Nearly Departed in Deadwood (34 page)

      I found Aunt Zoe in the kitchen, humming under her breath, surrounded by tin-foil muffin cups and the mouth-watering aroma of banana bread. My stomach growled, my appetite back now that I was wrapped in the comforts of home and family.

      I grabbed one of the cups from the baking rack, the tin still warm, and peeled a muffin free. “These smell wonderful.”

      Aunt Zoe lifted an eyebrow. “You’re home early.”

      “Things were dead at the office.” At Wolfgang’s house, too, according to Doc. I’d have laughed at my own joke if the memory of Doc’s convulsions wasn’t so fresh in my mind.

      “Natalie called.” Aunt Zoe returned to the task of filling another muffin cup. “She can’t watch the kids tomorrow night.”

      “Yeah, she got hold of me at work,” I mumbled through a sweet bite of muffin.

      “I can close the store tomorrow night and stay home.”

      “No, you’re already doing that for me tonight. Let me talk to Harvey, see if he can come over. Hell, he’s at Miss Geary’s house every other night as it is. They can just watch Jeopardy over here—if that’s okay with you.”

      “Sure,” she glanced at me over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling more than usual. “But don’t you want the option of having the whole night free?”

      “Why?” Oh, duh—sex. “No, it’s just dinner tomorrow.”

      “Okay, but if you change your mind, just holler.” She opened the oven door and pulled out a sheet of puffy muffins. “Harvey called, too. He wondered if he needed to babysit you tonight at dinner, or if Doc was.”

      “Doc?” He hadn’t mentioned joining me, just asked me not to go.

      “That’s my question.” She stuffed another tray of muffins into the oven and shut the door. “Who’s Doc?”

      I swallowed the last of my muffin and grabbed another. “A client of mine.”

      “You’re going to take a client along on a blind date with your secret admirer?”

      “Well, Doc’s kind of a friend, too, and I’m not going to take him. He’s just worried about me being alone with my admirer.”

      “Really?” Aunt Zoe tossed her oven mitt on the counter and planted her hands on her hips. “And he’s just
kind of a friend
?”

      “Uh, huh,” I said through a mouthful of muffin.

      “Is he good-looking?”

      I pretended to examine the accordion design on the muffin tin, hiding my eyes behind a cluster of loose blonde curls. “My admirer? How should I know?”

      “You know I’m talking about this
Doc
friend.”

      I sighed and crumpled the muffin wrapper in my hand. “Yes. He’s very good-looking. Too good-looking.”

      He also claimed to be chummy with the dead, which should affect my attraction to him, yet it didn’t—not even a little bit. I should probably talk to a psychiatrist about that.

      “But you’re going out with Wolfgang tomorrow night.”

      “Yep.”

      “Interesting.”

      “Not really.” More like depressing. I stole a third muffin and crammed it all into my mouth.

      I wanted a man I couldn’t have, and had a man I didn’t want. There, I’d laid it on the table. Wolfgang was drop-dead gorgeous and mine for the hands-on ogling, yet here I was peeking over Doc’s fence, checking out how green his grass looked. I definitely needed psychological help.

      “I’m worried about tonight, Violet.” Aunt Zoe dumped the empty mixing bowl in the sink. “Maybe you should let Doc join you.”

      “No.” Although a part of me hoped he’d show up at the restaurant. He knew where and when.

      “What about Harvey?”

      “Absolutely not.” I waved off her exasperated glare. “I’ll be in a public restaurant. What could happen?”

      “Promise me you’ll call as soon as dinner is over.”

      “I will.” Or not, being that my cell phone was in three pieces at the moment. “I’m going to go change and help Layne. Thanks for the muffins.”

      Several hours and three-quarters of a horse spine later, I stood in front of my bedroom full-length mirror wearing the sapphire, calf-length dress I’d worn in my cousin’s wedding two years ago. Always a bridesmaid, always an unwed mother, never a bride. My evening loomed in front of me, my nerves seeping out through my armpits.

      Still no word from Doc. Not that I’d expected him to come around, banging down the screen door, wanting to talk. I mean we’d only almost had sex this afternoon and then shared one of those life-and-death type of moments, after which he made me solemnly swear to never tell a soul about his ability to have tea and crumpets with the dead. Silly me, I’d kind of felt like we’d reached a new level in our so-called friendship.

      After a dab of lipstick and a pep rally with my mirror, I kissed the kids goodbye, hugged Aunt Zoe, and headed downtown.

      The Wild Pasque’s parking lot overflowed onto the street, typical for a Friday night. My heels clicked across the asphalt, my eyes searching for Doc’s Camaro as the sun slipped behind the surrounding hills.

      I climbed the grand stairway to the restaurant’s entrance. The stuffed-shirt host found the
Adelynn
reservation without a problem. Scanning the other patrons as he led me through a maze of tables toward large windows overlooking Main Street, I sought a familiar face with a cleft chin and pair of dark brown eyes, but found only strangers.

      Two place settings awaited me at the table, the linen napkins fanned out next to the silverware. My date had yet to arrive. Good. I needed time to gulp down some liquid courage.

      The host held my chair and waited for me to settle in before taking my drink request. Merlot sounded good. Fruity with a bite—kind of like Harvey. As I waited for my date and drink to arrive, preferring the latter first, and the former never, I studied each passerby on the street below. If Doc was down there, he’d hidden himself well.

      The waiter stopped by to introduce himself and drop off my wine. He looked all of sixteen, in spite of his fat-Elvis sideburns, and tossed out several ‘ma’am’s as he told me about the evening’s specials. Had I not been wearing my only pair of Jimmy Choo heels, which were given to me three Christmases ago by my mother, I would have crammed my shoe down his acne-dotted throat for making me feel like an old maid.

      Sipping on my wine, I searched the upper windows of the buildings across the street. Maybe Doc had decided to dine vicariously this time. Alas, no sight of him. I knocked my fan-shaped napkin over.

      “I was worried you wouldn’t show up,” a man said in my ear.

      I jumped, splashing red wine on the white table cloth.

      “You look stunning, Violet.” He dropped into the seat opposite of me. “As usual.”

      I gaped at him.

     
No. Fucking. Way
.

      “Blue looks even better on you than red.”

      I finally heaved my jaw up off the floor. “
You
are my secret admirer?”

      “Surprised?”

      If my nose broke off, landed in my glass of merlot, and blew out a stream of bubbles, I couldn’t be more shocked. “A little.”

      “Good.” Benjamin Underhill, Ray’s nephew, chuckled. “I hate to disappoint.”

      I gaped at him, noticing his eyes were different colors—one icy blue, the other light green. They’d both been blue in the picture on Jane’s desk. “But, I thought your eyes ...”

      “I wear a colored contact usually. It keeps people from staring.”

      “Oh.” I gulped down a mouthful of merlot, staring, and debated on making a run for the hills. However, since I already lived in them, I forced my feet to stay planted and asked, “How do you know my daughter’s name?”

      “Addy?” Her nickname rolled off his tongue way too easily for a mother’s comfort.

      Our waiter, Elvis Jr., approached, holding an open bottle of merlot.

      “She’s quite a sidewalk saleswoman. I bought some mittens for my niece’s kitten from her.”

      “You did?” I frowned, then remembered Layne’s phone call about Addy selling stuff to the guy with
weird eyes
. I drained the rest of my wine, not sure if I should feel relieved or more frightened. Benjamin could be the kidnapper. If Ray knew, that would explain why he was collecting Missing Girl posters.

      Benjamin nodded as the waiter filled his wineglass. “Along with some other pet paraphernalia.”

      My wine glass clunked on the table, empty, ready for more. I waited until the waiter had refilled my glass and departed before asking, “Did Ray tell you where I live?”

      “No, I followed you home one night.” He raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to a long, successful partnership.”

      I almost swallowed my tongue.

      * * *

     
Saturday, July 21st

      I whipped into the Deadwood library’s parking lot and parked next to Doc’s Camaro. Mid-morning sunshine ricocheted off his side mirror, making me squint behind my sunglasses. The lingering effects of last night’s wine throbbed with fresh zeal. After killing the engine, I dry-swallowed a couple of aspirins before shoving open my door.

      I’d waited over an hour for Doc to show up at work, leaving nose prints all over his front window, sweating and pacing outside his door. Finally, I’d decided to hunt him down—Deadwood had only a handful of places to hide. After a quick run through the Rec Center, here I was; and here Doc was, too.

      I climbed the library steps, my sandals flapping on the concrete. A musty smell rushed to greet me as I stepped through the door. Miss Plum looked up from behind her desk.

      “Can I help you?” she asked as I strode past her toward the South Dakota room.

      “No, thanks. I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

      I pushed open the door and found Doc sitting in his usual place, surrounded by his usual stack of books—death registry, cemetery listings, etc. It all made sense now. I closed the door behind me, dropped into the chair opposite him, and leaned my elbows on the table.

      “Hello, Violet.” His grin was absent today, a frown acting as its understudy.

      “We need to talk.”

      “How was your date last night?”

      Mind-blowing. “The wine was good.”

      “How about the company?”

      While it turned out Ray’s nephew and I had several things in common besides the desire for my job, and he seemed as harmless as a gnat, I couldn’t get past him sending me those creepy poems and following me. No matter how much wine I poured down my throat.

      “You weren’t there.”

      “Was I missed?” He looked tired, emphasized by the shadows under his eyes.

      I didn’t want to admit to anything. Besides, this meeting wasn’t supposed to be about me. “Mona wants to know if you’re interested in the property.”

      He raised his brows. “Only Mona?”

      “Are you?”

      “Maybe.”

      “As in maybe we’re going to make an offer?”

      Scratching his chin, he shrugged. “It’s a lot of money.”

      “It’s a one-of-a-kind house. You won’t find anything comparable to it in Deadwood. At least not anything available.”

      Doc leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where are you going for dinner tonight?”

      I blinked at his curveball. “Wolfgang hasn’t specified.”

      “What are you wearing?”

      “He requested my red dress. What about you?”

      “I would have requested something green.”

      So he’d mentioned before—and I hadn’t forgotten. “I meant, where are you taking Natalie?”

      “She told you we’re having dinner?”

      My ears still rang from her shouts of joy. “She mentioned it in passing.”

      “I’m not taking her anywhere. She offered to cook for me. What kind of wine does she prefer?”

      “Any with alcohol in it.”

      “So she’s easy to please?”

      “You could say that.” That was a polite way of putting it. I didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t stop myself, “Are you going to kiss her goodnight?”

      His grin finally made an appearance. “Who wants to know?”

      “Harvey,” I lied.

      That made him laugh. “Is
Harvey
jealous?”

      Being eaten alive by it. “Yes.”

      “He’s not alone.”

      It was those kinds of comments from him that left me spinning long after the merry-go-round stopped, but I didn’t want to talk about Natalie and Doc, anymore. I had enough heartburn for now. “What do you do for a living, Doc?”

      “Make an appointment with me and you’ll see.”

      “I tried that route already and got booted because of a dead person.”

      “You were the one looking at me like I had antennas growing out of my head.”

      “Well, it’s not every day that a client informs me he just shook hands with a house’s dead owner.”

      “I’m back to being just your client, huh?”

      “Client, friend, psychic. You choose the title.” I wanted
lover
even though I shouldn’t, but Doc’s wall was back between us after yesterday’s hiatus.

      “Are you going to see your secret admirer again?”

      “Undoubtedly.” Most likely, he’d be sitting at my desk in my chair if Doc wouldn’t put an offer on Mona’s gem. “Are you going to sleep with my best friend?”

      Whoa! I hadn’t planned to go there, but I was having control issues today—as in a lack of it.

      His grin grew wider. “I haven’t worked out any details.”

      I sat back, his answer a burr in my butt. “Try not to hurt her.”

      “What about you?”

      “What about me?” I was already hurting.

      “Are you going to have sex with Wolfgang tonight?” His question sounded bored, but his stare stole my breath.

      I wanted to sound all cool and Fonzie-like about casual sex, but I settled for honesty. “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “Contrary to what the men in this town think of me, I don’t just hop into bed with anyone who buys me something to eat.”