Nearly Departed in Deadwood (12 page)

     
Holy shit
. I grabbed Doc’s arm, latching on tight.

      Jeff winked and shifted into reverse, his tires chirping as he gunned it out of the parking lot and onto the street.

      “Violet,” Doc’s voice spurred me to resume breathing. “I think you’re drawing blood.”

      I let go, wincing at the crescent moons my nails had embedded in his skin. “I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t worry about it.” He nodded in the direction Jeff had departed. “You know that guy?”

      I was too wound up to be anything other than honest. “He’s the father of Addy’s new best friend.”

      “He seemed fond of you.”

      I shivered with disgust and reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”

      There was something fishy about the way Jeff had been looking around before dumping his trash. Plus, he could have easily just thrown it in the garbage cans strewn around his place. Why risk getting busted for illegally disposing of his crap here?

      Heat rolled off the pavement as I fast-walked over to the Dumpster. I flipped open the lid. The smell of rotting food and stale cardboard whooshed out of the bin, pushing me back a step. Jeff’s untied black bag lay on the top, within reach if I stood on my tiptoes.

      I hauled the bag out and dropped it on the ground. It fell on its side, spewing out a rolled-up, pink sleeping bag. I nudged the sleeping bag to the side and lifted the garbage bag by the bottom, emptying it. A pair of bunny-covered pajamas topped the pile. Under them was a girl’s lace-edged shirt, some bright yellow jean shorts, one blue sock, and a nylon, purple jacket. Why was Jeff throwing away Kelly’s clothes? They appeared to be clean, no grass stains, no holes, nothing.

      I held up the jacket and turned it around so I could see the front. When I saw the initials
E.C.
written in permanent marker on the tag, I paused. Who was E.C.? Kelly was K.W.  

      I spun around and searched the lot to make sure Jeff wasn’t lurking somewhere, watching. Doc was walking toward me, sporting a lazy grin.

      I bent down and started cramming everything but the coat back in the garbage bag.

      Doc picked up the sleeping bag and held it out to me. “So, do you go Dumpster diving often?”

      “No,” I fibbed and jammed the sleeping bag inside the black plastic. “Besides, last time I had no choice.”

      “Last time?”

      “Yeah,” I knotted the top of the bag. “He forgot to mention he was married and she took her jealousy out on my car keys.”

      He chuckled and lifted the Dumpster lid for me. “You’re keeping the jacket?”

      “For now.” At least until I found out who E.C. was.

      Back at my Bronco, Doc shot me another one of his infectious grins. “There’s never a dull moment with you, Violet.”

     
Said the kettle
. I sniffed just thinking about Doc’s quirk and grimaced at the smell of rotting garbage on my hands.

      “I try my best to entertain.” I tossed the jacket in the back seat and then cranked over the engine. “Just wait until you see what happens next time.”

     
Chapter Eight

      Fifteen minutes later, after dropping Doc off at his car (aka my parking spot), I walked into Calamity Jane’s, my mind preoccupied with Jeff and the clothes. I stopped by the bathroom to wash the garbage smell off my hands, then headed for my desk. Mona greeted me with a big smile and a huge bouquet of daisies.

      I didn’t bother sniffing them. Daisies don’t have the sweet scent of roses or the vanilla aroma of heliotrope. However, their happy yellow faces and white manes always make me feel like lounging in a field of grass under a cobalt sky. I must have been a cow in a past life.

      “Are these from you?” I couldn’t think of anything I’d done for Mona lately that would spur her to shower me with flowers.

      “No. The florist delivered them a little while ago.” She handed me a tiny purple envelope. “This came with them.”

      Tearing open the flap, I pulled out a small card with a cupid on it and read aloud:

     
Roses are red.

     
Violet is new.

     
I walk by your window,

     
Here’s looking at you.

      “Wow.” Mona’s chair creaked as she sat down. “That’s kind of weird. Who’s it from?”

      “It doesn’t say.”

      I read it again under my breath, and then stared out the blind-free front windows.

      Were the flowers from Doc? He must have walked by the office many times, and Addy had told him that daisies were my favorite. However, that was just this afternoon, and I’d been with him until two minutes ago. Maybe he’d phoned them in.

      Grabbing a vase from under the bathroom sink, I filled it with cold water. Creepy card or not, they were still daisies.

      I set the flowers on the bookcase over by the coffee maker instead of on my desk, which didn’t have much available surface area.

      When I dropped into my chair, I noticed a white envelope with my name scrawled on it tucked partway under my keyboard. I recognized Jane’s handwriting and tore the envelope open. A signed check from Wolfgang and a Post-It note with his cell phone number was inside. He must have stopped by while I was out.

      I tucked the check into my wallet. I’d cash it and pass the money to Natalie later when we met at the Hessler Haunt, as she liked to call it.

      “How’s it going with our next-door neighbor?” Mona asked. “Any bites yet?”

      “Barely a nibble.” Mostly a bunch of sniffing.

      “Well, your luck has turned,” Mona said. “I have a gem that just landed in my lap.”

      “Is it in Deadwood?”

      “A couple of blocks away from your Aunt Zoe’s.”

      “Price?”

      Mona rattled off a number that made me sigh. It was fifty thousand more than what Doc wanted to spend. “Think they’ll come down any?”

      “Maybe five grand. It’s in great shape and located in a primo neighborhood.”

      It sounded perfect, except for the extra fifty thousand bucks. “It’s too expensive.”

      “You could still bring him by.”

      I could tell by the pinch of Mona’s lips that she wasn’t going to give up easily. “How about Sunday afternoon?”

      Mona shook her head. “I won’t have it ready for showing yet. If this is above his max, you need to wait until I have it all polished and shiny. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

      My cell phone let out a muffled trill from my purse. I dug it out. Aunt Zoe’s number showed on the screen. “Hello?”

      “Are you coming home soon?” Layne asked.

      “I need to take care of some paperwork and then I’ll be on my way. Why?”

      “I’m hungry.”

      “Make yourself a sandwich.” The other end of the line seemed unusually quiet. “Where’s Addy?”

      “Out front.”

      “What’s she selling this afternoon?” A white chicken, I hoped.

      “Mittens for kittens that she made from some of her Barbie clothes.”

      That was it. No more new outfits for her Safari Skipper doll. “Put your sister on the phone, please.”

      “She’s busy right now.”

      “Doing what?”

      “Talking to that tall guy with the weird eyes again.”

      Every last drop of saliva evaporated from my mouth. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

      “He came by yesterday when she was selling doggie diapers and gave her a bag of taffy.”

      That explained the handful of wrappers stashed in her shorts’ pocket that I found while loading the washing machine this morning. My hands trembled. Didn’t she realize the boogeyman was roaming the streets, snatching up little girls just like her?

      “Layne, take the phone out to your sister right now.”

      I heard the front screen door hinges squeak, followed by quick footfalls thumping on the wooden porch.

      “Addy, Mom wants to talk to you.” Layne’s voice shook slightly. He must have been running.

      A faint “goodbye” from Addy came through the phone. I crunched it tight against my ear, straining to hear any response from the candy man.

      “You’re in big trouble.” Layne’s tone was taunting.

      “Give me that, you brat.” Scuffling sounds made me pull the phone away several inches, then Addy’s voice rang through. “Layne’s lying, Mom.”

      “No, I’m not!” Layne yelled in the background.

      “Adelynn Renee,” I cut through their bickering. “Who was that man you were just talking to?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “What did he want?”

      “To buy some mittens. He must have a dog, too, because he bought some diapers yesterday.”

      Still no mention of the candy. She was holding out.

      “I don’t want you selling stuff on the sidewalk, anymore.” I’d save the “don’t take candy from strangers” reminder for a face-to-face ass-chewing.

      “Why not?”

      Ah, the whiney tone. It strummed my neck muscles, which were already rigid as harp strings. “Addy, you know there’s someone out there kidnapping girls.”

      “Yeah, but he only gets you if you’re on a bike.”

      Childhood logic, so black and white. I guess I needed to sit down with both kids and spell out the danger. “No more sidewalk sales, Addy.”

      “C’mon, Mom. How am I going to make any money?”

      “You’re nine years old. What do you need money for?” Besides to place singles’ ads?

      “Stuff.”

      “I’ll buy you whatever ‘stuff’ you need.”

      “But you don’t have any money.”

      I winced, realizing how tuned in Addy was to my financial troubles. I was supposed to be providing for my kids, not putting them to work to help with cash flow problems.

      “Listen, Addy. I’m not going to discuss this on the phone right now. I want you to take down your table and play inside the house or in the backyard.”

      “But, Mom—”

      “I’ll be home in ten minutes. If I catch you still out front, you’re grounded.” That was a first for me, but desperate times called for smothering actions.

      “Grounded? From what?”

      Good question. I glanced left and right, my brain stumbling for an answer. “Your bike.”

      Brilliant! That would keep her safe at home.

      “Whatever!” she yelled, and the line went quiet.

      I dropped my phone on my desk and followed it with my forehead.

      “What’s wrong?” Mona asked.

      “Some guy is hanging around the house, giving Addy candy.”

      “Shit.”

      I glanced at Mona, her eyes round with the same question and alarm that had my legs weak at the moment. With three girls missing, now was not the time to play patty-cake with strangers bearing sweets.

      “What are you going to do about it?”

      “I don’t know.” Calling the cops seemed premature. After all, the candy hadn’t been drugged or filled with any other nasty surprises. The only solution I could come up with at the moment was to remove Addy from the equation.

      “I need to talk to Aunt Zoe.” I shut down my computer, then grabbed my tote and purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Billy’s.”

      Jane liked to have brunch with her employees on Fridays at Bighorn Billy’s, Deadwood’s equivalent to Applebee’s. It was her choice location for our weekly status meeting.

      With a wave in Mona’s direction, I fast-walked to my Bronco and sped home. Except for a pudgy gray squirrel, the front yard was empty when I pulled in the drive. Too bad, because I’d have loved the excuse to keep Addy off her bike for a week—or year.

      Layne’s peals of laughter from behind the house tugged me into the backyard. The sight of Addy chasing her chicken around the swing set, flapping her arms and clucking stopped me just inside the gate.

      Tears filled my eyes without warning. Jesus! Whatever made me think I could raise and support two kids on my own? I was drowning here, and now there was a monster prowling nearby, possibly right outside my front door.

      Straightening my sagging shoulders, I pretended that life wasn’t shooting spit wads at me. “Hi, guys.”

      Layne ran over and welcomed me home with a waist hug.

      Addy glared at me from the other side of the swing set.

      Golly gee, being a parent was about as rewarding as getting kicked in the knee by a mule.

      “Where’s Aunt Zoe?” I asked, deciding to put off the verbal battle with Addy a bit longer. I needed to corral the fear still head-butting my ribcage before I could speak without screaming.

      Layne pointed toward Zoe’s workshop. “She’s working. What’s for supper?”

      “I don’t know. Natalie said she’d bring dinner tonight.”

      “Are we going back to that house?” Addy asked, her face the envy of poker players everywhere.

      “Yes.”

      “Can we check to see if the baby bird’s momma rescued it?”

      “Sure.”

      “Will Wolfgang be there?” Addy still showed no hint of emotion.

      “Maybe.” A girl could hope.

      “Will you take me over to Kelly’s afterward?”

     
Hell no!
Especially not after catching Jeff Wymonds dumping little girl clothing in that Dumpster. He and the Candyman were running neck-and-neck as my prime kidnapper suspects.

      I cringed mentally, imagining the fireworks sure to shoot from Addy’s mouth when I denied her yet another want. “I don’t know. I need to talk to Aunt Zoe.”

      Ducking my head, I darted into Zoe’s workshop and shut the door behind me. Shafts of sunlight poured in through the west-facing window, spreading over a table covered with pipes, jacks, blocks, and other glass-blowing tools and equipment. The faint smell of something chemical hid beneath a cinnamon scent, courtesy of the air freshener Zoe kept plugged in.