Free Nearly Departed in Deadwood by Ann Charles

Doc. His skin had returned to its normal olive color, his eyes no longer watering, his breathing quiet and rhythmic.

          “I take it you’re going to pass on that one, too?”

          “I think I want to come back again.”

          My mouth fell open. I couldn’t help it. “You do?”

          “Another day, though.”

          My mouth still gaped. “What happened up there?”

          “I don’t like gardenias.”

          “You need to seek medical help for that.”

          “We should probably call it a day.”

          A flesh-and-blood buyer or not, I was tempted to call it a life and say our “goodbyes” right then, but I really wanted to keep my job.

          The short trip back to the office was broken only by the whir from the vents.

          “Could you drop me off at my car, please?” he asked.

          The sooner I could put some space between us, the better. “Where are you parked?”

          “Behind the building.” He cleared his throat. “Are you available tomorrow afternoon?”

          No! “Sure. One o’clock?”

          “I have an appointment then. How about two?”

          Appointment with whom? I wanted to ask what exactly he did besides inspect moles and read books on Wild Bill, but since he’d brushed me off earlier, I decided to save it for another time. “I’ll find a few more houses to show you.”

          “Maybe something a little older,” he suggested.

          Older? If that’s what he wanted, Deadwood was perfect for him. It didn’t get its ghost-town label for nothing.

          I bounced through a set of potholes into the parking lot behind Calamity Jane Realty.

          “Right there,” he said, pointing out his car.

          I stomped on the brakes. My tires screeched in protest. Doc braced himself on the dashboard.

          “You’re kidding me.” My teeth ground as I stared at his late ‘60s black Camaro with rally stripes. “That’s your car?”

          “Yeah.” He raised his brows. “Not a Camaro fan, huh?”

          Not for the one that parks in my spot.

          First the box of books, then the whole gardenia incident, now the car. As much as I wanted to play praying mantis and bite Doc’s head off in one swift chomp, I squeezed my lips together. I needed him. “Do you always park there?”

          “I didn’t at first.”

          “But you do now.”

          “Your co-worker, Ray, informed me last week that the building owner enforces assigned spots and this one’s mine.”

          Jane owned the building. The only assigned spots were for her employees.

          “See you tomorrow.” Doc shut the passenger door.

          I sighed. One of these days, I was going to poison Ray’s orange juice.

     
       

          Chapter Six

          The sight of Wolfgang’s house still made my eye twitch.

          “That’s it right there,” I said to Natalie as I pointed at the rundown Victorian. “You can park in the drive.”

          In the weakening glow of the late afternoon sun, the overgrown yard teemed with fat flies and gnat swarms. I dreaded wading through the tall weeds with Natalie and learning all of the house’s hidden trials and tribulations. The smell of a neighbor’s freshly mowed lawn drifted through the open pickup window, mocking me.

          “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Natalie parked and killed the engine. A lawnmower droned in the distance. “You didn’t tell me you were talking about the Hessler house.”

          I pushed open the passenger door. “Do you have a problem with working on Wolfgang Hessler’s house?”

          “No. It’s just a little weird, that’s all.”

          “Why weird?”

          Layne and then Addy squeezed out from behind the seat and leapt down onto the cobblestone next to me.