Better Off Dead in Deadwood (3 page)

I turned around and scanned the parking lot.

He stood next to his car, a sexy 1969 black Camaro SS with rally stripes, parked about ten stalls down from his usual spot.

I had several fantasies involving Doc’s car—some of them even included him.

Crossing the lot, I let my gaze drift down over Doc’s navy blue shirt and khakis. Very professional—creases and all today. His dark hair was combed back, the shallow cleft visible on his smooth-shaven chin. But I preferred his ensemble the last time I’d stood in his bedroom. Even better, skip the towel, finger muss his hair, and add a day or two’s worth of beard. Then I’d bring out the honey jar.

“You coming or going?” I asked, leaning against the back quarter panel of his car, keeping some space between us in case anyone was watching.

While we weren’t going out of our way to hide that I was showing him a lot more these days than just empty houses, my kids were still clueless about his being anything other than a good friend, and I wasn’t in a hurry to change that. Not to mention I wanted to avoid a chance sighting by Natalie, who probably had a voodoo doll of me and was just waiting for another reason to hold it over a gas burner.

“Going,” he answered, his sunglasses hiding his brown eyes and whatever was going on behind them. “I like that black dress.”

“You’ve seen me wear it before.”

I’d come from a funeral then, too, only that one had ended in my hiding in a crate from one of the lurking Mudder brothers.

“I know. I remember removing it with my teeth.”

So did I.

So did my libido, which rolled over and purred at the idea of getting Doc alone and repeating the experience.

“That’s right,” I said, “but I think I was wearing panties
that
time.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You were. I remember those, too.”

“Black and lacy, weren’t they?”

“Satin, not lace, with a little red bow at the top,” he said, his voice a tad gravelly.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about the bow.”

“I didn’t. Twenty bucks says you’re lying about not wearing any now.”

He’d win that bet. I was wearing panties, and a slip, too. Who didn’t wear underwear to a funeral, especially a friend’s service? Well, besides Jane’s sleazy widower’s tramp? Or Harvey, who claimed going commando in polyester kept heat rashes at bay.

But I was willing to gamble and lose on this with Doc. I had a feeling he wouldn’t stop at calling my bluff, and due to life’s most recent curveball, I hadn’t had the chance to be alone with him since before Jane had died. After a week of wallowing in death, I was ready to get back to living and all of the fun that came with it—especially the kind of fun Doc offered.

I took a step toward him and pulled the hem of my dress up an inch or two, pretending I was adjusting it in case we had any onlookers.

“Care to step into your office and peek for yourself?” I asked.

Doc’s focus raked down to my legs, his chin lowering. He whistled low. “Damn.”

Leaning closer, I breathed in the subtle aroma of his woodsy cologne, letting his scent fill me. It wasn’t enough.

I slid my hem a little higher up my right thigh. “Or you could just frisk me … against your desk.”

He sucked air in between his teeth.

“Is that a ‘Yes’?” I asked.

“It’s a ‘Yes, but I can’t.’”

“Oh.” I let my hem fall. “They have pills for that now, you know.” I couldn’t hold in my chuckle.

His attention shifted back to my face. “You’re going to pay, vixen, when I get back from Keystone tonight.”

“Going to see the men on the mountain, are you?” Mount Rushmore was a hop and a skip down the road from there.

“One man and according to the map, he lives in a valley. A new client.”

I licked my lips, aiming for the seductive siren look, wishing I hadn’t eaten off my lip gloss at lunch. “You sure you can’t slip inside for a moment?”

“Nice pun, but I only have a couple of minutes to spare right now. The next time I have you naked, I want to take my time and explore every inch of your soft skin.”

Hmmm. There were a couple of inches here and there on my body that I’d rather he never found. After having the twins, I’d roped off a couple of areas and labeled them as no man’s land.

A half-smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Although that desk frisking idea is now on my to-do list.”

He rested his arm on his door, his keys dangling from his fingers, looking for all the world like we were discussing the benefits of diversifying my portfolio, not back-arching, sweaty sex on his desk.

I, on the other hand, could have used a bag of ice to dump down my underwear.

He reached out and brushed something off my shoulder, his fingers lingering, teasing. “How was Jane’s service?”

My tongue found that missing molar hole once again that Harvey had talked about during lunch.

“Heart wrenching.” Then I thought about some of the attendees. “But interesting.”

His hand caught mine, squeezing it gently before letting go. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

I shrugged. “It was for the best. Harvey let me sniffle on his shoulder.”

“So why was it ‘interesting’? Was Detective Cooper there keeping an eye on the scene?”

“No, thank God. But everyone else in town was.”

Harvey had whispered a play-by-play of many of those who came through, helping to keep my mind off the reason we were there.

Lowering my tote to the asphalt, I said, “I had no idea Jane had such a wide circle of friends.”

“Nothing draws people like funerals.”

“Harvey figured it was because of the whole Open Cut mine mystery. People wanted to see Jane’s body.”

Unfortunately for them, there was no body to view. No urn either. Just a big, happy picture of her in a white sweater with a red scarf. My eyes got misty behind my sunglasses. I was going to miss her perky smile and those damned lists she loved to write and post.

Doc cocked his head to the side. “Did I hear Harvey say something about Cooper before he drove off?”

“Yeah,” I blinked away my tears. “Cooper stopped by Bighorn Billy’s after the service. I have to go see him shortly.”

“Why?”

“He’s opening a murder investigation.”

Doc’s jaw tightened. “What’s that got to do with you?”

“He used the words ‘usual suspect.’”

“What? No.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Christ.”

“My reaction was similar. Only there were more swear words involved.”

“He’s got to be messing with you.”

“Or not. I didn’t get any practical joke vibes off of him.” And he certainly wasn’t wearing a daisy that squirted water nor did he ask me to pull his finger.

Truth be told, the cold fury in Cooper’s eyes had made part of me want to crawl under the table and cling to Harvey’s leg. The other part of me was too stubborn—or stupid—to realize that standing up to Cooper like I had was just asking for him to throw me in jail and swallow the key.

As much as I’d rather hide behind Doc than go see Cooper, I was curious to find out what it was that had him breathing fire all over me.

“Maybe you should talk to a lawyer,” Doc said.

“No time for that. I told Cooper I’d be there in …” I grabbed Doc’s wrist and looked at his watch, “… forty-five minutes.”

Doc caught my hand when I let go of his wrist. His thumb rubbed circles in the center of my palm, tickling, sending ripples of pleasure up my arm.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he said. “How could you be a suspect in Jane’s murder? You were mixed up in the Mudder Brothers’ mess at the time and he knows it.”

“Maybe he forgot about my whereabouts with this Jane business.”

Doc’s lips twitched. “His broken nose should remind him every time he looks in the mirror.”

I grimaced. “Well, there is that.”

Cooper had made the mistake of sneaking up behind me in the basement of Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor when a killer was on the loose. And then he got grabby. That broken nose was the result of pure fear and adrenaline—mine. Knocking him out cold and then borrowing his gun to shoot at someone hadn’t helped our bonding any, either.

Shaking all thoughts of Cooper and his anger-management issue from my head, I pulled my hand away from Doc’s teasing touch. It was that or hit him over the head with my purse, drag him by the leg into his office, and have my wicked way with him.

“Speaking of Mudder Brothers,” I said, “I need you to take care of something for me.” I reached inside my bag.

“What now?” His tone sounded suspicious.

I glanced around, then pulled out a black bottle with a cork in it and handed it to him. “This.”

Doc took it after a moment’s hesitation. “What is it?”

I pushed his hand holding the bottle lower, shielding it from the rest of the parking lot with my body.

“Hide it under that blanket in your backseat and then I’ll tell you.”

“How come I get the feeling I’m not going to like where this is heading?” he asked, but hid it anyway. “Okay, what is it?”

I leaned closer and mouthed, “A black bottle.”

“I can see that, Nancy Drew. Where did you get it?”

“Mudder Brothers.”

“Oh, hell.”

“I found it in the crate in the back room last week before the shit hit the fan.”

Doc had arrived on the funeral parlor scene after I’d knocked out Cooper and was trying to use his gun to take out the albino chasing after me. I shivered just thinking about the freaky, white-haired guy and his creepy snake-like eyes.

“I stashed it under the front porch before Cooper’s men took me to the station for more questioning.”

Doc seemed to digest this without too many wrinkles on his forehead. “Violet, please tell me you didn’t retrieve that bottle today during Jane’s service.”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Because if someone saw you …”

“I did it before anyone got there. Harvey ran interference for me. Then I stashed it in Mudder Brothers’ records closet until the service was over.”

Doc cursed under his breath. “Any idea what’s in the bottle?”

“No, and Cooper confiscated the rest of the crate so if we break it, we’re shit-out-of-luck.”

“Did Cooper tell you he confiscated the crate’s goods?”

“No, the crate was gone when I peeked in the back room today.”

That’s where George Mudder had been storing the crates he used to ship God-knew-what back and forth between God-knew-where. Those same crates were where I’d hidden in my black dress. They were also the cause of my coworker almost being filleted on an autopsy table after he’d gotten too nosey about their contents.

“Cooper would have hauled you off to jail if he’d caught you back there again,” Doc said. “And I doubt he’d set bail.”

“That’s why I need you to hide the bottle for me, especially if I end up actually being a suspect in Jane’s murder. I’d ask Harvey, but Cooper’s out to his house practically every week examining more body parts.”

Harvey’s ranch had been the scene of the crime for more things than I wanted to think about as his friend and real estate agent.

“Okay,” Doc said. “I’ll keep the bottle for now. But I’m a little concerned about somebody missing it and coming for you. And if I end up in jail for aiding and abetting, I can’t bail you out.”

“It’s just one bottle.”

“It was just one albino, too, and yet a clip full of bullets didn’t seem to faze him. Don’t you think the safer choice would be to wash your hands of all of George Mudder’s mess and let Cooper do the crime solving?”

“Sure, but there’s one problem with that. Cooper doesn’t believe me about the albino disappearing.”

“That’s not what he told me.”

Say what now? “When did he talk to you?”

“Earlier this week. He stopped by to ask me how long I’ve been renting the office from Jane and if I’d noticed anyone strange coming and going.”

Good questions. Doc’s office shared a wall with Calamity Jane Realty.

“Did you see anyone?”

“No.” Doc crossed his arms over his chest. “Then he asked me about the albino. I listed what I’d witnessed at Mudder Brothers that night, told him about unloading his gun into the albino to no effect, and then being tossed around like I weighed nothing.”

The memory of Doc’s body hitting the doorjamb still made me wince. He’d been lucky to get away with just a slight concussion.

“What did Cooper say?”

“He didn’t speak, just wrote everything down.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”

“I haven’t seen you much between then and now, and when I have, you’ve been pretty torn up about Jane. It just never seemed like the right time.”

“Sorry.” I looked down at my black shoes.

He lifted my chin, tracing my jaw. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Violet. You lost your friend. You needed time to mourn.”

I blew out a sigh. “Right.”

“How are the nightmares?” he asked.

“Still there.”

For the last few weeks, I’d been sharing dreamtime with killers, demons, and lately, albinos. I’d been resisting sleep aids, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand slaying monsters every night.

Doc lowered his hand. “I have to run or I’m going to be late. Call me after you’re finished with Cooper.”

He’d have to get in line with Harvey.

“I will.”

I wanted to step forward and wrap my arms around him, soaking up the safe, secure feeling I always felt when he was near. But we were in plain view, so I stepped back and patted the roof of his car. “Take care with that bottle.”

He nodded. “When you want it back, you’re going to have to come to my house and get it.”

I knew what that meant. “Deal.”

“And wear your boots.”

He’d had a fondness for my purple cowboy boots ever since I’d dug my boot heels into him the first time we’d had sex.

“That may be a problem. Natalie has my boots.” She’d borrowed them right before our friendship hit the rocks.

He frowned, taking off his sunglasses and cleaning them with his shirt. “I don’t suppose she’s broken her silence.”

“Nope.” I pointed at him. “But I’m not giving up.”

Not on Natalie forgiving me.

Not on figuring out the whole Mudder Brothers mess.