Nearly Departed in Deadwood (23 page)

      The fact that Harvey even owned a thesaurus gave me pause.

      “Mom?” Addy called.

      I turned around.

      Addy’s head was poking out the back door, a piece of red licorice hung from the corner of her mouth. “Kelly’s dad just called.”

      “He must have felt you yanking on his chain,” Harvey murmured for my ears only.

      “He wants her to come home now.”

      “What should I do?” I whispered to Harvey.

      Harvey scraped cherry sauce off the pie pan with his finger, licking it clean. “Personally, I’d drive the Bronco. The Wymonds’ place is on the other side of town. But if you feel like pedalin’ while Kelly rides on the handlebars, go right ahead.”

      “Smartass. I mean, should I take her home?”

      “Sure. Unless
you
want to be thrown in jail for kidnapping.”

      “What if he’s guilty?”

      “What if he’s just a father wanting to see his daughter?”

      As much as the thought of returning Kelly to her home made my stomach cramp, I knew Harvey was right. I turned back to Addy. “Is Kelly all packed?”

      Addy nodded.

      “Tell her to go hop in the Bronco. I’ll be there in a flash.”

      “I want to go, too.” Addy’s tone had a few drops of whine poured into it.

      “Not tonight, Sweetie.” Or ever, if I could help it. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes there and back.”

      “Whatever!” The door slammed behind Addy.

      I sighed. It was no wonder that lions sometimes ate their young.

      “That one has your temper.” Harvey snickered.

      “I’m going to give her a little more of it if she doesn’t knock off that attitude.” Standing, I grabbed my plate. “You coming?”

      “I’ll ride shotgun.”

      With Harvey, that usually had a dual meaning.

      The trip to the Wymonds’ residence was quick and quiet. Kelly always seemed to hit the “mute” button when adults were present, yet I’d often heard her chattering away when Addy was her only listener—another one of the girl’s traits that made my neck bristle.

      When we pulled into the drive, the hood was up on Jeff’s Toyota. Two jean-clad legs stuck out from under the truck. As Kelly hopped out of the back seat, Jeff wiggled out from behind the front tire.

      After a “Hey, kid,” and a kiss on Kelly’s forehead, Jeff lumbered toward my open window. I reached for the button to roll it up, but Harvey killed the engine and took the keys before I could stop him.

      “Hello, Violet Parker.” Jeff rested his forearms on my door, his face so close I could see his pores under the black smear of grease that ran down his cheek. His big, burly body filled my whole window, blocking my closest avenue of escape. He gave Harvey a quick nod.

      “Uh, hi ... uh, Jeff,” I said. He smelled like he’d spritzed himself with Penzoil and then dusted the sweet spots with powdered dirt. I didn’t care if he had an Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder or not. If Harvey’s hand hadn’t been clamped on my wrist, I’d have crawled over the old codger, bailed out his window, and sprinted down the road to safety.

      “Thanks for bringing Kelly home.”

      No sneers, no leers, no kooky gleam in his green eyes. Who was this man and what did he do with the monster from last week? “You’re welcome. Thanks for letting her stay over.”

      “Are you available for lunch on Wednesday?”

      “Uhhh.”
No way! Huh, uh! Never ever!
Harvey squeezed my wrist—hard. “Yeah, I think so.”

      I flashed Harvey a glare that promised payback.

      “Good. I need to talk to you about ...” he hesitated, glancing at my ornery passenger, “something personal.”

     
Oh God, he knows I took the jacket!
I swallowed a shriek of panic and somehow managed to make my cheek muscles smile. “Okay.”

      “I’ll pick you up at your office.”

      The only way I was going to ride anywhere alone with Jeff Wymonds was if I was hogtied and gagged with a gun pointed at my head.

      “I have an early appointment.” I grabbed a business card from my ashtray and handed it to him. “Why don’t you just give me a call that morning and tell me where you want to meet.”

      “Sounds good.” He pounded twice on my door frame with his fist, making me jump, and then pushed back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. A trace of the jeepers-creepers Jeff returned with his extra-wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “See you on Wednesday, Violet Parker.”

      I nodded, the corners of my mouth trembling from forcing a smile for so long. If he called me by my full name throughout our whole lunch, I was going to stuff my napkin in his pie hole.

      Afraid to take my eyes off Jeff for even a second, I practiced my ventriloquist act and muttered through frozen lips, “Give me the damned keys, Harvey.”

      Harvey obliged without comment—for once.

      I started the engine and backed out of the drive.

      “See,” Harvey said as we reached asphalt. “He’s harmless.”

      I shifted into drive. “Yeah, as harmless as a pissed-off rattlesnake.”

      * * *

     
Tuesday, July 17th

      The next morning, the heat returned with the sun—both out on the street and in Calamity Jane’s. As Jane filled the office with the scent of a dry-erase marker, writing in everyone’s column but mine on her Sale Pending white board, Mona clacked away on her laptop and Ray worked his wheel-and-deal magic on the phone.

      I spent most of the pre-noon hours trying to look busy with housing market research while really rummaging around online for more information on Sherry Dobbler, the little girl from Spearfish. It’s not that I didn’t want to be out showing houses or bartering on behalf of a client, but short of begging Ray or Mona for a handout, I was left twirling my hair.

      For all of my surfing and digging, all I ended up with was the name of the store in Spearfish where Sherry’s mom worked. Most of the local papers focused on Sherry’s tale of capture and escape with hardly any personal details—on purpose and out of respect, I was sure. This far from Hollywood, reporters tended to be hungry for esteem rather than attention.

      As eleven o’clock came and went, even my focus on the missing girls grew blurry. I stared at the plaster wall that divided Calamity Jane’s office from Doc’s. Not twenty feet away, Natalie sat doing God-knows-what with Doc. The urge to press my ear to the wall tugged on me. The need to squash my nose against his front window drove me out the back door to my Bronco.

      Since Jane frowned on drinking alcohol at lunch, I settled for a triple-shot latte at the Tin Cup Café. Natalie’s appointment time crept by while I watched tourists through the coffee shop’s plate-glass window as they ambled from casino to casino.

      Worries over tomorrow’s lunch date with Jeff had me nibbling on my knuckles. Harvey had offered to hide out at another booth or table, ready to pounce on cue, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. Jeff knew Harvey. If he caught sight of the old codger in the restaurant, he might not feel like talking. Even though the idea of sharing a table with Jeff made my knees wobbly, I wanted to hear what he had to say.

      At a quarter till twelve, my cell phone rang. I frowned at my work phone number displayed on my cell screen. Who was calling me from my own desk? “Hello?”

      “Where are you?” Natalie asked.

      “The Tin Cup. How was your appointment?” I held my breath as I waited for her answer.

      “Interesting. I could use a cold shower.”

      “Sounds like you enjoyed yourself.” My stomach churned with bubbles of jealous brew. God, I wished Wolfgang would hurry up and get back here to distract me from Doc.

      “Oh, we’re just getting started.” I could hear Natalie’s smile in her tone. “We have another appointment on Thursday.”

      I took several deep breaths to counteract my green-eyed monster’s sucker-punches.

      “You still there, Violet?”

      “Yeah, sorry. My phone is acting up today.”

      “Anyway, Doc sent me over here looking for you.”

      “What for?”

      “He wants to go look at a place this afternoon. He said to have you meet him at his car in twenty minutes. Do you know where he’s parked?”

      “Yes.” In my spot.

      “Okay. I need to head out to check on my mom. I’ll stop by later tonight and give you all the juicy details.”

      “Great.” I’d sooner get a bikini wax with a candle and tweezers. “Drive safe.”

      I closed my cell and tossed my half-empty coffee cup into the trashcan by the door. Ten minutes later, I stood next to Doc’s Camaro SS, sweating under UV rays, wondering why he was driving instead of me, his Realtor. Probably just another way to get me twitterpated beyond coherent thought.

      My cell phone trilled in my purse. I dug it out, shading the screen to see who was calling. Wolfgang’s cell number scrolled across the screen. “Hello?”

      “Good morning, Violet.” Wolfgang’s whiskey smooth voice crackled a little in my ear. “Actually, afternoon there, I guess.”

      I smiled. Here came the cavalry. “Hi, Wolfgang. You ready to come back to Deadwood?”

      “I was ready yesterday. How are things there?”

      Let’s see, I have a lunch date tomorrow with a kidnapper and this morning I woke up to find a chicken roosting on the other half of my pillow. “Same as usual.”

      “How are things going with the house?”

      “Fine and dandy.” I’d stopped by to replace the laundered towel I’d used to wrap Addy’s wound but had been too gutless to do more than inch open the front door and slip it inside. Then I’d scampered back to my Bronco, peeking over my shoulder at the upstairs windows the whole way, expecting to see someone standing there watching me. That what’s-behind-door-number-one game still made my armpits clammy.

      “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

      “No,” I said, assuming Jeff didn’t have plans to stab me in the heart with his butter knife at lunch.

      “How about having dinner with me?”

      “I’d love to.”

      “Great. I’ll pick you up around six. No need to dress up, I have a little surprise for you.”

      What kind of surprise? The sparkly kind from one of his jewel cases? No, that couldn’t be. He’d want me in a nice dress if he was going to lavish me with diamonds. Wouldn’t he? “I can’t wait.”

      The back door to Doc’s office opened. With a leather satchel in his hand, Doc crossed the parking lot, his eyes locked on me.

      I almost dropped my phone, all thumbs suddenly. “Okay, then, see you tomorrow.”

      “Yes, you will,” Wolfgang said and the line went dead.

      “Another client?” Doc asked as he unlocked the passenger door for me.

      I shoved my cell in my purse. For some reason, I didn’t want Doc to know I’d been talking to Wolfgang. “Um. Sort of.”

      “Ah. Your boyfriend.”

      “He’s not my boyfriend.” I inspected my cuticles, avoiding his grin, hating how he could read me like a fifty-foot billboard.

      “Planning date number two?”

      “Something like that.”

      “Good.”

      I huffed mentally. The jerk didn’t have to be so damned happy about me going on a date with Wolfgang. Hell, just the thought of Natalie sitting across the desk from him had me growling and pawing at the dirt for the last hour.

      Doc held open the car door for me. The scent of heated leather mixed with his cologne floated around me. A gray plaid blanket lay folded on the seat.

      “Just toss that in the back seat,” he said.

      I hesitated in the doorway, trying to wrestle my pheromones back into submission.

      “What’s wrong? Are you allergic to plaid?”

      I hit him with a glare.

      He grinned in response. “Let’s roll. He’s waiting for us.”

      I flung the plaid blanket into the back and dropped onto the warm bucket seat.

      As he crawled behind the steering wheel, I turned to him. “Who’s waiting for us?”

      “Mr. Harvey.”

      Adding the title in front of Harvey’s name made him sound like an elementary school teacher instead of a dirty, old buzzard. “I thought we were going to look at a house.”

      “We are. Mr. Harvey’s.” Doc backed out of my parking spot.

      “That’s thirty miles out of town. You said you wanted to buy within the city limits.”

      “I do.”

      “Are you being enigmatic on purpose, or is this just a special Tuesday treat for me?”

      “Mr. Harvey asked me to come out and take a look around, give him my thoughts on some stuff, and I agreed.”

      “What kind of stuff?”

      Doc shrugged. “The usual.”

      Right. Doc must have a bachelor’s degree in Vagueness, with a minor in Cryptic Retorts. “Then why do you need me?”

      “Maybe I just like your company.”

      “Hey, what’s that smell? Oh, yeah, it’s just your brand of hogwash.”

      Chuckling, he said, “Okay, you got me. I needed a navigator. So, lead the way, please.”

      I made it until we reached the edge of Deadwood before asking the question burning my tongue. “How was your meeting with Natalie?”

      “It went well.”

      “What did you two talk about?” I fished for some job information.

      He spared me a glance as he wound his way up Strawberry Hill. “Mostly her. How long have you two been friends?”

      “Since we were kids. I grew up in the house next to her cousins’ down in Rapid City.” As our parents grew comfortable with each other over time, Natalie would spend weekends with me down on the prairie or at Aunt Zoe’s when I visited Deadwood for weeks at a time during the summer. During winter breaks, I’d hang with Nat’s family out near Nemo, where her parents used to live before they retired to the bright lights of Hill City.

      Doc rumbled past a hulking RV plodding along in the slow lane. “Has she always been so forthright?”