“Ahh, that makes me feel special.” I smiled extra wide and toothy. “You have to be nice to me now, Cooper. You’re sleeping with my best friend.”
He sighed. “Yeah, she reminded me of that last night.”
“So what were you two doing together when you called me about the imp? Did you make it clear to fourth base? Or had you already burned down her she-shed?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him, having fun messing with him, trying not to laugh. I knew how much Cooper hated me snooping into his private affairs, and now thanks to Natalie, I had an all-access backstage pass.
He stared at me straight-faced. “Fourth base is a home run.”
I knew that. What did he take me for? A neophyte? I leaned in and whispered, “So, did you two take a break during the seventh-inning stretch, or just push on through to the end? I mean, you are getting older, Cooper, but who doesn’t love an extra inning or two?” I held my hand out for a fist-bump on that last bit, trying not to laugh at his harsh squint.
He knocked my fist aside. “What in the hell are you doing, Parker?”
Picking on him for a much-needed break from my grim reality. “Isn’t that how you guys talk in the locker room? All sex and sports in between towel snaps? Or do you cops focus on sex and guns instead?”
A small grin played at his lips—finally. “Violet Parker, you are under arrest for being a royal pain in my ass.”
“The feeling is mutual, Detective.” I gave him a playful slug to the shoulder. “Now, what’s going on in that Terminator brain of yours?”
“I’m not a robot.”
“Gotcha. What’s going on in your cyborg brain?”
He let out a heavy sigh, but continued with, “I want you to create a group text on your phone that includes Nyce, Curion, Uncle Willis, and me.”
“Sure. Why?”
“To serve as a network.”
“Oh, I like networks. They’re like secret clubs. Better yet, a paranormal posse! Natalie and I used to be in one with her cousins when we were kids.”
“No, we’re not doing the posse shit again.”
What did he mean “again”?
“This network is for emergency use only, Parker.”
“You mean like the Bat-signal?” I planted my hands on my hips in a mock superhero pose. “This city needs me,” I repeated one of the lines I remembered from the dark-caped hero. “Because I’m Batman.”
His mouth twitched. “That is a light in the sky, Parker. This is just a group text. Bring it down a few notches, Executioner Girl.”
I blew out a breath. “Fine, Detective Party Pooper.” I took out my cell phone and quickly made the group, asking him, “What about Natalie and Aunt Zoe and Reid?”
He frowned back at Zelda’s house. “Let’s just keep this among the five of us for now. In my experience, more than five is too many cooks in the kitchen.”
I would rather have a bunch of extra cooks in my kitchen, especially the likes of Aunt Zoe and Natalie, but this was his idea so I went with it for the time being.
Now, as I stared down at my cell phone, I smiled at the group I’d created per his instructions. I’d labeled it PP for “Paranormal Posse,” and told him so on the spot. That acronym had spurred a full-face scowl from Cooper, but I’d disregarded his bossy order to change the name from PP to something less asinine and gone on my merry way.
After another glance at the clock followed by a sigh, I sent the group a message: What’s for supper?
I took a sip of lukewarm mint tea. Maybe I should swing by the grocery store for pizza on the way home. No, we just had that last night.
Harvey replied, Johnny-on-the-spot: Something with bacon.
I replied: We had bacon for breaking … stupid phone … for breakfast.
Doc joined with: You can never have too much bacon.
Harvey replied: I agree with your stallion. Same goes for cheese and potatoes.
Cornelius popped in: EMF meter in Jerry’s office is spiking.
I checked the hallway. I had every single light on in the place this afternoon, including those in Jerry’s office. Call me Elvis-the-Chicken Jr., but I wasn’t taking any chances with that Hellhole in the closet, which was closed up tight again thanks to Jane.
Me: What’s that got to do with supper, Cornelius?
Cornelius: I’m looking at the banana I left on your boss’s file cabinet.
Harvey: I could make Bananas Flambé for dessert.
Me: You’ll burn your bear.
Harvey: Isn’t that code for having sex with an extra hairy woman?
Me (after cursing at my phone): I meant your beard.
Doc: Hairy sex aside, I nominate Harvey to cook tonight.
Me: I agree—about supper, not Harvey’s word for hairy sex. Cornelius, you’re joining us, right?
Cornelius: That depends.
Me: On what?
Cornelius: Your dead boss.
Harvey: You thinking about bringing a date, Corny? Sex with dead people is called necrophilia, Sparky.
Me: I know all about sex with dead people!
Crap. That hadn’t come out the way I’d meant it to.
Doc’s reply was a laughing smiley face and the words: Do tell, Boots.
Cornelius added: Violet likes to read the obituaries before making her plans for the weekend.
I chuckled, wondering if Cornelius was watching the video monitors right now. I flipped off the video camera in the upper corner of the room that faced in my direction.
Cornelius: Violet, did you know that the phallic gesture you’re making at the camera is one of the most ancient insults still in use.
Harvey: I thought Sparky said no one-eyed willy pics allowed.
I groaned aloud in the quiet office. I had told Harvey that rule on the way back to Deadwood after leaving Prudence’s, because he’d mentioned how some of the old dames at the senior center liked to have fun sending pictures of penises back and forth as practical jokes. I didn’t want him filling our Paranormal Posse feed with dick pics. Cooper would probably arrest his uncle for pornography and tag me with handcuffs by association.
Damn it, Parker! Cooper’s name popped up on
