Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (22 page)

I tested the smell of my breath in my palm and grimaced. “That must be why my mouth tastes so bad.”

“No.” She set a cup of coffee down next to the carton. “You threw up after Doc left and then refused to brush your teeth before passing out again.”

“Oh, bleck!” I took a sip to remove the weird tasting tang from the back of my tongue.

“Yeah, when I hauled you back to bed, I almost keeled over from your sewer breath.”

Thank God Doc had left me in Natalie’s hands and gone home for the night. “I really appreciate you staying the night, Nat.”

“You were more entertaining than my empty house.” She lowered herself into the chair across from me.

“Want to spend another night? This time hanging out with me and my kids?”

“Sure, but what about Doc?”

“He could probably use a break from me.” Fall down drunk girlfriends weren’t so funny when they were in their mid-thirties.

“I doubt that. If your lover boy decides he wants to join us, he’s more than welcome.”

I squeezed her hand. “So what’s on tap for today?”

“I’m going to lunch with Detective Hawke.”

“What?” I felt like I’d missed the last episode of my life thanks to my silly tequila-fest.

“He called here last night looking for you. I took the opportunity to arrange a lunch date with him. I’m going to cement it in his head that you can indeed talk to ghosts.” She tipped her head back and let out a fake, evil laugh. “That was a genius idea you came up with, by the way. Much better than pretending to be a witch.”

Sipping my coffee, I considered telling Natalie about Wilda Hessler’s message from beyond, but a streak of pain flashed through my head. I focused on pouring more liquid down my throat.

Good thing going into work today was optional. I could take care of rounding up those signed release forms without having to show my face at Calamity Jane’s, where the television crew had planned to hang out with Jerry for another day of planning and script building.

The phone rang, making me cringe. “Whoever it is, tell them that I’m dead and have gone to a better place.”

“Where’s that? I hear Tahiti is nice this time of year.” Natalie moved way faster than I could, reaching the phone by the second ring. “Hello? Hi, Zoe. How’s Denver?” She listened for a few moments. “That sounds marvelous. How’s your roommate?” After a moment, Natalie chuckled. “Lucky you.”

I frowned, not liking the implication that came with that. Poor Reid.

“Yeah, she’s right here.”

Natalie brought the phone over to me.

“Hi,” I said. My head felt like a watermelon on a popsicle stick, so I rested it on the table and looked at the world sideways. “How’s the conference?”

“Exhausting. I was ready to come home two days ago. How are you doing?”

I thought about telling her I’d come to accept that she was right about my being a killer, but Natalie knew nothing about that, so I kept it simple. “I have a terrible hangover.”

“What happened?”

“Something I heard last night sort of shook my world, so I decided to drink my way through the aftershocks.”

“You know my sure-fire fix for a hangover, right?”

I wrinkled my nose remembering the last time Aunt Zoe had blended up her usual cure: a banana, some ginger root shavings, a tablespoon of honey, a cup of lemon juice, and a pinch of cayenne pepper. “Yes, but I’d rather writhe and moan all day.”

“Suit yourself. Are you going to be okay?”

“This hangover too shall pass.”

“I mean about what you heard.”

“Probably.”

“What was it?”

“Uh …”

“Is Natalie sitting there?”

“Yep.”

“Have you told her about the ghosts and albinos yet?”

“Nope.”

“You’re going to need to let her inside soon.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll wait until tomorrow to hear what spurred you to hide inside a bottle of tequila.”

“How’d you know it was tequila?”

“Violet, how long have I known you?”

“All my life?”

“Exactly. Take it easy tonight and I’ll be home tomorrow to help you work through whatever is worrying you.”

“I miss you, Aunt Zoe.” I ran my finger around the rim of my coffee cup. “Drive safe!”

“Miss you, too, baby girl.” I still loved it when she called me that. “Give the kids a kiss for me.” She hung up.

Natalie leaned down and tipped her head sideways like mine. “You need to tell me what drove you to drink last night.”

“Can we wait until the construction workers hammering in my head go home for the day?”

“Sure. Are you going to be okay while I go take a shower and get all gussied up for my lunch date?”

I gave her a thumbs up.

By the time Natalie returned, showered and beautified, I’d found my sunglasses and was busy steaming my face and the dark lenses over some honey lemon tea.

“You look good,” I told her. “Is that my skirt?”

“Yep. It’s your sweater, too.”

“And my boots.”

She crossed the kitchen, acting like she was on the catwalk. “Today Ms. Beals is wearing a Violet Parker exclusive. Notice how the knit tiered skirt swishes around the leather boots while the white cashmere sweater makes her chest look bigger.” She twirled at the end of the kitchen and strolled back toward me. “Ms. Beals is sure to discombobulate the great Detective Hawke with this sexy ensemble all while convincing the big dolt that her best friend can hold hands and sing
Kumbayah
with the coolest ghosts in town.”

In spite of my aching head, I chuckled. “With that push-up bra, you’re more likely to discom-boob-ulate the buttinski.”

“My goal is to have Detective Hawke jumping at shadows before the week is out. He’ll be convinced that not only is Deadwood full of ghosts, but that you have the power to make them your minions.”

The Who started playing from the direction of Natalie’s coat, which was draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

“My phone.” Natalie dug it out of her coat pocket, checking the screen. “It’s Kate.”

“Kate who?”

“Kate Morgan, my cousin, ya numbskull.” She answered the phone. “What’s going on, Porn Star?” She walked over to the table and collected her empty coffee cup. “When?” She carried the cup to the sink. “Tomorrow? You’re shitting me.” Setting the cup on the counter, she turned toward me with a smile that lit up her face. “You’re on. What time do you think you’ll pull in?” She nodded to her cousin, even though I was the one watching her. “Sweet. I’ll see you then. Be safe.” She hung up, still grinning.

“What’s going on with Kate?” I sipped my tea.

“She and Claire are driving up to get a trailer load of Kate and Aunt Deborah’s stuff. They’ll be in Rapid some time tomorrow morning.”

“Are you going to go help them load up?”

“Yeah, wanna come?”

I hadn’t seen Claire or Kate in a long time. “Yes, but I can’t. Aunt Zoe’s coming home and Addy has a school project due on Monday.”

“Weekend homework sucks.”

Especially for Addy who hated most everything school related. “While you’re down there next door to the bitch from hell,” who happened to be my little sister, “could you three gang up on her Mob style and physically convince her to pack her bags and move to Cape Horn?”

Natalie laughed. “For you, I’d personally fly her down there and drop-kick her ass out of the plane.”

“You’re the best, Nat.”

“I know and don’t forget it.” She collected her coat from the chair and stuffed her phone back in the pocket. “I’m off to lunch. Wish me the patience to stomach Detective Hawke and all of his macho sexist talk.”

“Or you could just stick a fork in his forehead.”

“Don’t be giving me any ideas.” After a bow, she left me alone with my hangover.

While I worked my way through another cup of honey lemon tea, the kids came and went during commercials from their Saturday morning cartoon lineup, foraging in the pantry as they passed through the kitchen. The cloak of silence had been lifted slightly, but they were still holding a grudge. So was my headache, so the extra quiet today was okay with me.

After some more time with my head in my hands, I finally felt like dragging my body upstairs to find my cellphone and address book. I had a few calls to make before I could crawl back under the covers and curl up while the kids wreaked havoc around me. Thankfully, Cornelius had signed the form I’d left behind in his suite last night when I had raced out of The Old Prospector Hotel and had sent it along with Doc to give to me. That left three other property owners to contact.

The first call was to the owner of the house in which Lily Devine was supposedly killed by one of her clients long ago. The owner was wary at first. Then I gave him the spiel Jerry had told me to use about how this show could increase the interest in the property, especially if we emphasized how kind and generous Lily had been. By the time I’d finished, the owner not only had agreed to sign the form, but had also offered to dig up some old photos he had of Lily at the house, too.

One down, two to go. Next up, the Carhart house in Lead. Since Prudence the ghost didn’t have a direct line, I called Wanda Carhart. The house was almost out of her hands, but not quite. She answered right away, probably thinking I was calling to tell her the place was officially sold.

“Hello, Violet.” She sounded happy and relaxed now, where before she had been a skittish mess. Moving away from that house and all of its grisly memories was changing her for the better.

“Good morning, Wanda. I’m calling with an odd request.”

“You want me to get ahold of Prudence for you?” Wanda had had a direct line to the busybody ghost when she’d lived in the house, which had given me the heebie-jeebies almost every time I’d been there to visit.

“Gosh, no.” I’d sooner break dance across red-hot coals. I explained to her about the need for a release form.

“Will this cause any potential problems with the sale going through?”

“Not if the new owners also are on board. I’ll be calling them next.”

She thought about it for a few seconds. “What about Prudence?”

I’d asked myself that very question ever since Ray put the Carhart house on the docket. “How do you think Prudence will feel about this, Wanda?”

If anyone had a clue of what could go wrong when I walked into that place with the film crew, it was Wanda.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “She’s not overly fond of strangers. There were a few times back when you first had the place for sale when other Realtors stopped by to look around and see if it was something their clients would like. None of them stayed very long, especially if they visited the upstairs bedrooms.”

I wasn’t surprised. Upstairs was where Doc had run into Prudence both times he’d gone into the house. It was also where Honey had been possessed when I was ordered by Jerry to take Dickie and her there for a preliminary viewing.

“It would be wise,” Wanda continued, “if you stopped by ahead of time and asked Prudence yourself, Violet.”

“Uhh …” Or I could not ask Prudence and just call in sick the day the film crew decided to visit the Carhart house. “Yeah, I could, I guess.”

“Well, if Prudence and the new owners are okay with a television crew there, then I’d be happy to sign your form.”

I hung up feeling anything but skippy-dippy. Based on my experience, I had a feeling taking television cameras into that house was not going to end well.

I called the new owners next, the Brittons, and Zelda was thrilled to have her new dwelling be on TV. She wanted to confirm with Zeke first but gave a preliminary approval.

That left one more—Harvey’s ranch. I already knew Harvey was on board, but he’d told me that with all the findings going on out there, Cooper would have to give his blessing or all they could film was the outside of the buildings.

I called Cooper, wincing with each ring.

Five winces in, he answered. “What do you want now, Parker?” He sounded deflated, not pissed and biting as I’d expected.

“My boss would like me to take the Paranormal Realty TV crew out to your uncle’s ranch and film inside the house,” I paused to clear my throat and build up the nerve to tack on, “and the barn.”

Dead silence came through the line.

“Listen, Detective, I don’t really want this to happen, so if you’re hesitating on telling me ‘no’ for any reason, don’t.”

He still didn’t speak.

“Besides,” I added, “it was Ray Underhill’s idea, and between you and me, I think he’s doing it just to get under my skin.”

Cooper knew all about Ray and my lovey-dovey hatred. He’d taken both of our statements after the Mudder Brothers incident and knew full well to keep Ray and me separated at all times. Unlike Jerry, Cooper didn’t care if we played nice or not; he just wanted answers about the missing albino juggernaut that neither of us had.

“Well, Parker,” Cooper finally spoke up. “I’d love to be the one to smack your hands and tell you ‘no fucking way.’ But as of yesterday afternoon, I’m no longer assigned to that particular case.”

It was my turn to be quiet, mostly because his announcement knocked the wind out of me, or at least the breath I needed to say anything other than, “Hunnuhwa?”

“Was that even English, Parker?”

I plugged my lips back into my brain. “What happened?”

“That’s police business.”

Of course it was. “We’re back to that again are we?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Is there someone else I can contact to get the official veto on the TV crew filming at the crime scene?”

“You can start with the man now in charge of the case.”

“Who’s that? Your chief?”

“Detective Hawke,” he said his partner’s name as if it tasted rotten on his tongue.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

A thought struck me. “Is that why you were hanging out at the Purple Door last night?” Had he been there drowning in his drink just like me?

“Mind your own business.”

“Jeez! Do you drink acid every morning for breakfast, Cooper? Or does your body just over-produce it naturally?”

“Are we done here, Parker?”

“Sure. I need to hurry up and call Natalie now anyway,” I said without thinking, planning to add to her undercover to-do list for her lunch with Detective Hawke.