Better Off Dead in Deadwood Read Free

see him again for a while.”
    “Well, you’d better make tracks then, because he’s headin’ our way.”
    What? I looked around and ran smack dab into Detective Cooper’s steely glare. Where had he come from? The back door?
    He weaved through the tables, never taking his eyes off of me. The Terminator had taken tough-guy lessons from Cooper, who looked like a pissed-off version of Daniel Craig with his two black-and-blue eyes and steri-strip-covered, broken nose.
    I didn’t waste calories trying to smile when he loomed over me.
    “I need you to come down to the station, Ms. Parker.”
    “Am I under arrest?”
    “Not yet.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means I need you to come down to the station to answer some questions.”
    “You can ask them right now.”
    He frowned at his uncle and said in a low voice for our ears only, “No, I can’t.”
    “Is this about George or Jane?” I mouthed.
    “I’ll disclose my purpose for your visit when we are in my office.”
    “Nod once for George,” Harvey whispered, “twice for Jane.”
    Cooper’s rugged face hardened even more.
    I raised one eyebrow. “You heard your uncle.”
    Growling in his throat, he nodded twice.
    What about Jane?
    “You can’t arrest me just to get me to answer questions about my boss.”
    “Yes, I can.” He leaned over and spoke next to my ear. “I’m opening a murder investigation, and you’re on my list of usual suspects.”
    I could feel my eyes bulge.
    Murder?
    Jane?
    Me?
    “Now are you coming with me,” Cooper continued, his tone quiet, yet menacing. “Or do I have to arrest you first?”

Chapter Two
    After some foot dragging on my part, and a couple of minutes full of me whining about not being emotionally ready to talk about Jane so soon after her service, Detective Cooper backed off.
    Well, sort of.
    He gave me exactly one hour to get my hiney down to his office before he came looking for me with a pair of handcuffs.
    I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t in the mood to play cat and mouse with me this time. Maybe it was the way he’d white-knuckled the table while I sat there sipping my coffee in front of him; or it might have been his parting comment of “Don’t fuck with me on this, Parker.”
    Harvey drove me back to work, where I’d parked my current ride—his ancient, green, dilapidated pickup, aka the Picklemobile.
    As soon as I landed my commission check from my pending sale of The Old Prospector Hotel, I would head down to Rapid City to buy a new family truckster. This time I’d make sure I had fire insurance on the sucker. I’d learned my lesson after the last psycho had taken her jealousy out on my poor Bronco with matches.
    “Drop me off by the back door,” I told Harvey as he pulled into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane Realty.
    “You ain’t gonna work today, are you? We should be double-fistin’ beers up in Lead at The Golden Sluice over this mess.”
    I’d been drowning in my sorrow for a week now. It was time to dog-paddle back to shore.
    “Jane would be happy that I’m working on the day of her funeral and you know it. Besides, I can’t get drunk now. I need to be on my toes when I go to see your nephew.”
    Interrogations by Cooper always made me squirm. It’d be less painful if he’d just jam a truth-telling bug up my nose to tap directly into my brain and be done with it.
    Harvey braked next to the back door. “So you’re actually gonna go see Coop, eh?”
    The codger knew me too well. I’d already run through several escape scenarios involving me, my kids, and the General Lee from The Dukes of Hazzard . I had a feeling, though, that Cooper wouldn’t just stop the car chase at the county line and shake his fist at me like the cop in the old TV show.
    “The detective isn’t really giving me much of a choice this time.”
    “Are you plannin’ to honeyfuggle him?” he asked.
    Honeyfuggle? What the heck did that mean? Was that what Harvey and his old flame did with that