“That fucking rat bastard!” He was going straight for my throat.

  Harvey and Jeff exchanged raised brows.

  “You need to talk to your client right away,” Mona ordered. “See if he’s willing to buy the place or not. We don’t have time for wooing anyone here.”

  “Okay, I’ll call Cornelius as soon as I hang up.”

  “No, don’t do this over the phone.” I could hear her fingernails clacking through the line. How could she be typing during a blow like this? “It’s too easy for a client to say ‘No, thanks,’ when he doesn’t have to look you in the eyes. Face-to-face is better.”

  “All right.”

  “Do you want me to come with you to talk to him?”

  No way! Mona would see how much of a freakshow Cornelius really was, and then she’d look at me in that way of hers that made me feel like I’d piddled on the rug. Besides, Cornelius had come looking for me and me alone.

  “Thanks, Mona, but I want to fly solo on this.”

  “Okay. Call me if you need me. I’ll talk to you in a bit.” She hung up.

  I tossed my phone on the counter and covered my face with my hands. “I’m so screwed.”

  “What’s going on?” Jeff asked, rubbing my lower back, an intimate act that would have earned him a shove or shooing smack if my hands weren’t busy trying to hide me away from the world.

  “Let me guess,” Harvey said. “Ray is tryin’ to put a spoke in your wheel.”

  “If that means he’s trying to screw me over again and get me fired, then yes.”

  “You want me to introduce him to Bessie?”

  Yes, I did, and I wanted Harvey to aim low. “It’s probably not a good idea. I’m going to need you around to take care of Aunt Zoe and the kids after I suffocate Ray with his own dirty underwear.”

  “I could break his kneecaps,” Jeff jumped on Harvey’s bandwagon and squeezed me in an awkward side-hug.

  I lowered my hands and pulled away from Jeff without trying to make it obvious how much his touch was not comforting me.

  Enough wallowing in my kiddy pool of self-pity. I scooped up my phone and searched the room. “Where’d I put my purse?”

  “By the front door,” Jeff said.

  “Where are you going?” Harvey asked as I raced out of the room.

  “To see Cornelius.” I grabbed my purse. “Addy! Layne! We need to go!”

  “I’ll take them home,” Harvey offered. “You just skedaddle and take care of ol’ Ray.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and then turned to Jeff. “Keep painting and move the furniture around in your bedroom like we talked about.” At his nod, I continued. “I’ll be by early tomorrow to help with the final prep.”

  Harvey walked me out to the Picklemobile. The dark clouds had passed to the south, taking the rain with them. Turned out the northern hills wouldn’t be watered today after all.

  “Sure you don’t want some help?”

  “Positive.” I crawled inside the cab. “Harvey, promise me you won’t tell Aunt Zoe or the kids about any of this shit with Ray.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He frowned through the open window at me. “You sure you’re okay? Your eyes are all buggy and rolling around in your head right now. Are you feelin’ any hit from the firewater?”

  I’d thrown it all up too soon for it to hit my bloodstream. “I’m fine and dandy. Happy as a dung beetle in a cow pie.” I used one of his own lines on him.

  “It’s ‘cow patty.’” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to go off and do anything cuckoo, right?”

  Maybe. Probably. Mostly likely. Define cuckoo. “No. Not at all.”

  * * *

  I called Cornelius while sitting at a red light at the opposite end of Main Street from his hotel. In front of me, a dark green 1938 Dodge, just like Bogart’s car in The Big Sleep, my all-time favorite Bogart film, idled in a low growl.

  I rolled up the window.

  “Hello?” Cornelius answered, sounding like a Vincent Price impressionist.

  I ground my molars, wanting to tell him to knock off the act. “Mr. Curion, it’s Violet Parker.”

  He breathed into the phone.

  “Your Realtor.”

  “I know who you are, Violet. I came looking for you, remember?”

  Right. “I’m calling to see if you have made a decision regarding the hotel.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  It was my turn to just sit there and breathe into the phone. Only he didn’t continue. “What’s your decision?”

  My heart pounded so hard that my big toe throbbed.

  “I’ve decided that I need you to see something first.”

  Like I hadn’t heard that line before, but I hadn’t expected it from Cornelius. “Excuse me?”

  “I want you to come to my hotel room tomorrow night.”

  I sat there, my jaw resting on the steering wheel. Damned Tiffany for making my boobs look bigger in that dress yesterday.

  Someone honked behind me. The light was green.

  I hit the gas. “Why?”

  “Just trust me,” he said.

  Surely Cornelius wasn’t thinking I’d exchange sex for a sale. I mean, I was desperate and all, but not that desperate. I’d sooner use Addy’s bike to deliver newspapers for a living than have sex with Abe Lincoln. My butt could use the exercise, anyway.

  “Can’t you just give me an answer now? On the phone? Then I can bring some paperwork over tonight for you to sign.”

  He chuckled. “You’re going to be a fun nut to crack.”

  Between his feet dragging and Ray’s property stealing, I was going to start having my own fun cracking nuts.

  “Mr. Curion, if you could just let me know if you’re still interested in the property, I could bring the appropriate documents over in the morning for your signature and we could get this rolling.”

  “What’s the rush? This property has been for sale for over a year.”

  Cornelius had done his homework. As much as I wanted to tell him that someone else may snatch it out from under him, I didn’t. Until I found out if Ray had a definite offer, I had to be careful. If I used another buyer to push Cornelius into making an offer, and then it turned out there was no other offer, I’d look like I lied to get him to speed up the sale.

  “I just thought you were really interested and might be ready to put an offer on the place.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely interested. But I want you to come see something in my room first.”

  Images of his long, bony, pale, skinny, naked body flitted through my mind, making me wince. Nope, not gonna happen. “Why don’t you just meet me at the office?”

  I slowed to let a group of tourists cross the street in front of me.

  “I don’t like the voices in your office.”

  My arm’s prickled. What did he mean? What voices? Doc didn’t like the smell in Calamity Jane’s, either. Most of the time he wouldn’t even cross the threshold.

  “I heard you had an accident over there,” I said, switching subjects, tiptoeing around the truth. “Something about a window accidentally getting broken.”

  He laughed. “You should have seen it, Violet.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll show you tomorrow night. Come over around sundown.”

  “Mr. Curion, I really can—”

  “Bring the paperwork with you and we’ll talk.”

  Paperwork? I blew out a breath. “Fine. Okay.” But I’d be wearing a snowmobile suit this time. There’d be no touching, no ogling, just signatures and smiles.

  “Sundown,” he reiterated.

  “Got it.”

  “See you then.” He hung up as I drove past the front of his hotel and just kept on rolling.

  On the way back to my office, a plan sparked and caught flame in my head.

  I weaved my way to my parking spot behind Calamity Jane Realty and cut the engine, waiting with one eye closed until the backfire boomed.

  Ray’s SUV was MIA. Damn, I’d have to wait until next time to bust the dickhead in the chops.

  Doc’s Camaro was missing, too. Double damn. He was an essential part of my new plan. My idea of seducing him in person into playing along went up in smoke.

  Oh, well, I was getting good at whispering sweet nothings to him via the phone. It was time to see how good. I pulled up his number on my cell phone.

  He answered the phone on the first ring. “Hey, Trouble. Did Harvey tell you about your client?”

  “Yep.” I wanted to ask what else Tiffany shared with Doc in his office, but I clubbed my green-eyed ogre into submission and stuck to the plan.

  I cleared my throat and slipped into my sex-kitten voice, “Doc, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”

  “Are you okay? You sound like you’re catching a cold.”

  I cleared my throat and stuck with my usual tone. “I’m fine. But I need a favor.”

  “You need to borrow my car again?”

  “Nope. Bigger.”

  He was quiet for a couple of seconds. “What do you need, Violet?”

  The list went on and on, but I started at the top. “You.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “And your nose.”

  “That, not so much.”

  “I swear, it will only take a few minutes.”

  Just enough time for Doc to catch a good whiff of the hotel and for Cornelius to meet Doc—aka my boyfriend—in case he was thinking I’d trade sex for a sale. Although how I’d make it clear that Doc and I were an item while at the same time not being too obvious about our item-hood might take some clever smoke-and-mirrors work to pull off.

  “Violet, you don’t believe in ghosts, remember?”

  I remembered that I couldn’t make up my mind these days about the dead. Or were ghosts considered undead? No, that was vampires. “That’s merely a technicality at this point.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Does that mean you’re in?”

  “That depends on the details of the favor.”

  Wincing in anticipation, I whispered, “I need you to come with me to the Old Prospector Hotel.”

  Silence.

  A late-60s black Mustang Fastback rumbled past my back bumper, Three Dog Night’s version of The Lion Sleeps Tonight a-weema weh’d through the open windows.

  Still, silence from Doc’s end of the line.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard me. I cleared my throat again.

  “Why?” Doc asked, finally.

  “It’s supposed to be haunted.”

  “I know. What do you want from me?”

  Boy, was that a loaded question. What did I want? More sex—but that was a given. Some help setting up college funds for the kids would be wonderful. A guarantee that he wouldn’t kick me to the curb and break my heart someday would make it much easier to come clean with Nat about stealing the man she thought she loved.

  I clarified before answering, “We’re still talking about the hotel, right?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, let’s keep it simple for now.”

  What did that mean? Keep this relationship-thing we were doing simple? I shook my head. I hated this uncertainty crap when it came to having the man I wanted in my life.

  “Maybe you can tell me if the rumors are true,” I said.

  “Are you saying that if I go to the hotel and tell you there are ghosts there, you’ll believe me?”

  “I’d certainly give a lot of thought to your answer.”

  “Well, if you don’t believe me, then it’s a waste of my time.”

  “I want to believe you, Doc, but try to look at this from my perspective. I can’t see ghosts. I can’t smell them, feel them, taste them, nothing. I’m a total dud. Yet I’m supposed to believe ghosts exist and you can interact with them.”

  I paused to give him a chance to refute what I’d said.

  He didn’t, so I continued. “You have to admit that’s one hell of a big pill to swallow. You’re going to need to give me more time.”

  And more proof.

  He sighed. “I have an appointment with a client tomorrow evening. How long will this take?”

  What client? A certain curvy redhead?

  Oh, for crissake, get a grip, you big jealous dufus!

  “Long enough for you to tell me if Cornelius is for real.” I tugged the keys from the ignition and frowned at the smiley face keychain. “Or if he’s just full of shit.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday, August 19th

  As open houses go, my first one started out slow, and then ended with a bang—as in an explosion.

  In one big kaboom, Jeff’s garage lost half of its roof, and my hopes of making a quick sale shattered along with several of the building’s windows. At least the house and all of its accoutrements were still intact.

  I wondered if I could get away with describing the garage as an “open-air” building on the listing sheet now. Or an inverse carport. I’d have to see how much of the roof was left after Captain Reid and his volunteer fire crew finished making sure all of the cinders were fully doused.

  Speaking of the devil in yellow, flame-retardant pants … .

  Reid sidled up next to me as I stood at the end of the drive watching my career smolder. He smelled good and smoky. Several feet to my right, a crowd of Jeff’s neighbors milled, murmuring among themselves, suddenly interested in our open house proceedings.

  Marketing lesson of the day—to stage a successful open house and draw a lot of traffic, blow something up. The bigger the explosion, the bigger the crowd.

  “You okay, Sparky?” Reid asked, his baritone voice rippling with undercurrents of laughter.

  The back of my throat burned from holding in my fuming frustration and kept trying to leak out through my eyes in the form of tears. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look slightly singed, especially your eyebrows.”

  “They aren’t singed. They’re still growing in from the Hessler fire,” I said, referring to the house fire where I first met Captain Reid and his merry crew of firefighters after almost being barbecued to a crisp.

  “Well, in that case, they’re growing back in nicely.” He grinned. “The boys down at the station have come up with a new name for you.”

  Oh, this couldn’t be good. I braced myself. “What’s that?”

  “Four-Alarm Parker.”

  I groaned. “Splendid.”

  “You’re lucky they like you. I’ve heard worse.”

  “Right, lucky me.”

  Reid patted me on the back. “Cheer up, Sparky. Wymonds says this was probably his fault. At least you won’t have Coop breathing down your neck about this one.”

  “Do you know what started it yet?”

  “Maybe. I need to wait until it’s safe to go in there and see for certain. I’ll write up the report this afternoon so Wymonds can get his insurance company involved ASAP.”

  “So, it definitely wasn’t arson?”

  Initially, as the flames had raged, I had wondered if Ray had found another way to knock my knees out from under me. Blowing up Jeff’s garage was an excellent idea. Now we’d have to reduce the price on the place for tomorrow’s Hot Sheet listing. Hot Sheet—oh, how Lady Irony loved to toy with me.

  Jane wasn’t going to be happy about the loss of income, and while I had nothing to do with this fire, the soot mark would go on my not-so-spotless track record.

  Maybe Jane should add a column on her Sales Pending white board for Fire Sales. At least I’d finally get some Xs on the board.

  “Arson?” Reid nailed me with a narrow-eyed squint. “Have you pissed off someone this week? Someone besides Coop?”

  There was Ray, of course. Possibly George Mudder, if Ray had told him about my snooping. And Tiffany, if she’d found out about Doc and me. Plus my sister was in the area—who knew how competitive for attention she was feeling these days. Who else?

  I shrugged. “No. I was just throwing that out.”

  Reid squeezed my shoulder. “I’m thinking more along the line of an accident. But I’ve learned not to speculate until I get a chance to sift through the ashes.”

  An accident. I gulped. That’s exactly what had the back of my knees sweating. Layne had a track record of blowing up dog houses. Sure, they were innocent chemistry experiments, but he’d been in Jeff’s backyard unsupervised part of the time yesterday as we prepped for the open house. What if Layne had been playing Dr. Oppenheimer with some of the chemicals in Jeff’s garage, coming up with his own version of the atomic bomb? He’d made it clear verbally how much he disliked Addy’s not-so-brilliant idea of having Jeff as their new stepdaddy; maybe this was his way of acting out his feelings.

  If Layne was at fault, how did I tell my client that my kid may have kind of sort of accidentally blown up his garage? How did I convince my boss that she shouldn’t fire me over this?

  “I’ll get hold of you later and tell you more,” Reid said and nodded at one of his crew members who was waving him over. “I gotta go.”

  “Thanks, Reid.”

  “You’re welcome, Sparky. Do me a favor, would ya?”

  I could guess where this was going, something about me not playing with lighters or taking out more fire insurance. “What’s that?”

  “Hide your Aunt’s shotgun shells.” He winked, flashed me another one of his charming grins, and walked away.

  I stared after him, wondering what that meant for Aunt Zoe. She’d obviously been hurt in the past by Reid. It didn’t take a doctorate in psychology to figure that out based on her urge to fill him full of holes. I hated to see Aunt Zoe hurt again, but Reid was a hot catch, and it had nothing to do with all of the time he spent around flames.

  What if Aunt Zoe and he patched things up? Would he want to move in? Where did that leave me and my kids?

  Shaking off worries about “what ifs” that Aunt Zoe would tell me were “never happens,” I headed into the house to wrap up this disaster before returning to the office with my tail between my legs.

  An hour later, when I pulled into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane Realty, Jane’s SUV was nowhere to be seen. Mona and Ray were there, though. The Picklemobile announced my arrival with its usual calling card BOOM.

  I slammed the pickup door closed, taking a calming breath before I faced the ridicule sure to be dished out in large helpings by a certain dickhead I loved to hate.