“What about Ray?” I blurted.

  “What about him?”

  “He saw the albino.” He’d almost been cut by him until George interfered.

  “He didn’t mention it tonight when we got him out of there, but he was in shock. Like I said, I’ll pay him a visit tomorrow.”

  “Where was Eddie? Was he tied up somewhere, too?”

  “He came home right before I joined you here. He’d been down in Rapid. George had told him to take the night off.”

  George must have known the albino was going to be there. Damn it. I kept hitting walls, which reminded me of something. “How do you explain Doc’s concussion if there is no albino?”

  “I’m not saying there wasn’t another party present, Ms. Parker, or that a tall white-haired man isn’t responsible for some of the carnage. I’m just struggling with your tale of how he disappeared.”

  Well, at least he wasn’t pinning it all on me.

  Cooper leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “We need a suspect, Violet. Until then, you and I will be going over your story again and again, looking for clues that will lead me to the person responsible for George’s death.”

  “So, I’m not under arrest?”

  “No. You’re a person of interest.”

  What was new? “Fine. Are we done here?”

  “We never seem to be done, you and me. But for now, you can go home.”

  I walked toward the door.

  “Just remember,” Cooper’s voice stalled me. “Don’t be taking any long trips out of state.”

  “Or what?”

  He sat back. “Trust me, Violet, you don’t want me to come looking for you.”

  After the evening I’d had, his threat poked the grizzly snarling inside of me. “With your track record, Detective Cooper, I don’t think you could find me even if I was wearing bells.”

  His face went all spaghetti western gunfighter on me. I half expected him to take out a cigar, bite the end off, and spit it out at my feet. “Don’t forget about my open house on Sunday, Ms. Parker.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said with a smile. “With bells on.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Saturday, August 25th

  Two days later, I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. The clock said it was still the butt crack of dawn, and since it wasn’t a school day, I refused to wake up and chatter about it with the birds.

  I rolled over, letting it go to voicemail. I had just started sinking back into sleep when it rang again.

  “Damn it,” I grumbled and grabbed the phone, looking at the number.

  Cooper!

  I hit the answer button. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Why do you always think the worst of me?”

  “Hmmm, I wonder.”

  “I talked to Ray yesterday,” Cooper said.

  I hadn’t. I didn’t go into work all day, just hung out at home with Aunt Zoe, letting her coddle me and convince me that everything was going to be okay. According to Mona, Ray hadn’t shown up at work, either, or Jane for that matter. I wondered if Jane was nursing Ray back to health, not that he’d been injured according to Mona, just scared shitless.

  Welcome to my world.

  “Did you give him my love?” I asked, trying not to remember what Ray looked like naked. But that image had been burned into my brain, and I decided I was doomed to have it on file until I keeled over.

  “He mentioned your albino.”

  I sat up. “He did?”

  “He said your albino was the one who strapped him to the gurney and threatened to perform an autopsy on him while he was still alive.”

  That would make some great nightmare fodder. Ray and I should buy matching sleep masks.

  “Ray also said you refused to free him after you found him.”

  “That’s not true. I started to loosen the straps, but then …” Ray was a jerkoff, “George and the albino came.”

  “Hmmm. He’s under the impression you enjoyed seeing him naked and wanted to prolong the viewing time.” I could hear the laughter in Cooper’s voice. “I believe he used the word, ‘ogle,’ to be exact.”

  That asshole! This was the thanks I got for saving his life? I should have let the albino cut off his dick with a scalpel.

  Flopping back on the pillows, I asked, “Is this the only reason you called?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why did you call so damned early?”

  “Because my nose hurts, Ms. Parker.”

  “Goodbye, Cooper.” I hung up and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the albino’s twin. Who was he? Where was he? Did he know what I’d done? Did I even know what I’d done?

  I hadn’t returned for the black bottle from the crate I’d stashed under Mudder Brothers front porch—not yet, anyway. I’d been too antsy with the cops crawling all over the place during daylight hours. Cooper would have my head on a pike if … whoa! I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed them with my knuckles, trying to wipe away the horrific images of George and the other headless cadaver that had popped into my brain.

  I flopped onto my back, watching dapples of reflected sunlight dance on the ceiling.

  It wasn’t just Cooper who had me watching the funeral parlor from afar. It was also the albino’s twin. He might be waiting for me to return to the scene of the crime, especially alone in the dark.

  After staring at the ceiling for another couple of minutes, I decided to get up and head into work early. I needed to go see Jeff Wymonds today to plan another open house. I also wanted take a look at his garage and see if he’d found out whether his insurance would cover the cost of a roof repair and for how much.

  I showered, gulped down some coffee, looked in on my sleeping kids, and then headed out to the Picklemobile. Miss Geary’s screen door closed as I crawled into the cab. I looked in the rearview mirror and watched old man Harvey shuffle across the street toward me. The purple silk robe he wore showed off his hairy knees and skinny thighs.

  He leaned on my open window, smelling fruity sweet.

  “What’s that smell?” I asked.

  “My breakfast.”

  “Is it some kind of passion fruit?” If so, where did Miss Geary get it? It smelled marvelous.

  “Oh, it’s passion all right, but it ain’t real fruit—well, she does have nice firm melons on her for an older gal and I’m eighty-seven percent sure they’re real.”

  “Bleck!” I rolled my eyes. “What’s on your mind, old man?”

  “Did I see Doc’s car in the drive last night?”

  I nodded. He’d come over to have that date night with me. By the time he’d arrived, both kids had gone to bed, exhausted from their first couple of days back in school, so no questions had been asked. Well, except when I’d kissed Doc goodnight on Aunt Zoe’s front porch and he’d asked what I was wearing under my dress.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Stinkleskine had been playing voyeur again while taking his Chihuahua out for a late night potty walk. Doc had had to settle for a chaste kiss goodbye sans a peep show.

  I had a feeling our lunch date today would take place in his back room with the door closed. I hoped so at least. I’d picked out my underwear this morning with him in mind.

  “Coop said Natalie is pretty upset about you two being an item,” Harvey said.

  “Yep.” My chest ached when I even grazed the subject of Nat. I’d called her yesterday afternoon, leaving another apology on her voicemail. She hadn’t called back, not that I’d figured she would.

  Harvey’s bushy brows wrinkled as he stared at me. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “You should see the other guy.” He’d burned up and floated away.

  “I have, Rocky. Cooper has two black eyes in addition to the broken nose.”

  “That was an accident.”

  He howled, scaring away a couple of crows. “First Doc and then Cooper. Damn, girl, you must be feisty as a she-devil in the sack. It’s no wonder Doc can’t keep his hands off you.”

  “That’s it.” I cranked up the window. “We’re done here.”

  “Call me later,” he said through the glass.

  “Why?”

  “Because you owe me my weekly dinner deal and I am cashing in on it tonight.”

  I left him standing there in a cloud of the Picklemobile’s exhaust.

  Calamity Jane’s was empty when I arrived.

  I started a pot of coffee and settled in at my desk, going through the local MLS listings to see what was new in the Black Hills world of real estate.

  My phone rang.

  “Calamity Jane Realty, Violet speaking.”

  “Hello, V,” Cornelius said, sounding oddly chipper. He must have had his protein shake already.

  Since when were we on first name letter basis? I must have missed that transition during one of his séances.

  “So, do we have a hotel?” he asked.

  Oh, crap! I’d forgotten to let Cornelius in on our victory over Ray. Although with George dead, winning the bid for the hotel had lost all of the fizz and sparkle.

  “Congratulations, Cornelius. Your offer was accepted. We just need to wait for the paperwork to be finalized, and then you can start tearing down walls or whatever else you plan to do with the old place.”

  “Excellent. You’re going to love what I have planned for this haunt, Violet. It’s right up your alley.”

  What alley? I didn’t really have any alleys. If he was talking about more séances, my alley was closed, barred, and blocked off until further notice.

  “Well,” I weighed my words carefully to be supportive, yet noncommittal. “I’m sure it will be an exciting venture.”

  “You’ll see,” he promised, which felt more like a threat. “Oh, I meant to tell you that I had a visit from a ghost last night.”

  “You saw one?” I thought he only whispered to them.

  “It came to me in my dream. Did I ever tell you that my great grandmother was a renowned seer?”

  “No, you didn’t.” Why did his disclosure not even make me blink?

  “Anyway, the ghost last night was this little blonde girl who asked me to give you a message.”

  “Really?” I waited, playing along, strumming my fingers on my desk.

  “She said she’d like to see you again.”

  Again? “She did?” That was creepy, but it was child’s play compared to the albino’s fun and games.

  “Yes, but that’s not it,” Cornelius said. “She thinks you have pretty hair and wants you to have a tea party with her.”

  Wilda Hessler? I gasped, my fingers froze.

  No. Surely he didn’t mean Wolfgang’s dead sister.

  No. It couldn’t be. That would mean Wolfgang hadn’t been insane. Well, hadn’t been entirely insane. Anybody who’d grown up in a house filled with so many garish clown decorations had to be warped.

  Wait a second. This was Cornelius I was talking to, who took pride in shocking those around him with his eccentricities. This dream of his was just a weird coincidence. A lot of little girls were blonde, and tea parties with Addy had been standard practice for me until last year. I was making something out of nothing.

  That had to be it.

  Keeping in mind that he was a client with a lot of cash, I said, “The next time she pays you a visit, tell her thanks, but no thanks. I don’t do tea parties.” Not after the Hessler Haunt.

  “Okay,” Cornelius said, “but I don’t think she’s going to like that answer. I got the feeling she wasn’t asking, if you know what I mean.”

  No, I didn’t, nor did I want to. “I’ll be in touch, Cornelius. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone before our conversation digressed to stories of angry leprechauns and disgruntled trolls.

  Returning to the MLS listings, I focused on real estate. Jeff would need a home soon, and so would Cooper … and Harvey, if he’d stop digging up bodies on his ranch.

  I clicked through pages of old and new listings. While the Mudder Brothers nightmare added a shadow to the bright spot on my horizon—the sale of the Old Prospector Hotel—the fact that everything looked like it was going to go through without a hiccup, had me humming under my breath.

  Death and Cooper’s anger aside, everything was going to be all right—my kids, my love life, my job. I hoped that in time, Natalie would come to forgive me, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Her ability to hold grudges rivaled Al Capone’s.

  Two cups of go-go juice and a breakfast bar later, I heard the back door creak open.

  I heard the sound of boot heels clunking down the hall, smelling Ray’s cologne before catching sight of him in my peripheral. His seat squeaked as he fell into it.

  I glanced over at him and did a double-take at the sight of his pale skin and wide glassy eyes. His jaw hung slack, and his breathing seemed heavier than usual, like he’d run to work this morning.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. Was he still in shock from the Mudder mess?

  “They found Jane.” His voice sounded weak, sort of washed out.

  “Oh, no. Don’t tell me she went on a total bender.”

  What had her soon-to-be ex done now? Couldn’t the guy cut her some slack? He’d gotten his cake in the form of a little blonde cupcake half his age, plus Jane’s house. What else did he need? A golden fork to eat it with?

  Ray blinked, but his gaze still seemed unfocused. “They found her up in Lead.”

  “Where? The Golden Sluice?” Under a barstool?

  “No. The Open Cut.”

  “The Visitor Center? What was she doing there?” I imagined her passed out on the front steps.

  “No. You don’t get it, Violet.” His use of my actual name gave me pause. “They found Jane at the bottom of the Open Cut mine.”

  “What?” I felt the blood drain out of my face. I clung to my desk. “You mean she’s …” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  Ray nodded. “Jane’s dead.”

  The End … for now

  Five Fun Facts about Ann’s Deadwood Series

  Have you ever wondered if there is a story behind certain characters or events in my Deadwood Mystery series?

  Purple has always been my favorite color, which explains Violet’s name and her purple cowboy boots. I’m also a big fan of Elvis, Humphrey Bogart, John Wayne, and young Clint Eastwood; and I watch their films often.

  * * *

  I took a class on paranormal investigation and visited a renowned haunted house, taking recordings and notes. The class was excellent, the house was spooky, and the experience made great fodder for Cornelius in this book.

  * * *

  In the first two books, Violet drives an old red Bronco, which I based on a red blazer that my parents had for years. That old red blazer “went where no man dared to go” and resulted in many wonderful memories. Last year, it finally died, so I killed it off in the second book of the series. It was my epitaph to the old beast. My parents also had an old green truck that we called the Picklemobile.

  * * *

  Deadwood and Lead are real towns in the Black Hills full of hard-working, friendly people. While my books and the characters within them are fiction, some of the setting locations and history details are real.

  * * *

  I’m often asked, “Who would play the role of Violet? Doc? Harvey?” While I have actors in mind for many of my characters, I have yet to come up with the perfect actress to play Violet. However, I can’t look at the actor Daniel Craig now without thinking Hey, Cooper.

  Acknowledgments

  Some of the wonderful benefits of writing and publishing have been the friendship and support that have come along the way. With every book I finish and prepare to share with the world, I am humbled by all those who are willing to give their time and share their knowledge in exchange for a simple smile and a “thank you.” Following are just a few of those people who have offered their help with this third book in the Deadwood Mystery series.

  I always start with thanking my husband because without him I’d eat nothing but tomato paste and corn chips while writing. Not only does he listen to me talk about my books 24/7, he helps me with brainstorming and critiquing, he tells me it will be okay when I insist the sky is falling, and he encourages me when I wonder if I can write yet another book.

  Thanks to Corvallis Press for giving me another shot to woo more readers.

  Thank you to my agent, Mary Louise Schwartz of the Belfrey Literary Agency. Here’s to even more books to come.

  Thanks to my brother, Charles Kunkle, for being so easy to work with to create cover art and illustrations.

  Thank you to Mona Weiss for your help creating one of my best covers yet.

  Thanks again to my mom, Margo Taylor, for all of your help talking up my books in the Black Hills, and to my brother, Dave Taylor, for making sure mom stays out of trouble—ha! Thanks to my aunt, Judy Routt, and her family for spreading word about my books in Northwest Ohio. And thanks to Marilyn Smith for joining the publicity crew and helping me make headway in Arizona.

  Thank you to all of my advance readers, editors, and critiquers: Beth Harris, Wendy Delaney, Marcia Britton, Mary Ida Kunkle, Paul Franklin, Jacquie Rogers, Jody Sherin, Renelle Wilson, Sue Stone-Douglas, Bill Stone, Robin Weaver, Marguerite Phipps, Denise Garlington, Stephanie Kunkle, Devon Chadderton, Joby Gildersleeve, Sharon Benton, Margo Taylor, Carol Cabrian, Gigi Murfitt, Cheryl Foutz, and Cammie Hall.

  Thanks to Mimi “The Grammar Chick” for your editing and all of the crazy laughs. You’re wild!

  Thanks to the super-kind reviewers who offered your time to read and comment about this book; and to the awesome authors who gave me killer quotes.

  Thanks to the Deranged crew: Jacquie Rogers, Wendy Delaney, and Sherry Walker for years of help with my writing. Thanks to Gerri Russell and Joleen James for your weekly page-goals encouragement and thumbs up.

  Thanks to Amber Scott for your friendship and career help. Think BIG!

  Thank you to my coworkers for always cheering me onward through the pages. You make coming to work fun.

  Thanks to Vickie Haskell for all of your help with shipping ARCs and figuring out which actor to cast as Doc.