Better Off Dead in Deadwood (6 page)

Cooper shrugged. “Just curious. She seemed pretty upset that night at the funeral parlor.”

My neck warmed. Of course she had. She’d caught me kissing the man she’d been daydreaming about in happily-ever-after land.

“She was still acting odd when I stopped in to ask her about the whole ordeal the day after the incident.”

Odd? That must mean
emotional
in Cooper-speak. “I’m sure sharing a walk-in freezer with a decapitated body wasn’t something she could sleep off in one night.”

He nodded, but I could see something unsettling in his eyes.

My stomach tightened. “What? Why are you asking me about Natalie?”

“There was something else she said that I can’t make sense of.”

“What?”

“She warned me to be careful if I went back to Mudder Brothers because of the albinos—as in more than one.”

Had Natalie seen the other albino there that night? If so, where had he gone when the shit hit the fan? Had she seen him lurking around since?

Cooper leaned closer, his gaze piercing.

My spine broke out in a sweat. I couldn’t tell if it was from the warmer air outside Cooper’s office or standing too close to a man who wanted to handcuff me and force me to wear an orange jumpsuit.

“Ms. Parker, is there something about that night at Mudder Brothers that you’re not telling me?”

Hell, yes. There were several cards I was holding close to the vest on that one. Most of them were way too weird to talk about aloud, especially in front of a detective who only saw in black and white, no color.

Hiding behind a smile that I could feel quivering on my cheeks, I shook my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Detective.”

I forced my feet to walk not run all the way out the front doors.

* * *

My Aunt Zoe’s house had been sitting down the hill from Mount Moriah Cemetery for over a century. She’d spruced up the no-fuss Victorian decades ago, way before she’d invited me and my kids to share it with her for as long as needed while I tried my hand at this realty gig.

Her reputation for generosity in our family was exceeded only by her perfectly sweetened homemade lemonade, which was exactly what had my mouth watering when I parked Harvey’s Picklemobile in the drive.

The old girl hiccupped when I cut the engine. Then she belched a cloud of black smoke from her tailpipe and wrapped up her gastrointestinal blues with a backfire finale in the still evening air. A dog up the street howled an encore—probably Mr. Stinkleskine’s interfering mutt.

“Honey, I’m home,” I said under my breath and shoved open the pickup door.

The scent of wood smoke tainted the evening air. The warmth of summer in the Black Hills was ebbing away. Fall’s crisp breath required thick sweaters or lined jackets, especially after the sun dipped behind the hills and cast the gulches and valleys into darkness.

I found Aunt Zoe in the kitchen. Instead of her usual attire of faded jeans and a soft cotton blouse, she wore a silver silk tunic, black slacks with a fancy twirl at the bottom, and patent leather mules. Her long salt-and-pepper braid was twisted up into a snazzy knot on her head with elaborately designed chopsticks securing it. Her own custom glass bead earrings and matching necklace added a final pizazz to her ensemble.

Within the walls of her comfortable, pale yellow kitchen with Betty Boop accents, including the cookie jar she always kept filled for my kids, she stood out like Kathryn Hepburn in Dogpatch, Kentucky.

“Wow! You look gorgeous,” I said, leaning my hip against the counter. “Do you have a hot date tonight?”

“I do, as a matter of fact. I’ll probably be home around midnight.”

“Are you going out with a certain captain of the Deadwood Fire Department?”

“Absolutely not. One heartbreak a lifetime courtesy of Reid Martin is plenty for me, thank you very much.”

That was the first time she’d mentioned anything about being heartbroken over the fire captain.

Reid might put out fires for a living, but he’d certainly lit one under Aunt Zoe at some period in the past and smoke still poured out of her ears whenever he came around. The last time he’d graced her kitchen, she’d gone down to the basement to find her shotgun shells. But dragging the truth out of her about what had happened between the two of them was about as easy as giving a kangaroo a French pedicure.

“Then who’s the lucky guy?”

“The owner of a glass gallery from over in Jackson Hole is in town for a few days and wants to talk about commissioning some designs for delivery by next summer.”

Aunt Zoe owned a gallery in town that specialized in glass art pieces—mostly her own designs. As a kid, I’d spent summers helping out in her workshop behind the house and running the register at the gallery.

“So, is this business or pleasure?” I asked.

“Well, if he places the order, it would be enough money to cover my gallery costs for six months.”

“That would be wonderful.” Especially since she had the added burden of me and my kids running up her utility bills here at home. Since we’d moved in, the only money she would take from me was for groceries. “So we’re talking business only then.”

“Not only. He looks like a slightly older version of George Clooney.”

“Yum.”

“He could also charm the crown off the Queen of England.”

“Good looks and charm, that’s a heady cocktail.” He sounded a lot like Reid, only the fire captain looked more like Sam Elliott.

“Very heady. And my crown slips off much easier than hers.”

I grinned at the wink she gave me as she slid the strap of her little black purse over her shoulder.

“So, should I wait up to count your hickeys?”

“Violet Lynn,” she said, shooting me a coy smile, “you’re too much.”

“You don’t fool me, Aunt Zoe. I’ve seen some of the men you’ve dated. You’re not out there playing patty-cake with them.”

“Well, that depends on your version of patty-cake.”

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I could smell the exotic fruity scent of her favorite perfume that I hadn’t ever been able to pronounce correctly.

“How are you now that the funeral is over?” she asked.

Aunt Zoe had been at the service today, too, but she’d sat closer to the front with some mutual friends of Jane’s. Her friendship with Jane had been what had landed me the job. Months ago, she’d called in a favor and gotten me hired. Who’d have guessed we’d be attending Jane’s funeral such a short time later.

“I’m okay.” I opted not to tell her about my trip to the police station right before her date or anything about the albino that had me jumping at shadows. I’d catch her up when she wasn’t about to go enjoy an evening off from me and my problems.

“It’s time for life to go on now,” I added.

She squeezed my shoulder. “Jane would want that from us.”

I nodded, wondering if I should give Mona a call to see how she was doing or leave her be for the night. Her sobs when she’d first heard the news of Jane’s death last week still echoed in my head and tore at my heart.

“The kids are upstairs playing Yahtzee,” Aunt Zoe said. “Have a fun night.”

“You, too.” I followed her to the front door and closed it behind her.

I shucked my shoes and climbed the stairs, following the sound of kids giggling to my bedroom. There, both Addy and Layne sat on the wood floor playing the dice game.

“Why are you two in my room?”

Layne didn’t even look up. “It’s more fun to dump the dice on your floor than our carpet.”

Addy smiled at me, her jaw working the bubble gum in her mouth. “Hi, Mama. Did you have fun at your friend’s party?”

I hadn’t told my kids yet about Jane’s death, so I’d lied about her service, telling them instead that I had a fancy dress party to attend for work.

There were times in life I scared my kids with the truth, especially when it came to chasing a ball into a busy street or getting their hands too close to moving ranch machinery. But the murder of my boss wasn’t one of those truth-needed moments.

“The party was okay,” I told them while tossing my shoes in the closet, frowning at a couple of small chicken feathers floating about in there. “I’m glad to be home with you two, though.”

Layne eyed my dress. “You look really pretty, Mom.”

“Thanks, sweetie. I love you, too.”

“Did you go to the party with a man?” he asked, feigning disinterest.

Layne had male-replacement issues, as in he feared that allowing another man to come into my life would erase my need for him. No matter how many times I tried to explain how incorrect that whole notion was, he couldn’t shake his dislike for any guy who took more than a casual interest in me.

This was one reason I was being so careful with Doc. At the moment, Layne viewed Doc as my friend and was beginning to warm up to him. If he found out in this early stage of their friendship that Doc was my boyfriend—that word still made me grin like an idiot—the temperature between them would drop to freezing overnight.

“I went to the party with Mr. Harvey.”

Layne admired Harvey for his worm catching abilities. Plus, with our age difference, Harvey was no threat.

I walked over to my dresser and grabbed a pink knit shirt and some yoga pants from my drawer. I had a while until Doc would show up on my doorstep, since he said he’d be working late down by Mount Rushmore, so no need to dress up to bake a frozen pizza.

“You should leave that dress on for dinner tonight, Mom,” Addy said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Please. You look so beautiful in it.”

“Thank you, Addy, but I’m not wearing this dress all night. I’m going to take a quick shower; then I’ll throw something together for dinner.”

“Will you make my favorite?” Addy asked.

“Lasagna?”

She nodded.

“That will take too long.” And a lot more work than I was willing to put into dinner. “How about a frozen pizza instead?”

“Maybe I could help you with the lasagna.”

“Are you even listening to me, Adelynn? And where are your glasses? You’re supposed to be wearing them all of the time.” As much as they’d cost, I wanted to see them on her face 24/7.

“They hurt my ears.”

“That’s because you’re not wearing them enough. You better have them on when I get back.” I ignored her protests and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be done shortly. Stay out of trouble.”

There was something about death that made me need to wash my hair. I scrubbed shampoo into it twice and conditioned the hell out of my barely manageable curls. In the post-shower steam, I threw on my shirt and yoga pants and combed my fingers through my wet mophead. I had a couple of hours to get gussied up for Doc.

The doorbell rang as if it’d heard me.

I froze, staring at the steamed up mirror. Crud! Doc was early.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” Addy called. I could hear her feet pounding down the stairs.

As I dug through my makeup drawer for some quick fixes, I heard the front door shut then the sound of a deep voice opposite Addy’s excited tone.

I raced to my bedroom and kicked Layne out, telling him to go downstairs and help his sister entertain our company, and closed the door behind him. One look at my curls in the mirror and I squawked. I had some serious work to do taming my outer shrew with very little time to make it happen.

Fifteen minutes later, I cruised downstairs, my heart beating fast for fear that my children had somehow scared Doc off. With his being a bachelor for decades, his daily lifestyle didn’t include sticky floors, dirty finger smudges, and chicken feathers.

The sound of Addy’s giggles coming from the kitchen lit a flame of hope in my chest.

I took a deep breath and then breezed into the kitchen, only to slam to a stop at the sight of Jeff Wymonds sitting at a candlelit kitchen table. And by candlelit, I meant there was just a single candle sitting there flickering in the bright room—no plates set, no silverware lined up, nothing.

“What’s with the candle?” I asked. If he said the word
séance
, I was going back up to my room and barring the door.

Jeff leaned back in the kitchen chair and eyed me up and down, getting stuck in the down position, as usual. Jeff was a hips and butt kind of guy, which made me wonder if he used to be a dog in his past life.

Finally his eyes returned northward. “You look hot with your hair all gelled like that, Violet Parker.”

The ex-high school football player couldn’t seem to get through his blond head that my name was just Violet, not a hyphenated name that rolled all together. Personally, I thought he’d taken too many hits to the noggin on the playing field, but he was nice underneath the bravado, and he loved his kids, so I put up with his lack of social graces.

“Thanks for inviting me over for dinner,” he said.

What?
I turned to my matchmaking daughter, my mother glare on HIGH. So that’s why she wanted me to keep wearing my black dress.

Addy avoided my laser beams, stirring something in a big pot on the stove with her arm that was cast-free as of last week. As happy as I was to see her rebuilding her strength in the arm she’d broken back in July, I was less than thrilled with her motivation.

“What are we having tonight, Adelynn Renee?” I used her full name as I always did when she was in trouble. At least she was wearing her glasses now.

“Spaghetti,” she said while she stirred.

I walked over and peeked in the pot.

“Honey, you need to heat the water before putting the noodles in. Here, let me finish.” I nudged her aside.

The last thing I wanted to do tonight was listen to Jeff complain about his soon-to-be-ex wife who’d left him for another woman, or try to lure me out of my pants using his redneck-style bait—much of which revolved around how huge his tires were. But I couldn’t be rude to a man who also happened to be a client, so I decided to rush through this one-course dinner and kick Jeff out of here before Doc made it back from his client’s place.

“What did the insurance company say about your garage?” I asked him.

“They’re going to pay for a new roof.”

“Good.” Jeff’s garage roof had been a casualty at my first open house. The fire department had a nickname for me, too, now—”Four-Alarm Parker.”