Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (20 page)

Doc pulled me back. “You sneak outside through the lobby doors and go around to the side; I’ll slip by them and make sure it’s not locked.”

As far as I could remember, Honey had no idea who Doc was, so that should work. “Okay. See you shortly.”

Doc’s plan worked like a charm.

We stole up the same back stairwell where Doc had first come across a young prostitute ghost almost a month ago. But there were no spooks lingering around to freak me out tonight. No talk of Doc’s aversion to marriage, either, which was another misadventure we’d shared in the stairwell.

Cornelius’s suite was located on the third floor. For the first time, Doc had no qualms, no queasiness, nothing on the way up to it, not even in the hallway outside the suite’s door.

“Last time you were here,” I whispered, “thirteen ghosts came at you all at once. Where are they now?”

“I don’t think I want to know.”

We reached Cornelius’s door. I gave the signal knock as instructed by his text this afternoon. Three loud knocks, two quiet ones, and then three more loud ones.

“Is there a secret password, too?” Doc asked.

“I hope not or we’ll be out here all night.”

The door creaked open, but nobody peeked through the crack. I pushed it further open. The foyer was empty. Doc and I stepped inside, letting the door click closed behind us.

The suite was semi-dark, lit by computer screens. An old black and white version of
The Thing
played on the television screen, adding a flickering effect to the walls. If I hadn’t had Doc’s hand on my lower back propelling me forward, I might have turned and fled back out the door.

“Cornelius?” I whispered loudly, afraid someone or something else might reply in his place. Something black and covered in pustules with glowing orange eyes.

“Violet,” he popped up from a chair behind the row of computer screens, making me squawk in surprise.

Doc chuckled, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ve been hanging around Addy’s chicken too long.”

“Did you bring the wine?” Cornelius asked, waving us to join him behind the monitors.

The whole setup looked like a command center. I wondered if he could watch the space shuttle land from this setup.

I held out the wine bottle. “It’s not a Merlot.”

He took it. “This is white?”

“You didn’t say it had to be red.”

“I know. I was making sure it was white.”

“It’s a Riesling.”

“Perfect.” He put it on the round table in the dining area. “They’re going to love it.”

“The ghosts?”

“No, my collection of Venus flytraps.”

I let that one roll off and caught Doc’s hand, pulling him closer. “I also brought my tall friend along.”

Cornelius looked up at him. “Hello, Medium.”

“Good evening, Ghost Whisperer,” Doc shot back without hesitation, sliding me a glance.

I swallowed a chuckle.

“I’m glad you could join us.” Cornelius gave Doc one of those crooked smiles of his that tended to make me think the world was tipping sideways. “Violet tells me you have a romantic interest in her.”

Even more so when he followed with something as odd and embarrassing as that. I coughed out a gasp, glad for the shadows that hid my red cheeks.

“Did she now?” Doc winked at me. “Violet tells me you’re having trouble with some talkative ghosts.”

“They’re incessant.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since the last séance when Violet channeled Big Lips Lolly.”

Oh, dear Lord, I’d forgotten about my award-winning acting that night when I’d pretended to get in contact with the long-dead prostitute Doc had run into in the stairwell.

Doc smirked. “I remember that night very well.” He touched his cheek where I’d elbowed him hard enough to knock him off his chair and leave him with a helluva shiner.

I wrinkled my nose at him.

Cornelius indicated the table. “Pull up those chairs, and I’ll let you both hear the clamor going on in my walls.”

We each took a spot on either side of Cornelius. He unplugged a pair of headphones from what looked like a very expensive stereo with all sorts of lights and knobs and then turned up the volume.

“Now listen closely.” He hit the Play button.

A bunch of hissing and static followed.

I looked at Doc. He held up a “wait” finger.

What sounded like whispering started, mixing in with the white noise.

“Are those …” I started, leaning closer to the speaker next to me.

“Voices,” Cornelius finished.

A rash of chills covered me from head to toe. “Turn it up a little more.”

“You’re going to get a kick out of this part coming up.”

“Why?”

He turned the volume up. “Just listen.”

I did, my palms sweaty.

Hisssss … tea party … hisssssss … fire … hisssssss … my Wolfgang … hisss.

The voice sounded high-pitched and young, like Addy’s.

Cornelius hit the Stop button.

I clenched my hands together. “Did I just hear the word ‘Wolfgang’?”

Doc nodded, his dark gaze solemn, his brow pinched.

“That is correct,” Cornelius answered, as if I’d given the right question to an answer on
Jeopardy
. “It’s the same name you spoke the first time you visited my suite.”

“No, I didn’t,” I lied, not wanting it to be true.

“You denied it then, too, Violet, but I was recording that night, remember? You were in a trance-like state at the time.”

Fine. Maybe I had. “So the name
Wolfgang
on your EV-thingamajobbie is what you wanted us to hear tonight?”

“There’s more.” Cornelius hit Play again. “Keep listening.”

I didn’t want to, but I leaned in again anyway.

Hisssss … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … onlyyouIlove … hissss.

My breath log-jammed in my throat. My finger was trembling when I reached out and pressed the Stop button.

“Those were the words he said to me that night,” I whispered in the sudden quiet.

“While you were in the room with the others?” Doc asked.

“Yes.” The
others
. As in the three decomposing little girls the bastard had murdered.

“Who are we talking about?” Cornelius’s gaze ping-ponged between Doc and me.

I covered my mouth with both hands feeling like I needed to bar the door, or something—a scream or my supper or both—would come rushing up my esophagus and out through my lips.

“You okay, Violet?” Doc asked. I shook my head but motioned for them to continue. He turned to our host. “Is there anything else from this particular ghost?”

“One more thing.” With his finger paused over the Play button, Cornelius frowned at me. “It’s why I wanted you to listen to it in person.”

He hit Play.

I stared at the speaker, afraid to breathe.

Hissssssss … my beautiful … hisssssssssss … Violet … hissss.

I stood up so fast my chair fell over backward. “Holy shit!”

Doc and Cornelius both stared at me while the static kept playing.

I was huffing as if I’d just returned from a sprint up Main Street and back. “Wilda’s still here.”

Chapter Ten

Meanwhile, back in the Purple Door Saloon …

One shot of tequila wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

Not after hearing Wilda say my name.

“Three shots of tequila for starters,” I ordered from the blonde-hating bartender at the Purple Door Saloon.

He must have seen on my face that I was in no mood for any snarls or attitude from him tonight, because he agreed to have them delivered to me in the corner booth without a single hint of gruff.

I crossed the room without really seeing the faces of the other patrons. Settling into the booth, I waited for Doc, whom I’d left behind in Cornelius’s suite.

There was no way I could sit there in that room, not with the thought of the ghost Wilda standing there next to me, watching me, whispering things in my ear that I couldn’t hear. That would fuel the kind of nightmares that would wake me up screaming at the top of my lungs. No thanks. So I’d told Doc he could find me at The Purple Door when he and Cornelius were done listening to the other ghosts and raced out of the hotel like it was crashing down around me.

A purple-haired waitress brought my shots over. I thanked her, giving her a nice tip, wondering if she’d colored her hair to match the bar’s name in order to make her boss happy.

Criminy, the things we did for money. I slammed back a shot, coughing into my hand as it burned its way down.

That was the whole reason I’d agreed to sell the Hessler house. I had been desperate for a sale, worried I’d lose my job, afraid I’d no longer be able to pay my bills and end up moving back in with my parents.

Well, that and the fact that Wolfgang had been so charming. I picked up the second shot glass, staring through the tequila at the blur of lights and shapes beyond. God, what a sucker I’d been.

All of those fucking clowns. I shuddered, remembering Mrs. Hessler’s obsession with painted faces, overly happy eyes, and ghastly smiles.

The second shot of tequila went down easier than the first, my eyes watering only a little. I licked my lips and set the empty shot glass next to the other one.

My thoughts flitted through mouth-drying memories from that night in Wolfgang’s house. The wallpaper covered with violets. The taste of tannins from the drugged wine. The stench of decaying flesh. The creepy clown candle in the center of the cake. The sinus-burning odor of lighter fluid. The crackling of the fire. The burning heat.

His words echoed in my head …

“She won’t leave me alone. She screams at me nonstop, blaming me, threatening to destroy all of the good in my life.”

“Is she screaming now?”

His gaze focused over my head. “No.”

I peeked over my shoulder and saw nothing but the bedroom door. “What is she doing?”

“Just watching. Making sure I follow through.”

I picked up the third shot and swallowed it down in one big gulp. Ahhh, no trouble at all with that one. The shot glass fell in line with the other two. The fear that had me all lathered up at the sound of Wilda’s voice quieted, no longer kicking at the stall door to break free and gallop screaming into the night. I signaled the waitress to bring me two more shots. Those should make me forget the Hessler chapter in my life for a while.

Wolfgang.

His face swam before me with his quick smile and rakish blond hair. Those deep blue eyes had warmed my blood at first, and then had scared the holy hell out of me that night when he told me what his dead sister Wilda wanted.

“She refuses to leave me alone unless I kill the one I love … She’s the eye-for-an-eye type.”

He’d believed that if I died, Wilda would go, too. Only then would he be free of the little ghost girl who haunted him day and night.

But he’d died, not me.

Was that why Wilda was still hanging around? Waiting for me to keel over? Or was it because I’d burned her house down and had a hand in killing her brother? Was this a revenge haunt? Was she determined to finish what her brother had started?

Memories blurred my vision, or maybe it was the shots of tequila catching up with me. At some point two more tequila-filled shot glasses appeared in front of me. My hand was reaching for the first one when someone slid into the booth opposite me and stole them both away.

I frowned, blinking up into the face of Detective Cooper. “Give those back.”

He shook his head. “This is a bad idea, Parker.”

“This,” I pointed at the shot glasses in his hand and then back at me, “is out of your jurisdiction, Detective.”

“Are you driving home?”

I shook my head.

“Are you here with Ms. Beals or Nyce?”

“Doc drove.”

“Where is he?”

“Listening to ghosts.”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed. “How drunk are you?”

“Not nearly enough yet. Give me back my shots.”

“Seriously, where’s Nyce? It’s not like him to leave you to get soused on your own.”

“I told you he’s listening to ghosts.” I crossed my arms, resting my elbows on the table. “Maybe you should get your stupid notebook and pen out and write that down so you don’t have to ask again.”

His face crinkled, apparently unhappy about me insulting his accessories. “Listening to ghosts where?”

“At The Old Prospector Hotel with my buddy Cornelius.” I lunged forward to grab my shot glasses from him, but he held them out of reach. “Why do you always have to be such a fucking asshole, Cooper?”

When he hit me with a full-on gunslinger glare, I realized what I’d said. “Oops.” I sat back in my seat. “That was the tequila talking, not me.”

“I doubt that. Why are you here slamming back shots while your boyfriend is in a haunted hotel supposedly talking to ghosts?”

“I said he’s listening, not talking.”

“Jesus, Parker. Just answer the goddamned question.”

I gave him a glare of my own. “You won’t believe my answer.”

“Try me.”

“Fine. I’m drinking because I heard something tonight that scared the hell out of me.”

“What? A ghost?” I could hear his sarcasm crystal clear.

“You know what, Cooper? Fuck you.” I pointed both index fingers at him. “And fuck your bullying day-in and day-out. I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit tonight, so go ruin someone else’s life.”

I slid out of the booth, stumbling to my feet. They served shots at the bar, too, which was where I was going to plant my butt. I smoothed my shirt down over my waist and took a step in the bar’s direction. And if that blonde-hating bartender so much as looked at me funny, I was going to grab a pool cue from the back room and jam it up his …

Cooper grabbed my arm. “Get back here, Parker.”

He propelled me back into the booth. My landing was lacking in grace, arms and legs flailing. The toe of my shoe flew up as I hit the seat cushion and connected with the bossy detective’s shin.

He grunted and grimaced. “Damn it, Parker!”

I righted myself and tucked my legs under the table. “That’s what you get for manhandling me, bully.”

“What’s going on here?” Doc’s voice cut through the tequila haze now starting to cloud my brain.