Read Online Optical Delusions in Deadwood by Ann Charles - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Charles
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back there, trying to stir up some entertainment. The Black Hills’ equivalent of crop circles.”
“What’s the white grizzly?” I was going to have to stop over at the library and read up on Slagton’s history.
Stirring sugar into his coffee, Cooper answered, “It’s a legend passed down from the Lakota Indians, who considered the Black Hills sacred ground.”
Harvey leaned toward me and whispered, “Some people say it’s not a bear at all but a demon with milky eyes, spiked teeth, claws like scythes, and a coat made up of its victims’ scalps—their hair scared white before it killed ‘em.”
Here came the goosebumps. My chances of selling Harvey’s place were sliding downhill, avalanche style. “So you think all this has something to do with what was going on in that mine up behind your barn?”
“Yes,” Harvey said, drowning out Cooper’s “No.”
I held my breath while the waitress placed Harvey’s Coke and my diet down in front of us, along with a side salad for Cooper.
After she left I asked the detective, “What are you going to do about Harvey’s cemetery?” My interest was part curiosity, part need-to-know as Harvey’s Realtor.
Cooper looked up at me, a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth, his forehead creased. “Aren’t we here to discuss selling my place?”
“Oh, right.” My cheeks heated. “Of course.”
Harvey elbowed his nephew hard enough to send pieces of lettuce flying from Cooper’s fork. “You didn’t answer her question, Coop. That was rude. You need to apologize to Violet, or I’ll tell your ma you were being disrespectful to a lady.”
My face burned even hotter. Cooper was a cop. He didn’t need to apologize. “That’s okay, Harvey. It’s no big deal. It’s really not my business.”
“Shut up, Violet,” Harvey said.
I blinked. “Talk about rude.”
“Fine.” Cooper picked up the bits of lettuce from the table and dropped them on his plate. “I’m sorry, Violet.”
“That’s better. Now answer her question about your plans for my cemetery problem.”
Cooper nailed Harvey with a glare but obliged his uncle. “I’ll probably head out there and take a look around again, see if we missed any evidence.”
“You want to use Bessie?” Harvey had named his favorite 12-gauge shotgun after a cow.
Cooper closed his eyes in a silent sigh. “I’ll be packing my own firearm, thank you very much. And I’d prefer you kept Bessie in the closet a little more often.”
“What good will she do in there? You’re not keeping score very well, son. The boogeyman isn’t hiding in the closet any more. He’s out behind the barn.”
Scooping up another forkful of salad, Cooper eyed me, his nostrils flared. “Can we talk about my house now, please?”
“Not until you tell Violet what you told me about that hand you found up on Mount Roosevelt.”
Cooper cursed under his breath and lowered his fork. “You probably told her everything already.”
“Not her. Not everything.”
“I heard about the hand,” I confirmed. “But only that you found one. I hadn’t heard anything more about the foot.”
“We’re still waiting for lab results on the foot.”
Harvey snorted. “You need to find another lab. The guy at this one is sleeping on the job.”
Chewing on that, along with his salad, Cooper waited until he swallowed to speak. “We think the hand and foot belong to the same guy, but we have to wait until the lab confirms it.”
“Is there another serial killer at large?” I asked.
Cooper met my eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did, Violet. And that I didn’t figure out
“What’s the white grizzly?” I was going to have to stop over at the library and read up on Slagton’s history.
Stirring sugar into his coffee, Cooper answered, “It’s a legend passed down from the Lakota Indians, who considered the Black Hills sacred ground.”
Harvey leaned toward me and whispered, “Some people say it’s not a bear at all but a demon with milky eyes, spiked teeth, claws like scythes, and a coat made up of its victims’ scalps—their hair scared white before it killed ‘em.”
Here came the goosebumps. My chances of selling Harvey’s place were sliding downhill, avalanche style. “So you think all this has something to do with what was going on in that mine up behind your barn?”
“Yes,” Harvey said, drowning out Cooper’s “No.”
I held my breath while the waitress placed Harvey’s Coke and my diet down in front of us, along with a side salad for Cooper.
After she left I asked the detective, “What are you going to do about Harvey’s cemetery?” My interest was part curiosity, part need-to-know as Harvey’s Realtor.
Cooper looked up at me, a forkful of salad halfway to his mouth, his forehead creased. “Aren’t we here to discuss selling my place?”
“Oh, right.” My cheeks heated. “Of course.”
Harvey elbowed his nephew hard enough to send pieces of lettuce flying from Cooper’s fork. “You didn’t answer her question, Coop. That was rude. You need to apologize to Violet, or I’ll tell your ma you were being disrespectful to a lady.”
My face burned even hotter. Cooper was a cop. He didn’t need to apologize. “That’s okay, Harvey. It’s no big deal. It’s really not my business.”
“Shut up, Violet,” Harvey said.
I blinked. “Talk about rude.”
“Fine.” Cooper picked up the bits of lettuce from the table and dropped them on his plate. “I’m sorry, Violet.”
“That’s better. Now answer her question about your plans for my cemetery problem.”
Cooper nailed Harvey with a glare but obliged his uncle. “I’ll probably head out there and take a look around again, see if we missed any evidence.”
“You want to use Bessie?” Harvey had named his favorite 12-gauge shotgun after a cow.
Cooper closed his eyes in a silent sigh. “I’ll be packing my own firearm, thank you very much. And I’d prefer you kept Bessie in the closet a little more often.”
“What good will she do in there? You’re not keeping score very well, son. The boogeyman isn’t hiding in the closet any more. He’s out behind the barn.”
Scooping up another forkful of salad, Cooper eyed me, his nostrils flared. “Can we talk about my house now, please?”
“Not until you tell Violet what you told me about that hand you found up on Mount Roosevelt.”
Cooper cursed under his breath and lowered his fork. “You probably told her everything already.”
“Not her. Not everything.”
“I heard about the hand,” I confirmed. “But only that you found one. I hadn’t heard anything more about the foot.”
“We’re still waiting for lab results on the foot.”
Harvey snorted. “You need to find another lab. The guy at this one is sleeping on the job.”
Chewing on that, along with his salad, Cooper waited until he swallowed to speak. “We think the hand and foot belong to the same guy, but we have to wait until the lab confirms it.”
“Is there another serial killer at large?” I asked.
Cooper met my eyes. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did, Violet. And that I didn’t figure out
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