Free An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 by Ann Charles Page B

fact that his gray eyes were glaring at me like usual, which ground any kind thoughts right out of my head.
    “Really, Cooper? Is that your official greeting?” I pushed past him, shouldering him aside, walking through a cloud of his citrusy cologne. “Just once, would it kill you to be civil?”
    “I was civil once, and then you broke my nose.”
    “Oh, right. Hold on.” I patted my blazer pockets. “Shucks, I left my teeny tiny violin at home. Guess you’ll have to save your crybaby story for another day.”
    “Now who’s not being civil?”
    “If you two are gonna circle and snarl at each other for a bit,” Harvey said, “I’m goin’ in search of somethin’ to wet my whistle.” He left me alone with Cooper.
    “I hope this is worth the hassle of dragging us here,” I said to the detective.
    “Trust me, Parker, I’d rather keep you and your big nose on the other side of the Continental Divide when it comes to this murder. But since you were the last one Ms. Wolff talked to, I’m stuck dealing with you again.”
    From the tone in his voice, it appeared my presence rated up there with intestinal tapeworms.
    I followed him into his living room. “The feeling is mutual,” I grumbled. A glance at the bar that divided the kitchen from the dining room turned into a doubletake. I went over and scooped up several business cards scattered on the counter. “You’ve had more walk-throughs, I see.”
    He nodded. “This place needs to sell soon. I’m tired of having to hide my weapons every day when I leave.”
    “Just take ‘em with you like I do,” Harvey said, rejoining us with a glass of water. He grabbed a handful of cookies meant for potential buyers from a bowl on the bar. “Or lock ‘em in your basement storage room with the rest of your whatnot.”
    Cooper’s gaze narrowed on me. “I tried that once, but someone got curious.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Are we going to spend all morning rehashing old times, or are you going to ask me some questions? I do have a job to get to, you know.” I’d lied to Jerry and told him I was heading to Cooper’s to discuss ideas on more ways to market his house since the detective had insisted I keep my lips sealed about Ms. Wolff.
    “I’ll remind you, Parker, that we could have been right across the street from your place of work, but you had to play hard ball and make us all waste time coming here.”
    “And I’ll remind you, Detective Cooper, of what I said on the phone—there’s nothing more to tell. You’d have better luck consulting my Magic 8 ball. Would you like me to run home and grab it for you?”
    He pointed at his black leather couch. “Sit. Both of you.”
    Harvey and I obeyed. I resisted the urge to give the detective a “Woof!” As much as I didn’t like Cooper’s bossiness, I wanted to get this over with. A pap exam by a group of brand new interns was preferable to Cooper’s rubber glove treatment.
    The detective dragged one of his dining room chairs across from us, dropped onto it, pulled out a notepad, and started clicking the end of his pen.
    “What was the Chief’s reaction to this one?” Harvey asked in between his cookie chewing.
    “Volcanic.”
    Harvey had informed me recently that Cooper’s inability to solve these bizarre murders that kept happening had his boss snorting fire. The detective might chap my ass, but I didn’t want him to lose his job. There was something comforting knowing that Cooper was out there. Sort of like a gun tucked under the mattress for the towns of Deadwood and Lead … or rather an arsenal of guns, knowing what I did about Cooper’s firearms collection.
    Harvey chomped on another cookie, getting more crumbs in his beard. “What are you gonna do?”
    Cooper clicked the pen a couple more times. “Well, since I can’t legally deport Parker to another state, I’m going to have to throw everything I can think of at this one and hope something sticks for once.”
    I cocked my head to the side.