Smoked hell on rye! That explained my need to upchuck all of a sudden. I turned around and took a couple of steps backward, smiling through the physical revulsion that I experienced whenever Dominick Masterson stood too close to me.
Well, wasn’t this just fan-freaking-tastic. Masterson was just the asshole I wanted to see after almost getting killed by his devious Hungarian devil tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Dominick Masterson never seemed to have a single black hair out of place, even on a windy night like this one. He looked like he’d walked straight off the set of a James Bond film, all suave and debonair with his dark eyes and classic good looks, ready to catch international criminals with one hand and woo beautiful babes with the other.
Fortunately for me, I was genetically predisposed to feel nothing when up close and personal with Dominick beyond nausea and a good dose of revulsion. I blamed Rex for the revulsion part. The bastard taught me long ago not to trust handsome men who wore more expensive shoes than I did—and coats, like the pricey black one with the tan, buttery-looking collar Dominick was wearing tonight. Was that sheepskin? I was tempted to reach out and touch it, but I knew better than to get too close to him. I had managed not to vomit on anyone since that calamitous accident with Cooper and his skull tie, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Whatever Dominick’s coat was made of, it probably cost more money than what was in my last commission check. It was no wonder my ex was buddying up to him. I bet Dominick didn’t even need to brainwash Rex with what I liked to call the slick devil’s “charm shine,” which he used to turn women and men into infatuated zombies who were fervent for his smile. Hell, my piece-of-shit ex was probably dazzled alone by Dominick’s fancy Italian this and his expensive leather that.
Masterson’s looks and money aside, what in the hell was he doing here at Piggly Wiggly after midnight?
“Good evening, Dominick. It’s a surprise to see you here as well.” I kept things formal since Hawke was with us.
For now, I resisted the urge to tackle the rich son of a bitch and pummel the silver dollars out of him for keeping a devious lidérc as a pet.
“What happened to your face?” he asked, pointing at his own eye as if I’d forgotten about the Rocky Balboa look I was sporting.
I waved him off. “I ran into something. So, what brings you out tonight?”
“That’s not your business,” Hawke butted in.
“I don’t remember yanking on your chain, law dog,” I snapped back.
Cooper cleared his throat, his eyes at half-squint.
“Easy, Tiger,” Doc said just loud enough for me to hear.
Masterson stuffed his hands in his deep pockets, his smile wide, but not “shining” yet. “I heard the sirens, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to take a walk.”
Seriously? “So, you decided to go walking after midnight?” Him and the late, great Patsy Cline. The smartass in my head guffawed and couldn’t resist adding, “Did you stop to see a weeping willow crying on his pillow?” I recited the chorus from Patsy’s best-selling song.
Dominick’s forehead lined. “Why would a willow cry on a pillow?”
As a kid, I’d often wondered that same thing myself when I heard Patsy sing that line.
I shrugged. “Maybe he was crying for me.” I barely got out that next line from the chorus without laughing.
“The skies have certainly turned gloomy,” Doc said, playing along with my game of karaoke.
I smiled up at him. “The night winds are whispering to me.”
Hawke harrumphed. “That sounds like something a witch would say.”
“Crying for you?” Dominick asked, still stuck on those weeping willows. He was clearly unaware that we were repeating song lyrics. Apparently, living as long as he had didn’t mean he knew everything. “Why would that be?”
“Because I’m lonesome—”
“Christ, Parker!” Cooper interrupted.
I looked pointedly at Cooper. “As I can be.”
And that wrapped up my ode to Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight.” I would have bowed, but Dominick was still frowning at me with a glint of suspicion in his eyes.
“You’re lonesome?” Dominick sized up Doc. “I find that hard to believe.”
I winked at Doc. “At least I didn’t fall to pieces on you yet,” I said with an even wider grin, alluding to another one of Patsy’s songs.
Cooper pulled out his Taser and aimed it at me. “Don’t you start again, Parker. I’m too tired for this shit.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine.” Fun-killer.
After he put his Taser away, I turned to Dominick. “To be honest, unlike Deputy Barney Fife here and his one bullet,” I said, aiming my thumb at Hawke, “I find your late-night walking habits rather peculiar.”
“I have more than one bullet,” Hawke grated.
Cooper looked at Doc. “You should take her to my rig and lock her in the back.”
Doc chuckled. “And miss this? Are you kidding?”
“Well?” I pressed Dominick.
He smirked, looking like he’d already had his cake and was done eating it, too. “I’m on the bank’s board of directors.”
“Of course you are.” I had a feeling Dominick had his fingers in pretty much every business around this town.
He continued, unruffled by my sarcasm. “I received a call about a possible robbery, so I came to see if our honorable police officers needed any assistance inside of the bank.”
“Of course you did.”
His dark gaze held mine for a couple of clock ticks, challenging me. “And why are you here, Violet?”
I didn’t know if he’d been informed already that I was playing psychic for the cops these days, but I decided he might as well find out now if he hadn’t.
“I’m the medium they called in to see about a possible ghost in the bank.”
“You are a medium?” he said to me and then sent Doc a knowing look. “Well, that is a surprise.”
Point taken. He knew something
