Nearly Departed in Deadwood (27 page)

      Forcing a smile, I patted his arm while trying to pull my hand free. My heart pounded against my ribs, trying to hammer its way out and bounce to safety. I struggled to keep my voice even. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”
And why you threw those clothes in the Dumpster
.

      “Tell you what?” He loosened his grip so he could pour beer down his throat. “What do you want to know?”

     
If you kidnapped the missing girls
. I shoved my hand under the table and sat on it so he couldn’t hold it hostage again. “If there is anything I can do to help.”

      “Well,” he chewed on another bite of burger for several seconds. “Funny you should ask.”

      “Why?”

      “Donna left me.”

      I froze, chicken chunk midway to my mouth. While that was no surprise to me, his bringing it up was. “Oh.”

      “For another woman.”

      I almost dropped my chicken. I’d had that fact backwards. Now that Jeff had straightened it out for me, I didn’t know what to say besides, “That sucks.”

      “Yep. On top of that, Kelly won’t stop talking about death, even after I’ve forked out a shitload of money for shrink visits over the last year.”

      The whole bit about how to kill a snake popped into my brain again, followed by the need to have a talk with Addy about what Kelly had been saying to her behind closed doors. I bit off half of the chicken strip, the salty morsel as appealing as deep-fried cardboard at the moment.

      “And if my wife has her way in court, I’ll get to see my son for one day every other weekend.” Pain scrunched his face.

      I reached toward his arm, then pulled back, uncertain. He was the villain in my suspicions, I wasn’t supposed to feel this ache in my throat for him. “I’m so sorry.”

      “My boy is going to be raised by a pair of lesbos.”

      I winced at his offensive choice of terms, and searched for a positive spin. “At least he’ll have three parents. A lot of kids don’t have any.” Hell, my kids had only me.

      “You like men, don’t you, Violet Parker?”

      “Sure.” I glanced Doc’s way again. Some more than others, damn it.

      “You and I should go out,” he said through cheeks packed with burger. “You’re pretty enough. We could be like the Brady Bunch.”

      Or like John and Lorena Bobbitt—butcher knife included. “Uh-huh,” was my noncommittal reply. “Is that why you asked me to lunch?”

      He shook his head. “I need your help.”

      I doubted my one psychology class at Rushmore Community College was going to cut it. “With what?”

      “My house. I want you to sell it.”

      * * *

      I walked around Deadwood a bit after lunch, craving some alone-time to rehash my suspicions before returning to face my bare desktop—and Ray. Warm breezes tainted with exhaust fumes trailed down Main Street. The growl of creeping traffic blocked out most of the dings and pings of slot machines, muffled behind plate-glass windows. My sunglasses offered shelter from eye contact with strangers.

      Jeff’s admissions about his home life had left me scratching my head. Desperation had choked off my
Hell, no!
reply when he’d requested my Realtor services, so we’d spent the last part of lunch buried in shop talk.

      I’d learned that he had to sell in order to pay Donna for her portion of the house’s value. Lucky for him, he’d bought the place back before gambling came to town and house prices had quadrupled. His ambition was to move to Spearfish, closer to his brother. Kelly would be joining him—her mother unable to handle the little girl’s slippery slide into depression.

      Jeff hadn’t even blinked when I’d mentioned the percentage he’d have to pay me if I could find a buyer, nor the amount of cash he’d need to invest to clean his place up so it didn’t look like the site of a redneck kegger. I’d walked away from lunch with heavy feet—not at all what I’d imagined before stepping into the Purple Door Saloon.

      The hot sunshine drove me inside Fancy Fannie’s, a casino with life-sized, black-and-white pictures of showgirls lining the walls. Chilled air cooled my neck and arms, cigarette smoke burned the back of my throat. Plopping in front of a Triple 777 slot machine, I fed it a ten-dollar bill and hit the Spin button. Sevens and cherries blurred in front of my eyes.

      Why had Doc insisted I change chairs? What was the deal with him and the crazy bit about Wild Bill?

      The tumblers landed on a single seven, a blank spot, and a double seven. I hit Spin again.

      Why had he been looking up information on dead people again, anyway? A morbid curiosity? Something work-related?

      Why the cemetery out behind Harvey’s place?

      The tumblers stopped on a triple seven, a single cherry, and a blank spot. I punched Spin.

      Did Doc suspect that Harvey had something to do with the missing girls? No, that couldn’t be it. Harvey was crusty on the outside, but inside, he was just a big glob of goo. Although, he was partial to Bessie. Okay, maybe he had the potential to smack a puppy or two, but hurt a little girl? Surely not. Right?

      Double seven, single seven, and two cherries.

      Who was Doc to be pointing a finger, anyway? He wasn’t exactly above suspicion. He sure spent a lot of time at the Rec Center. Probably almost as much as Jeff over the last year, now that I thought about it. He must have seen all of the missing girls at some point. He’d already admitted to knowing Sherry Dobbler ... and her sister.

      Single seven, single cherry, blank spot.

      However, there was something about Doc that made me wave away any mistrust—in spite of his need to sniff the corners in every room he entered and say the oddest things. Maybe it was the way he seemed to be watching out for me whether I liked it or not. Or the way he grinned so easily. Or the way he listened when people talked, as if he was focusing on every single syllable uttered.

      Triple seven, double seven, double cherries.

      A glance at the clock on my cell phone made my chest twang with guilt. It was two-thirty, and I should probably head to the library to dig up that information for Jane. Then I needed to get back to the office and fill out the contract for Jeff’s place. This would give me three houses on my plate, with the Hessler haunt the rough-cut diamond in my rhinestone tiara.

      Single seven, single seven, double seven.

      Thinking about Wolfgang’s house still gave me the heebie jeebies. Just the thought of those stupid clowns with their manic grins made me shiver. I needed to convince Wolfgang to paint over them before we showed the place. Surely he knew how tacky they would look to a potential buyer, especially one who could afford the price we’d be asking.

      Double seven, two cherries, single cherry.

      I sighed. Ah, Wolfgang—my gorgeous, fair Lancelot. So comfortable to be around compared to Doc, who always had me jumping around on hot coals. Wolfgang with his sexy blue eyes and Don Juan smile. Maybe I should wear that little backless, black satin number tonight that Natalie bought me for my birthday. No wait, he’d said not to dress up.

      My cell phone rang. I reached for my purse.

      Double seven, double seven, double seven.

      The slot machine lit up, bells clanging for a couple of seconds. As I hauled my phone from the bowels of my purse, I scanned the legend at the top of the machine, searching for how much I won as the number of credits climbed.

      “Hello?”

      “Violet, where are you?” Aunt Zoe asked.

      The slot machine quieted, its victory dance over too soon. Two hundred credits. What was that in quarters? “Downtown, why?”

      “You need to come home.”

      “What has Layne done now?” I hit the Payout button. The machine spit out a paper receipt.

      “It’s not Layne. It’s Addy.”

      “What about her?”

      “She’s missing.”

     
Chapter Eighteen

      I rocketed through three Stop signs on the way to Aunt Zoe’s, every muscle trembling, my hands clenched on the steering wheel. Addy’s sweet, freckled face filled my head, fear for her life fueled my panic. I skidded into the driveway and scrambled out of the driver’s seat before the engine stopped sputtering.

      Harvey burst through Aunt Zoe’s screen door. “Let’s go!”

      “Where?” He caught me off guard. I had expected Aunt Zoe’s worry-lined brow, not Harvey’s grizzled cheeks.

      “You tell me.” He rounded the front of the Bronco. “Where does Addy like to hang out?”

      “Ummm,” I struggled to wrap my brain around his question while climbing back into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition key. 

      His hand clamped on my arm. “Violet, look at me.”

      I obeyed, my chest heaving, as if I’d sprinted all the way from downtown Deadwood.

      “Take a deep breath,” Harvey ordered.

      I tried, but fear seemed to have my lungs locked in a bear hug. “I can’t,” I gasped.

      Harvey pinched the back of my upper arm—hard. 

      “Owwww!” My eyes watered from the sharp pain. I slapped his hand away and rubbed my stinging skin. “What the hell did you do that for?”

      “Where does Addy like to hang out?”

      “The Rec Center.”

      “Then let’s start there.”

      Oh. Now I understood. I shifted into reverse, my arm still throbbing. “You didn’t have to pinch so damned hard.”

      “I’d have slapped your ass, but you were sitting on it.”

      Yet another reason to keep my head tied to my shoulders at all times around Harvey. “Why were you at Aunt Zoe’s?”

      “I wasn’t. I was at Beatrice’s fiddling with her ... uh ... her plumbing.”

      That explained the lipstick smudge on his earlobe.

      “Your aunt sent Layne over to get me. Wanted me to help you search for Addy while she stayed home with Layne—in case Addy returns.”

      We rolled into the Rec Center parking lot a minute later. Harvey caught up with me in the lobby, where I stood scanning the Sign-In register. I wiped away the sweat dewing on my upper lip.

      “Is she here?” Harvey asked.

      “No, but Doc is.” He’d signed in at three o’clock, just five minutes ago. I’d seen him slink out the back door of the Purple Door Saloon when I’d been giving my “call you later” spiel to Jeff after our long lunch.

      “I’ll go get him,” Harvey said.

      “Why?”

      “He can help us look.”

      “I don’t know.”

      “What’s to know? With this thing going on between you two, he’ll want to help.”

      “There’s nothing going on between us.” Doc was making sure of that.

      “I may be an old fool, girlie, but I’m not a blind one.” Harvey crossed his arms. “I don’t understand why you kids like to play these silly games. In my day, we just parked up at Mountain Goat Lookout, knocked boots in the back seat, and then tied the knot when the baby started to show.”

      “Listen, Doc is my client, that’s all. Now let’s just go look for Addy.”

      Harvey shook his head. “Nope. Not without Doc.”

      “Damn it, Harvey. We don’t have time for this shit.”

      “Time for what?” Doc said from the Men’s locker room doorway.

      I growled in my throat. “Happy now?” I shot at Harvey.

      “Hey, Doc.” Harvey grinned at Doc as he joined our little party at the desk. “We were just talking about you.”

      “Really.” Doc’s gaze searched my face. “What’s wrong?”

      “Violet’s daughter is missing.” Harvey blurted out.

      “How long?” Doc asked.

      I looked away, my eyes blurring, my throat too tight to speak.

      “She took off on her bike this morning,” Harvey answered for me. “Should have been home a couple of hours ago. I’m gonna take a gander at the pool, make sure she’s not there.”

      The cacophony of children’s laughter and screams waxed and waned as he shoved through the double doors leading to the pool.

      “Where have you looked so far?”

      Swallowing the lump of fear and worry trying to choke me, I faced him. “This is our first stop. The library is next, then Kelly Wymonds’ place. After that, I don’t know where to look.”

      “I’ll cruise around town, see if I can find her.” He dug his car keys from the pocket of his navy cargo shorts.

      I pointed at his fingerless, weight-lifting gloves. “You’re busy. Harvey and I can take care of this.”

      “Shut up, Violet.” He cupped my face, his leather-covered palms smooth against my cheeks. He leaned close enough for me to see little gold sparkles in his irises.

      “Um, sure.” My voice sounded husky, tears dammed behind it.

      “Now listen to me. Addy is okay. We’ll find her.”

      The dam cracked. My eyes welled up again. I glanced down, trying to blink away the tears. Why did I have to be hard-wired like my mother, all damp and melty when I needed to be sturdy and strong?

      The pool doors whooshed open.

      “She’s not in there,” Harvey said, his eyebrows raised as he approached us.

      Doc dropped his hands and stepped back. He jangled his keys between us. “Keep your cell phone on.”

      I nodded and he pushed out the front door.

      Harvey stared at me, his grin banana-split wide. “Nothing going on between you two, huh?”

      “Oh, stuff a sock in it.” I grabbed him by one of his suspenders and tugged. “Let’s go.”

      Almost two hours later, Harvey and I sat in the parking lot of the century-old Fremont, Elkhorn & Missouri Valley Railroad Station. A call to Aunt Zoe left me chewing on my fingernails, an old habit that usually reared up after the shit had already passed through the fan blades and shot out the other side.

      Still no Addy. No sight, no word, no call, nothing.

      Harvey and I had scoured the library, pummeling Miss Plum, the young librarian, with questions and pictures. She admitted to knowing Addy by sight, but said she hadn’t seen her in days.