Seeing Trouble Read Free Page A

brother.”
    “What if my dad came back around and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? With us?”
    I’d probably end up at the Deadwood police station charged with assault and battery. “That’s not going to happen, Addy.”
    She sighed. “Do you think I’ll ever find someone to spend my life with?”
    “Well, there’s Layne.”
    “He smells.”
    “And Elvis.” Long live the King—or queen in this case.
    “Mom, she’s a chicken.”
    “And me.”
    “Yeah, but you’re a smelly chicken.” She giggled again. “Will you let me read your diary someday?”
    “Yeah, someday.”
    “Coolio.” She hopped off the bed and slid in her stocking feet over to the door. “Elvis is lonely when I’m not home with her. Can we get a pet pig to keep her company?”

Nearly Departed in Deadwood Cover – Contender #1

Interview of Violet Parker
    Following is an interview I had with Violet Parker before I began writing Nearly Departed in Deadwood . Sometimes I interview several of my characters, sometimes just one. For this book, since I was going to be solely in Violet’s head, I only interviewed her.
    Enjoy,
    Ann
    *****
    Tin Cup Café in Deadwood, SD
    The morning sunshine has just crested the tree-covered hills overlooking Main Street, lighting the red brick road in an orange glow, creeping through the coffee shop’s front door. The air drifting through the open door still holds a breath of coolness, the sun’s rays haven’t heated the sidewalk to a boil yet. From the radio perched on the shelf over the bottles of flavored coffee syrups, Eric Clapton is singing Willie and the Hand Jive on the local station.
    The smell of steamed coffee beans makes my mouth water. Unfortunately, they don’t have any soy milk on hand, so I’m shit-out-of-luck when it comes to a flavored latte. A big, burly axe-swinging type of a guy lumbers by me on the way to the counter, the century-old, scuffed wood floor creaks under his feet. In his wake, my Diet Coke can wobbles on the small, round table where I sit waiting for Violet Parker to join me.
    I shift on the hard, wrought iron seat again, sip some soda pop, and check my cell phone for the time—Violet is fifteen minutes late. She wanted to be at the office by 9 a.m, so our scheduled meeting time of 8 a.m. should have given us just enough time to get acquainted.
    I glance out the window. Not many tourists line the sidewalks yet, mostly retirees who are up early to gamble away some of their pensions and fast-walking, uniformed folk obviously on their way to work. The espresso maker steams loudly, hissing over Clapton’s swanky tale about Way-Out Willie.
    A curly-haired blonde appears in the doorway, pausing to scan the room. I recognize Violet’s face from her picture on Calamity Jane Realty’s website and wave at her. Her tight smile and wrinkled brow show a mixture of frustration and tension as she approaches. Then I notice the child-sized blue handprint on the shoulder of her pale pink blouse and I can’t help but chuckle.
    Me : Is that paint?
    Violet : (She drops into the chair opposite of me.) Is what paint?
    Me : The blue handprint on your shoulder.
    Violet : (She looks down at her shoulder and the furrows in her brow deepen.) Oh, shit (she says under her breath as she brushes at the blue print, which merely spreads further across her shoulder). Nope, it’s chalk, compliments of my son.
    Me : Let me buy you a coffee.
    Violet : ( Still smudging the chalk around on her shoulder ) I would love a caramel latte, but you don’t have to buy it for me.
    Me : I owe you one for letting me interview you. I’ll be right back. (By the time I return to the table with her steaming latte, she’s given up on the blue smudge and is holding her cell phone up in the air.) Here you go (I set it down in front of her).
    Violet : I need a new provider. ( She snaps her phone closed. ) What good is a Realtor whose phone gets a signal only when she’s standing on top of Terry Peak?
    Me :