“And greed,” Prudence added gravely. “In the past, many of those bearing the caper-sus mark were quite formidable.”
I suddenly remembered where else I’d heard about this tattoo—Doc had seen them in the visions he’d had about Prudence’s death while she was using him as a ventriloquist’s doll. All three of her killers had spoken with Chinese accents and had that same goat-pig tattoo.
Shit. If this caper-sus group could take down an Executioner as hard-headed and kickass as Prudence claimed to be back then, what chance did I have at making it out of this new mess alive?
“How can we stop them before they become too powerful?” I asked, as Harvey rejoined us. He was empty-handed. Apparently, he hadn’t found the whiskey.
Mr. Black’s scowl deepened. “According to our informant, there is a company of great wealth that has made a deal with the science lab to use some of their underground equipment to perform experiments. This is a ploy.”
“I assume they’re planning to try to remove Masterson from his throne once again,” Prudence stated.
At Mr. Black’s nod, I asked, “And removing Masterson would be bad because why?”
“While you may not always agree with Masterson’s methods, he does keep order. Balance. The usurpers will encourage chaos.” Mr. Black gave me a grim look. “You need to determine who at the science lab is spearheading this new attempt to acquire control of the region.”
“Why can’t Dominick do th …”
Holy shit! That must be why Natalie saw Dominick coming out of the lab with Rex.
And why he invited Rex to live over his garage.
And why he’d become so chummy with my ex.
It was not about finding a way to get at me. That just happened to be a lucky coincidence—well, unlucky for me. He had to be using Rex to gain access to the lab and find out about this caper-sus controlled company.
Another idea struck, making me gasp. Was this why Dominick was pushing me so hard to find his damned lidérc? It wasn’t a matter of losing his smoky pet, but rather a need for a deadly weapon to unleash upon his enemy?
“What is it?” Mr. Black asked.
“I think Dominick is already working on this in his own way.” I told them about my big realization.
Mr. Black nodded. “A keen observation, Scharfrichter. Well done.”
Before I could bask in the glow of his compliment, Prudence butted in with, “You dolt! Why did you not tell me about this before now?”
“Because it is impossible to have a rational conversation with you while your big-ass ego is in the room. Every time I try to talk to you, all you do is list my faults and pontificate about how much better you are than me.”
“Hoo-wee!” Harvey clapped. “We got us a ruckus brewin’ now. Sparky, hold onto yer teeth.”
A grin spread across Mr. Black’s face. “I see some things never change, Rogue.”
Prudence lifted her chin. “Is it too much to ask for a competent colleague?”
“Was she always like this?” I asked Mr. Black.
“Let’s just say that you are not the first of your kind to find fault with her directness.”
He confirmed my earlier deduction. “So there was another Executioner in the Black Hills before me? I mean, other than Prudence?”
He shot Prudence a raised brow. “You have not told her?”
She shrugged. “It has not been necessary as of yet.”
“Told me what?”
“There was another here back when gold first ruled these hills,” Mr. Black said.
“Another Executioner?” Harvey asked, leaning forward.
“Yes.” Prudence scowled at me. “One whose skills far exceeded yours, yet still fell short.”
I rolled my eyes. She was like a dead bee with its stinger still armed and ready. “Was this Executioner a gunfighter?” That would make sense with our killing profession.
“Of course not.” Prudence sniffed. “She was an undertaker.”
Chapter Eleven
Several hours later …
Calamity Jane Realty was a ghost town.
I’d been left alone in the office to hold down the fort for the last hour of the day after Jerry, Mona, and Ben had each headed out for various appointments and whatnot with no plans to return. Considering the dust devil of fear, anxiety, and doubts spinning in my mind, some time spent without having to fake a smile and pretend that I didn’t need to be fitted for a straitjacket was a good thing.
After Prudence’s announcement about the previous Executioner having been an undertaker, Mr. Black had taken a peek out the front window and announced that he had to go. Without bothering to explain why, he’d told me he’d be in touch and left. By the time Harvey and I had grabbed our coats and headed out into the cold, Mr. Black was long gone.
The ride back to Deadwood was uneventful, in part because I decided to skip going through downtown Lead and take the Central City route back to work, wanting to avoid any cops on the trip. I’d prodded Harvey about what was going on in Zelda’s kitchen as we’d left her driveway, but he’d only muttered something about Prudence hiding the whiskey and then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was snoring by the time we hit Central City five minutes later. It appeared that Prudence had drained him of energy during our little chat, the same way Cornelius had sucked the energy out of her yesterday.
I’d dropped Harvey off back at Doc’s place, telling him that I was going to pester him later for more details. Between his sleepiness and my need to return to work so I could go through my Calamity Jane website vlog with Jerry—his idea at brunch, not mine—I didn’t have time to share ghost stories over brownies like Harvey had offered. Although being that the brownies were Harvey’s own chocolate-marshmallow-peanut-butter-fudge brownies, I almost followed the old boy inside anyway, work be damned.
I’d tried calling Doc on the way to Calamity Jane’s, but the call went to his voice mail, so I hung up, figuring the
