A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) by Ann Charles Read Free Book Online

very tiny needle at that. Like the needle a flea would use to stitch its flea circus tent.
    “I hope you have an alibi for the last forty-eight hours.”
    I did. A nasty cough left behind from the flu had been keeping me company in bed, but I doubted that would hold water with Detective Hawke. I should have sneezed all over him when I had the chance.
    “Are there any other suspects?” Doc asked.
    “Nobody as interesting as your girlfriend. Wanda has a few family members who benefit from her death, but that’s it for the list so far.”
    I sighed, resting my head in my hands. “All I did was make a stupid phone call.”
    “What prompted that call?” Cooper asked.
    Before I could answer, Doc cut in. “Is this on the record or off?”
    “Off.”
    I looked at Harvey. “You’re going to have to back me up on this, you know.”
    “You want me to share yer noose?”
    “If it comes down to it, maybe Mr. Bodyguard.”
    With a nod, he turned to his nephew. “Prudence did some chin waggin’ with Violet and me this morning over at the Carhart place.”
    Cooper’s steely gaze leveled on me. “You mean your ghost pal?”
    “She’s not my pal.” More of a disgruntled ex-coworker.
    “We ain’t foolin’ around, boy. I was there with Violet.”
    I could see Cooper’s jaw work, like he was chewing on Harvey’s words some more, trying to swallow them without choking. “What did Prudence the ghost have to say today?”
    I ciphered through the cryptic stuff Prudence had told me. “That Wanda was in danger,” I told him. “Someone recently broke into the Carhart house looking for something Wanda supposedly had, but they came up empty. Prudence was worried the culprit was going to hunt down Wanda next.”
    Not surprisingly, my answer added a new topcoat of granite to Cooper’s expression. “Let me get this straight. You called me this morning to talk about Wanda because a ghost told you that she might be in danger?”
    I knew it sounded hokey, but, “Prudence was quite insistent about it.”
    “But your ghost pal didn’t know Wanda was already dead?”
    I shook my head.
    He smirked.
    “What? She’s a ghost, not a soothsayer.”
    Cooper frowned at Doc. “This doesn’t help your girlfriend’s case.”
    Doc shrugged. “Maybe not with Detective Hawke, but it explains why she called you.”
    “And you believe her?”
    “Of course,” Doc said without hesitation.
    “Hello,” I waved at the detective. “I’m sitting right here you know.”
    Cooper sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. “You all must realize that I can’t use a warning from a ghost as part of any defensive strategy down at the station. Nobody will believe you or me, and I’ll probably be suspended on indefinite psych leave.”
    I sighed. “Of course you can’t.” Was this what the musicians on the Titanic felt like when icy water had lapped at their feet? “Now what?”
    “Stick around town and try not to do anything else wrong.” Cooper glared at me. “And answer your damned phone when I call.”
    I flipped off the big jerk.
    He wrinkled his lip in reply before opening the door. He shot Doc a glance on the way out. “I’ll be home late tonight, Nyce, thanks to your girlfriend’s screw up.”
    I scowled at the detective’s backside, wishing I were close enough to plant my size 8 boot in it. “I didn’t kill Wanda Carhart!”
    Cooper paused on the other side of the threshold, squinting back in at me. “Oddly enough, Parker, I believe you’re innocent. But I’m not the one you need to convince this time.”

Chapter Three
    I’d learned at a young age that when shit hit the fan, there was no better place to lie low than my Aunt Zoe’s kitchen. The fresh lemonade in her refrigerator and sweet goodies in her Betty Boop cookie jar always helped me to choke down a long day chock-full with bitter pills.
    And boy oh boy had today been one of those days. I had acid indigestion coming out my ears.
    “Violet,” Aunt Zoe’s voice