Dead Case in Deadwood by Ann Charles Read Free Book Online

footfalls, gold faux-silk
wallpaper coated the walls, gold-painted tiles shimmered on the ceiling. If
Deadwood had a hidden rainbow, we’d found the leprechaun’s stash.
    With a fake smile etched on my face, I led Cornelius through
several banks of jangling slot machines. Heads turned as we walked through the
casino’s cooled air, mumbles and sniggers following in our wake. All of the
attention made me miss the smoke that used to fill the air before Deadwood
enacted the no smoking in casinos law. We could use a cloud of exhaled nicotine
to hide behind.
    A full-sized stuffed mule weighed down with prospecting gear
stood next to the front desk. A plaque at its hooves claimed "Socrates"
had belonged to the hotel’s original owner. Decades of petting had rubbed bare
the top of poor Socrates’ nose.
    I’d have to bring Addy and Layne here someday to see the old
mule. Then again, Addy might get the idea in her head of rescuing Socrates. Thank
God he was too big to fit in her bicycle basket and too dead to be a pet.
Although, Layne might be interested in Socrates’ skeleton.
    Cornelius pocketed his glasses and pointed at the mule. "Is
that for real?"
    I could ask good old Honest Abe the same question, but since
he was a client and the sale of this hotel would ensure I kept my job, I just
pinched my lips together and nodded.
    We sidled up to the front desk where a young receptionist stood,
her gaze glued to her computer screen. With her gold lamé shirt and sun-kissed long
blonde locks, she reminded me of Addy’s Safari Skipper Barbie.
    "Welcome to the Old Prosp—" Her jaw gaped at the
sight of Cornelius, who tipped his top hat at her.
    I waited a few seconds to see if she’d snap back to life on
her own. When she didn’t, I waved my hand in front of her face. "Hi. I’m
Violet Parker from Calamity Jane Realty. We’re here to see the manager."
    "The manager?" she repeated and dragged her focus
back to me, frowning as if I’d spoken Portuguese.
    "Yes. The manager." I spoke with a dose of
enunciation. "I’m with Calamity Jane Realty. We have an appointment."
    "Uhhh, okay. Hold on." She stole one last peek at
Cornelius, and then scurried through a door behind her marked Office .
    "That went well," I said under my breath.
    Cornelius stroked his goatee, a smug look on his face. "I
tend to have that effect on people."
    I wished he’d save his special effects for some other time,
preferably without me in the same town. I’d been building enough of a tarnished
reputation in Deadwood without his help.
    "There are definitely ghosts in this place,"
Cornelius said loudly enough for any passersby to hear. "I sensed at least
one over near that group of Triple-Seven slot machines. Maybe three."
    Before I had a chance to recover from my flush of
mortification and shush him, the office door opened and Tiffany walked out.
    Tiffany.
    As in Doc’s gorgeous ex-girlfriend.
    The Jessica Rabbit look-alike.
    My flame-haired rival.
    It was my turn to gape. What in the hell was she doing
here?
    Tiffany’s eyes moved from me to Cornelius and back, her
smile smooth and wide, as if she was selling tooth whitener on a pop-up
Internet ad.
    Jeez, she was good. Not even an extra blink at the sight of Cornelius
leaning on the counter beside me.
    Her white knit shirt and matching skirt hugged her in all
the curvy places. I sucked in my baby-stretched stomach. With that perky
figure, there was no way she’d ever pushed out a kid—let alone two within
minutes of each other.
    "Hello." She held her hand out to Cornelius, who
had removed his top hat at the sight of her. "I’m Tiffany Sugarbell from Canyon
Realty."
    Sugarbell. I grinned, remembering Harvey’s crack
about Tiffany being Tinker Bell’s porn-star cousin.
    "Ms. Sugarbell." Cornelius took her hand, bowing
his head a bit. "What a pleasure to meet you."
    Her Stepford wife smile landed on me.
    I tried to mimic her expression, stretching my cheeks toward
my ears, and held out my hand. "Violet