Optical Delusions in Deadwood (37 page)

      “Name the ones you know.”

      “Natalie Beals, Doc—I mean Dane—Nyce, Lila Beaumont, and Harvey.”

      Reid focused on Harvey. “You were there, too?”

      “Yeah, but I didn’t light up Violet’s car. Hell, I’d just put two of my own tires on it.”

      “Due to the vandalism she’d recently experienced?”

      It appeared that Cooper had been whispering in Reid’s ear.

      “Bingo,” Harvey said.

      Reid aimed his next question at me. “Anyone else there you knew?”

      I thought of the pregnant girl with Lila. She was new to me, so, “No, that’s it.”

      “Okay. That should do for now. If I have any more questions, I’ll be back.” He downed the last of his lemonade and held the glass out to Aunt Zoe. “Thanks for the drink, Zo. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

      Her lips were tight. “Probably. It’s a small town.”

      “That it is. Willis”—he motioned to Harvey—“walk me out.”

      I waited until I heard the screen door slam before prodding Aunt Zoe. “What was that going on between you two?”

      Aunt Zoe carried his glass over to the sink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Don’t try to sell me a bunch of road apples. There was so much tension crackling between you two that my fingertips tingled.”

      “You’re making too much of this.”

      “He knew about your lemonade.”

      “So do plenty of others.”

      “Come on, Aunt Zoe. What’s the story with you and Reid?”

      She shot me a stern look. “Violet, drop it.”

      “But he’s gorgeous. And that voice. Whew!”

      “I’ll make you a deal,” she wiped her hands on a towel. “If you tell me what’s going on between you and Doc Nyce, I’ll fill you in on why I don’t want Reid Martin to step inside this house ever again.”

      * * *

      I didn’t spill my guts about Doc. Instead, I went upstairs to soak in the tub with some strawberry-vanilla scented bath bubbles and a much-needed steamy romance novel. There was no rush to talk to my insurance agent about the Bronco since I had gambled with liability coverage and rolled craps.

      Several hours later, the kids were on the way down to my parents’ place with Aunt Zoe, who’d insisted that I stay home because my parents knew all my “tells” when it came to lying.

      I sat up from where I’d sprawled on the couch, nursing my wounds with a pint of peanut butter fudge ice cream. On the television, John Wayne and Fabian agonized over a French prostitute. On the couch, I’d agonized over a certain matchbook. Was it just a coincidence, or had my nemesis been sitting in Charles’ Club with me the other evening? And did she have long black hair, sharp teeth, and pointy boobs?

      I picked up the Magic 8 Ball Addie had left sitting on the end table and shook it. “Is Lila to blame for the death of my Bronco?”

     
Signs point to yes
, it showed through the window.

      I knew it. I asked again, just to confirm.

      It is certain.

      There it was, clear as could be in blue fluid. I imagined taking the 8 ball to Cooper as evidence and chuckled. His head would probably explode.

      My cell phone rang. I grabbed it and looked at the number. My little heart pitter-pattered. “I thought I was supposed to call you,” I said to Doc.

      “You were. What are you doing?”

      “Asking life’s questions. What about you?”

      “Coming up with the answers. What do you need to know?”

      “Whether Lila burned up my Bronco.”

      “Is there a reason you suspect her beyond your general dislike of the woman?”

      “She was at Charles’ Club the night I was.”

      “Is this about the matches?”

      “Yes. Did Reid come to see you, too?”

      “Detective Cooper stopped by with Harvey at his side. Who’s Reid?”

      So that’s where Harvey had disappeared to in such a hurry after Reid left. “Reid is the fire captain. He was there the night of Wolfgang’s fire.”

      “Oh, right. The Sam Elliot clone. Is that John Wayne’s voice in the background?”

      “The one and only.”

      “Is someone there with you?”

      “Nope, just me and the Duke. Aunt Zoe took the kids down to my parents’.”

      There was a pause on the other end, then, “What are you wearing?”

      I looked down at dark stains on my T-shirt. “Peanut butter fudge ice cream.”

      Doc’s low laughter made my ear tingle. “Sexy.”

      “If you like that, you’ll dig my ice-cream-cone pajama pants.”

      “You sound very lickable.”

      “How far does your tongue reach?”

      “Want me to come over and show you?”

      My ice-cream-heavy stomach flip-flopped. “Tempting.”

      “Yes, you are. That’s one problem. The other is that I’m stuck here at the moment.”

      I was the one without wheels. “What’s wrong with your car?” I remembered Aunt Zoe’s comment about her friend seeing me driving Doc’s car yesterday. Dread tightened my spine. “Has something happened to it?”

      “My car is fine. But your loveable co-worker is hanging out next door, and I have a feeling he’s looking for trouble.”

      “Ray?” What was he still doing there? Was it something to do with the Mudder Brothers? “What do you mean he’s looking for trouble? Does he have a big crate?”

      Another pause. “Why would he have a big crate? And how would I know if he did?”

      “Never mind. Tell me about the trouble.”

      “He stopped by last night after you dropped me off.”

      “At your office?”

      “Yes. He said he was working late and heard me come in. He claimed to be just making sure I wasn’t a burglar, but the way he kept peeking behind me made me wonder if he was on to my living situation.”

      The dick-cheese needed to mind his own business. “Maybe he was just curious about your office.”

      “Well, that was my thought, but then this afternoon, he stopped over again and asked to use the bathroom. He claimed the one at Calamity Jane’s was out of order.”

      “What did you do?”

      “Let him use it. Denying him would have looked more suspicious, I figured.”

      “Did he see the back room?”

      “No, I had the door closed. But I did have my shaving cream and razor in the bathroom.”

      “That could be easily explained.”

      “He also asked how I liked your services. Only he said ‘servicing’ until I corrected him.”

      I sat back against the cushions, covering my eyes with my hand. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

      “I’m sorry, Violet. I could live in my car for a few days.”

      “No, that’s crazy. We’re less than a week away from getting the keys to your place. I’ll deal with Ray if he comes at me with this.” Hell, I was already dealing with a cult-loving arsonist. Ray was a Twinkie by comparison.

      I heard Aunt Zoe’s truck pull into the drive. After our little standoff earlier, I didn’t want to be caught talking to Doc. “I have to go. Aunt Zoe’s here.”

      “Okay. Go to lunch with me tomorrow.”

      “What about Ray?”

      “This is business. You need help with your financial portfolio. You’re about to get your first commission check.”

      “The bulk of which is now going toward a replacement for my Bronco.”

      “All the more reason why you need my help. If you’d rather, I can meet you somewhere.”

      It was a bad idea all around, especially since I couldn’t seem to keep my hands to myself when Doc was within reach. “I don’t know. Whenever we try to do lunch, the sky falls on me.”

      “I’ll bring an umbrella.”

      Addiction was not usually a pretty sight, but in Doc’s case, it was damned good-looking. “Madam Chow’s, twelve-thirty.”

      “I’ll be waiting.”

      I hung up and groaned. The pickup door slammed. I grabbed the Magic 8 Ball and shook it again. “Does Ray know about Doc living in his back room?”

      My sources say no.

      Good. “Does Ray know about Doc and me?”

      Ask again later.

     
Chapter Twenty-One

     
Friday, August 10
^th

      The next morning, I gave in to Aunt Zoe’s pressuring and drove her pickup to Calamity Jane’s, feeling mighty bleary-eyed after a late night spent rehashing the scene at Charles’ Club. In the end, my suspicions zeroed in on Lila—partly because of our warm and fuzzy relationship, but mostly due to her cult-copying tattoo. After my eyelids finally shut, all thoughts burned up in flame-filled nightmares, and I awoke with fire-engine red eyes. 

      Inside the office, I trudged straight to the coffee maker. Ray leaned back in his chair, his Tony Lamas dirtying his desktop, his cell phone to his ear. Mona’s chair sat empty. According to the message she’d left on my voicemail, she’d be tied up at an appointment in Rapid for most of the morning. I missed the clack of her fingernails on her laptop keys, especially since her absence meant I had to deal with Ray on my own.

      A slurp of the thicker-than-usual bitter black coffee made my tongue shrivel. “Holy crikey. That’s strong.” I’d have to check for hair sprouts on my chest later.

      Ray shushed me with his finger to his lips and a glare.

      I lowered the cup to my desktop, sloshing the black sludge onto the pages splayed across my desk. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was Doc’s lease. A Post-it arrow pointed to where it specified that the office was not to be used as a domicile.

      Turns out that Magic 8 Ball I’d consulted last night was full of shit. Ray was on to Doc’s and my secret.

      By the time Ray hung up the phone minutes later, I’d worked myself into a fury-filled lather, my periwinkle silk camisole sticking to my lower back. 

      “What’s this?” I held up the paper with the Post-It arrow.

      Ray smirked. “What’s it look like?”

      “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today, Ray. What’s it doing on my desk?”

      “I thought you might need a refresher course on Jane’s rules for our next-door neighbor.”

      “Why? He’s buying a house from me, not leasing a building.”

      “Don’t play dumb, Blondie. I was here the other night when you dropped him off. I know what’s going on.”

      My heart pummeled my lungs like a pair of speed-punching bags, but I kept my breath steady. This was just Ray. He couldn’t fire me, but he could make my life utter hell—depending how much he actually knew. “Really? What’s going on?”  

      “Your boyfriend is shacking up in the back room of his office.”

      Damn. I needed two smokescreens. I focused on the first one. “Doc is a friend, not boyfriend.”

      “You sure about that?”

      Not one iota. “Positive.”

      “I saw you two in the parking lot. You looked pretty lovey-dovey to me.”

      What had he seen? We hadn’t kissed. Came close, though. “He’s a good friend.”

      “I think you’re full of shit.” His gaze challenged me. “And I have proof.”

     
Don’t freak out!
Keeping my face blank took a group effort from all four corners of my body. “I don’t believe you.”

      “You calling my bluff, Sweetheart?”

      “I’m so not your sweetheart. And yes, consider it called.”

      “I was hoping you would.” He opened his top drawer, pulled out a pair of black satin panties, and threw them at me. They landed at my feet. “I found your panties on your
friend’s
bathroom floor.”

      I stared down at the black satin, jealousy combusting in a red-hot flash, filling my cheeks with heat. They weren’t my underwear. So, whose were they? What were they doing in Doc’s bathroom? More importantly, were they Tiffany’s? Had she been over there recently, bebopping on the beanbag with him?

     
Whoa!
The rational side of my brain slapped some sense into the crazy ranting side. Doc might have a perfectly good explanation for the panties. I needed to talk to him before I began sharpening my kitchen knives. If Doc confirmed Ray’s accusation,
then
I’d cut Doc’s heart out and feed it to Harvey’s whangdoodle.

      “Those are not mine.”

      “You sure about that?” Ray taunted.

      “One hundred percent.” While my undies had played hide and seek in Doc’s back room, I’d left his office wearing them every damned time.

      Ray laughed, loud and harsh, the clamor echoing in the still office and making me wince. “You’re right, they’re not. They’re Ginny’s. But you should have seen your face when you saw those panties.”

      “Who’s Ginny?” And how did she know Doc?

      “Ginny York. She left them at my place the last time she came by to wet her whistle. I was just testing my theory about you and your boyfriend. You walked right into my trap. I could have spotted your tell from Mount Roosevelt.”

      My knees gave way and I fell into my chair. I really,
really
wanted to cram the panties up Ray’s nose and follow them with my foot. I nailed him with loathing. “You’re a vile prick.”

      His smirk spread toward his ears. “You’re just pissed because you played right into my hands. Jane’s going to love hearing you screwed Nyce to make a sale.”

      I had to play my cards carefully here, not let Ray see how much I needed him to keep quiet about Doc and me. I collected the lease papers in one bunch and carried them over to the filing cabinet, avoiding his gloating gaze. “I didn’t screw Doc to make a sale.”

      “Sure, whatever you say, Blondie.” His sarcasm rang, pure and annoying. “Knowing about you two lovebirds is going to make it all that much sweeter when I tell Jane about your boyfriend’s living arrangements and get him kicked out.”

      “Jane wouldn’t kick out a paying renter.”

      “Ah-ha! So you admit he’s living there.”