence had a history of having her puppets yank out their own teeth when her feathers got ruffled.

I frowned at the sarcastic, gun-toting skeptic in the room. “I am focusing, Cooper. I’m focusing on where I can take cover so that I don’t end up with a bullet in me by mistake when Prudence freaks you out with one of her surprises.”

His upper lip curled. “I’m no rookie.”

“You are when it comes to Prudence.”

Zelda joined us again, setting a tray with four pieces of pie dolloped with whipped cream, and forks and napkins on the coffee table. “Pie anyone? I find there is something about this house that makes me want to bake, and with Zeke gone for the weekend, it would be a shame to let a warm pie go to waste.”

That warm pie was going to go straight to
my
waist, since my willpower was currently nowhere to be found. I suspected my stomach had it chained and ball-gagged in a closet somewhere.

Harvey beat me to the tray, taking his pie back to his safety zone. Cooper held back, thanking Zelda politely but refusing.

No pie? It was moments like this when I returned to my suspicion that the detective was a killer robot sent back from the future to destroy mankind.

“I could get you something to drink instead,” Zelda offered Cooper. “I have tea, coffee, cider, and hot chocolate. Oh, and water of course. But no ice.”

I stopped with the fork midway to my lips, locking wide eyes with Harvey for a moment.

“Why no ice cubes?” I asked Zelda, the déjà vu I’d been experiencing since entering the house was growing stronger by the minute.

“It’s the oddest thing. The ice maker on the refrigerator we bought isn’t working. We had a repairman out to look at it and he can’t figure it out either, so the appliance store is shipping us another refrigerator this week.”

I stuck a piece of warm, chewy apple pie goodness in my mouth to keep from telling her that Wanda had experienced similar problems. Maybe I should have added the no-ice-cubes disclaimer on the sale paperwork. What did Prudence have against ice cubes, anyway?

“No, thank you,” Cooper said politely, holding his stiff-legged stance. I saw a grimace flash across his face before he could corral his features back into the usual hard-edged mask. I couldn’t tell if he continued to stand because he was uncomfortable being there with us, or if that piece of rebar jammed up his anal cavity made it more painful to sit some days than others.

“I’d love a cup of tea,” I said, more to get Zelda out of the room for another moment than to actually drink anything. After she left, I polished off the last of my pie and set the plate on the tray. Harvey did the same, and then picked up the piece Cooper hadn’t eaten.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“Ya heard Betty Crocker—we shouldn’t waste warm pie.”

I rolled my eyes at him and looked back at his nephew, only to blink in surprise. Something was wrong.

Cooper’s skin was turning ashen, his breathing audibly labored, his eyes red and watery. He looked like he was going to toss his cookies right there on Zelda’s plush white rug.

“Cooper?” I stood as his knees started to give.

He lurched forward. I barely caught him before he timbered into the coffee table. He weighed a lot more than I’d have guessed for his rawhide frame. Maybe he really was made of granite, which would explain his chiseled expression most days.

“I need …” he said in between gasps, “to sit.”

I helped lower him onto the couch next to me. His muscles trembled under my hands, his skin felt hot through his shirt. “Are you okay?”

“Really dizzy.” He lowered his head between his knees, gulping deep breaths. “Give me … a minute.”

Harvey stood across the coffee table from us, scooping bites into his mouth. “He should’ve eaten some pie,” he mumbled in between bites. “His blood sugar might be tankin’.”

“Has this happened to him before?”

Harvey shrugged. “How should I know? I’m not his momma.” He glanced toward the kitchen, then whispered, “He looks like he saw a ghost. Seems fittin’ for this place, don’cha think?”

“Aren’t you a little concerned about your nephew?”

“Nah, that boy can lick a chainsaw most days. He’ll be right as rain soon as he catches his wind.”

I tentatively touched Cooper’s shoulder and then pulled away, but not before I noticed his shirt was damp. He and I weren’t very hands-on with each other most days—make that ever. The last time I’d touched him had been when I’d planted the back of my skull into his nose. “Cooper, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“He’ll be fine,” Zelda said, joining us with my cup of tea. “Prudence had a similar effect on Zeke the first time he met her.” She giggled. “I think it’s harder for men to handle her,” she passed the steaming mug of tea to me. “Or maybe they fight her more, who knows. I hope you like blueberry tea. I thought it would be a nice chaser after the apple pie.” She turned to Harvey, who was finishing off a bite of crust while staring at his nephew as if an alien might burst forth from his stomach at any moment. “Would you like another piece of pie, Mr. Harvey?”

He nodded, handing her his empty plate without taking his eyes off Cooper.

“How about I bring the whole pie out here and then we can get started?” Zelda disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Coop?” Harvey slinked behind his chair again, the big scaredy-cat. “You feelin’ all right, boy?”

“No,” Cooper wheezed. The back of his light blue shirt was now spotted with sweat. His shoulders started to shake more violently.

Holy crap! Something was going to hell in a handbasket here. I was used to dealing with this sort of shit when Doc was in the thick of working his ghost medium gigs but not with someone like Cooper who had no paranormal abilities. I needed to do something before he keeled over and we had to call the paramedics, and then I got busted by Detective Hawke for assaulting a police officer.

I looked at Harvey. “Maybe we should come back some other ti—”

Cooper’s hand snaked out and latched onto my leg above my knee, his iron grip making me freeze.

“Cooper, what are you doing?” I tried to scoot away but his grip held tight, his long fingers wrapping two-thirds around my leg. “Let go, damn it.”

When he didn’t release me, I palmed his forehead and pushed his head up so I could see his eyes. His lids were still closed, but I could see his eyeballs rolling around behind them. It reminded me of someone in REM sleep. I cringed as I kept watching, waiting for his lids to open and the whites of his eyes to turn my way. That was Prudence’s usual routine when she commandeered someone to use as her puppet.

“Why did you bring this lawman into my house?” Prudence’s mid-Atlantic, Grace Kelly-like accent came from behind me.

I squawked and whirled around as best I could with Cooper’s hold on me.

Zelda stood holding a pie pan in her oven mitts, her eyes rolled back showing only the whites. There it was. The white-eyed look I’d been expecting from Cooper.

So, if Prudence was speaking through Zelda, what was going on with Cooper? And why was his hand still locked onto my leg?

“He wants to ask you some questions about Wanda Carhart’s death,” I told Zelda … make that Prudence.

The pie pan started to slide out of Zelda’s oven mitts. I tried to stand to catch it, but Cooper’s vice-grip on my knee held me in place, a flash of pain making me flinch.

Harvey rushed to the rescue. He caught the pie as it slid free of Zelda’s mitts. Cursing, he lowered the hot pie pan to the coffee table, setting it on the book that I slid his way.

“You let her die.” Prudence didn’t try to hide her contempt.

I’d expected to bear some of her anger over Wanda’s death, but it didn’t mean I liked it. “She was murdered before you even warned me to check on her. As far as I’m concerned, it’s your fault, too.” I pointed up at Zelda. “
You
should have warned me sooner.”

Cooper’s grip on my leg squeezed hard, making me cry out and squirm under his touch. What the hell, Cooper?!! While I figured it wasn’t him at the helm, it didn’t stop me from wanting to sock him in the nose again. Instead of planting my fist in his face, I focused on trying to free my leg.

“You dare disrespect me, Executioner!” Prudence bit out as I struggled to pull out of Cooper’s hold. “My skills remain far superior to yours.”

My eyes watered from the pain she was inflicting through Cooper. “I’m sorry, Prudence,” I said, tugging on his wrist with no luck.

Finally his clasp eased, but his hand stayed in place, still holding me prisoner.

Somehow Prudence was speaking through Zelda while controlling Cooper’s body. This was a first, as she usually worked only one puppet at a time. Either her strength was growing like Wilda the ghost’s was, or Zelda was a clearer channel for Prudence to use than Wanda had ever been.

Meanwhile, I was stuck with a damned cop attached to my leg. I tried to pry Cooper’s fingers up one at a time to no avail. How fitting for Prudence to use the detective as the tool to cause me grief.

While I struggled under Cooper’s clamp on my leg, Harvey scuttled over and scooped another piece of pie onto his plate.

I gaped at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I was off my feed earlier.” He shoveled another forkful into his mouth. “Besides,” his voice was muffled with pie, “it’s a shame to let it get cold.” He pointed a fork at Cooper, his eyes widening. “Better watch that,” he said, ducking behind the chair.

When I looked back at Cooper, he—or rather Prudence—had drawn his handgun from his holster.

“What are you doing, Prudence?” I said in a high voice, leaning away from the bozo with the loaded gun. What had I said about bringing a gun to a haunted house, dang it?

“Such puerile weapons humans use,” Prudence continued to speak from Zelda’s mouth.

Cooper tossed the gun onto the coffee table, where it spun in a circle like we were playing spin the bottle. The barrel came to a stop pointing at me.

Of course it did.

I huffed, glaring at Cooper-the-gun-toting puppet. When this was all over, I was going to take his gun and clock him upside the head with the damned thing.

“Prudence,” I said, trying to stretch my right leg out. Cooper’s grip was starting to make it tingle with pins and needles clear to my ankle. “There were several messages left at Wanda’s house, all saying the same thing:
We want what belongs to us
. The lawman I brought along needs more information about who broke into the house and what you think they were searching for so he can find the killer.”

“It is your duty to find the killer, Executioner. Not his.”