Better Off Dead in Deadwood Read Online Free PDF Page B

“It’s warm in here.”
    “Well, well, well,” the cop said, setting his paper aside. A fat grin spread his chubby cheeks. “If it isn’t the one and only Spooky Parker.”
    A couple of weeks ago, Cornelius had been hauled into Cooper’s office for questioning about a case in New Orleans involving him, some exorcism attendees, and a now dead girl. During the interrogation, Cornelius had announced that one of the jail cells was haunted and asked if he and I could hold a séance for the ghost prisoner. End of story, beginning of new means of police harassment.
    Biting my lip, I dead-panned the desk grunt. I’d promised myself on the way over to the station that I would not get into another insult-trading match with anyone carrying a badge and gun.
    “So what brings you here today, Spooky? Hoping to assault some more police officers?” He snickered at his own joke.
    Fanning myself, I forced a smile up my cheeks. “You’re a real Keystone Cop, aren’t you?” Chock full of incompetence and buffoonery. “I’m here to see Detective Cooper.”
    He picked up the phone. “Spooky’s here,” he said and hung up.
    I grabbed my purse and ambled over to the “Wanted” posters tacked to a corkboard, which hung above a couple of beat-up chairs.
    “You should take it easy on the detective,” Officer Wise-ass said, his jowls dripping onto the newspaper again. “He’s the only one we got.”
    I should take it easy? Me? Cooper could slice through titanium with his razor-sharp tongue. Hell, I’d rather juggle porcupines naked than face off with him in his office this afternoon. “You tell your one and only detective—”
    The door leading into the cops’ den crashed open.
    Cooper had shucked his suit jacket along with his tie since I’d seen him at the diner. His gray shirt looked like it had been tugged open at the neck, his hair a mixture of spikes and shark fins.
    “Tell the detective what, Ms. Parker?” His voice was as stiff as his jaw.
    I shrugged my purse strap higher up my shoulder and prepared to lock horns on the spot, but then I saw an underlying tiredness rimming his steely eyes. I hadn’t noticed that earlier at lunch.
    “That I might want some coffee with my interrogation today, please,” I said, stepping past him through the doorway.
    The air was a few degrees cooler inside the police department’s lair. A handful of uniformed men filled the smattering of desks. I’d only ever seen two women in the place, and one of them had been wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase.
    “Hey, if it isn’t Rocky Parker,” one officer called out, his face split by a shit-eating grin.
    That was new. A little better than “Spooky,” I guessed.
    “Keep your eye on that one, Detective,” another cop said, “she’s a real knockout.”
    I grimaced and glanced over at Cooper, noticing a tic in his cheek. I kept my lips squeezed together until we were inside of Cooper’s office with the door closed, opting to skip the coffee today. The temperature in the room was almost cold.
    “What’s with the temperature flux in this place?”
    He shrugged. “Every now and then our system gets confused.”
    Cornelius would claim the jailbird ghost had a hand in it and pull out an EMF meter. Me, I just sighed and fell into the torn vinyl chair opposite Cooper’s desk.
    “For future reference,” I said, “I’d rather lie wide awake through a tonsillectomy than walk through this place.”
    “It’s your own fault,” Cooper said, rounding his desk.
    “Getting harassed by your policemen pals is my fault?”
    He sat down in his chair, leaning back with a creak. “I should have arrested you for police brutality.”
    “Criminy, we’ve done this dance,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I already said I’m sorry three times now for breaking your nose.”
    “And for knocking me out.”
    “And for knocking you out.”
    “And for stealing my gun.”
    “I didn’t steal; I borrowed.”
    “And for giving me