An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 (5 page)

I glanced back at the doorway, making sure Detective Cooper wasn’t loitering within hearing distance. “How long had the woman in apartment four lived here?”

“Ms. Wolff?” Freesia lowered her gaze. She kicked at a raised nail head in the porch floor boards. “She moved in about a year after my parents took over the place. They’d changed it from a boarding house into an apartment building, and she was the first to rent a unit. She told my pop that she’d lived here years ago, too, back before it fell into disrepair.”

I wondered if Ms. Wolff had been around during the last round of murders and shrunken skulls. Now didn’t seem like a good time to ask that question aloud. Freesia probably wouldn’t know the answer anyway.

“What was Ms. Wolff like?” I pressed, trying to see if she had a history of crazy or if her phone call to me had been a one-off?

“Violet,” Harvey warned, nudging his head toward the front door. “Coop’s wrapping up.”

I needed to hurry it up if I was going to pick Freesia’s brain before Cooper bullied her into keeping her lips sealed around anyone without a badge. “Ms. Wolff called me today,” I said quietly to Freesia. “She insisted I come over here and see her immediately.”

“I know.” Her volume matched mine. “Willis told me.”

Her use of Harvey’s first name inspired a raised brow for the old man. “What else did you tell her?”

He shrugged. “She had a right to know since she owns the place.”

“Anyway …” I turned back to Freesia, catching sight of Cooper in my peripheral. He was talking to the cop guarding the door to Ms. Wolff’s apartment. “What I’m wondering is if Ms. Wolff was in her right mind when she called me or if she was prone to eccentricity.”

Like calling a Realtor out of the blue and scaring her with talk about the Grim Reaper.

Freesia pulled her jacket tighter around her and buried her hands in her pockets. “Ms. Wolff had a mind like a steel trap. She knew the history of the Black Hills inside and out and could tell you the names of people who had come and gone since back before Big Jake came to town. Her bedroom has a long shelf filled with one history book after another, as well as some personal journals she’d acquired over the years. I asked her once if she was a retired teacher, but she shook her head and changed the subject.”

Harvey shouldered me over a step. “What’s with all of those cuckoo clocks?”

“She liked to collect them.”

“How come none of them have the right time?” Harvey prodded some more.

“I asked her about that when I first took over. She said that if they all were to go off at the same time, the commotion would keep her up day and night.”

The ticking alone would make me climb the walls. “It would be pretty loud. There have to be over fifty clocks in there.”

“One hundred and thirteen last time I counted,” Freesia corrected me.

“Did she have any friends who’d visit her?” I asked. “An ex-husband? Or a boyfriend even?”

“Or a girlfriend?” Harvey asked. When I frowned at him, he shrugged. “What? Maybe she didn’t like boys.”

Freesia’s forehead furrowed as she looked toward Main Street. “Every now and then she’d talk about a man she used to go on picnics with years ago and this forlorn smile would creep onto her lips; otherwise, she was a textbook version of a loner. Most days, she went out only if she needed groceries. My parents would take her to the store in the winter. After they moved away, I drove her around when she needed a ride. When I was busy, she’d ask the other residents.”

“Did they get along with her?”

“Sure. She was very kind. She baked for us as a ‘thanks’ for helping her. Her rum cake was to die for, and her homemade peppernut cookies would make this place smell wonderful for days.”

“What was her first name?” I asked.

“None of your business, Parker,” Cooper answered, his voice hard and tight. He grabbed my elbow, a gesture that appeared polite, but his grip was all dominance and irritation. He pulled me several steps away from Freesia. “I thought I told you to stand here and not talk to anyone.”

“I thought you specified no phone calls.”

“I said talk to nobody.”

“Freesia’s not a nobody. She’s the house’s owner.” I tugged my arm free. I was allergic to dominant males. They made me break out in fights. “Besides, it would’ve been rude for Harvey and me to ignore her, right, Harvey?”

The old buzzard held up his hands. “Don’t make me the monkey in the middle on this one.”

Cooper looked at Freesia, his scowl dissipating. “How are you doing, Ms. Tender?”

The sound of Big Jake’s last name reminded me of what I’d learned about the Galena House. Suddenly the old place seemed more forlorn than unkempt.

“I’m okay, just sad. Ms. Wolff was a sweetheart. Were you able to determine how she was killed?”

Harvey and I exchanged a wide eyed glance. The detective must not have filled her in on the condition of the body. I turned back and caught a steely look from Cooper, warning me to keep it that way.

The detective’s focus returned to Freesia, his rigid features softening. “If you’re up to a visit to the station, I’d like to have you come with me to answer a few more questions.”

A few? No fair. He was going to take it easy on her. I usually got the full neck bobbling shakedown followed by a rubber glove inspection.

A few weeks back, Harvey had mentioned that Cooper had the hots for someone. Maybe Freesia was that someone. She was young for the detective by about fifteen years or so I guessed, but age might not matter to either of them. I hoped she used protection when getting naked with him. Chainmail underneath a hazmat suit should be enough.

Harvey joined me off to the side while Cooper treated Freesia with kid gloves. I watched with a pout, waiting for him to offer her milk and cookies. I leaned over and whispered, “How come he’s so nice to her?”

“Probably because she didn’t drop another murder in his lap that could cost him his job if he can’t solve it.”

“It wasn’t my fault. Ms. Wolff called me.”

“Maybe so, but why?”

Cooper shouted for one of his men, who shielded Freesia under an umbrella and led her to a police car. The hail had stopped, replaced by a steady drizzle. Freesia waved goodbye to us before sliding into the passenger seat.

After speaking in grunts and growls on his cell phone, Cooper hung up and stalked back to where his uncle and I waited for our flogging. “You can leave for now, Parker. I’d advise you to stay in town for a few days.”

What? “You’re not hauling me to the station, too?”

“Not now but don’t get too comfortable.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt anything even remotely close to comfortable since making the detective’s acquaintance back in July.

“What about me?” Harvey asked.

“Keep your phone handy.”

“Did you see the twits I sent you earlier?”

Cooper did a doubletake. “You sent me what?”

“He calls texts ‘twits,’” I explained.

“The pictures of the cow,” Harvey added.

The canyons in Cooper’s forehead deepened. “I’ll call you later about those.”

I palmed the keys to the Picklemobile and pulled the neck of my sweater up over my head to shield my hair. Rain tended to morph my curls into a clown wig. “Let’s go, Harvey.”

“Parker,” Cooper called out, stopping me halfway down the sidewalk.

My shoulders tightened. I turned. “What?”

He joined us in the rain, his dark blond hair, crooked nose, and windbreaker dotted with water drops. “I cannot emphasize how important it is that you keep your big mouth shut about this damned mess until I get to the bottom of it.”

Now that I thought about it, chainmail wasn’t enough. “What do you think, Cooper? I’m going to place an ad on the front page of the
Black Hills Trailblazer
?” I took a step toward him, thinking it might be nice to add another crook to his nose with my fist. “Having another murder on my résumé is not exactly going to help my reputation, you know.”

He held his index finger to his lips. “Not a word to anyone other than Nyce. Not even to your boss.”

Harvey tugged on my sweater. “Unless you two wanna slice thumbs and share blood over it, I suggest we get goin’.”

“I don’t want to hear about either of you sneaking around this place later,” Cooper hollered at our backs. “Leave this one to the police, Parker.”

“I’d be happy to,” I yelled over my shoulder while Harvey dragged me along. “It’d be wonderful if you could actually solve it before I’m forced to!”

Chapter Three

“Where can I drop you?” I asked Harvey as we headed back across Main Street.

“There’s only one place I can think to go right now.”

“Where’s that?” I knew where I wanted to go to unload the weight of Ms. Wolff’s death.

“Doc’s office, our pow-wow headquarters.”

He must have been reading my mind.

I parked the Picklemobile behind Calamity Jane Realty. The exhaust pipe announced our arrival with a loud bang; the backfire was its version of a car alarm’s
beep-beep
. Jerry’s Hummer wasn’t in sight, nor Ben’s Subaru; only Mona’s and Ray’s SUVs were parked in their usual spots.

“I need to go into the office and touch base.” I hoped Mona wouldn’t ask too many questions about my whereabouts for the last two hours. I hated to lie to her, but Cooper had insisted, so this one was on his conscience, not mine. “I’ll be over there in a few.”

“I’ll fill Doc in on the mess we waded into back at the Galena House while we wait.”

“Don’t let Detective Cooper find out you were talking about Ms. Wolff.”

Harvey reached for the door handle. “Coop told you to keep your big mouth shut. He didn’t say a peep about stopping my chin from waggin’.”

We crawled out of the pickup and dodged raindrops all the way across the lot. Harvey veered next door to Doc’s as we neared.

I stepped inside Calamity Jane’s and shook out my sweater, hanging it on one of the pegs lining the back wall. I could smell remnants of my boss’s cologne as I passed his office, but as I’d figured when I hadn’t seen his Hummer, there was no sign of him. The overhead lights were on, but nobody was home. After his latest absurd marketing idea, I was beginning to think that was true inside of his head, too.

Mona looked up from her laptop as I stepped into the front room where four desks formed an open circle, like Conestoga wagons ready for an ambush. Our desks used to be lined up like school children, but Jerry didn’t think that inspired a team atmosphere. Now we were huddled together so that we could gaze into each other’s eyes in between clients coming and going. Lucky me, I got to face off with the scowl of my favorite coworker, Ray the Horse’s Ass, hour after hour. I could only imagine what fun form of torture Jerry would come up with next for us. Thumbscrews? Matching iron maidens? A company retreat?

I looked over at Ray’s desk, noting his cell phone and keys weren’t in their usual corner. The bathroom door stood open, the room dark. He must have taken off with Ben, his nephew, the newest member of our “five-man team.”

“Where’d you disappear to after lunch?” Mona asked, her red fingernails clacking on her keyboard. As much typing as Mona did every day, I had a suspicion she was either writing a book or having a torrid email affair with some lovesick prison inmate … or maybe a cell block full of them.

I tucked my purse into my desk drawer, glancing at the clock. Only two hours had passed since I’d left Bighorn Billy’s. The fire in my gut over Jerry’s reality TV idea had been stomped on and doused by a dead woman.

“I had a few errands to run.” Guilt warmed my cheeks at my lie. “Where’s everyone?”

“Jerry had to meet with Jane’s lawyer about some title paperwork. Apparently her being murdered gums up the transfer of ownership.”

Melancholy plopped down on my chest. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t miss Jane with her level-headed career plans and her ability to converse without a single sports-based metaphor. I crossed my fingers that this paperwork problem acted as tar under Jerry’s marketing machine.

“Ray and Ben headed out after lunch to meet a client who is interested in purchasing the High Stakes Casino.”

My desk phone was blinking. Because it was Sunday, I suspected my son had called to ask me to pick up some household chemical, superglue, or pizza before coming home. I sat down and scanned through a few new listings posted to the MLS database. My eyes glazed over, my brain still back in apartment four with all of those clocks. Why had there been no blood? “That casino closed down last winter, right?”

“Yes,” she paused to shuffle some papers around and then returned to her keyboard. “One of the pipes burst during that below zero spell we had and flooded the second floor, ruining a good portion of the first floor’s ceiling. Not to mention the wreck it made of the carpet and underlying floor boards on both levels.”

What had Ms. Wolff said, or whoever it was that had called me to come over? Something about “nine shark trickster”? Or was it “nine shaft rigger”? No, there was a “kst” sound in there, I was pretty sure. If only a damned pickup hadn’t driven by at that very moment.

“Some of the original molding was warped,” Mona continued, “which is too bad because it was really ornate.”

What were we talking about? Oh, yeah, the High Stakes Casino. “This client of theirs must have an impressive bank account.”

“Or a group of investors in his back pocket. Ray said the guy wants to turn it into a high-end gentlemen’s club reminiscent of the old days, including a cigar smoking lounge, pool hall, dance stage for vaudeville type performances, and a high roller gamblers’ den.”

“In Deadwood? He has us confused with Vegas.”

“According to Ben, the buyer believes the future of the gambling industry is in returning to successful methods used in the past. He wants to have the place reminiscent of old style Vegas, with Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Bugsy Siegel.”

“I’m sure Detective Cooper will love taking on the mob.” Maybe he’d quit harping on me so much if tommy guns and pinstripe suits filled the streets of Deadwood.

I locked my computer and pushed back from my desk, wondering if Harvey had finished filling Doc in on our discovery in apartment four.