Meanwhile, Back in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 6) (25 page)

“Violet, when did you come in?”

“A few minutes ago.” I held my poker cards close to my chest, waiting to see how he was going to play his hand.

He rested his forearm on the square newel at the bottom of the stair rail, his bare foot planted on the first step. Something on my face must have kept him from coming up to join me.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his expression cautious. Wise man.

“You tell me, Doc.”

“I’m making breakfast.”

“Oh yeah? For who?”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, Violet?”

“Just so you know from the start, flattery isn’t going to cut it this morning. I tried calling you several times last night around midnight, but got your voicemail every single time.”

The sound of the shower kicked off. That was fast. Just a quick rinse maybe to wash the sex off from last night?

Or not. I needed to give Doc the benefit of the doubt before letting that jealous ogre park itself behind the controls.

“Why were you trying to call me?”

“I would have been happy to fill you in last night, had you not been too busy to take my call.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

“Then why didn’t you answer? Were you afraid I might hear that you had company?”

He pointed up toward the bathroom. “You mean that company?”

“Of course I mean
that
company.”

“Actually that company crashed well before midnight.”

“So you’re admitting that you spent the night with someone?”

He pinched his lips as if choosing his words carefully or trying not to laugh. “Well, sort of.”

In the pregnant pause that followed his confession, I heard the shower curtain open. I looked down at where my hands dangled between my knees, wishing he’d played the denial card. My heart felt bruised every time it thumped in my chest.

“Why were you calling me at midnight, Violet?”

“I needed you.” That came out sounding more raw than I’d intended. I lifted my chin, determined not to let him see any more signs of weakness. I came from a family of killers, for crissake. It was time to suck it up. “I had a bit of a situation, but you were obviously too preoccupied to be bothered.”

On second thought, that option to go home and lick my wounds suddenly seemed like the best choice for me, ASAP. I stood. “I should go. Now is not a good time for this.”

Never
would be too soon.

“Quit dancing around what’s bothering you, Violet. We’re beyond that now.”

Were we? “Your voicemail is full.”

He grimaced. “I wondered if that would happen.”

I took a couple of steps toward him. “But you should have been able to see my number on your Recent Calls list.” I stopped two steps above him, almost eyelevel. “I’m not buying that you had no idea I called, so don’t even try that bullshit on me.”

“I’m not.” His dark eyes held mine. He seemed so damned calm and rational. Was that a hint of a smile on the corner of his lips?

“Okay,” I said, unfamiliar with this style of arguing. Most of my fights involved at least a little bit of yelling or throwing something in frustration. Could it be I’d woken up in another dimension? A world full of unemotional Vulcans? “Listen, I need to go home and start over again. Do you mind stepping aside so I can leave you to enjoy breakfast with your companion?”

“I’m not moving and neither are you.” When I hit him with a glare, he raised his brows. “I want you to join us.”

I tilted my head. “That’s just mean.”

“I’ll throw in some bacon.”

“What in the hell is going on, Doc?”

He snagged my hand, holding tight when I tried to pull it away. “Why were you calling me so late last night, Violet?”

“You should have answered your phone and then you’d know.”

“I couldn’t. I left it at my client’s office.”

And the walls came tumbling down. “Ohhh.” Of course it was something that simple. But that still didn’t answer who was in his bathroom.

“I didn’t realize I’d left it until after I got home,” he continued. “I decided to wait to contact him until today about getting it back.”

“Don’t you ever delete your voicemails?”

“Yes, but that’s another problem I didn’t want to deal with last night.” He pulled me down a step, closing the distance between us. “Why were you calling me last night?”

“I got a call.”

“From who?”

“My secret pal.”

His eyes creased with concern. “What did he want?”

“Actually it was his helper who called. She told me to meet him at midnight in Mudder Brothers’ garage.”

“Please tell me you didn’t go.”

I squared my jaw. “Layne’s welfare was at stake.”

“You took someone with you, though, right?”

“You weren’t taking my calls.”

“What about Harvey?”

“He was on a date.”

“Christ, Violet.” Exasperation rippled across his face. “You went to the morgue all alone at midnight to meet someone who has been calling you with threatening messages?”

“They weren’t threats, they were warnings.” I pulled my hand free from his. “Besides, I wasn’t completely alone.”

“Let me guess. You had Jiminy Cricket in your pocket?”

“Not Jiminy, Natalie.”

He stared at me, clearly not registering.

“I took Natalie on my phone. We used that see-and-talk feature.”

He scoffed. “You took Natalie on your phone with you to meet a potential killer?”

“Well, somebody had to stay home with my kids.”

He turned and sat down on the step next to my boots, covering his face. “She’s going to be the death of me yet,” he told his palms. Then he dragged his fingers down his cheeks and asked the front door, “Why didn’t she come and get me? I live four blocks away. The one day I forget my cellphone and she goes to meet a killer alone in the dark at a morgue.”

“It’s more like five blocks, maybe six.” I sat down next to him. “And I didn’t want to bother you because I thought you weren’t taking my calls.”

“Why would I not take your calls, Violet?” He bumped my knee with his. “You’re my girlfriend, crazy.”

“Because you were busy with your company.” I pointed up the stairs, reminding him we weren’t alone.

“Listen to me, woman, and burn this in your brain.” He cupped my jaw. “No matter who I’m with, I am never, ever too busy for you.”

“Even if it’s another woman?”

“Ever.”

“Like a certain redhead who likes sports sex?”

“Ever.”

“The same redhead who I’m afraid is in your upstairs bathroom as we speak?”

He let go of my chin. “It’s not Tiffany.”

“Then who is it?”

Doc glanced over my head. He stood and pulled me up with him. “See for yourself.”

I turned slowly.

Cooper stood at the top of the stairs in black jeans and one of his bullet hole T-shirts. His blond hair was spikey and disarrayed, bristly to match his normal temperament.

“Oh, fudge.” If I’d have known Cooper would be here, I’d have worn a Kevlar vest under my sweater. “I’d rather it have been Tiffany, I think,” I said under my breath.

Doc chuckled.

“Parker, did I hear you tell Nyce you were at the morgue last night?”

I looked back at Doc. “What’s Cooper doing here again? Please don’t tell me you’re dumping me for him.” That would be a knockout punch to my self-esteem.

He lifted my hand and kissed the back of my fingers. “I prefer my blondes to come with long curly hair and lots of curves.”

“So Cooper was the one in the shower?”

Doc nodded. “He’s going to move into my spare room for the winter and give his uncle the place to himself.”

I frowned up at Cooper. “Why would you do that?”

“Uncle Willis has been there one week and turned the place into his goddamned love nest already.”

But why Cooper? I frowned at Doc. “You realize he’s going to threaten to arrest me every time I come over to see you, right?”

The ever-growly detective came down the stairs, his steely eyes piercing me. “You didn’t answer my question, Parker. Were you at Mudder Brothers last night?”

“Why?” I stepped closer to Doc, ready to use him as a shield. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Besides go there without me,” Doc mumbled.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “How was I to know you’d forgotten your cellphone and were hanging out here at home having a pillow fight with Detective Cooper?”

Doc grinned at my joke, Cooper didn’t. “Next time,” Doc said, “stop by and get me.”

“Who was in the morgue with you?” Cooper crossed his arms, lording down over me from halfway up the stairs.

I crossed my arms back. “None of your business. Neither of us were breaking and entering or harassing anyone, so there is nothing you can use to threaten me with an arrest this time, Detective.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Parker.” He held up his cellphone. “I got a text from Detective Hawke while I was in the shower. He asked if I knew where you were.”

“Why? What’s he want from me now?” I doubted it was to find out my recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

“A 911 call came in last night from Eddie Mudder. Something about a prowler outside the morgue. When the cops showed up at the funeral parlor, Eddie’s assistant mentioned your name.”

“Grace is Eddie’s cousin, not assistant.”

“And how do you know that detail?”

“That doesn’t matter. Is Eddie okay?”

“We don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Because Eddie called and then disappeared.”

I placed my hand over my chest, remembering Eddie’s words about being watched. He’d warned of the danger I was in, but he must have been at risk as much as me. Had someone seen us sneak into the morgue last night? Was it the juggernaut’s twin? Did the creepy ghoul know Eddie was trying to help me and now Eddie was paying the price for reaching out to me?

“Do you know something about this, Parker? Because if you do, you need to tell me now. No more fucking around.”

“I … I don’t know where Eddie is.”

Cooper nodded slowly, his gaze measuring me. “I believe you about Eddie, but what about the body?”

“What body?”

“The faceless one you found in my uncle’s safe.”

“What about it?”

“Last night, when you were in the morgue
not
breaking and entering or committing any other crime, did you happen to help Eddie move the dead guy anywhere?”

“Eww. No, of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“Because Eddie’s not the only missing body. Our faceless friend is gone, too.”

Chapter Thirteen

Meanwhile, back in Lemon-ville …

Why was it when life gave me lemons, it dumped them on my head by the truckload?

First the dead guy in the safe, then Wilda, now the albino’s twin and Eddie. There was only so much freaky shit a girl could handle before she took up permanent residence under her bed.

Standing opposite to where I sat bellied up to Doc’s kitchen bar, Cooper drilled me about my meeting last night with Eddie. While he chowed down two pieces of toast and gulped coffee, I backtracked to the first phone message Eddie had left with Mona and wrapped it up with my return to Aunt Zoe’s after Eddie’s face-to-face warning.

Per his usual modus operandi, Cooper made me repeat my story two more times, taking notes in his little notebook with each retelling. Then he gnawed on my ass for another five minutes about how I should have contacted him right after I got the first call and how irresponsible I was being with my safety. After getting another text from Hawke that he refused to share, Cooper left in a huff.

I flipped off his back as he shut the front door. The damned detective was lucky I hadn’t had lemons to throw at his head on the way out.

Doc stuck a plate with eggs and bacon under my nose. “Eat up, Superstar. You have a big prep day at the office to get through.”

Picking up the fork he had left on the plate, I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

He parked on the bar stool next to me with a matching plate of his own. We ate in silence for a few bites.

He took a sip of coffee and then turned to me. “Do you really think I’d let Tiffany spend the night here?”

I froze mid-bite, my neck warming. “Maybe,” I answered, shoving a piece of bacon into my big, dumb jealous pie-hole before I made matters worse.

He returned to his eggs, eating a couple more forkfuls. I peeked over at him, worrying about what was going through his head.

“Violet,” he took another swallow of coffee before continuing. “What’s it going to take to make you trust me?”

Boy, was that a loaded question. I chewed on it for a few more seconds, vetoing anything having to do with a wedding band or the words ‘I love you,’ since asking him to offer either seemed to dilute the potency of them.

In the end, I settled for the truth. “Time.”

He poked at the last couple bites of eggs with his fork. “I’m not Rex.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, but do you understand that I’d never do anything to hurt you like he did?”

I picked up another piece of bacon, studying it while I gulped back the rush of emotions trying to rise up my throat and leak out my eyes. As I turned the bacon this way and that, blinking back tears, I considered spilling the truth, telling him how gaga I was for him, explaining that my silly jealousy was born from a fear of losing one of the best things that had ever happened to me. But then I thought about my family history and how I should probably come clean with that particular nasty skeleton before I opened my mouth and poured my heart out onto my plate next to my eggs.

“Doc,” I set the bacon down and wiped my fingers on the cloth napkin on my lap. “We need to talk about something.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “This sounds serious.”

My phone rang in my pocket, playing the whistling version of the Harlem Globetrotters’ theme song. “Crap, that’s Jerry calling.”

Doc grinned. “The Harlem Globetrotters?”

“It seemed fitting.”

“Very.”

“I should probably take this.”

He nodded.

I pulled it out of my pocket. “Hi, Jerry.”

“Violet, we have a bit of a problem.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Dickie’s camera man is coming down with a cold.”