Better Off Dead in Deadwood (29 page)

I guffawed. “That’s not a saying.”

“It is in the Book of Harvey. My Uncle Jeb left his wife for her best friend. Then he up and left her friend to go back to his wife.” Harvey crossed his arms over his chest. “Peck of trouble like none other.”

“Why? What happened?” Knowing Harvey, I expected a shotgun to come into play.

“Jeb’s ex-partner swooped in and stole both women out from under him. The three cut and run to some old mining town in Nevada and started a chicken ranch. They made hay and then rolled in it and ol’ Uncle Jeb died poor and lonely.”

I just looked at Harvey for a moment, letting that slide right out my other ear, and turned back to Aunt Zoe. “What doesn’t make sense about what Helen said?”

“Peter and Jane having an affair.”

“Why not?”

“They were an item a long time ago, after he left his first wife but before Peter and Helen got together.”

“Maybe those old feelings never died,” I said.

“No, they were dead.”

“What makes you so all-fired sure?” Harvey asked.

Aunt Zoe stood and grabbed his plate, frowning down at him. “Because I’m the one who took Jane to the ER after Peter asked her to be his wife and she refused.”

“ER?” I said, “What happened?”

Aunt Zoe scooped up my plate, too. “He gave her one hell of a shiner.”

“He hit her?”

Aunt Zoe nodded. She carried the plates over to the dishwasher, shoved them inside, and then slammed the door shut. “And after she fell, the son of a bitch kicked her in the side.”

I thought back to the way he and Helen had been in each other’s faces in that hallway, the anger rippling off of him.

“Was that back when he was still hittin’ the joy juice every night?” Harvey asked.

“Yeah.” Aunt Zoe leaned on the counter, looking out the window into shadows beyond. “Peter had to go to AA as part of his sentence, along with spending thirty days in jail and doing some community work.”

The judge must have found Peter as offensive as I had upon first sight.

“That’s why Jane and Peter having an affair doesn’t make sense,” Aunt Zoe continued. “Jane wouldn’t have gone back to Peter, not after what he did to her.”

“But he’s been sober for a long time,” Harvey said. “Maybe time fogged her memory when it came to good ol’ Petey.”

“Jane did seem to be at an all-time low point when it came to self-esteem,” I added. “Sleeping with Ray was proof enough for me.”

Earlier, while blasting off to Harvey and Aunt Zoe about Cooper’s half-assed interrogation, I’d shared my secret about Ray playing hide the pickle in Jane’s office.

“No.” Aunt Zoe turned around, sorrow fanning out from her eyes. “Jane’s pain ran deeper than some bruises and a cracked rib. She’d asked me to take her to the ER that awful night because she’d started bleeding.”

Oh, damn. I knew what was coming next and my heart ached for Jane all over again.

“She lost her baby,” Aunt Zoe finished. “Peter’s baby.”

A memory resurfaced from a couple of weeks before Jane had died. She’d told me to take the afternoon off and go spend time with my kids. At the time, I’d seen the grief in her eyes and wondered why she hadn’t had kids, figuring it had something to do with her need to succeed in business. Now I knew why—Peter. The bastard.

“She never could get pregnant after that.” Aunt Zoe joined us back at the table. “So she put all of her energy into her other baby—Calamity Jane Realty.”

This whole mess must have happened after Jerry and Jane divorced then. It was no wonder the thought of losing her business to that two-timing asshole she’d married had sent her into a drunken spiral.

I squeezed Aunt Zoe’s forearm. “Is that why Jane gave me the job at Calamity Jane’s? Because you helped her through all of that? Is that the favor she’d owed you?”

“Not just that,” Aunt Zoe said. “It took her a while to get rolling after losing the baby. I was there to lean on at first.”

Helen Tarragon’s words echoed in my head. “So, when Helen asked Peter, ‘Are you going to do to me what you did to Jane?’ Do you think she meant hit her?”

“That or kill her by accident while drunk,” Harvey said.

I turned to Harvey. “You said he wasn’t drinking anymore.”

“As far as we know. Maybe he’s tippin’ when nobody else is lookin’. Maybe Jane found him in the middle of a bender and said something that lit his fire, just like old times.”

The three of us sat there in silence for a moment, passing frowns around the table while in the living room the kids argued over who got to pick the next movie.

Aunt Zoe leaned forward. “I still want to know why Helen would tell you Jane was having an affair with Peter.”

“Maybe she knows something more about what happened all of those years ago,” I suggested. “Maybe Peter never got over Jane.”

Harvey stroked his beard. “Maybe Petey lied to his wife and told her he was having an affair with Jane to make her jealous.”

“If that is the case,” I said, “then maybe Helen killed Jane out of jealousy.” She had sounded pretty damned scary when she’d told Peter she’d rip his dick off and use it to fish with at Lake Pactola.

Aunt Zoe sighed. “There are a lot of ‘maybes’ at this table. Here’s one more for you, Violet—maybe you should go see Detective Cooper and talk to him about all of this, let him wade through it before someone else I love ends up dead at the bottom of the Open Cut.”

“I’m not talking to that handcuff-happy jerk.”

“Stop being so stubborn,” she said.

“I’m not being stubborn. Every time I try to talk to him, he threatens me in some new inventive way.” When Aunt Zoe just squinted at me, I added with a shrug, “Plus, he makes fun of my hair.”

“Fine. Just promise me you won’t go near either Helen or Peter alone.”

“I’ll stick by her side,” Harvey said.

Aunt Zoe grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of Doc. You get distracted too easily by the opposite sex.”

“Me?” Harvey sputtered. “Have you ever watched Doc when Violet’s near? He follows her around like she’s a heifer in heat—always sniffin’ around her, pettin’ her, gettin’ her all frisky and cow-eyed.”

“Doc does not do that,” I said, smacking the back of Harvey’s hand. Doc was sniffing around for a whole other reason that had nothing to do with me or anyone else whose blood still ran red. “And could you not refer to me as a cow? Why not a mare in heat? Mares are pretty. Better yet, a unicorn in heat.”

Aunt Zoe leaned back in her chair. “Then we’re back to Detective Cooper. He might be the best bet to stick close to you.”

“Nope. I’m not going near that man. I’m done trying to get along with him. From now on, I’m flying under his radar.”

One of Aunt Zoe’s eyebrows crept up. “Isn’t he still your client?”

“Well, except for selling his house.”

Although, after our last bout, I fully expected to receive his contract in the mail, full of bullet holes.

“Did you tell your aunt about agreeing to sell the Carhart house again?” Harvey asked.

I glared at him. “Not yet, you bucketmouth.”

“Do you really think you can sell it after last month’s fiasco?” Aunt Zoe asked.

I couldn’t tell either of them that the real reason I’d agreed to sell it was so Doc had a chance to hang out alone with Prudence, so I just shrugged. “It’s worth a try. That Britton couple was still interested in it last time I talked to them, but then it went off sale due to the whole police investigation mumbo-jumbo.”

Harvey stood, shaking out his leg. “I need to go drain my lizard. Don’t forget to tell her about Prudence and the book, too.” He dropped that bomb and then left me to face the mushroom cloud alone as he shuffled off toward the bathroom.

I burned a hole in his backside with my evil eye.

“Tell me what about what book?” Aunt Zoe asked.

Here went nothing. I told her about the demon book, where I’d gotten it, when I’d sneaked it out, the gist of what was inside of it, and the mention of the “book” this morning—only I said Wanda warned me about it, not Prudence. I also avoided revealing Doc’s role in all of it, hiding his sixth sense and anything that might cause her to glance in his general direction.

“And Detective Cooper knows nothing about this book?” she asked.

Jeez, she really was liking the sound of Cooper’s name tonight.

“Nope. Nada. And I’d like to keep it that way.” I gave her the threatening look I usually reserved for Addy and Layne.

Aunt Zoe tweaked my nose. “Nice try but that doesn’t work on your elders. Who’s this ‘Prudence’ Harvey mentioned?”

“The ghost that lives in the Carhart house.” I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to reveal to someone who shared my flesh and blood, someone whose opinion of me as a sane person I valued more than my own most days. “I kind of fibbed about Wanda warning me about the book—it was really Prudence the ghost talking through Wanda.” I watched Aunt Zoe closely, waiting for her to smirk or laugh or insist I start taking medication.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “What makes you so certain Prudence was referring to this particular book?”

I scooted to the front of my chair. “You mean you believe that a ghost talked to me through Wanda?”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“Of course I thought you wouldn’t. You’re the most level-headed person I know.”

“Violet, I’ve lived in Deadwood a long time. I’ve seen a lot of things happen here. Some come with rational explanations, others don’t. After a while, you have to either check yourself into a mental institution or decide to believe there are things in this world that are beyond reason. This incident in Wanda Carhart’s house sounds like it falls into the latter class.”

I gaped at Aunt Zoe. After tonight’s revelation about Jane and ghosts, I felt like I was meeting the real Zoe for the first time. Until now, she’d just been my funny, loving aunt. Now she was a stranger full of stories, full of memories, full of experiences—all that had nothing to do with family, with me. It kind of knocked me sideways.

Then she smiled and patted my cheek, and she was back to being my favorite aunt who made the best homemade lemonade around.

“Close your mouth, Violet.” After I obeyed, she said, “Are you absolutely certain Prudence was referring to this demon book?”

“What other book would she be referring to?”

Aunt Zoe started to say something, then stopped, her gaze searching my face. Whatever she saw made her look down at her hands and frown. “What do you think Prudence meant by you having a lot to learn yet?”

“I don’t know. I guess to brush up on my demonology, since that’s what Lila and her evil not-so-do-gooders were all giddy about.”

“Hmmm,” was all she said.

Since Aunt Zoe hadn’t laughed me off yet or called for a padded wagon, I whispered, “Sometimes I wonder …”

No, maybe I should keep my mouth shut.

“You wonder what, Violet?” Aunt Zoe’s gaze was intense, her hand squeezed mine, seeming to urge me onward. “Say it.”

I took a deep breath and plunged right into it. “I wonder if one of the demons in the book is real.”

Aunt Zoe stared at me, not laughing at the idea even a little.

“I had a nightmare about one,” I continued. “I could even smell the stench of sulfur coming from him, feel its heat.” Feel its spittle on my face when it screamed at me.

Again, her eyes scoured my face, looking for what, I didn’t know. “But you have doubts,” she said, not asking.

I squirmed on my seat. “We’re talking about ghosts and demons here. Fairytales. After that comes werewolves, vampires, and headless-horsemen.”

“Yes, but fairytales are often based on true events.”

Goosebumps prickled my skin. “Can’t we go back to talking about who murdered Jane?” I’d rather stick to the flesh and blood players in the game.

“I think you need to leave Jane’s murder to Detective Cooper and put your energy into figuring out what Prudence meant about the book.”

“Aunt Zoe, we don’t even know if what she’s talking about is real. I’m still not fully convinced Wanda wasn’t playing some elaborate parlor trick on me just to mess with my head. I did help put her only remaining child in prison, if you remember. She probably has some grudges stacked up.”

“Who has a grudge?” Harvey asked, hurrying back into the kitchen.

“You get lost somewhere? The bathroom is just down the hall.” I was still bristling about him throwing me under a bus about Prudence and then leaving the room.

“Prostate was being mule-headed, just like someone else I know. Same thing happened this morning at the opera house; you were being mule-headed then and I couldn’t rush my piss, so Coop got to you before I could come to the rescue.”

So that’s where Harvey had disappeared to.

“What did I miss?” he asked, dropping into his chair.

“Violet is going to bring me this demon book,” Aunt Zoe said.

“I am? Why?”

“Because I’m your aunt and I told you to.”

For some reason, the thought of her seeing the book made my armpits sweaty. Partly, I felt this overriding sense of guilt for stealing it, but mostly I was afraid she’d look at the book and find it quite silly and
then
call for a straitjacket along with the padded wagon.

“But it’s all written in Latin,” I said.

“I’m not surprised. I want to see it.”

“You’re not going to be able to read it.”

She smiled at me, looking a bit like Alice’s Cheshire cat. “What makes you think I can’t read Latin, Violet Lynn? I’ll have you know, your great grandmother insisted I learn how to read Latin when I was Addy’s age and went to great pains to teach me. I’ve kept up my reading ever since.”

“Really?” When she gave a single nod, I pressed, “Why did she insist you learn Latin?”

“Someday I’ll explain it all to you. For now, I want that book.”

Chapter Sixteen

Thursday, September 6th

By the next morning, my cell phone had dried off after its swim in the toilet, but something wasn’t quite right with it. The volume kept going up and down at random and there were black lines through part of the screen that no amount of shaking or banging on hard surfaces would erase.

On the upside, I could still retrieve and hear most of my voicemails, several of which had come in from Jerry during my lovely field trip yesterday to Con College.