you’ll be telling me you saw the ‘tall man’
digging up graves on Mount Moriah."
I shivered just thinking about that creepy film.
"Short of coming back here with a crowbar or some x-ray
glasses," Natalie hopped down from the crate, landing on her good foot, "there’s
no way to tell what’s in this thing."
"Is your toolbox in your truck?"
She cocked her head. "Vi, we’re not—" her eyes
flicked behind me. "Cooper’s here."
I spun around and watched, my breath locked up tight in my
chest.
Detective Cooper strode toward the front of the parlor and
sidled up next to his uncle. He leaned down and said something in Harvey’s ear,
then he turned and glared at me through the one-way glass.
I gasped. Blood roared in my ears like a jet engine. I took
a step back and grabbed Nat’s arm, lugging her toward the door. "Cooper
knows we’re in here."
"How? He can’t see us," she said, thumping behind
me.
"I don’t know. Maybe he wears special police-force contacts.
Or he’s not human. We need to get out of here before he catches us spying."
At the door, I shot a glance back through the glass. Cooper
was hemmed in, Norma Jean and Lucille had him blocked as they made their way side-by-side
toward the casket. He stared into the glass again, squinting.
I opened the door a crack and peered out, almost expecting
to see Cooper looming there. The foyer stood empty. "Let’s go."
We slipped into the foyer and raced to the front door as
fast as Natalie’s boot would allow, not slowing until we’d crawled into her
pickup, slammed the doors, and locked them for good measure.
Natalie checked the rearview mirror. "Here he comes."
I yanked her down out of sight.
We ducked there in silence for a couple of seconds, then she
giggled and said, "Got ya."
I glared at her. "You big brat." I sat up, twisting
in the seat to check on the front doors. Both were closed, no Cooper in sight.
"I’m sorry, Vi. But you should have seen the freaked
out look on your face when your tractor beam locked onto Cooper back there. I
thought your eyes were going to pop right out of your skull."
I pinched her upper arm. "Shut it, be-otch."
"Hey, ouch!" she rubbed her arm. "What’s your
deal with Cooper, anyway? He’s just a cop, you know. He cleans his guns the
same as the rest of us."
I fanned my dress at chest level. "He makes me sweaty."
"Really?" Natalie’s gaze narrowed. "Do you
think he’s hot?"
I frowned. Only in a branding-my-ass sort of way. "I
meant sweaty from nervousness."
She rolled her eyes. "I know you did. Let me rephrase
my question—would you sleep with him given the right circumstances? If you were
the last two people on Earth."
"Can I dress him up like Elvis and slather him in
chocolate and caramel first?"
"Cute. Answer the question."
"No. He’s not my type." Under her steady squint, I
shrugged. "But I suppose many women would find him sexy." Mona, my
coworker sure did. The woman practically steamed up the windows whenever Cooper
walked into the office.
"You know," Natalie said, "I think he’s
exactly your type. You always go for the rugged, tough guys."
"Yeah, but when you ask Cooper if that’s a gun in his
pocket or if he’s happy to see you, it’s really a gun." Unlike Doc, who
was just happy to see me.
Natalie laughed. "Come on, Cooper’s not that bad."
"Then why haven’t you ever dated him?"
"Who says I haven’t?" She winked.
After thirty-five years of living in the same town, Natalie had
dated most of the single guys in Deadwood—twice. "You’d have told me by
now if you had. So, what’s the deal?"
She sniffed and looked away. "He’s not interested."
"Right." A guy would have to be a eunuch not to
find Natalie’s hips and lips at least a little bit sexy.
"I’m serious. About five years ago, I was playing pool
with him at the Purple Door Saloon, flirting here and there. When I asked him
if he wanted to go somewhere a little quieter for another drink, he told me he
didn’t get involved
digging up graves on Mount Moriah."
I shivered just thinking about that creepy film.
"Short of coming back here with a crowbar or some x-ray
glasses," Natalie hopped down from the crate, landing on her good foot, "there’s
no way to tell what’s in this thing."
"Is your toolbox in your truck?"
She cocked her head. "Vi, we’re not—" her eyes
flicked behind me. "Cooper’s here."
I spun around and watched, my breath locked up tight in my
chest.
Detective Cooper strode toward the front of the parlor and
sidled up next to his uncle. He leaned down and said something in Harvey’s ear,
then he turned and glared at me through the one-way glass.
I gasped. Blood roared in my ears like a jet engine. I took
a step back and grabbed Nat’s arm, lugging her toward the door. "Cooper
knows we’re in here."
"How? He can’t see us," she said, thumping behind
me.
"I don’t know. Maybe he wears special police-force contacts.
Or he’s not human. We need to get out of here before he catches us spying."
At the door, I shot a glance back through the glass. Cooper
was hemmed in, Norma Jean and Lucille had him blocked as they made their way side-by-side
toward the casket. He stared into the glass again, squinting.
I opened the door a crack and peered out, almost expecting
to see Cooper looming there. The foyer stood empty. "Let’s go."
We slipped into the foyer and raced to the front door as
fast as Natalie’s boot would allow, not slowing until we’d crawled into her
pickup, slammed the doors, and locked them for good measure.
Natalie checked the rearview mirror. "Here he comes."
I yanked her down out of sight.
We ducked there in silence for a couple of seconds, then she
giggled and said, "Got ya."
I glared at her. "You big brat." I sat up, twisting
in the seat to check on the front doors. Both were closed, no Cooper in sight.
"I’m sorry, Vi. But you should have seen the freaked
out look on your face when your tractor beam locked onto Cooper back there. I
thought your eyes were going to pop right out of your skull."
I pinched her upper arm. "Shut it, be-otch."
"Hey, ouch!" she rubbed her arm. "What’s your
deal with Cooper, anyway? He’s just a cop, you know. He cleans his guns the
same as the rest of us."
I fanned my dress at chest level. "He makes me sweaty."
"Really?" Natalie’s gaze narrowed. "Do you
think he’s hot?"
I frowned. Only in a branding-my-ass sort of way. "I
meant sweaty from nervousness."
She rolled her eyes. "I know you did. Let me rephrase
my question—would you sleep with him given the right circumstances? If you were
the last two people on Earth."
"Can I dress him up like Elvis and slather him in
chocolate and caramel first?"
"Cute. Answer the question."
"No. He’s not my type." Under her steady squint, I
shrugged. "But I suppose many women would find him sexy." Mona, my
coworker sure did. The woman practically steamed up the windows whenever Cooper
walked into the office.
"You know," Natalie said, "I think he’s
exactly your type. You always go for the rugged, tough guys."
"Yeah, but when you ask Cooper if that’s a gun in his
pocket or if he’s happy to see you, it’s really a gun." Unlike Doc, who
was just happy to see me.
Natalie laughed. "Come on, Cooper’s not that bad."
"Then why haven’t you ever dated him?"
"Who says I haven’t?" She winked.
After thirty-five years of living in the same town, Natalie had
dated most of the single guys in Deadwood—twice. "You’d have told me by
now if you had. So, what’s the deal?"
She sniffed and looked away. "He’s not interested."
"Right." A guy would have to be a eunuch not to
find Natalie’s hips and lips at least a little bit sexy.
"I’m serious. About five years ago, I was playing pool
with him at the Purple Door Saloon, flirting here and there. When I asked him
if he wanted to go somewhere a little quieter for another drink, he told me he
didn’t get involved
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