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

Hessler was behind those missing girls sooner, before you were compromised.”

          Compromised ? That must be the polite cop term for sautéed in lighter fluid and fricasseed.

          His apology caught me by surprise. I sat back, stricken shy. “That’s uh ... okay. I mean, it’s no big ... it’s fine. Thanks. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” Or maybe that was who doesn’t kill you. I grabbed my Diet Coke and sucked down a few mouthfuls, wanting to drown my tongue before it said something else incredibly obtuse.

          “I told you she was no shrinking Violet.”

          Maybe not shrinking, but definitely shrieking. Especially when I was staring death in the face, as I was last night in my dreams during yet another 3-D rehash of the whole horrific circus.

          Cooper’s eyes were beginning to burn holes in my head. “I meant to tell you that we figured out Hessler was calling you from Spearfish when he said he was in San Francisco.”

          So Wolfgang had lied about that, too. No surprise there.

          Cooper continued, “I don’t know if what we’re dealing with here is another serial killer, Violet. Or if it’s just a plain old murderer suffering from a lack of attention from his mommy.”

          “Or her mommy,” I added, equal rights and all.

          “Or her .” Cooper sat back to let the waitress slide a plate full of French fries and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Harvey. My stomach growled at the bouquet of fried butter and cheese.

          After the waitress unloaded Cooper’s and my plates and left us again, the detective picked up a fry and bit it in half. “Now, can we please talk about my goddamned house?”

          “No,” Harvey said through a mouth full of grilled cheese. “I want to hear about Violet’s date yesterday with the Carharts.” His pale blue eyes locked onto mine.

          “There’s nothing to tell.” I stuffed a handful of fries in my mouth.

          “Which Carharts are we talking about?” Cooper asked.

          “Wanda Carhart.” Harvey stopped chewing, his eyes narrowed on me. “Your nose is twitchin’.”

          “So what?” I rubbed it. “It itches.”

          “You’re hiding something.” He pointed his fork at me. “What happened at the Carharts’ place?”

          “Nothing happened.”

          “Bullshit.”

          “We had a nice chat.”

          “Hogwash.”

          “What? They showed me their house.”

          “And?”

          “And it’s a beautiful house.”

          Cooper watched us as if this was match point in a ping-pong game. “Wanda Carhart’s house?”

          “Damn it, woman!”

          “What?”

          “You’re gonna sell it, aren’t you?”

          I gulped more Diet Coke, avoiding Harvey’s squint.

          “What’s wrong with her selling the Carhart house?” Cooper asked.

          “Did you get kicked in the head by a mule, son?”

          “It’s a beautiful house,” I repeated.

          “With blood all over it.”

          “The blood has been cleaned up,” Cooper said.

          I could confirm that. “The place will sell within a month,” I told Harvey. “The Carharts are motivated sellers. Very motivated.”

          Harvey grunted and took a huge bite from his sandwich, grumbling as he chewed.

          Cooper on the other hand was watching me with his head cocked to the side. “I didn’t realize Wanda was so gung-ho to get out of town.”

          “Not so much Wanda.” She hadn’t said more than five words to me yet. “But Millie seems very excited about selling.”

          “Hmmm.” Cooper picked up his pickle, his face still thoughtful. Something in the crook of his lips made me rush to the Carharts’ defense.

          “Can you blame them for wanting to