Optical Delusions in Deadwood by Ann Charles Read Free Book Online Page A

Guilt made me sweat more. I fanned myself with Mr. Haskell’s program. “I remember.” I also remembered that a couple of weeks ago she’d staked a claim on Doc, which was supposed to mean that he was off limits to me—something I kept forgetting every time he was near. If Natalie found out I’d had sex with Doc, she’d probably dye all my lingerie puke green and cut my hair with dull pruning shears. If she knew I wanted to do it again and again and again, she’d stop talking to me. Forever. After two-plus-decades of friendship, I didn’t want to live my life without her in it.  

          We rounded the open French doors and slid into an empty row of chairs in the back of an expansive parlor half-full of mourners, who were taking turns parading past the open casket at the front. Intermittent sniffles blended with the murmurs. The length of the left wall was covered with paintings of clouds, sunsets, and sunrises; the right wall was lined with mirrored windows that ended at a closed door in the front corner. Up by the casket, wreaths and sprays of white lilies, yellow gladiolas, purple mums, and red carnations added bright color to an otherwise neutral décor. Their subtle fragrance filled the room, blanketing death with sweet freshness.

          “So,” Natalie whispered in my ear. “Why are we here?”

          “I want a closer look at George Mudder.”

          “No, you don’t. He looks much better from a distance.”

          That made me smile—which I hid behind my hand. Smiles at a funeral would draw attention, and my goal was to blend in with the wallpaper.

          “Why do you want to see George?” Natalie asked.

          “Ray and he are up to something.”

          A few weeks ago, I’d seen Ray and George hauling a huge crate out of the back of the funeral parlor and loading it into Ray’s SUV. There were no markings on the crate, at least none visible from across the big parking lot between Calamity Jane Realty and Mudder Brothers. Whatever was in the crate had made the springs on Ray’s SUV bounce under its weight.

          Later, when I poked Ray about what he and George were up to, he’d nearly bitten off my finger. It didn’t take me long to conclude that these two boys had their dirty hands in the cookie jar. Tonight, I hoped to catch a glimpse of what they were up.

          Natalie scooted closer, her cast bumping my foot. “If it involves Ray, it can’t be good. You better be careful. Word on the street is his bite is actually worse than his bark. ”

          “He does tend to foam at the mouth a lot.” And I had the teeth marks on my butt to prove her warning was on the mark.

          Natalie nudged me with her cast. “Are you really going to sell the Carhart place?”

          I nodded. I had called Natalie as I was backing out of the Carharts’ drive earlier to tell her this new secret of mine and ask her to meet me at Mudder Brothers tonight.

          Natalie waved discreetly at a middle-aged woman passing by on her way out the French doors as she leaned closer and whispered, “That’s pretty ballsy with you still being new on the job. You have heard about that house, right?”

          “Yes, but I need the money. My kids need stuff,” I whispered back.

          “We all need stuff. Is it worth risking your career? I have money you can borrow.”

          “I don’t want your damned money.” At the hurt look she shot me, I added, “I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course.” I’d leaned on Natalie too often over the past few years. This time, I wanted to stand on my own.

          “Fine,” she grinned. “It’s your funeral.”

          I chuckled at her double entendre. Natalie was the sister I wished my sister had grown up to be—rather than a two-bit whore who liked to sleep with my boyfriends when I wasn’t watching. I lingered on that thought for a few seconds, my