“Please, Violet,” Zelda whispered.
I caved. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Maybe Harvey was at home cleaning Bessie, his favorite shotgun, and could go with me.
“Hurry,” she said and hung up.
“What’s wrong?” Mona asked as I collected my keys and purse from my desk drawer. “Is Zelda okay?”
“She’s fine.” No lie there. It was Prudence who appeared to be having a meltdown. “I just need to help her … uh …” I hesitated, feeling my face warm under Mona’s steady gaze. “Deal with an upset neighbor,” I finished. That was sort of true, too.
One of Mona’s expertly shaped eyebrows lifted. “She called you for help with an irate neighbor?”
“Yeah.”
“Rather than contacting the police?”
I nodded.
“You don’t really expect me to buy that story, do you?”
“Of course. It’s mostly the truth.” I rushed past her. “I probably won’t be back today. If Jerry returns from Rapid before you leave, ask him what I’m supposed to wear to this damned party of his.”
Hell, knowing Jerry, he’d probably already bought a new ruffle-covered pink ensemble for me.
“Violet,” Mona called after me, but I kept walking.
“Bye, Mona. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I flew out the back door and ran smack-dab into Cornelius Curion, our upstairs neighbor who’d been hired by Jerry to spend his days and nights searching Calamity Jane Realty’s airwaves for ghost chatter—in particular that coming from Jerry’s dead ex-wife, Jane, who also happened to be my previous boss.
I’d first met Cornelius last summer when he’d shown up out of the blue at Calamity Jane’s looking like Abe Lincoln’s doppelganger. The paranormal investigator announced he wanted me to help him buy a haunted hotel and then confided that he could chat with the dead. Since money didn’t grow on trees in the Black Hills, I’d agreed to be his agent in spite of his many, many eccentricities. Fast forward several months and multiple séances shared, and now the fellow misfit periodically joined my family at the dinner table when he wasn’t too busy hunting down ghosts.
Our collision knocked me sideways and sent Cornelius spinning in the slush.
“Great Scott!” Cornelius said when he’d regained his balance. “You hit me like an incoming meteor, Violet.”
I looked him over, taking in his black jeans, long wool coat, and crooked Russian Cossack hat. An idea sparked. “What are you doing right now?”
He straightened his hat. “I am in need of some protein.”
“Hold that thought.” I grabbed him by the coat sleeve and started tugging him along behind me. “You’re coming with me first.”
He dragged anchor. “But I’m hungry. I need protein in the next twenty-three minutes or I risk spiraling into a physical condition I rarely enjoy.”
I looked up into his cornflower blue eyes. “You mean low blood sugar?”
“Worse. Hiccups.”
I rolled my eyes and tugged on his sleeve again. “I’ll find you some protein along the way so you can avoid those deadly hiccups.”
“Poke fun, Violet,” he said as we neared my SUV. “But hiccups can be the precursor of something much worse.”
“Like what?” I asked holding open the passenger door for him. “Charges for disturbing the public?” I could see Detective Hawke trying to use them against me out of desperation.
“Kidney failure, for starters.” He held up one long, bony finger and then began ticking off his other fingers. “As well as digestive issues, lung tumors, and even a heart attack.”
“No shit?” Cornelius might appear to be one bubble off-plumb at times, but the man knew his random facts better than Cooper knew his guns. “Well, then we’d better get you fed.” I closed his door. Maybe Zelda would have something to feed him.
The thick bank of clouds now cluttered the western horizon. The last of the sun’s rays had been swallowed whole, leaving Deadwood to limp along in growing darkness. I could have used less gloom and doom ambiance for my trip to see Prudence, but beggars and Executioners couldn’t be choosers.
After I settled in behind the wheel, Cornelius asked, “Where are you dragging me off to, Violet?”
“To meet a ghost.”
“Really?” He stroked his pointy black goatee. “That might present a problem.”
“Why?” He was no stranger to the wispy folks, claiming to prefer them to the living most days.
“I should be wearing a different hat.”
I glanced over at his furry headpiece. “What’s wrong with what you have on?” Besides it looking like some sort of wild animal that might come to life and bite me at any moment?
“It tends to irritate the dead.”
Not only the dead.
I started the engine, turned on my headlights, and shifted into reverse, thinking about the way Zelda had described Prudence stomping and shouting. “Don’t worry. That hat won’t make much of a difference with the ghost we’re meeting today.”
At least I hoped not.
Chapter Three
What in the hell was a Duzarx and where had I heard that name before?
Maybe my son had mentioned it. Layne was certainly reading all of the mythology books he could get his hands on these days. His quest for knowledge was pretty much an obsession. Unlike Addy, his twin sister, whose goal of late had been to convince me she needed a pet frog so she could train it to ride on Elvis-the-chicken’s back and enter them as a team in Deadwood’s upcoming chicken races this Easter, Layne preferred to scour the pages of a book for entertainment.
Cornelius and I were passing under the towering trestle sign that greeted visitors driving
