Rattling the Heat in Deadwood Read online

  Roommates? Hadn’t I already gained one of those with a black stovepipe hat earlier today? “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  He stood and walked to the fridge, grabbing another beer. “Trust me, Parker.” He pointed the bottle at me. “I’m as pissed about this as you are.”

  Chapter Four

  Sunday, December 2nd

  I woke up with a throbbing headache at too-fucking-early-o’clock and stumbled downstairs in search of caffeine and pills to stop the train of pain choo-chooing around inside of my skull. When I flicked on the kitchen light, I screeched loud enough to wake the neighbors.

  Cooper squinted back at me from where he leaned against the counter, wearing jeans, a holey thermal shirt, and a scowl.

  “Damn it, Cooper!” I held my hand over my heart, making sure it hadn’t exploded out of my chest and raced for the hills with its tail between its legs. I lowered my voice to a whisper, “What in the hell are you doing here in the dark?”

  “Waking up.” He held up his coffee cup as I walked over to where he stood policing the coffee maker. His unshaven jaw and shark fin hair made him look extra prickly this morning.

  I wrinkled my upper lip at him, grumbling under my breath about having to share my coffee time with a grumpy detective instead of a sexy medium.

  With Cooper bedding down on the couch, Doc had decided he’d spend the night in his own house so as not to crowd Aunt Zoe, the kids, and me. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to go home. For the first time in over a month, he’d have his house to himself. After living as a bachelor for thirty-nine years, being bombarded with multiple roommates in addition to a girlfriend with two kids probably made Doc’s head spin most days.

  “Christ, Parker,” Cooper said as I opened the cupboard next to his head, grabbing one of Aunt Zoe’s soup mugs. “Do you always roll out of bed with your jaws snapping like a rabid dog? I’m amazed Nyce still has all of his digits.”

  I shouldered Cooper out of my way. I didn’t care if he carried multiple firearms and a pair of handcuffs on him most days. No man in his right mind should stand between a woman suffering from post-tequila blues and her caffeine.

  “For your information, Cooper,” I might have snarled while saying his name, or maybe that was only in my head. “There’s something special about you that makes me froth at the mouth most days.” I dumped about a third of the coffee pot’s contents into the soup mug. No steam rose. I stuck my finger into the black liquid. “It’s cold.”

  I heard a chair slide across the kitchen floor behind me. “Brilliant detective work,” he said. “I suppose you’d like me to give you an honorary deputy badge for figuring that out.”

  Tightening the belt of my robe, I resisted the urge to dump my cold coffee over Cooper’s head and marched to the microwave, sticking the mug inside.

  “Since we have a few minutes to ourselves,” Cooper said, “how about we get something straight here.”

  I leaned my head against the cupboard door, trying to drudge up the strength to deal with Cooper pre-caffeine. “Maybe I prefer things crooked.”

  “Stop being purposely combative.”

  “But combat is what I do best.” I was only sort of joking.

  One positive aspect of finding out that I was genetically programmed to “execute” was that it helped me to understand why I’d always had such a problem getting along with certain aggressive personalities, especially other alphas like myself … such as Cooper. And Hawke. And Ray Underhill, my nemesis at work since day one. And … well, my point was that introspection had opened my eyes. I had yet to figure out how to temper my hostility when dealing with such traits in others, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  “Your belligerence with Hawke in particular is what has us both stuck here in your aunt’s kitchen this morning.”

  The microwave beeped, indicating the end of Round One. I extracted my soup mug of coffee and set it on the table across from Cooper. I grabbed some milk from the fridge, sloshing it into the mug. “Fine.” I capped the milk jug and shoved it back into the fridge. “Let the straightening begin.”

  He waited for me to settle into the chair. “First, you need to check in with me regularly today.”

  My blood pressure spiked. I reminded myself that Cooper was the better alternative in this mess. “Define ‘regularly.’ “

  “Once an hour.”

  “That’s absurd.” It wasn’t going to happen.

  “Too bad, get used to it.” His gaze dared me to challenge him further. When I lowered my eyes to my coffee, he continued, “Second, do not fight with Detective Hawke.”

  “What if he starts it?” I lifted the soup mug to my mouth.

  “I don’t care if he walks up to you and insults your hair point-blank, do not engage with him.”

  I lowered the mug, swallowing a mouthful of milky coffee. “Why would that asshole insult my hair out of the blue?”

  “That’s just an example, Parker. Relax.”

  “I’ll relax when you leave my hair out of it.”

  He cursed. “You’re too sensitive about your crazy hair. You ever considered therapy?”

  “Call my hair crazy again, and you’ll need therapy to rehabilitate your kneecap.”

  “Kneecaps can’t be rehabilitated.”

  “Just shut up.”

  “Third—”

  “How many freaking rules are there?”

  “I didn’t say these were rules.”

  “Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Don’t try to pull that Clint Eastwood shit on me like you did Hawke.”

  “Officially, that wasn’t an Eastwood line.”

  “I know who fucking said it,” he bit out each word.

  “Now who needs to relax?” I took another drink of coffee, meeting his glare head on. “How many rules, Cooper?”

  “As many as I need to get us through this debacle without you ending up in jail and me losing my job.”

  “Well, if you list more than three, I’m going to need a pencil and paper to write them down.” I yawned. “What’s the third one?”

  “The third what?” Aunt Zoe asked as she joined us, her sunshine slippers making a swishing sound on the floor. Her thick, silver-streaked hair was threaded into a braid and draped over the shoulder of her red robe.

  She kissed me on the temple and gave Cooper a “Good morning” on her way to the coffee maker.

  “The third degree,” I answered her question. “Cooper was laying down the law.”

  “That’s what he does best,” she said, dumping the last of the old coffee into a cup. “The third degree is better than a third strike. How did you sleep, Cooper?”

  “I appreciate you allowing me to invade your privacy, Zoe.”

  “That didn’t answer my question.” She placed her coffee cup in the microwave and turned, locking him in her sights. “Were you comfortable on the couch?”

  “It was fine. Thanks.”

  Her dark blue eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press him any further. “Violet, did Addy tell you about next weekend?”

  “You mean my mother coming up here to inspect Doc?”

  “Yep.” The microwave beeped. She joined us at the table, taking the chair next to mine. “What do you want to have for dinner when they’re here?”

  “An excuse not to be here.”

  “Nice try, kiddo.”

  I swirled the coffee in my mug. “Did she say if Susan is coming, too?”

  She shook her head. “But knowing your sister’s history with your boyfriends, I’m guessing she’ll tag along.”

  “Shit. First Hawke, then Tiffany, and now Susan.”

  Cooper’s blond eyebrows crept upward. “What does Tiffany Sugarbell have to do with Ms. Wolff’s death or your family?”

  “Is she harassing Doc again?” Aunt Zoe asked.

  “She never stopped, but it’s not that.”

  Both Aunt Zoe and Cooper waited for me to clarify. As much
as I didn’t enjoy sharing my personal problems with Cooper, he would probably find out soon enough when Tiffany came at me swinging.

  Wincing in anticipation of my aunt’s response, I peeked at her from under my eyelids. “Jerry commissioned a new billboard ad over in Spearfish.”

  She grimaced. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.” I told her about the black dress, the pen in my mouth, and the singles’ ad copy. By the time I finished, profanities slid off her tongue like it was coated in butter.

  Cooper, on the other hand, was sporting one of his rare grins. “This is another restraining order in the making.”

  “What in the hell is that blockhead thinking?” Aunt Zoe asked.

  “Cooper? He’s just trying to protect me.”

  The detective guffawed. “You’re a riot, Parker.”

  “You know who I’m talking about, Violet Lynn.” She leaned forward, her mouth set. “You need to go into work and tell that boss of yours that you will not be used as a sex object for his company’s financial gains.”

  “I can’t. The billboard is already up.” It couldn’t have been cheap, either. I swirled my coffee again, before taking another swallow.

  “Yes, you can. That man thinks he’s doing your career a favor, but he’s objectifying you. You’re more than lips, boobs, and hips, baby girl.”

  “Don’t forget her crazy hair,” Cooper said, his grin widening.

  I set my mug down. “That’s it, Cooper. Prepare to start your day with a solid ass kicking.” I pushed back from the table. It was time to unleash some of my frustration and angst about the heat I was taking from Hawke via a series of hard pinches and wild windmill swings with maybe a shin kick or two thrown in the middle.

  He leaned back and laughed.

  The sound of his laughter was so foreign to me that I froze midway out of my chair. Totally befuddled, I stared at him for several seconds. “Are you ill, Cooper?”

  He laughed even harder, his whole face crinkling, softening, looking almost human.

  “Cooper is laughing.” I frowned at Aunt Zoe, lowering back into my seat. “Should we call 911?”

  She eyed the detective, apparently as mesmerized as I was by his sudden attack of funny-bone-itis. “Let’s give him a few more seconds to see if this spell passes.”

  It did soon enough. He sobered quickly, turning back into the stony-faced detective I knew and hissed at on a daily basis.

  “What in the hell happened there?” I asked him.

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. That was weird. It hit me out of nowhere and I couldn’t stop.”

  Aunt Zoe and I exchanged knowing glances. Some people cried to relieve stress, others yelled and threw things. Cooper, it turned out, laughed.

  This sudden spasm of laughter from him made the butterflies in my stomach flutter like mad. Why was Cooper so stressed? Was it a side effect of trying to find a new home for his collection of firearms? Or was the evidence Detective Hawke had dug up more damning than I’d feared?

  “What was the third thing you were going to tell me?” I asked him. “The thing before Aunt Zoe joined us.”

  “I need you to recount everything you can about your actions and experiences in Ms. Wolff’s apartment.”

  “I already did that multiple times while you wrote it all down in your little notepad, remember?”

  “Humor me again.”

  I sighed. “Right now?” The last thing I wanted to do with my head still throbbing from tequila was endure one of Cooper’s interrogations.

  “Yes, Parker.”

  I looked at Aunt Zoe. She nodded once. I wished Doc were here to back me up and help spur my memory. He’d been there in the apartment with me on multiple occasions.

  “Is this on or off the record?” I was going to need more caffeine if what came out of my mouth was going to be used against me in a court of law.

  “From now on, you and I will operate off the record unless Detective Hawke or any other law enforcement personnel are in the vicinity.”

  “Okay, if we’re off the record, then you need to pinkie swear that you won’t threaten to handcuff me or throw me in jail.” I held out my pinkie.

  He squinted at it as if it were cocked and loaded. “For how long?”

  “Until we return to a state of always being on the record.”

  His hesitation wasn’t comforting at all. “Fine,” he grumbled, but didn’t lock his finger with mine.

  “Pinkie swear, Cooper.”

  “Jesus, Parker.”

  I shook my pinkie at him. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, locking pinkies with me. “Deal.” He pulled free and sat back. “Now, tell me again how it all started.”

  “You mean with Ms. Wolff’s phone call?”

  He nodded.

  “But I’ve told you that part so many times.”

  “Pretend you haven’t.”

  I glanced at the clock, making sure I had time for this trip down memory lane before work. Unfortunately, time was on Cooper’s side.

  Starting with Ms. Wolff’s call, I rehashed how she’d demanded I go to her apartment immediately because she was about to die. In monotone mode, I explained how she called me a Scharfrichter, which I later learned was German for Executioner, and then how she’d been not only dead when Harvey and I showed up on her doorstep, but decapitated and withered up like a raisin.

  “Cut the pissy attitude,” Cooper ordered, “and tell me about the clocks.”

  “The Black Forest cuckoo clocks covering her walls?” Why? Was that what Hawke had on me? Something to do with all of those eerie clocks and the macabre scenes carved onto them?

  When he nodded, I asked, “What about them besides how unnerving they are and how they don’t seem to need batteries or winding to work?” Although not all of them were working. Some were going off incessantly but only in the world on the other side of her bedroom mirror. Unfortunately, I had no proof of that for Cooper because so far I was the only one who could hear them, which made me feel cuckoo, too.

  “Tell me about the unusual experiences you’ve had in regard to Ms. Wolff’s clocks.”

  I tilted my head to the side, sizing him up from a different angle. “What’s this all about Cooper? If Hawke found my fingerprints on the clocks, you were there with me when I was touching them.” Although there had been a night when Doc and I had sneaked into Ms. Wolff’s apartment and he’d left prints as well. But wouldn’t Hawke be picking on Doc, too, if this were only about fingerprints?

  “It’s about who murdered Ms. Wolff.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  Aunt Zoe reached over and squeezed my wrist, her smile offering comfort.

  “I know that,” Cooper snapped. “But if I’m going to help untangle you from Hawke’s web, I need to refresh my memory on all of the details.”

  “Or are you trying to trip me up?” I leaned forward, searching his face for any signs of deception. “To make me admit to some crime that Hawke thinks I’ve committed.”

  Cooper crossed his arms. “You’re being paranoid, Parker.”

  “Can you blame me? How can I be sure you’re not a double agent?”

  “Do I look like a man who has the patience to play spy games?”

  “Right now, you look tired.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Pretty worn out, too, like an old boot.” I glanced at Aunt Zoe. “I don’t think the couch was very comfortable for Cooper’s bony ass.”

  She looked him over, nodding. “The recliner is more cozy. That couch has seen better days. I should probably start shopping for a new one.”

  “The couch was fine,” he grated.

  “Your shoulders look stiff, too.”

  “That’s enough. Let’s move on.”

  Oh, I planned to move on—right on past this interrogation, because I was capital D-O-N-E with being pushed around this morning by him. “They’re actually a little lopsided,” I continued.

  His nostrils flared.

  �
��You could use a good massage to relax all of that tension you keep stored between your head and toes.”

  “Parker—”

  “You know who gives a good massage?” I didn’t let his glare intimidate me. “Natalie.”

  Cooper flinched at the sound of her name.

  “She does have a lot of strength in her arms and wrists from all of that manual labor,” Aunt Zoe added.

  “Yeah.” I hit Cooper with a knowing look. “Her grip is killer.”

  Cooper’s eyes widened, his cheeks mottling. He pushed his chair back, standing. “I said that’s enough, Parker.” He grabbed his coffee cup and downed what was left in one gulp.

  “Is the interrogation over already, Detective?” I feigned innocence.

  “For now.”

  “You can leave your coffee cup in the sink,” Aunt Zoe told him as he left the table.

  “Is it okay if I use your shower?” he asked Aunt Zoe.

  “Sure.”

  “Make it quick,” I said. “I need to get ready for work, too.”

  “I’ll take as long as I need,” he returned with a squint.

  “And don’t use all of the hot water,” I told his rigid backside as he left the kitchen. I turned back to see Aunt Zoe frowning at me. “What?”

  “You should be nicer to him, baby girl.”

  I scoffed. “Me? He’s the one who’s always making fun of my hair and giving me orders.”

  “He’s trying to save your bacon.”

  Guilt made my cheeks warm. She was right, of course, but … “Why is he helping me?”

  “Maybe because under all of his frustration with his current situation, he respects you.”

  We both looked up at the ceiling at the sound of the water running in the bathroom overhead.

  “Nah. I think he’s doing it for Doc. They’re like this now.” I twisted my fingers together. “Or maybe it’s for Natalie, since he knows she’ll find a way to end up in jail next to me if Hawke locks me up.”

  I finished my coffee and started to rise, but she caught my hand and pulled me back down in my seat. “Now that he’s out of earshot, we need to talk.”

  “We do? About what?”

  “The book with our family history.”

  I cringed. “I … uh … I haven’t had a chance to read any more of it yet.”