Nearly Departed in Deadwood (17 page)

      From the moment he’d burst through Calamity Jane’s front door this morning, he’d been overflowing with piss and vinegar, cursing and swearing as he crossed the floor. Needing to pry his bony ass from the chair opposite my desk before Mona’s VIP clients showed up for their appointment, I decided to take him on an impromptu tour of available homes.

      The first place we checked out was located in a narrow gulley on the way up to Terry Peak. Several cars and a pickup sat in the drive. An Open House sign and the sweet smell of fresh-baked cookies drew us inside.

      Upon entering, I nodded to the redheaded real estate agent who was acting as hostess, noticing her petite-yet-busty frame. Harvey did too. His whispered comment was flattering, admiring her tight silk dress; mine was a tad snarky.

      We shook our heads at the mustard-colored living room carpet and walked through the first doorway on the left—a bedroom.

      Harvey let out a low whistle. “These pink walls remind me of a brothel where I used to hang my hat in Nevada.”

      I nudged him with my elbow, my face warming as a young couple over by the closet hit us with a pair of frowns.

      Harvey ignored me. “What was the name of that beauty with the big bottom? Oh, yeah, Wet Willy.”

      I cleared my throat, glaring at him.

      “She sure loved horses. She used to strap this saddle on my back and ride to town, whoopin’ and hollerin’ the whole time.”

      The couple was gaping now, disgust mirrored on their faces.

     
Criminy!
I pushed him into the kitchen, where a batch of chocolate chip cookies cooled on a plate. I grabbed two when the redhead wasn’t looking; Harvey nabbed three. They tasted pre-made. Figured. She didn’t look like the Betty Crocker type. More like Jessica Rabbit with talons.

      A gray-haired man with an anchor tattoo on his left arm entered the kitchen. Harvey’s mouth kicked back into drive, his anecdote including a Navy buddy, an exotic Spanish dancer, and a handful of numbered ping-pong balls. By the time he’d finished, Miss Rabbit hovered, red lips squeezed tight, nostrils flared.

      I took the hint and hightailed it out of there. Having learned my lesson on exposing Harvey to other clients, I headed to the house in which Doc had experienced his gardenia-inspired allergic reaction. When I pulled up in front and found no other cars in the drive, my shoulders sagged in relief.

      Twenty minutes later, I stood next to the stainless-steel fridge while Harvey inspected the cupboard under the sink, confirming the new-copper-plumbing claim listed on the brochure. The smell of Pine-sol and Lemon Pledge wafted around me, making me wonder if the owner had an air freshener stowed somewhere.

      My thoughts returned to last night’s ending and the kiss that never happened. “You were wrong,” I told Harvey, leaning against the counter with my arms crossed. “Wolfgang is not gay.”

      “Then he’s the purtiest man I’ve ever seen,” Harvey said from inside the cupboard. “What makes you so sure he’s not?”

      “I went out on a date with him last night.”

      “That doesn’t make him straight.”

      “He kissed me good night,” I fibbed, kind of.

      Had Wolfgang and I not been interrupted by another of Aunt Zoe’s neighbors, Mr. Stinkleskine, who was moonlighting as a Peeping Tom while taking his Chihuahua out for a potty break, we would have played some serious tonsil hockey. As it turned out, voyeurism was a major turn-off for both of us. Instead, all I’d gotten was a peck on the lips and a “see you next week.”

      Harvey grunted, backed out of the cupboard, and with my helping hand, returned to his feet. “With or without tongue?”

      His question made me squirm for a second. “Harvey, that’s none of your business.”

      He grinned. “Fine, but tell me this—was it just a single kiss, or was it several all lumped together.”

      I tugged on the collar of my sleeveless dress. Discussing the particulars with Harvey of a barely-existent kiss was not what I’d planned when I brought up the subject. “I don’t remember.”

      “Bullshit.”

      “What? I was taken away by the whole moment.”

      His narrow eyes held mine. “Until you sleep with him, I’m not buying he’s straight.”

      “Well, I’m certainly not going to call you with the details if that time comes.”

      “What do you mean ‘if’? Did you wear your hair down or up?”

      “Mostly up.” I pushed away from the counter and headed for the French doors leading into the backyard. I needed some air before the dew on my back turned into a full-on sweat.

      Harvey followed me outside. “You should have worn it down. Men like long hair.”

      Next he’d be asking if my underwear had been lacy or satin. A change of subject was necessary. “Harvey, what do you know about the latest little girl who disappeared?”

      “This yard is too damned big.” Harvey grabbed my arm and dragged me back inside. As he closed and locked the French doors, he glanced at me over his shoulder. “You mean Tina Tucker?”

      I nodded.

      He headed back through the kitchen. “Her grandpa worked at Homestake for forty-plus years as a shaft sinker and drift miner, opening up new passageways, air vents, auxiliary tunnels, and shafts. Not a job for weenies. Her mama manages the Motherlode Diner in Sturgis. Her pa ran off with a carnie floozy who operated that ride that scrambles your guts.”

      None of that information did me much good when it came to pinning the abduction of the missing girls on Jeff Wymonds, my number-one suspect.

      In the well-lit foyer, Harvey stopped and glanced at the stairs. The stained-glass windows dappled his skin with pink and blue-tinged tints. “Those stairs are too steep.”

      “They’re the typical size.”

      “I’m too old for stairs. Show me a one-story house.”

      There was only one single-story house in town I could think of—Lilly Devine’s haunt. The interior colors alone in that place might push Harvey over the Wacky state line, right into Bonkerville, the capital of Cuckoo County.

      I opened the front door and held it wide for him to slip past me. “Do you think Tina Tucker knew Kelly Wymonds?”

      He shielded his eyes from the late morning sun. “Probably. The kids from Deadwood and Lead all go to the same school. They’re bound to have bumped into each other.”

      “But were they friends?”

      “How would an old man like me know that? You think I hang out at the local playground to collect my gossip? Hell, no! You gotta hit the bar for the good stuff.”

      As we climbed into my Bronco, he added, “But I do know that Kelly’s grandma and Tina’s grandpa are kissin’ cousins.”

      “So there is a link between the girls.”

      “Girl, most all of us old-timers up here in the hills share a little bit of the same blood. There may be a lot of land, but it’s a small group of people living on it.”

      All the way back to the office, Harvey recounted bits of his family history, clarifying how many of the women he’d slept with over the years were distant relatives—too many in my book.

      For once, Doc’s Camaro wasn’t hogging my parking spot. Ray’s rig was instead. Bastard.

      The blast of air conditioning as we entered Calamity Jane’s via the back door cooled my face. I could smell Mona’s jasmine perfume even though she was nowhere to be seen.

      Ray snarled at me from his desk, his ear glued to his phone as he jotted down some notes.

      “Woo-wee! Look what you got.” Harvey pointed at my desk.

      I followed his finger to a blue vase chock-f of daisies. Had someone moved the bouquet from the top of the filing cabinet? Nope, they were still there, showing hints of wilting in their smiling heads.

      “Your new loverboy must really think you’re something,” Harvey said with a big grin.

      Ray covered the speaker part of the receiver. “He’s just paying for services rendered.”

      “Oh, go blow a goat,” I said, not caring that Harvey heard me.

      I walked to my desk, shooting a raised-brow look in Harvey’s direction. “Are these flowers from you?” I knew the answer before asking the question, but I just wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

      Harvey made a raspberry sound with his lips. “Are you kidding? Daisies are a waste of money. If you want to impress a lady, you need to buy her red roses. If you want to get her into bed, bring diamonds to the party. Every man knows that.”

      A small purple envelope sat on a stand tucked between the blossoms. I plucked it out and tore it open.

      “Well?” Harvey peered over my shoulder. “What’s it say, hot stuff?”

      I read the scrawls aloud:

     
Your lips were red.

     
Your dress was too.

     
I watched you dance last night,

     
What a beautiful view!

      Trying to breathe through the panic welling up my esophagus, I fell into my chair.

      Someone besides Mr. Stinkleskine had been spying on me last night. Who?

     
Chapter Twelve

      I was still sitting at my desk, frowning down at the little love poem from my admirer, when my cell phone rang. I dropped the purple card and fished for my cell in my purse.

      “I’m stepping out for lunch, Blondie,” Ray said, jingling his keys. “Try not to make any sales while I’m gone. I’d hate to have to cancel the goodbye party I’m planning for you.”

      Harvey plucked one of my daisies from the bouquet as Ray headed for the back door. “You want me to fill his ass with buckshot?”

      Yes! “Maybe later.”

      Aunt Zoe’s number filled my phone’s screen. Now what did Layne want for his archaeological dig? A sarcophagus? “Hello?”

      “Mom,” Addy’s voice greeted me. “Can I stay at Kelly’s tonight?”

     
Hell, no!
I sighed. “Addy, can we discuss this later?”

      Across my desk, Harvey glanced up from playing she-loves-me-not with the daisy, a smirk on his lips.

      “No, Mom. You keep blowing me off.”

      I was not in the mood to be flogged by the Queen of Dramaland. “I’m not blowing you off, Adelynn. This is just ...”

     
Never going to happen.

      “Complicated.”

      Harvey dropped the flower and grabbed a pencil and a Post-It note.

      My desk phone rang. I glanced at the phone number on the LCD screen. A 415 area code greeted me. Wolfgang was calling me on his cell. My heart pitter-pattered a bit faster.

      “And all you have to do is say, ‘yes.’” Addy wrapped up, and I realized that the shrilling whine in my ear had been her arguing her point.

      “There is more to this decision than you realize, Addy.” I reached for the other phone as it rang again. “Honey, I have another call. I have to go.”

      Harvey placed the note and pencil in front of me and waved goodbye. I glanced at the words ‘going next door’ scribbled on the paper and looked up as he pushed open the front door and stepped outside.

      Three rings.

      Next door? The only thing next door was Doc’s office. Why was Harvey going to Doc’s?

      “But, Mom!” Addy’s voice sounded watery. “She’s the only friend I have in the whole world.”

      I rolled my eyes.

      “I promise I’ll be good at her house.”

      Four rings.

      “Please, please, please, Mommy. I’ll even give away one of my kitties.”

      Bribery. I was tempted.

      Five rings.

      I caved—well, kind of. “Why don’t you see if Kelly can spend the night with us tonight.”

      A scream of excitement made me wince as the phone rang for the sixth time.

      “Addy, I’m hanging up now. Bye.” I closed my cell while picking up my desk phone. The smell of Ray’s Stetson cologne on my receiver made me yank the phone away and frown at it. The jerk probably licked it.

      “Calamity Jane Realty.” I was careful not to touch the hard plastic to my face. “This is Violet.”

      “Hi, Beautiful,” the sound of Wolfgang’s voice washed away my frown. “How is Deadwood treating you this morning?”

      “Like a fish that’s starting to stink.” I leaned back in my chair. “How’s San Francisco?”

      I pictured him standing on a cable car, a view of Alcatraz shrouded with fog behind it, Golden Gate Bridge towering off to the side. Having never been to San Francisco, my mental images were sponsored by Rice-A-Roni, with Dirty Harry in charge of promotion. I could almost taste the savory grains of rice.

      “It’s a bit lonely without you.”

      Aw, shucks. Even with a mountain range between us, Wolfgang could charm a girl’s stockings off.

      In the background, I heard
beep-beep-beep
and the diesel growl of a tractor. Not exactly the romantic moan of a fog horn, but I could still make it work in my San Francisco fantasy.

      “How are things going with Mother’s house?”

      “Okay.” I lied. “You’ll be back on Wednesday, right?”

      “Yes. I have an idea. How about we take your kids somewhere fun in Rapid City next week?”

      “They’d like that.” While Addy had warmed up to Wolfgang on sight alone (as her mother had), Layne’s initial friendliness had vaporized upon finding out that Addy’s song about Wolfgang-and-Violet-sitting-in-a-tree could become more than just a tease. Spending more time with Wolfgang might convince Layne to call off his hounds.

      I’d like to try another ride on the dating train, too. This time, sans Ray and Mr. Stinkleskine.

      My cell phone trilled in my other hand. I looked at it and cursed mentally at the sight of Aunt Zoe’s number again. I wanted to cancel the call and keep pretending I was in San Francisco with Wolfgang, but the mother in me won. “Sorry, but my cell is ringing. I have to go.”

      “See you Wednesday, Violet.”

      “I’m looking forward to it.” I hung up the phone and pondered dipping into my savings for a visit to the hair salon in anticipation of his return. I flipped open my cell. “Hello?”