Dead Case in Deadwood (3 page)

"Yeah, that one. Cooper heard about it from Wanda,"
I said, referring to the Carhart widow and only member of the family not dead
or locked up in prison for murder.

"How did Wanda know about them?" Doc asked.

"Prudence told her."

"Prudence, the Carhart ghost?"

I nodded.

"But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts."

Until lately, that had been true, unlike Doc, who claimed to
have some sixth sense that allowed him to sniff out Casper from across a room. I’d
played skeptic when Doc first fessed up to this after an encounter that knocked
him on his ass, but after witnessing multiple confrontations and similar
reactions from a feet-firmly-on-the-ground type of guy, the jury was now locked
away in deliberations.

"I don’t know what to believe anymore, Doc. But I did
believe Cooper when he threatened to lock me up if I didn’t hand those teeth
over."

"He’s not cutting you any slack is he?"

"Cutting slack is against his religion." I crossed
one of my legs over the other, smoothing my dress on my thighs, remembering
Cooper’s parting shot earlier. "He also said I have a big nose."

Doc looked up from my legs. "He’s right."

"Gee, thanks."

"Metaphorically speaking, that is. But that doesn’t
mean he has to be so rough on you."

"I think Cooper enjoys roughing me up."

"That’s what concerns me."

"Because of my current mental state?"

"No, Violet, because I like you." Rising from his
chair, Doc walked over to the plate glass windows that faced the street. "What
I don’t like is the detective making you look at decapitated bodies in the
basement of a funeral parlor first thing in the morning when your hand shakes
just holding your latte."

"I’m not shaking." I placed the plastic cup and my
cell phone on his desk.

"Okay, when your hand trembles." He lowered the
blinds on both big windows, shading the room. "Better?"

I nodded, but didn’t remove my sunglasses. "It was no
big deal. Harvey was there with me."

"Having your self-appointed bodyguard on site doesn’t
change the fact that for most people examining a dead body is a bit stressful."
Doc moved to the door, dead-bolting it. "And most people haven’t witnessed
death up close and personal like you have twice now within a month’s time."
He flipped his Open sign to Closed. "What else did Cooper have to say?"

"He wants me to keep my nose out of his case."

"Great idea. You’re going to listen to the detective,
right?"

"Sure." No lie there. I had other things to figure
out, such as what my coworker, Ray the asshole, and the Mudder brothers were up
to on the sly. Playing Nancy Drew regarding a decapitated body was low on my
list of to-dos.

"Why do I feel like you’re just feeding me a line of
bullshit?" he asked, holding out his hand, which I took without thinking.

"I’m serious."

He pulled me to my feet, then released my hand and stepped
back, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"I don’t know why the dead guy had my card, nor do I
care."

Well, I cared a little since the corpse had ended up on
Harvey’s ranch, which I was trying to sell, but not enough to get involved. I
was happy to stand back and let Cooper do his job on this one.

"Doc, what are you doing?" I asked when he made a
circle motion with his index finger.

"Turn around, Boots."

The nickname he used for me whenever he wanted more than
just conversation shot shivers up my legs and down my back. Doc had a thing for
my purple cowboy boots ever since the first time I’d dug my boot heels into his
bared flesh and held on tight while he rocked my world.

I lowered my eyelids a little, trying to look all sexy, then
remembered that I had my sunglasses on. "Why?"

"Just humor me."

I did as told, adding a little sashay with my hips as I obeyed
his command.

He whistled under his breath. "Damn, those sandal
straps wrapping around like that make me want to lick your ankles. Turn all the
way around."

I faced him again.

He shook his head. "That is one hell of a dress."

I’d hoped he’d like it when I picked it out the other night
at the mall down in Rapid City. I’d lied and told Natalie the dress was to
snare clients, avoiding her eyes in the dressing room mirror. But my Aunt Zoe
had taken one look at the flirty dress and the way it hugged my chest and
smiled at me. She knew which "client" I was trying to snare.

"You like it?" I adjusted the form-fitting bodice,
using the twisted knot to shift the thin cloth over my breasts.

Doc watched without blinking. "I’ve been wanting to
tear it off of you since you waltzed through my front door."

The images his words conjured stole the breath I needed for
a response, so I just grinned like a big idiot.

"Take off your sunglasses."

I hesitated, not wanting him to see the interstate map
lining my eyeballs.

He reached out and pulled them off for me, setting them on
his desk next to my drink and cell phone. His forehead furrowed when he looked at
my eyes. "Another Visine morning, I see."

"You know how it is, too much rock star partying every
night."

His gaze inched toward my bellybutton, leaving a scorched
trail all the way down. "I want to touch you, Boots."

What a coincidence. "I want you to touch me, Doc."

He rubbed his palms together slowly. "If I start, I
don’t think I’ll be able to stop."

I gulped, my body trembling now for a whole different reason.
"If you start, I’ll definitely want you to finish."

My need for Doc overshadowed all logical reasons why we
should not be having sex at eight a.m. on a Friday morning in downtown
Deadwood. My worries about getting caught by Natalie faded. My up-in-the-night
anxiety about this wildfire of a crush I had for Doc suddenly seemed trivial. I
stood there, waiting, wanting, willing him to touch me.

My cell phone rang.

Of course it did.

"That’s Mona," I said, able to tell by the Bach
ringtone I’d programmed in for her.

"You should probably get that," he said.

"Yeah."

He groaned and handed me my phone.

"Hello?"

"Vi," Mona said. "Where are you?"

"Next door at Doc’s, why?"

"Natalie is here looking for you. Want me to send her
over?"

"No!" That came out too sharp. I mellowed my tone.
"Um, just tell her to stay put. I’m on my way back over."

"’Kay. Say ‘hello’ to Doc for me."

I’d rather have wild and freaky sex with him on his desk. "Will
do," I said and hit the end button.

Doc was staring at my dress as if it were see-through.

"I have to go, Doc."

"I know."

"I have a problem."

"I do, too, thanks to that dress. It’s going to ache
like hell when you leave."

I clasped my hands together to keep from touching him, just
in case Natalie decided to step outside and peek in at us. "Natalie has
appointed herself my guardian angel."

His gaze met mine. "What does that mean?"

"She’s staying over at Aunt Zoe’s with me 24/7."

"Which means you haven’t told her about us?"

I avoided the accusation in his eyes. "Pretty much,
yeah."

"Which also means I can only touch you behind closed
doors and drawn shades."

"Exactly. Whenever I can shake her from my tail, that
is." Which hadn’t been easy over the last few days.

"What about after she goes to sleep?"

"She’s occupying the other half of my bed."

"Damn it, Violet."

"I know."

"Would you just tell her the truth already?"

"I’m working up to it."

He pushed off the desk and strode over to the door,
unlocking and holding it open. "You’d better get over there."

Shoving my sunglasses onto my face, I grabbed my drink and
made my exit. "I’ll call you later."

He caught my arm as I passed in front of him, halting me. "Violet."

I lifted my brows.

"Tell her."

"I will. I promise." As soon as the time was
right.

His grip on my arm turned into a caress before he released
it. "And keep your
little
nose out of trouble."

"Always."

His "Right" followed me out into the sunshine.

Inside Calamity Jane Realty, Natalie sat in the chair
opposite my desk with her long tanned legs stretched out in front of her. The
cast encasing her lower right leg was covered with graffiti drawn by my
children—hearts, ice cream cones, and stick chickens from Addy; a diagrammed
horse’s skull thanks to Layne. Mona was nowhere to be seen, her usual jasmine
calling card overrun by the scent of Natalie’s coconut suntan lotion.

"How’s Doc looking this morning?" Natalie asked as
I set my latte down next to my keyboard.

The question sounded casual enough, but my cheeks heated,
anyway, being that I’d been next door attempting to seduce the man of her
dreams. "Same as usual."

"Hot and drool-inducing then," she said, making a
gurgling, purr-like noise in her throat.

"Is that supposed to sound sexy?" I forced a
crooked grin, trying to joke my way off the subject of Doc. "You sound
like you’re choking a cat."

She grinned back. "Better a cat than ‘the chicken.’"

"Oh, tacky. Kiss your momma with that mouth?"

"Said the kettle. You taught me everything I know."

"Where’s Mona?" I asked.

"Gone. She said to tell you she has an appointment with
a client up in Lead. You can reach her on her cell phone." Just when I
thought I’d sidestepped the Doc-noose, Natalie said, "So, you’re still
taking Doc coffee each morning?"

"Yeah." Which was a nice, seemingly platonic way
to spend time with him right under her nose. As piece-of-shit best friends
went, I drew the most flies in all of the land. "I feel like I owe him a
month’s worth as thanks for taking a chance on a new Realtor."

"Did he say anything about your outfit?"

I lowered my eyes, unable to hold her gaze even through my
sunglasses while guilt chewed a hole in my gut. "Not really, why?"

Natalie shrugged. "I’m just wondering if his lack of
interest in females extends to blondes, as well as brunettes." She patted
her brown locks. "Maybe if I dyed my hair red like his ex-girlfriend, he’d
start treating me like more than just a paying client."

I didn’t want to think about Doc and his Jessica Rabbit-like
ex, Tiffany, who also happened to be a real estate agent in Spearfish—talk
about small freaking world. Just thinking about Miss Redhead made me want to do
very bad things to innocent bunnies. "Doc and I maintain a professional
relationship."
In public.

"It’s cool that you two are still friends now that the
house deal is done."

"He’s easy to be around." And I was embarrassingly
"easy" when he was around. Crack whores probably played harder to get
than I did.

Natalie’s chair creaked as she leaned forward and took a sip
of my caramel latte. "I didn’t think Doc was there this morning. His
blinds were closed when I drove by."

Whew! That was close. Had Natalie been able to see inside,
she’d have caught him holding my hand. "I asked him to keep it shaded
because of my eyes."

"Still burning?"

"Big time."

"Nightmares or more insomnia?"

No use trying to hide anything from her, not with her
sleeping a couple of feet away from me every night. "A little bit of both."

"Let me see."

I flashed her a peek at my red-lined peepers.

"Why don’t you wake me up?"

"What good would that do? You’d just have a matching
set."

"Vi, I’m supposed to be helping you get through this. I
can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on in your head."

As much as I loved Natalie, I hadn’t exactly asked for her
help. The unending slumber party was her idea, not mine. And the constant
poking, prodding, and concern about my feelings by one and all was starting to
make me grind my teeth.

I appreciated that Natalie’s interest was born out of love
and caring, but her sitting on me like a mother hen day in and out was beginning
to make me feel smothered. Pretty soon, feathers would fly from my mouth when I
coughed.

"What’s there to tell?" I said. "I have bad
dreams and trouble falling back to sleep afterward. This too shall pass; I just
need more time for my brain to cram this in a drawer and be done with it."

"Well, your Aunt Zoe wants me to stay as long as you
need me, so until you kick me out, I’ll be by your side day and night."

Swell. Wonderful. Terrific.
I was so hosed.

The front door whooshed open, letting in a rush of traffic
noise and hot August air. I looked up and my jaw unhinged at the sight of a tall,
gangly version of Abraham Lincoln standing just inside the threshold—top hat,
cane, and black suit jacket included.

"Who in the hell …" Natalie’s whispered words
echoed the voice in my head. Was I seeing one of Doc’s ghosts?

"I’m looking for Violet Parker," Abe said,
striding toward us, his cane banging on the wood floor, his bare, boney wrists
sticking out from his too-short jacket sleeves. He removed his top hat when he
stopped next to Natalie; his jet black hair matched his pointed goatee.

"I’m Violet," I said after I’d dug my voice out of
the back of my throat where it had lodged itself.

Was the circus in town?

He slid his round sunglasses down his long, narrow nose.
Cornflower blue eyes peered out at me, their intensity startling me back a
step.

"I’m Cornelius Curion."

No way was that his real name.

Somehow, I managed to paste a smile on my lips. A glance at
Natalie’s bug-eyed, mouth-gaping stare confirmed that I wasn’t the only one flamboozled
by the pale-skinned oddity of a man.

"Hello, Mr. Curion. How can I help you?"

"I need to hire your services."