A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) (16 page)

“The
lidérc
is the creature?” Reid asked.

She nodded.

“That’s the thing that I saw?”

She nodded again. “That’s the thing that saw you, too, unfortunately.”

They stared at each other in silence for several ticks from Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop clock on the wall.

“I have to go back inside that building,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Is this watchband going to keep that thing from attaching to me like it did good old Ottó?”

“I don’t know. I’m not real fluent on my Hungarian Middle World mythology. I pieced together what I know about the Sugarloaf Building through some old newspaper articles I found on it years ago.”

“Why was it in the newspaper?” Doc asked.

“That building has made headlines off and on over the years. Every time a new owner comes along, they try to open up a business in it or convert it to a boarding house or apartments. That’s when things go awry.”

The tone in her voice made the word “awry” sound spooky, giving me chills. “What kind of things?”

“Things that nine times out of ten leave someone dead.”

Those weren’t good odds.

“But not always?” Reid pressed.

She shook her head slowly, honing in on him. “No, not always. If what’s in the Sugarloaf Building doesn’t kill you, though, it will drive you insane.”

Chapter Eight

Several hours later, Reid was gone and Aunt Zoe had returned to her shop to work on her glass order. Although judging from some of the glares I’d received from her while Reid hung around after supper, I suspected she’d left partly to escape her meddling niece, too.

While I herded the kids to bed, Doc drove home to grab clothes and his shaving kit since Aunt Zoe and I were keen on his sharing quarters with us another night. As soon as he returned, I dragged him into the laundry room and closed the door behind us.

Huh. I hadn’t remembered the laundry room being so narrow. Then again, his six-foot-plus, wide-shouldered frame wasn’t usually in the room with me. I kicked aside a basketful of dirty clothes and pushed back several shirts waiting to be ironed that hung on the rack next to the door.

“Is this where I’m sleeping tonight?” he joked.

He’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt when he’d gone home. I tried not to let the urge to ogle him distract me. “I need to talk to you about something.”

His dark brown eyes glittering with devilry, he leaned back against the washer. “Is this your secret clubhouse?”

“Maybe, wise guy. Or maybe it’s the only room in the house that I’m pretty sure is safe from nine-year-old eavesdropping ears.”

“Ah, so the bit about the anonymous phone call wasn’t the real juicy stuff?”

“Only part of it.”

“Let me have it.”

“Wilda is haunting Cornelius.”

Doc’s grin slipped a few notches. “Haunting how?”

“I went to see him this morning to confirm a date for filming Paranormal Realty later this week. He was a mess, wearing a stained robe and boxer shorts, his face sallow with dark circles under his eyes. His suite was a sty too. He said Wilda won’t leave him alone and keeps trying to convince him to hurt others. He even went so far as to beg me to help him get rid of her.”

“Beg?”

“Yeah. He was nothing like his usual odd duck self.”

Doc crossed his arms over his chest. “Hurt who? You?”

“Starting with me, yes.” I wrung the hem of my sweater, my palms damp at the idea of dealing with Wolfgang’s evil sister. “She wants him to kill me. I guess she’s still miffed because her brother didn’t finish the job.”

He blew out a breath, rubbing his forehead. “You’re becoming quite popular it seems.”

“Wilda scares me, Doc.”

“Because she’s obsessed with you?”

Obsessed
was a more fitting term for nutty ex-girlfriends who filled up voicemail boxes. This was a step further, taking things beyond the grave. “No, because I’ve witnessed up close and personal what she can do to a mere mortal. She drove her brother to madness.”

“You think Cornelius will follow in those footsteps?”

I shrugged, and then changed my mind and nodded.

“I talked to Aunt Zoe about this at lunch. She isn’t sure that I can do anything about Wilda since she’s only a ghost.”

“You still think you’re a dud?”

“I don’t know what the hell I am.” I grabbed a plastic hanger from the rack and started fiddling with it, keeping my hands busy. “Aunt Zoe is also concerned that if I try to help Cornelius, especially if I’m in his suite, I might open the door for unwanted visitors who can do more than just whisper in Cornelius’s ear.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Like Kyrkozz.”

When Doc continued to stare at me without saying anything, I added, “She suggested I talk to you to see if anything can be done before Wilda pushes Cornelius over the edge.”

He took his time answering, his focus lowering to the hanger in my hands. “That depends on what you want to accomplish.”

“I can tell you what I don’t want to accomplish.”

He lifted his gaze back to mine, his brows lifted.

“I don’t want Wilda to choose you next for her Let’s Kill Violet campaign.”

I was hoping he’d laugh off my worry. Instead he frowned. “There is that possibility.”

“Has it ever happened to you before?”

“No, but I haven’t met a ghost like Wilda before.”

He’d said something similar about Prudence. What was it about the ghosts in the Black Hills that made them so damned special?

“I don’t want Wilda to destroy Cornelius,” I bent the hanger almost to the breaking point. “He’s an eccentric man with his weird hats and paranormal fetishes, but he’s a good egg overall.”

“You’re willing to face off with an entity that has the ability to direct its hatred into a human and corrupt their energy, in order to help someone who likes to have sleepovers with ghosts in jail cells?”

I held his stare. “Cornelius is my friend.”

“Your friend.”

I nodded.

He took the hanger from me and hung it back on the rack. Then he hooked his finger in the neckline of my sweater and pulled me closer. “I missed you today, Boots,” he said when the tow line slackened. “How come you didn’t call me when you got that creepy phone call?”

“I tried, but your voicemail was full.”

His upper lip curled in what looked like disgust or frustration or both. “I cleared her messages as soon as I had cell service again.”

“Did you listen to any?”

He shook his head.

I opened my mouth to tell him that Tiffany had also texted me this morning but hesitated. Knowing my big mouth, things would take an awkward turn right off the line and end in another one of my infamous crash and burns.

“What?” he asked, taking my hands in his and lacing our fingers together.

“I … uh,” I licked my lips. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.”

After the day I’d had, I wasn’t in the right place mentally to go down that particular rabbit hole, so I hopped to a different one that was also awkward but much safer.

“I stopped over at Jeff Wymonds’s house today to do a sweep of the place. You know, check for other Realtors’ business cards and make sure the property was still show-ready. I didn’t see his truck in the drive, so I let myself in without knocking.” I made a face. “But someone was there.”

“Who?”

“Jeff. I walked in on him and his girlfriend having sex.”

“No!” Doc’s jaw gaped.

“Yep. They were in his kitchen. She was on the counter while he …” I made some hip thrusting gestures. “You get the picture.”

“Not as clearly as you apparently did.” His mouth twitched.

“She had lots of tattoos. Oh, and those nipple rings he showed off to us in Aunt Zoe’s backyard.”

His grin broke the surface. “You
saw
the nipple rings?”

I scowled in reply. “Jeff’s pants were around his ankles and he had on this lacy red thong. I’m pretty sure it was something you’d find in the women’s department.”

Doc chuckled under his breath. “Oh, Boots, I’m so sorry.” His chest shook with silent laughter.

“That’s not all.”

“It isn’t?” he said, as if he couldn’t believe there was more.

I wished that had been it. I wished I were the only one who knew I’d walked in and witnessed the scene.

“Jeff caught me watching them.”

“How long were you standing there?”

“Only seconds, but I said something in surprise and he heard me.”

Doc covered his mouth, trying to hold his amusement inside.

“He even said my name.” I scratched absently at the back of my neck, feeling itchy to run again at the mere thought of what had happened. “Then he just kept going at it, telling me over his shoulder that he was almost in the end zone. Or was it that he was driving in for a touchdown?” I shuddered at the sordid memory.

He lowered his hand to ask. “What about his girlfriend?”

“What about her?”

“Did she say anything?”

I shook my head slowly, as if in a trance. A horrible, embarrassing, brain numbing trance. “She just cheered him on, nipple rings bouncing and bouncing and bouncing.”

Both of Doc’s hands now covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes were peeking over his fingertips, shining extra bright.

“It’s not funny, Doc.” Well, maybe for him since he wasn’t standing in my boots. “How am I going to ever look Jeff in the face again?”

“You could …” he paused to laugh, “skip looking at his face and …” more laughter, “have him turn around and drop his pants again.”

A volley of laughs escaped his mouth at my glare.

I punched him in the shoulder, which only spurred him to double over and really let the guffaws fly.

“I’m sorry … Violet.” He swallowed a few times and tried to collect himself, but hiccups of laughter chirped out a few more times. “So, did you … wait around and cheer for him to make a touchdown?”

“No, Mr. Giggle-Pants, I did not. I raced out the door and drove up to the Piggly Wiggly, which is where I ran into Reid.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Jeff had called when I’d pulled into the parking lot, but I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. It was all still too fresh and sticky.”

“Damn.” Doc wiped at the outside corners of his eyes. “You really had one hell of a day, didn’t you, Tiger?”

At my nod, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, pulling me back toward him. His hands pushed aside my mass of curls and settled onto my shoulders, massaging out the day’s knots. I closed my eyes and let my head hang down, groaning as he worked out one angst after another.

“Was there anything else?” he asked, the laughter gone now.

“You mean with Jeff?”

“No, in general.”

The text from Tiffany moved back to the front of the line. It bounced a few times on the end of my tongue, prepping to dive off into the deep end. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear his answer. If he had told Tiffany he loved her, how would that change things for us? Maybe it was better not to know the truth and let myself hope that when he’d said those three words to me that night in the haunted brothel, he was serious.

“That was it,” I answered.

“Tell me something,” he said while rubbing on a sore muscle bunched up under my shoulder blade.

I grunted in agreement.

“Are you really going to let Coop and Detective Hawke figure out who’s sending those notes? Or are you going to start digging on your own?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Doc.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” I said. “If you’re willing to help me with Cornelius and Wilda, I’ll do as you say when it comes to Wanda.”

“Okay.” I felt his lips brush over the back of my neck and shivered.

There was a long moment of silence as he squeezed and rubbed, broken only by the sounds of my moans and groans. My body began to thrum, electricity building.

“Doc?”

“Yes?”

“Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“I thought we agreed I was staying here.”

“No, I mean where are you sleeping in the house?”

“I figured on the couch, why?”

I turned in his arms. “Because I want you.”

“Is the massage seducing you?”

“No, you are.” I went up on my toes and kissed him. “I want you to make it all go away for a while. Wilda, Wanda, the phone call, Jeff.”
And Tiffany’s words
. “Take me somewhere else.”

“But what about—”

I didn’t let him finish, kissing away any “buts” until he was too focused on kissing me back to come up with more excuses. When we paused to catch our breaths, we were well on our way to steaming up the small window that looked out into the backyard. Thankfully the curtains were closed, because somewhere in the process of convincing him to have his wicked way with me tonight, my bra had slipped off and Doc’s hands had taken its place.

“You want to stay in my room?”

He groaned deep in his chest, his body obviously in favor of a slumber party in my bed. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah, but there are these to consider.” I lifted my sweater to show him what I had to offer.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, his eyes locked below my chin. “Your kids might wake up in the night.”

I lowered my sweater. “How about if I didn’t actually sleep in there with you?”

His gaze lifted to mine. “Am I reading between the lines correctly?”

My fingernails scratched down his shirt, heading further south. “We could lock the door and make it a quick hour of debauchery.”

“You keep touching me like you are right now, Boots, and we won’t even need to leave the laundry room.”

“Really?” I pressed the heel of my palm into him. “Tell me more.”

“How about I show you?”

I reached behind me and hit the lights, shrouding us in darkness. The faint glow of moonlight seeped through the curtains, shadowing his face.

“Okay, Doc.” I breathed in the semidarkness. “Show me.”

“Wait,” he stopped my hand. “What about your aunt?”

“She’s working out in her glass shop until late tonight.” I unbuttoned his jeans. “You’re out of excuses, big boy.”

“Tease,” he whispered and slid his hands inside the back of my velvet pants, his palms cupping me, hauling me against him. His lips came down on mine, hungry and fierce. The whirlwind of lust that came with his kiss made me dizzy. His heated touches made my whole body tremble in anticipation.