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Next he’d be asking if my underwear had been lacy or satin. A change of subject was necessary. “Harvey, what do you know about the latest little girl who disappeared?”
“This yard is too damned big.” Harvey grabbed my arm and dragged me back inside. As he closed and locked the French doors, he glanced at me over his shoulder. “You mean Tina Tucker?”
I nodded.
He headed back through the kitchen. “Her grandpa worked at Homestake for forty-plus years as a shaft sinker and drift miner, opening up new passageways, air vents, auxiliary tunnels, and shafts. Not a job for weenies. Her mama manages the Motherlode Diner in Sturgis. Her pa ran off with a carnie floozy who operated that ride that scrambles your guts.”
None of that information did me much good when it came to pinning the abduction of the missing girls on Jeff Wymonds, my number-one suspect.
In the well-lit foyer, Harvey stopped and glanced at the stairs. The stained-glass windows dappled his skin with pink and blue-tinged tints. “Those stairs are too steep.”
“They’re the typical size.”
“I’m too old for stairs. Show me a one-story house.”
There was only one single-story house in town I could think of—Lilly Devine’s haunt. The interior colors alone in that place might push Harvey over the Wacky state line, right into Bonkerville, the capital of Cuckoo County.
I opened the front door and held it wide for him to slip past me. “Do you think Tina Tucker knew Kelly Wymonds?”
He shielded his eyes from the late morning sun. “Probably. The kids from Deadwood and Lead all go to the same school. They’re bound to have bumped into each other.”
“But were they friends?”
“How would an old man like me know that? You think I hang out at the local playground to collect my gossip? Hell, no! You gotta hit the bar for the good stuff.”
As we climbed into my Bronco, he added, “But I do know that Kelly’s grandma and Tina’s grandpa are kissin’ cousins.”
“So there is a link between the girls.”
“Girl, most all of us old-timers up here in the hills share a little bit of the same blood. There may be a lot of land, but it’s a small group of people living on it.”
All the way back to the office, Harvey recounted bits of his family history, clarifying how many of the women he’d slept with over the years were distant relatives—too many in my book.
For once, Doc’s Camaro wasn’t hogging my parking spot. Ray’s rig was instead. Bastard.
The blast of air conditioning as we entered Calamity Jane’s via the back door cooled my face. I could smell Mona’s jasmine perfume even though she was nowhere to be seen.
Ray snarled at me from his desk, his ear glued to his phone as he jotted down some notes.
“Woo-wee! Look what you got.” Harvey pointed at my desk.
I followed his finger to a blue vase chock-full of daisies. Had someone moved the bouquet from the top of the filing cabinet? Nope, they were still there, showing hints of wilting in their smiling heads.
“Your new loverboy must really think you’re something,” Harvey said with a big grin.
Ray covered the speaker part of the receiver. “He’s just paying for services rendered.”
“Oh, go blow a goat,” I said, not caring that Harvey heard me.
I walked to my desk, shooting a raised-brow look in Harvey’s direction. “Are these flowers from you?” I knew the answer before asking the question, but I just wanted to hear it from his own mouth.
Harvey made a raspberry sound with his lips. “Are you kidding? Daisies are a waste of money. If you want to impress a lady, you need to buy her red roses. If you want to get her into bed, bring diamonds to the party. Every man knows that.”
A small purple envelope sat on a stand tucked between the blossoms. I plucked it out and tore it open.
“Well?” Harvey peered over my shoulder. “What’s it say, hot stuff?”
I read the scrawls aloud:
Your lips were red.
Your dress was too.
I watched you dance last night,
What a beautiful view!
Trying to breathe through the panic welling up my esophagus, I fell into my chair.
Someone besides Mr. Stinkleskine had been spying on me last night. Who?
