Natalie whipped into the parking lot behind the office and cruised along the line of parked cars, old and new. The orange glow of the street lights painted everything in bronze.

  “What are we looking for?” Personally, I was searching for Tiffany’s Jeep.

  “Hold on.”

  We passed Doc’s Camaro. I tried not to even glance at it in case Natalie was looking my way. She pulled into a parking spot about ten cars down and cut the engine.

  “Okay, Nat. What’s going on?”

  “You spying at Mudder Brothers tonight gave me an idea.”

  “I wasn’t spying.”

  “Weren’t you there hoping to catch a glimpse of Ray and George in the act?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “How is that not spying?”

  “Fine, I might have been spying a little. What’s your idea?”

  “I’m going to spy on Doc.”

  That didn’t sit well in my gut for a multitude of reasons, most of which revolved around me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Natalie stared out the rearview mirror at Doc’s back door. “Why not? I’m not hurting anyone.”

  “It’s an invasion of his privacy.”

  “You’re doing it to Ray and George.”

  “Yes, but we like Doc.” And we don’t want to get caught by our best friend sneaking around Doc’s back door. “And he’s not committing any crimes.”

  “Ray might not be, either. Just because he’s a huge jackass doesn’t mean he’s breaking the law with George.”

  “So, now you’re taking Cooper’s side?”

  “No, I always stand by you, you know that.”

  Deep down I did, and yet I’d gone and slept with the man on whom she’d staked a claim. My guilt weighed heavy, like a Saint Bernard sitting on my chest.

  “I’m just saying,” she continued, “that maybe until you have something more solid than just suspicions you should back off from Ray and George. I don’t want to be bailing you out of jail again. I will, but your name in the newspaper for trespassing or invasion of privacy won’t sit well for your future in realty in this town.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I know.” The idea of my kids visiting me through a square of Plexiglas with holes in it didn’t appeal much, either. “Okay, I’ll back down a little.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  “But only if you back off of Doc.”

  “Why do you care?”

  I met her wrinkled brow head on. “For one thing, he’s a friend of mine.”

  “Fine. Then set me up with him, help me out here. I’m flopping and flailing in front of him.”

  “You’re supposed to be on sabbatical,” I reminded her.

  Last month, after Natalie’s last boyfriend cheated on her and left her pissed and heartbroken—again—she’d sworn off men for a year. That so-called year hadn’t even lasted a day before she saw Doc pass by Calamity Jane’s front window. Her infatuation for him had grown like a wildfire—fast and uncontrollable. For that matter, so had mine.

  “How am I supposed to stay away from men with someone like Doc in town?”

  “He’s not all that.” I lied and turned away from her to stare out my window so she wouldn’t see my nose twitching. Stupid tell.

  Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor glowed in the distance, the back doors lit by a nightlight installed over them. “I’m sure he has plenty of faults just like everyone else,” I added for good measure.

  “Name one.”

  He’s having sex with me. I hesitated, the truth on the tip of my tongue, but dread holding me prisoner. “Sometimes he doesn’t shave.”

  “Which makes him look killer sexy.”

  Hear, hear!

  “Name another,” she said.

  “He acts really odd at times.” Like each time he sniffed a ghost and keeled over in a faint.

  “He’s mysterious. Next.”

  “Ummmm.” Tell her. Tell her. Tell her. “He’s not always good about returning phone calls,” I added, thinking of how I’d wanted to break every cell phone I could get my hands on when he kept dodging my calls after the first time we’d had sex.

  “He’s his own man. That’s a turn-on. Anything else?”

  Yes. “Well, there is something I kind of need to tell you.”

  The sight of Ray’s SUV pulling behind Mudder Brothers and backing up to the double doors under the night light stopped me in my tracks.

  “Nat, look,” I whispered and slunk down in my seat, even though I doubted Ray could see me in the dark, not even with the orange parking lot light overhead. “It’s Ray.”

  She leaned over my lap and stared out my window. “George is opening the back doors for him.”

  From our viewpoint, we could see the profile of Ray’s vehicle. As we watched the snake glanced around, and then opened the tail end doors of his SUV.

  “Ten bucks says there is a crate in the back,” Natalie said.

  “That’s my bet. You can’t take my bet.”

  “You snooze you lose, babe.”

  Ray climbed into the back of his SUV, the suspension bouncing under his weight. George waited at the tailgate. Together, they hauled out a crate. The missing twin.

  “Holy freakin’ moly,” I said under my breath.

  “I win.”

  “What’s in that thing?”

  We watched as they hefted it out and lowered it to the ground. George pulled a bar from behind him and leveraged the lid open. I held my breath.

  “Can you see what’s in it?” Natalie whispered.

  “No, it’s too dark. We need night vision goggles.”

  George lifted the lid, stared for a count of five, and then dropped the lid with a thud that echoed across the grass and parking lot. He staggered over to the back quarter panel of Ray’s SUV and buried his face in his hands, shaking his head.

  Ray stepped close to George, leaning into his face. He reached behind him and pulled something from his waistband. Something small and pointed.

  “Oh, my God! Is that a gun?” Natalie asked.

  “It kind of looks like it.” I squinted and leaned out the open window, white-knuckling the sill. “But it could also be a big stick of celery.”

  “Or a knife,” Natalie grabbed my forearm. “If he’s threatening to hurt George, we need to call Cooper.”

  “We are not calling Cooper. Not unless we are one hundred percent positive that is a gun or a knife. Not after the warning he just slapped me with.”

  “Does Ray always lean in like that when he talks?”

  “In my experience, only when he’s leering or threatening.” I watched as Ray and George separated and each grabbed an end of the crate, carrying it through the back doors of the funeral parlor. Where was Eddie?

  Natalie sat back as soon as the doors closed behind them. “What now?”

  I kept my eyes glued to those back doors. “Let’s wait a bit and see if they bring the other crate out.”

  Ten minutes later, several cars had rumbled past us through the parking lot, but Ray’s SUV still sat there, the double doors still closed.

  “Maybe we should drive over there,” Natalie said. “We might be able to find some evidence in the back of his SUV.”

  “No way. That’s too risky.”

  “Bak bak bak,” she clucked.

  “Hey, if Ray catches me and calls Cooper, I’m dead meat. I’ll have to be more careful when I snoop now.”

  “Does that mean your investigation of the Case of the Missing Crate is back on?”

  While I pondered that question, Ray came around from the front of the funeral parlor and climbed into his SUV. Nat and I slunk down in our seats again as his headlights flashed across Nat’s pickup.

  When we sat back up, she said, “Damn it.”

  “What?”

  “We missed Doc leaving.”

  Sure enough, Doc’s Camaro was gone. Good! “Oh, darn.”

  She started the engine. “So, what were you going to tell me about Doc before Ray came knockin’ round George’s back door?”

  As much as I wanted to spill my guts about Doc and me, I couldn’t say the words. My moment of courage had slipped away.

  “Nothing important,” I said.

  She accepted my answer with a nod, which made my chest constrict with guilt.

  “What are you going to do about that crate business?” she asked, shifting into gear.

  I stared out the open window at Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor. “I’m going back in that room.”

  Chapter Eight

  Saturday, August 18th

  The Picklemobile sat ticking in the drive the next morning when I stumbled out into the eye-watering sunshine. The keys dangled in the ignition.

  The smell of bacon floated my way from Miss Geary’s house, making me drool. The uber-healthy granola bars Natalie had brought for breakfast tasted like wood chips, undoubtedly similar to the ones we poured into the bottom of Addy’s new gerbil cage last night.

  Damn my sister and her so-called “gifts” for my kids. One chicken was already one too many pets for my family. Lucky for me, Aunt Zoe’s tolerance for Addy’s stray pets rivaled an Appalachian moonshiner’s tolerance for hooch.

  Shaking my head, I backed out onto the street and shifted into Drive. Sunlight hit the windshield, emphasizing all of the smudges and wiper streaks—and a bare footprint on the glass right under the mirror. A footprint? I recoiled.

  “Oh, come on!” I yelled in the rearview mirror at Miss Geary’s house.

  I smacked my palm down on the dash, sending dust swirling. Harvey was getting nooky all over town, including inside his damned old belching truck, and I had to resort to phone sex each night from the bathroom while letting the water run. No freaking fair!

  Squirming on the seat, I grimaced at the thought of Harvey’s bare butt rubbing on the cracked vinyl bench seat. I tucked the extra folds of my green sundress between my legs and scooted up against the door, cursing the lucky old buzzard under my breath all the way to work.

  I didn’t even bother stopping in at Calamity Jane’s first this morning. Doc’s Camaro sitting in the parking lot was invitation enough for me to knock twice on his back door and let myself in before anyone saw me.

  “Hello?” I said, peeking in the back room and finding it empty.

  “In here,” Doc’s voice came from the open bathroom doorway.

  I leaned against the doorjamb, admiring his reflection in the mirror. His right jaw and neck were covered in shaving cream; the minty scent of the foam filled the small room. His chest and back were bare, his khaki cotton slacks slung low on his hips. A dark green dress shirt hung from a hanger on the wall behind him.

  I lowered my tote to the floor, and then clasped my hands together to keep from touching anything. Or rubbing. Or stroking.

  When I finally raised my eyes to his, he shot me a lazy grin through the foam. “How’s the phone?”

  “Not so good. We’re going to give it another day to dry out before declaring it officially dead.”

  “Were you actually in the tub last night?” He scraped the razor down his cheek, leaving a strip of bare skin.

  “Yep. Covered in bubbles.”

  He paused, razor in midair, his dark eyes drifting down the front of my dress. “Completely covered?”

  “All except the tips.”

  He groaned and banged the razor on the lip of the sink. “You know, I have a tub at my place.” He made another swipe with the razor. “It’s big and white and just waiting to be tried out.”

  “I require bubbles. Lots of ‘em.”

  His eyes darkened. “So do my fantasies.”

  The stark hunger in his gaze lit me on fire everywhere south of my forehead. It took me a moment to douse the flames and unpeel my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Hurry up and finish shaving.”

  He rinsed the razor and made another couple of swipes. “I have an appointment. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “I can be done in five.”

  His laughter rumbled from deep in his chest, sounding all sexy and inviting. “Once isn’t going to cut it after what you teased me with last night.” He drew a swath down his neck, leaving just a single thin trail of foam left over his Adam’s apple.

  I batted my eyelashes. “You liked that little teaser?”

  “Liked it? I spent half of the night imagining it, the other half dreaming about it.” He scraped away the last stripe and rinsed the blades under the faucet, then splashed his face, reaching for the hand towel to dry the drips from his jaw. “The next time you drop the phone in the water, make sure you finish what you started first.”

  I was happy to finish right here and now, to hell with best friends, gerbils, haunted hotels, and dirty old men. “You want me to whisper the ending in your ear?”

  “Violet.” He threw down the towel.

  “What?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What?” I could have won an Oscar for how well I feigned innocence.

  He pulled his shirt from the hanger. “I can’t touch you for just a few minutes, and then try to converse rationally about retirement plans across my desk.”

  “Why not?”

  “You mess up my ability to add numbers.”

  That made two of us. “So, wing it. It’s only money.”

  He put on his shirt. “I want more than just your mouth.”

  “Yeah, but that’s such a great place to start.”

  He stared at my mouth as he buttoned his shirt, then shook his head. “I meant what I said last night.”

  “About the spurs?”

  His lips quirked, but when his eyes locked with mine, the flirting glint faded. “About you hiding things from me. We had a deal.”

  I leaned my head back against the door and sighed. “Didn’t we talk about this enough last night?”

  “No. We just got started. Then Natalie needed to use the bathroom, so you pretended I was your dad, and told me how much Layne is obsessed with the Maya since your brother sent him that book on ruins in the Yucatan.”

  “Oh, right.” Lucky Quint and his photojournalism job. I often daydreamed of Quint’s life, exploring all around the world with no offspring to tie him to one place, require a diaper change, or need new school clothes. But would that get lonely?

  “I swear we talked about Harvey after Natalie left,” I said.

  I distinctly remembered cursing the dirty bird and his five-gallon bucket mouth—for telling Doc that Cornelius claimed he could talk to ghosts—before I had a chance to decide how much I wanted to share on that particular subject.

  “We did.”

  “See. I knew it.”

  “But only because I brought up again what he’d told me about your new client.”

  Man, Doc’s teeth were locked onto this Cornelius business with a bear trap grip. “Like I said last night, I was gonna tell you. I just hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.” I’d been too busy sneaking around Mudder Brothers, and then spying on Doc with Natalie. “It’s really not a big deal.”

  “Your client claims to talk to ghosts in a supposedly haunted hotel. When word about this gets out, which we both know it will in Deadwood, your reputation will take another hit.”

  “Cornelius likes to grandstand.” His Abe Lincoln outfit alone was evidence of that. “He just wants some attention.”

  “Then he should get a lap dog.” Doc buttoned his shirt sleeves. “Tell me more about this guy.”

  “I told you most everything last night.”

  “No, you mentioned he was from Vegas and had money, but then Addy had some emergency with her cat and a gerbil, so you had to hang up for a few minutes.”

  “Right, the gerbil.” I scrubbed my hand down my face. “Bogart had nosed into The Duke’s cage and got his head stuck inside the exercise wheel. Unfortunately, The Duke was in the midst of exercising and got stuck between the wheel and Bogart’s neck. So, all hell broke loose.”

  “The cat tried to eat the gerbil?”

  “No, Bogart’s a vegetarian.”

  One of Doc’s eyebrows lifted. “A vegetarian cat?”

  “Yeah. Go figure. I told Addy she should have called him Gandhi, but she likes to name her pets after my favorite actors. She thinks I won’t make her get rid of them then.”

  Doc undid his pants. “That explains Elvis, the chicken.”

  “Bingo.” I watched as he tucked his shirt in, resisting the urge to reach inside his pants and help. “Natalie says using the King’s name like that is just wrong, but when Addy gets something fixed in her brain, nothing short of electroshock therapy can change her mind.”

  “That apple fell straight from the tree,” he said, zipping up.

  I dragged my focus back up to his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You. The Hessler house. The Carhart place. The stubborn way you charge forth despite rational people warning you to stop.”

  Any notion I’d had about telling him of my adventures with Cooper, Ray, and the Mudder brothers last night evaporated under the weight of his grimace. My nose knew a fishy odor when it rose up, and Ray stunk like a bucket of chum. I didn’t need Doc’s rationality at this point.

  “I’m not ‘stubborn.’”

  “Oh, really?”

  Lifting my chin, I said, “I’m determined.”

  He grabbed his belt from the towel rack. “Spin it however you want, you and I both know the results of your past sleuthing.”

  “Yeah, the bad guys lost.”

  “At the cost of some of your sanity.”

  I waved him away. “Hell, I lost most of that when my kids popped out.”

  “Look at yourself, Violet.” He pulled me in front of the mirror, standing behind me, his chin level with the top of my head. “You’re a mess.”

  “Hey!” So my hair was spiraling here and there more than usual, and my eyes were a bit raccoon-ish and bloodshot around the edges. I knew many parents who looked like they’d been run over by a herd of buffalo on a daily basis.

  “I was rushed in the bathroom thanks to Natalie’s extra-long shower.” I leaned closer, wiping at some eye shadow that had landed a little off the mark in the chaos that was my morning. “Cut a girl some slack.”