Optical Delusions in Deadwood (11 page)

      “Do you believe in them?”

      “Hell, yes.”

     
What?
I dropped my hands and frowned at him. Not Harvey, too. “What makes you so damned certain?”

      This time, his shit-eating grin was absent. “I live with one.”

     
Chapter Seven

     
Saturday, August 4
^th

      Dawn awoke. Unfortunately, I didn’t and overslept. I made a frenzied dash through the house but stopped when I realized it was silent, empty. Where was everyone? Had I slipped into a parallel dimension? Then I remembered Aunt Zoe’s planned day trip to Custer State Park with the kids and zipped out the door with my mouth stuffed full of leftover pizza.

      I called Natalie on the way to Calamity Jane’s, rolling into the parking lot as her voicemail told me to leave a message.

      “Hey, Nat, I need you to get a hold of my date tonight and cancel. I can’t make it.” I hung up quickly, guilt heavy in my gut as I parked in my spot between Mona’s and Ray’s SUVs and killed the engine. I hated to welch on Nat like this, but now was just not a good time for me to consume calories with a stranger. Not with Doc sharing the same longitude and latitude with me. The memories of his skin were too fresh.

      Speaking of Doc, his black ‘69 Chevy Camaro was nowhere to be seen, thank God. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. First of all, I had pepperoni breath; second, there was still the matter of that chip on my shoulder.

      While my cell phone had remained stubbornly quiet last night no matter how many times I willed it to ring, I doubted he’d given up. At least I hoped not, dang it.

      I popped a stick of mint gum into my mouth as I crossed the hot parking lot. Mona’s jasmine scent greeted me at the back door. The sound of strange voices lured me past the closed bathroom door and Jane’s empty office and into the front room.

      “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffee while you wait?” Mona asked. As I entered, she added, “Here she is.”

      Smiling through my surprise at seeing a leather-clad biker couple waiting for me first thing today, I dropped my purse on my desk and held out a hand. “Hello, I’m Violet Parker. How can I help you?”

      They stood and shook my hand in turn, introducing themselves as Zeke and Zelda Britton. Their black leather chaps and vests creaked as they sank back into the chairs opposite my desk.

      I liked Zelda instantly because of the daisy-covered bandana wrapped around her auburn hair. Any woman who wore my favorite flowers with a pair of chaps won my vote. Her perky smile and friendly green eyes didn’t hurt, either.

      They both appeared to be in their mid-forties, Zeke maybe nearing his early fifties. Zelda couldn’t weigh much more than my right leg and arm put together. Zeke, on the other hand, looked like a refrigerator draped with cowhide. The buzzing fluorescents overhead glared off his shaven head.

      Zelda crossed her legs and said, “We’re considering buying a house in the area. The owner of the glass gallery on Main Street overheard us talking about our plans and recommended you.”

      That would be Aunt Zoe, taking care of me yet again. Sweet! Walk-in buyers were as plentiful as Dodo-bird soup these days. “A place in town or a house with some acreage?”

      “Something in town, definitely,” Zelda answered. “Something old. Really old.”

      That was a bit of an odd request. Typically, I started by focusing on bedrooms and baths, not the number of years sitting on a foundation. But if old is what they wanted, the Black Hills could provide. “Any particular town? Deadwood? Lead? Central City? Spearfish?”

      “Spearfish is too far away.” Zelda was still running the show. Zeke watched his wife, his expression adoring, as she said, “Deadwood or Lead, preferably.”

      That left Jeff Wymonds’ place out, since it was only about fifty years old and in Central City. Harvey’s ranch in the country was out, too, even if it fit the “old” bill. I hadn’t seen Cooper’s home yet, so that would be a no-go as well, at least for today. Precluding another agent’s listing, that left the Carhart house. I wondered if Zeke or Zelda had an issue with ghost rumors.

      “Were you interested in seeing something today?”

      “Today, definitely. And tomorrow, too. After that, we’ll have to play it by ear because of the rally.”

      This year’s Sturgis Motorcycle Rally officially kicked off two days from now, on Monday. Festivities included a motorcycle challenge during the day and some yesteryear heavy metal band playing out at the Buffalo Chip campground in the evening. After that, according to Zoe, the shirtless shenanigans would really kick into high gear. I was expecting to have a birds-and-bees discussion with my kids by midweek.

      “I have one house ready to show right now,” I fingered through my purse, searching for my Day-Timer and the Carharts’ phone number. I heard the front door open as I flipped open the planner. “I just need to make a phone—”

      I looked up and locked eyes with Doc, who stood just inside the threshold, a gunslinger glare on his face. He pointed at me and crooked his finger. The set of his jaw left no room for argument.

      “Call.” My heart hopped into my ears and pounded out a wicked drum solo.

      “That’s no problem,” Zelda’s voice sounded tinny, far away. “We can wait. Right, Zeke?”

      I stood, not waiting for Zeke’s reply. “I’ll be right back.” 

      Grabbing my cell phone and the planner, I motioned for Doc to follow me outside.

      The mid-morning heat filled the air with tar-scented waves. I stopped next door, in the shade of the awning in front of Doc’s office, and braced myself mentally for battle.

      “You need to talk to me?” I tried to sound professional. All business, no naked flesh.

      He kept a respectable distance between us, but his dark stare had me pinned against his front window. “You’re ignoring my calls.”

      “I’ve been busy.”

      “Not that busy.”

      “I had a house to clean.”

      “Jeff Wymonds?”

      “Harvey told you.”

      “He mentioned it in passing.”

      The old buzzard had better not have mentioned anything else. I glanced into Doc’s glass front door and did a double-take at the sight of a pair of suitcases sitting on the floor next to his desk. Was he leaving town again? “What’s with the suitcases?”

      “Nothing.” He moved between me and the door, blocking my view.

      He answered too quickly for it to be “nothing.” I tried to see around him, but he dodged and weaved along with me. “Why are they sitting in your office?”

      “Because they’re a pair.”

      Okay, now he was just toying with me. I didn’t have time for games. I leveled a glare at him. “I have customers waiting. What do you need to talk to me about?”

      “I have something you want.”

      Boy, was that ever a loaded statement. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

      The door to Calamity Jane’s opened and Mona popped her head out. “Vi,” she whispered loudly, “you’d better hurry up. Ray’s out of the bathroom and schmoozing your potential clients.”

      I cursed Ray twelve ways from Sunday under my breath. He had a history of stealing my clients. “I gotta go,” I told Doc and followed after Mona.

      Doc caught my hand and held me. “Come see me when they’re gone.”

      “Sure,” I lied, straight-faced, knowing I would be gone for most of the day showing houses to Zeke and Zelda. I pulled free of his grip and scuttled inside Calamity Jane’s.

      The sight of Ray sitting behind my desk, all smarmy and full of gush, made me want to rip the stuffing out of a teddy bear and cram it down his throat. He grinned at me as I approached, his eyes challenging me.

      “All right, are you two ready?” I asked the Brittons. “I have a place in Lead to show you.”

      “Yes!” Zelda practically leaped out of her seat, jittery with obvious excitement.

      That gave me pause. Talk about a motivated buyer. Maybe I’d be able to buy Addy’s glasses with cash instead of maxing out my credit card after all. “Great.” I resisted the urge to thumb my nose at Ray. “I can drive us, or you two can follow me.”

      “We’ll follow on the bike,” Zeke said in a deep, gravelly voice that matched his bulk. “We’re parked in back.”

      “Perfect.” I’d call the Carharts on the way there and alert them of pending visitors. That’d give them a ten-minute window to prepare. “Follow me, then.” I snatched up my notebook of recent MLS listings, grabbed my purse, and led the way out the back door.

      Two shakes later, I pulled into the Carharts’ drive, and Zeke and Zelda rumbled to a stop behind me. My shoulders tense, I waited next to my Bronco for them to join me and comment on the huge chasm in the earth on the other side of the chain-link fence.

      Zeke kept frowning toward the Open Cut as they approached, but the wide-eyed wonder in Zelda’s expression appeared reserved solely for the house.

      “That’s a big hole,” Zeke said when they reached me.

     
Here we go.
I took a deep breath and focused on the power of positive thought. “It sure is. Wonderful view from here, don’t you think?”

      “Ummm,” Zeke squinted at the abyss. “I guess.”

      Zelda was quicker to jump on my bandwagon. “How fun! Zeke, we could build a little viewing platform and have parties overlooking it.”

      Nodding slowly, he said, “It is pretty interesting. Do they still do blasting down there?”

      “Oh no, not at all. The Open Cut is a Lead landmark now.”

      “I’d love to get some measurements of it.”

      Zelda turned back to me and explained, “Zeke is a surveyor. He has his own business.”

      “Really?” I looked him up and down. “You remind me a little of one of those professional wrestlers.”

      “Oh, he was, years ago,” Zelda said. “His ring name was Jugular-Knot.”

      “You mean Juggernaut?” I asked.

      “No.” She spelled out the name for me. “The Jugular-Knot was a famous headlock move Zeke came up with where he’d knot his legs around his opponents’ necks, cutting off the circulation from their jugular veins until they passed out.” Zelda reached up and tweaked her husband’s chin.

      Zeke, pinker than usual, asked, “So, are the walls of the pit stable?”

      “Yes, according to the paperwork. Several geotechs have tested the  perimeter.” I pointed at the house, having exhausted my knowledge of the Open Cut. “You two ready to take a look inside?”

      At their mutual nod, I led them toward the front door, admiring the new paint job as I climbed the porch steps. I touched the wall next to the doorbell and confirmed it was dry even though it still smelled wet.

      Millie answered the door before I could even knock.

      “Hi, Millie.” I cranked up the wattage of happiness in my voice, noticing her long gray skirt and matching cable sweater. Would a little color kill her? On second thought, gray was good. She’d blend into the shadows.

      “I’ve brought some visitors,” I told her, even though she already knew I was coming per my phone call.

      As I’d instructed, she let us in and then disappeared into the kitchen while I started the tour of the house in the living room. Lucky for me, Lila was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Wanda, for that matter. I wasn’t sure about the so-called ghost’s attendance, not without Doc by my side to sniff and bristle; and I’d forgotten my travel-sized Ouija board, darn it. I grinned, enjoying my own little inner joke.

      “What’s that wonderful smell?” Zelda asked, skimming her fingers down the drapes. She didn’t give me time to answer. “Oh Zeke, look at this beautiful hand-crafted molding.”

      The great thing about the Carhart place was that it basically sold itself. All that was required of me was to lead Zeke and Zelda from room to room, pointing out the highlights, and mentally ordering all of the ghost talkers to keep their big yaps shut.

      My phone vibrated as we started climbing the stairs. I saw Natalie’s number and told the Brittons to go on up without me; I’d join them in a minute.

      “Did you get a hold of him?” I asked Nat, not wasting time on formalities.

      “He’s not answering his phone.”

      “Did you leave him a message?”

      “I couldn’t. His voicemail was full. You’re stuck.”

      “Crikey.” I squeezed the back of my neck, trying to loosen the invisible winch that had just cinched it up.

      “It’ll be fine, Violet. He’s a really good guy.”

      If he was that “good,” Natalie would have staked a claim, so there must be something wrong with him. “Okay, I’ll go.” I didn’t exactly have a choice, damn it. “But I want you to promise that if I call you mid-date, you’ll rescue me.”

      “How?”

      “I don’t know … call back and pretend that there’s an emergency with my kids?”

      “Fine. But I’m telling you, you’re going to like this one.”

      “You said that the last two times.”

      “Yeah, well, he has no visible rashes and isn’t trying to become a famous ventriloquist.”

      God. I still shuddered at the memory of that freaky hand puppet trying to feel me up under the table.

      “Besides, Vi, the third time is a charm, right?”

      Grumbling under my breath, I hung up, realizing I didn’t even know the guy’s name. After several deep breaths, I went looking for Zeke and Zelda and found them upstairs in what Millie had previously informed me was Junior’s old bedroom. Rich brown carpeting and masculine accents filled the space.

      Zelda sniffed as I entered and said, “Hmm.”

      I looked at her with raised brows. Could she smell my desperation?

      “This looks like a man’s room but smells like a woman’s.”

      I sniffed, picking up the hint of something spicy yet sweet. 

      “What have we here?” Zelda floated over to a bookcase next to the queen-sized bed and scanned the spines. “I’m guessing we have a real pacifist here.”