An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 (26 page)

“Are you sensing anything, Dickie?” Honey asked as she slowly spun in a circle with the camera rolling, careful to avoid Rex and me, as promised.

He shook his head. “She must stay in the bedroom where she was killed.”

Based on my last visit, I disagreed, but I kept that to myself. “If you guys are finished here, we can move to the next place on the list.”

While they filed up the stairs. I took one last look around. As before, the basement seemed fine, but I didn’t. Without my ghost bloodhound by my side, I felt blind, skittish.

The next stop was a new listing located on the south end of Main Street on the way to Central City. I hadn’t visited it before today, so I was as curious as the rest of my company.

Close to three thousand square feet, it was a Depression-era house with aluminum siding available for rent or sale since the owner had recently passed away. The décor was 1970s ornate with a gold velvet couch, white carpet, two chandeliers, and rich red curtains. Liberace could have lived there. The bedrooms came furnished with the latest fashions from that decade. Powder blue walls and lots of shag carpet. Even the kitchen was carpeted in a short loopy golden brown nap, reminding me of my grandmother’s house when I was growing up.

“What’s the story on this place?” Dickie asked me after our tour.

We stood in the kitchen while Honey went from room to room filming.

I leaned against the speckled Formica counter top, scanning my notes. “It’s affordable and recently vacated.” That was all I had on the cue cards. My script had been focused on the original antiques located throughout the house.

“Did the last owner die in here, too?” he asked.

“No, she was in the hospital. She’d lived here since the middle of last century, though.”

Rex turned up his nose. “It looks like it.”

“Dickie,” Honey yelled from upstairs. “Come up here and tell me what you think of this.”

He excused himself.

I was curious to see what she was talking about, but I was more interested in taking advantage of my moment alone with Rex. I waited until I heard Dickie’s footfalls cross overhead before turning on Rex. “You need to find another Realtor.”

“But I want you, Violet.”

I fingered Tiffany’s business card in my coat pocket. “You don’t always get what you want.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Did you really think you could walk back into my life and plant yourself in my bed, Rex?”

He strolled closer, his eyelids lowered, his expression flirty. “I still remember exactly how you like to be touched.”

I shuddered, repulsed by his attempt to turn me on. A plane ticket to South America with his name on it would really light my fire. “For you, it would require something longer than a ten foot pole.”

“There was a time when you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“People change,” I said, backing into the corner between the sink and stove. “Young girl crushes die a horrible death.”

“I see the way you look at me, Violet.” He encroached on my space, much like Detective Hawke had earlier.

“Good. Then you’ve noticed the disgust and loathing hovering in this area.” I circled my face.

“I’ve noticed the passion boiling inside of you when you stare at me.” He leaned toward me, his mouth way too close.

I reared back, gripping a cupboard door to keep my balance. “Trust me, that’s not passion.”

He tipped up my chin. “The attraction is still there.”

This was turning into a B-rated Mexican soap opera, all
pasión caliente
and bad acting. I’d stomached about enough. “Rex, stop it.”

“It’s raging between us, Violet, burn—”

I slammed the cupboard door into his face, a trick I’d learned from an old Tom and Jerry cartoon. However, unlike Tom the cat, Rex’s face wasn’t as flat as a pancake when I pulled the door away. But his nose was bleeding.

I pointed at it. “Oops. You’ve got a little blood there.” A couple of drips splattered onto his white shirt. Or maybe a lot.

He pinched his nose and looked up to the ceiling, cursing. “God damn it, Violet! What’s wrong with you?”

“No means no, jerk,” I said, pulling a towel out of one of the drawers. I hoped the house’s selling agent hadn’t taken a towel inventory.

“Holy crap,” Honey said from the doorway. “What happened to him?”

Rex glared at me, continuing to hold his nose.

I shrugged. “I think it might have been the ghost of the old woman who lived here.”

Honey started to raise her camera to film it, but I shook my hand at her, reminding her of our agreement.

“You need some ice,” she told Rex. Setting her camera down, she went to the freezer. “There are no ice trays in here.”

Been there, done that, I thought. What was it about the senior citizens around here being anti-ice tray?

“Is it broken?” Honey asked, reaching toward Rex, who pulled away.

“Don’t touch it.”

“What happened?” Dickie asked, joining our bloody party.

“The cupboard might be haunted,” I told him, keeping a straight face. “It swung right open and slammed Mr. Conner in the nose. Maybe the ghost doesn’t like men.”

Dickie scratched his neck. “I did feel a bit nauseated upstairs a moment ago.”

“I felt nauseated a moment ago, too,” I said. “Right before that cupboard door swung open. How crazy is that?”

Rex grumbled through the towel.

“We should get him to the hospital,” Honey suggested.

“I’m fine. It’s not broken,” he shot me a snarl and then winced from wrinkling his nose. “It just hurts like hell.”

“Maybe we should drop you off back at your car,” she said.

That reminded me of Miss Geary going at it with a fire poker and gave me another idea.

“That’s probably for the best,” Rex conceded. “I’ll have to reschedule with you, Violet.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in another time.” As in
never
.

I ushered everyone out the front door. “If you guys will give me a second, I need to make sure the upstairs toilet is turned off. Some ghosts have reputations for making toilets run and waste water.”

I closed the door behind them. Taking the stairs two at a time, I pulled out my phone. I hit the call button after looking out the window to make sure all three were in the car below.

“What do you want, Parker?” Cooper’s voice was as terse and sandpapery as ever.

“I need a favor.”

“You have the wrong number.”

“No, don’t hang up.”

He waited.

“I need a favor, please.”

“What?”

“There’s a black sports car parked behind Calamity Jane Realty. Both headlights are busted out.”

“What are you trying to do, get a badge for crime fighter of the week?”

I ignored his sarcasm because I really wanted him to deliver on this favor. “Will you send one of your men over there and ticket the driver for broken headlights?”

Silence again from Cooper’s end. Then I heard his chair creak. “Let me get this straight. You are calling Deadwood’s only paid detective with a request to ticket some driver with broken headlights.”

“Yep, that’s about right.”

He laughed, a genuine, gut-busting laugh. Had I been sitting across from him, I probably would have fallen over backwards in my chair in shock.

When he stopped laughing, he said, “You’re a funny woman, Violet Parker.”

“I’m serious. Will you please do me this one favor?”

“No. I don’t do personal favors, especially for the woman who probably bashed out the headlights of a perfectly good ‘69 Camaro.”

“It’s not Doc’s car and I’m not the one who did the bashing.”

“Who did?”

“That’s not important,” I said. “The point is they are broken and I feel it’s unsafe for him to be driving around Deadwood.”

“Bullshit, Parker. Who owns the car?”

“Some guy.”

“I’m not sending out anyone unless you come clean.”

I covered the mouthpiece and swore at Cooper, then put the phone back to my ear. “Fine.”

“I heard what you called me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There must have been some interference.”

“It was your voice,” his chair creaked again, “and I do not fornicate with monkeys.”

Oops, he had heard me. “Are we going to do this or not?”

“Give me a name, Parker.”

“Rex Conner.”

This time the pause was filled with the sound of his breathing. I wondered if he remembered where he’d heard that name before.

“The same Rex Conner that inspired you to throw up all over my tie back in August?” he asked.

Yep, he remembered. “That’s him.”

“What is the father of your children doing in town?”

“Harassing me.” I glanced down at the Subaru. I really needed to get down there before one of them came looking for me.

“Would you like to file a report on why you bashed out his headlights?”

“No. I didn’t do it, damn it.” I sighed. “You know what, never mind, Cooper. I gotta go.”

“Violet,” the terseness in his voice stopped me from hanging up.

“What?”

“Is there something you need to tell me about Rex Conner?”

“Yes. He’s an even bigger asshole than you are!” I hung up then, blaspheming both men all of the way downstairs.

“Everything okay?” Dickie asked when I crawled in the Subaru.

“Just dandy.” I backed out of the drive and headed back to Calamity Jane’s to drop off Rex. Halfway there, my phone rang. I used the earpiece Doc had bought me. “Hi, Jerry.”

“Violet, I had an idea. Scrap that last place on the list and take them up to the Carhart house.”

“What?” That was the last place I wanted to go. I was allergic to the ghost in that house. She used people like puppets to talk to me, making me break out in panic. “Jerry, that place is on the sale pending board.”

Zeke and Zelda Britton were in the process of obtaining financing to buy it.

“I know, but take them there anyway. Ray informed me it’s definitely haunted and you have a history with the entity there. Maybe this ghost friend of yours will make an appearance for Dickie and Honey.”

Ray! That meddling son of a bitch. “Fine, but I have to drop off Mr. Conner first.”

“Why? Did he choose one of the first two places?”

“No. He had a little accident and needs to ice his nose.”

“Damn.” There were a couple of seconds of silence, then, “Well, in the meantime, let’s focus on Dickie and Honey. Get out there and wow them, Violet.”

“Will do.” I hung up as I was pulling into the parking lot.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I heard Rex mutter.

Up ahead, a familiar sedan sat blocking Rex’s Jaguar, a red flashing bubble perched on the roof.

I eased to a stop in front of Cooper’s car. Rex was out the door before I shifted into park.

“Sit tight for a minute,” I told Dickie and Honey, “and we’ll head to another house I think you’ll really like.”

I stepped outside in time to hear Rex say, “Hello,” in a nasally voice.

Cooper eyed him from head to toe, hovering on the bloody towel before his gaze slid to me. He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” I feigned innocence.

“What’s the problem, officer?” Rex dabbed at his nose.

“Are you the owner of this car?”

Rex nodded.

“I was cruising by and noticed you’re missing both headlights.”

“I had a little accident this morning,” Rex explained. “I’ll get them fixed in the next day or two. They have to special order the headlights.”

Cooper nodded. “Right. There aren’t many Jaguars up here in the hills.” He flipped open his notepad. “According to your tags, you’re Rex Conner.”

“That’s me.”

Cooper tapped his notepad. “Well, Mr. Conner, I’m going to need you to come over to the station with me.”

“For broken headlights?”

“No, regarding a recent murder case.”

“Murder? What are you talking about? You must have the wrong guy.”

“Is this your phone number?” Cooper asked, showing Rex a number on the paper.

Rex nodded. “That’s my cell phone.”

“Right.” Cooper pocketed the notebook. “Mr. Conner, your number was listed in the phone of a murder victim found on August thirteenth.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to drive you back to wherever you’re staying so you can get a new shirt, or would you rather come straight over to the station with me now?”

“This is insane. I’m a well-known scientist.” Rex rearranged the towel he still held to his nose, frowning down at the blood-stained cloth.

“And I’m a small town detective. Now that we’re done with the meet and greet session, let’s go.”

“Fine. My bags are in the trunk. I’ll grab a shirt and we can go to the police station.”

“We could swing by the ER if you’d like. It’s right down the road.”

“No.” He touched his nose gingerly. “It’s just bruised.” Rex glared at me over the towel. “In spite of someone’s attempt to turn it inside out.”

“Lucky you.” Cooper hit me with a steely glance as he held open his passenger door. “Mine ended up broken.”

Chapter Thirteen

All the way up the hill into Lead I dodged and weaved. Unfortunately it wasn’t because of any other traffic, but rather a butt load of questions from Honey and Dickie about the blood-splattered history of the Carhart house. I made sure to skip over my bit part in the various tragedies that had been acted out there.

What I really needed was silence. I wanted to prepare for how I was going to make sure Prudence the ghost didn’t actually join our party today while Dickie did his best to lure her out. Unlike Lilly Devine’s place, I had a feeling it wouldn’t matter at the Carhart house that Dickie wasn’t as much of a medium as he said he was. His being open-minded about the possibility of paranormal activity would be all Prudence needed to get her toe in the door.

“What a lovely place,” Honey said after I pulled into the Carhart driveway and cut the Subaru’s engine. “Is it as pretty on the inside as out?”

I smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “It’s a beautiful house,” I answered with my old mantra.

I stared through the front windshield at the buttercream colored Gothic-Revival style house with its steeply pitched roof and even steeper cross gables. The Carhart family had meticulously maintained the place over the last few decades. I admired the house’s elegant lines and point-arched windows that were emphasized by a fresh coat of chocolate-colored trim paint. In spite of all that had happened in there, the place had a nineteenth century charm that still shined through.