The pungent odor of burned garage still coated the back of my throat. I breathed in the pine-scented air, focusing on the warm afternoon breeze and how good it felt on my skin. A glass of cold, refreshing water would taste like nectar from heaven.

  A flurry of movement by Calamity Jane’s back door snared my attention. The site of George Mudder gesturing wildly as he talked to Ray made me forget about Mother Nature’s pacifiers.

  What was going on? What had George so animated?

  There was only one way to find out. I weaved through a row of highly-polished classic Detroit muscle and steel of all types, trying to hear what George was saying above the V-8 engines rumbling in the parking lot and out on the street.

  Ray shushed him as I approached. I heard that clear as day. Could he be any more suspicious? Hadn’t he ever heard of changing the subject?

  “Hi, George,” I said, breaking the silence. I smiled wide, well as wide as I could after the day I’d had. Even my teeth felt scorched, singed, and brittle. “What brings you to Calamity Jane’s?”

  There. No need to dance around an unasked question now.

  His little yellow teeth greeted me, his eyes crinkled at the edges without even the tiniest bit of malice. It appeared that George was still clueless about me nosing into his secrets. Excellent. There was another viewing that I planned to drag Natalie to tomorrow night.

  “I was talking to Ray about—”

  “Never mind, Violet,” Ray cut in, his eyes as sharp as his tone. “George, I’ll stop by later with more details.”

  Details about their next shipment? About the guys who had followed him last time?

  “It was nice seeing you, Violet.” George held the door for me. “Give Natalie my love.”

  I slipped by him and cursed under my breath as the door shut firmly behind me. As tempting as it was to put my ear to the back door, I passed and headed to the front room.

  Mona’s jasmine perfume mixed with the residuals of smoke still in my sinuses, making for a sweet, smoky smell. She stopped clacking on her keyboard as soon as I dropped my bag on my desk.

  “Did you hear?” I asked.

  “I did. You okay?”

  “I’ve been better.” I walked over to the water cooler and poured myself a cup of nectar. “Does Jane know?”

  “Not yet, but she’ll hear about it. What happened?”

  “We’re not sure yet, but it looks like it was an accident.”

  “Anybody get hurt?”

  “No, thank God.” I downed the cupful of cold water, sighed in relief, and then pointed my thumb toward the back door. “What was George Mudder doing here?”

  “I don’t know. He dropped off some keys to Ray, and then the two of them went out the back.”

  “That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” I was testing Mona, seeing if it was just my general loathing for Ray that had me full of suspicions about George’s visit.

  “A little odd, I guess.”

  Good. So, I wasn’t totally nuts. I walked back to my desk. “Did you hear anything more about Ray’s client putting an offer on the hotel?”

  “No. Nothing. You’re meeting with Cornelius tonight, right?”

  I nodded. Back to Ray—I wasn’t done yet. “Has Ray named his mysterious client?”

  “Nope. He and Jane had some kind of pow-wow behind closed doors this morning, but she headed out for an appointment with her lawyer before I had a chance to drill her.” Mona pointed at my desk. “She left a note for you.”

  I pushed my bag aside and picked up the Post-it note, my heart thudding in my throat. But it was just a list of two more buildings in Lead she wanted me to research.

  Jane was interested in purchasing more real estate. For a couple of weeks now, she’d had me finding out past ownership and liens on several buildings along Lead’s main drag.

  This time she specified I go to the library in Lead. I usually hung out in Deadwood Library’s South Dakota room, where I often found Doc researching, too. Only his subjects weren’t usually so pleasant—death registers, cemetery plot details, and more.

  “Jane wants me to go to the Lead library,” I told Mona.

  “You know where that is, right? Next to the old Opera House.”

  I nodded. “I was up there with the kids weeks ago. While they picked out a few books, I peeked through the Opera House’s front doors. They’ve really fixed that place up.”

  Almost a century ago, the late, much-loved Thomas Grier, Homestake Mining Company’s superintendent, worked with the wife of ba-zillionaire, George Hearst, to build the Homestake Opera House and Recreation Center for the mine’s employees and their families.

  I’d learned all about Mr. and Mrs. Hearst, along with Grier, Wild Bill, and Calamity Jane in history class back in high school. The black and white pictures of the glory days of old had often fascinated me, making me wish I could see it all in color.

  Hearst had been one of the early owners of the Homestake Gold Mine, the largest and deepest gold mine in the Western Hemisphere until it closed its doors at the beginning of the new millennium. While the uber-wealthy tycoon had been focused mainly on digging riches out of the ground until his death in the early 1890s, his young wife had been more concerned about the citizens of Lead. Grier and she had each played philanthropic roles in making Lead a bustling, vibrant, cosmopolitan city in the early twentieth century, with Cornish, Italian, German, and other ethnic cultural sectors. The Historic Homestake Opera House was an example.

  But then the mine had shut its doors for good, and the miles and miles of underground shafts, drifts, and stopes were allowed to fill with water. Those golden, glory days of old had been washed down the sluice into oblivion, along with the big company store stocked with everything under the sun and the well-paid mining jobs that had kept the northern Black Hills prosperous for over a century. The Opera House had limped along until a fire destroyed the roof and much of the inside.

  But the old place was being restored by a group of volunteers. The whole process reminded me of the mythical phoenix, from ashes to rebirth. I couldn’t wait to see the old building regain its reputation as the “Jewel of the Black Hills.”

  I dropped into my chair, leaning back. “I’ve been wanting to go see a play in there since we moved up here. I’m curious what the auditorium looks like now.”

  Mona pushed her glasses further up on her nose. “When I was a kid, they used to show movies in there. I’m so glad they’re fixing it back up.”

  Wait a second. I sat up straight in my seat. Did the Opera House’s restoration have anything to do with the reason Jane was so hot to get property in Lead lately? Did she have some insider tip from someone in the Lead City Council about a lucrative venture for the town on the horizon?

  “They say the old place is haunted,” Mona said.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” These days, I’d actually be more surprised to find a century-old building in the Black Hills that was free of ghost-filled rumors.

  “Back in the early days,” Mona continued, “the Opera House was used as a hospital for a while. The Episcopal Church also used it for church services while it was being moved to its current location, and probably funerals, too. The building is certainly no stranger to death.”

  In other words, I wouldn’t be attending any plays with Doc anytime soon, or Cornelius.

  I read Jane’s note again. While I wanted to wad it up and file it in my trash can, I stuffed it in my purse instead. Jane’s wishes were my commands, as her unofficial gopher. Until I made enough money in sales to start carrying some weight around here, I had to keep my gopher tail firmly strapped on.

  The sound of the back door closing drew both Mona’s and my gazes. Ray sauntered in, his grin a mix of sneer and triumph.

  Oh, how I wished I had a pie to throw.

  I held eye contact, ready for whatever shit he planned to fling my way.

  “Something smells like smoke,” he said.

  And so it began.

  “Shut up, Ray.” Mona beat me to the punch.

  “What’s burning? Oh, right, Blondie’s future in realty.”

  “Think of that one all on your own, Skeeter?”

  He sat in his chair and kicked his Tony Lamas up onto his desktop. “Did you hear my good news?”

  “You finally found a penis enlarger that actually works?”

  “Come over tonight and see for yourself. I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real man and put that boyfriend of yours to shame.”

  “What boyfriend?” Mona asked.

  Alarms whooped in my head. I needed to steer Mona and him off course. “What’s new with the Mudder brothers, Ray?”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You have another shipment to run tonight?”

  “You don’t learn very well, do you, Blondie?”

  “I learn just fine. I’m learning more about you every day.”

  “Well, school’s about over,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I have a buyer for the Old Prospector Hotel. I told Jane about it this morning.”

  “I’ll start sweating when I see an offer,” I bluffed. “Until then, you’re just blowing hot air, wasting my time.”

  “Who’s your buyer, Ray?” Mona asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Red.” He smirked at me. “Blondie, you should probably bring in a box tomorrow and start packing your shit.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If I had a spoonful of dirt for every empty threat you gave me, I could fill up the Open Cut mine in Lead.”

  “Oh, this one’s not empty. As soon as I sell the hotel, you’ll lose your job.”

  I’d heard that before, too. However, while I kept my demeanor carefree on the outside, my armpits and back were coated in a dew of anxiety-inspired sweat. “How many times are you going to throw that at me, Ray?”

  “Until it sticks. And this time, it will. Jane agreed to stand by her word. When I close the deal on the hotel, you’re fired.”

  * * *

  An hour before sundown, I stood outside the back door to Doc’s office, chewing on my lip. The warm afternoon breeze had cooled off. It played with my loose curls, tickling my nose and ensnaring my eyelashes with wisps of hair.

  Deadwood smelled like barbecued meat tonight, but my stomach was too filled with anxiety to fit in anything else. I’d escaped the office shortly after Ray finished with his threats, claiming the need to wash the smoke off of me, and raced home to pace my bedroom floor. An hour of worrying later, my job still dangled by a thread, so I went downstairs and hung out in the backyard with Addy and Layne, seeking comfort in their carefree laughter.

  Now, I stared at Doc’s back door. Should I go inside or not?

  His car sat in the parking lot, but I was a good half hour earlier than we’d discussed. While I’d come up with several logical reasons for why I was showing up ahead of schedule, the truth of the matter was I hoped to catch a glimpse of the person he had an appointment with this evening.

  Okay, that still wasn’t quite true.

  The ugly, jealous truth was that I wanted to see if he was with Tiffany. Plain and simple.

  My self-loathing had reached a new high. My crappy-ass luck with the houses I was trying to sell catching on fire wasn’t helping my cause any, either.

  Glancing around to see if anyone was witnessing my public display of silliness, I tucked some curls behind my ear and noticed my hand was trembling.

  Come on, Violet. Doc likes you. You like him. You’re supposed to be a mature adult. Stop acting like you’re giggling through your first crush.

  I grabbed the door handle.

  Wait! Should I go in the back door or the front?

  Even though Tiffany’s jeep was nowhere to be seen, she could be inside with Doc reviewing her financial portfolio, discussing some IRA options, showing off her new crotch-less panties.

  Really, Violet? Come on!

  I groaned. I needed a new brain. One with the jealousy button super-glued in the Off position.

  So what if Tiffany was in there? She was his client and he was my client. As far as she was concerned, Doc and I were just pals. And if her tongue was in his mouth when I walked in, I’d grab her from behind, turn her upside-down, and pile-drive her sorry ass into Doc’s hardwood floor. Or her sorry head, in this case.

  I puffed my cheeks and blew out a breath. Screw it.

  I twisted the knob and slipped inside the back door, pulling it closed behind me with a soft click. Pausing, I listened for the sound of voices. The hallway seemed stuffy. It must have been ten degrees warmer than outside.

  Silence issued from the front, but the sound of running water came from the bathroom door just ahead on my left.

  I inched down the warm hall lit by the last of the sun’s light pouring through the front windows. I sniffed, checking for the scent of perfume, picking up hints of Doc’s cologne mixed with something different but familiar, a little spicy, kind of manly.

  “Hello?” I called.

  Nobody answered.

  The water turned off.

  I was two steps from the bathroom door when the light seeping from under the door went dark. The knob turned and the door opened.

  Smiling, I said, “I’m a little earl—”

  Detective Cooper stepped out.

  I yipped in surprise.

  He jerked, his hands coming up in some Bruce-Lee-like karate block.

  My eye twitched at just the sight of his chiseled face. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Using the head.” His gaze measured me, his hands lowering. “What are you doing back here?”

  Busted! I tried to think fast on my feet. “I have a question for Doc.”

  Brilliant, Einstein. Shut up!

  One of his eyebrows lifted. “At this time of night?”

  “Night?” I pointed toward the end of the hall at the front windows beyond. “The sun is still up.”

  “Barely.” He crossed his arms and took a wide-legged stance, his usual drill-the-suspect posture. “Do you always come through the back door when you have a question for Mr. Nyce?”

  I held his stare, determined not to let him ruffle my feathers. “Sure. He’s a friend.” That sounded lame, so I added. “And my client.”

  “I thought he’d already bought a house.” Cooper’s steely eyes probed.

  Trying not to squirm or fidget, I said, “He did.” A drip of sweat rolled down my spine. “He’s considering picking up a rental for some extra income.”

  Smooth lie! I gave myself a mental thumbs-up and smiled again, determined to hide all of my dark secrets behind white teeth.

  Coop just stared back. “Do you always adopt this kind of a casual relationship with your clients?”

  “No, of course not.” I realized he could call me on that lie when it came to his uncle. “Except for Harvey, of course.”

  “And Wolfgang Hessler,” he added, his gaze challenging me to deny it.

  “That was a unique situation.” He was the only serial killer I’d dated … so far.

  His head cocked to the side a little, as if he had his doubts. I resisted the urge to plead my case.

  “I heard Wymonds talking about you the other night at the Golden Sluice,” Cooper said.

  Jeff was talking about me in a bar? That couldn’t be good. Hold up. I thought Jeff had stopped drinking after his soon-to-be-ex moved out.

  I shrugged. “It’s a free country. Jeff can say whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  “What about your new client? Mr. Top Hat from Vegas?”

  How did Cooper know about Cornelius? Had the cops been called during the ruckus two nights ago?

  “What about him?”

  “Do you use his back door, too?”

  I crossed my arms so that I wouldn’t clobber him. “I don’t see how this is any of your business, Detective Cooper. Being friendly with my clients isn’t breaking any laws, nor does it incriminate me with regard to the headless corpse over at Mudder Brothers. So, what’s your point?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out, Ms. Parker.”

  His smirk reminded me of Ray’s earlier this afternoon and made me want to stomp on his toe. I leaned toward him, lowering my voice. “Really, Cooper? Or is it that you just get off on harassing smart blondes who can solve the cases you can’t?”

  His eyes frosted over.

  Oops. I might have gone too far there. I glanced at the back door, wondering if I should retreat before he handcuffed me to a runaway stagecoach.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. “That was pretty low, Violet.”

  Yes, it was. “Well, you really piss me off sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  Squeezing away the tension he’d caused in the back of my neck, I dropped my focus to his chest. His black tie was covered with little police crests.

  “Why do you have to always be so bristly and probing?” I asked.

  “It’s my job.”

  My eyes returned to his face. “It’s your job to be an asshole to me?”

  “I tried to be nice to you yesterday in my office.”

  “True.” I’d give him that.

  “Then you puked on my favorite tie.”

  My cheeks flamed.

  I heard the jingle of bells—someone had opened the front door. I’d been saved.

  We both looked down the hall as Doc came into view wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark blue jeans that hugged his long legs. In his hand, he clutched a batch of mail.

  He stopped at the sight of us standing there, and looked from Cooper to me, his focus dipping for a split-second to my dress before climbing back to my mouth and then eyes.

  His eyebrows lifted slightly. “What’s going on?”

  I stepped back against the wall, putting some much needed space between the detective and me. “I stopped in to say, ‘Hi,’ and ran into Cooper. Silly me, I didn’t realize the Deadwood police had moved their interrogation chamber to your bathroom.”

  Doc’s lips twitched, but he kept a straight face. “Did you manage to convince the detective of your innocence?”

  “No. He still thinks I did it in the conservatory with the lead pipe.”