Devil Days in Deadwood

making mid-afternoon feel more like early evening. Old Man Winter hit the Black Hills with a frying pan every year, knocking it ass-over-teakettle into short days and frigid temperatures.
The other old man in my life, Willis “the Mongoose” Harvey, grabbed my elbow. “If memory serves me right, Sparky, that’d be you.” He tugged me toward the rickety metal steps leading up to the building’s second floor.
“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question.” I paused with my foot on the first step, which had a dusting of snow in the corners in spite of the rusty, corrugated tin roof overhead. Did I really want to go up there after the shitstorms that had gone down the last two times I’d been here? Not to mention what might be waiting for us up in those haunted rooms.
“My grandpappy had a sayin’ about stupid questions,” Harvey said, butting into my moment of indecision.
“It wasn’t stupid.” Unlike the deal I’d made months ago with the Hungarian devil’s keeper.
“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” He nudged me up the steps in front of him. “Now giddy up before my twig and berries freeze solid and break clean off. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.”
I stopped midway up, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder. “Why is a witch’s tit supposed to be so cold? I mean, witches are human.” At least I always thought they were. “And in my experience breasts are rarely ever that cold.”
Harvey cocked one bushy eyebrow. “How many breasts have you handled in your thirty-five years?”
“Well.” I pondered that for a second. “Two. Mine.”
He pshawed. “I’ve fondled way more than that in my time.”
“Yeah, but have you touched them daily like I have?”
His grin split wide, showing his two gold teeth above his silver-streaked beard. “No, but I could start a daily routine along with you if yer stallion doesn’t mind.”
“Parker!” Deadwood’s favorite surly detective barked at me from the top of the steps. Detective Cooper’s face was rigid. His blond hair stuck up in tufts, looking like pointy glass shards lining a concrete wall. “Would you two fruitcakes stop gabbing about your nail polish and get your asses up here. Some of us have actual work to do today.”
“Calm down, Detective Pissypants,” I growled under my breath, stomping up the stairs. “Aren’t you supposed to be relaxed after your trip to Arizona?”
Cooper’s gray eyes narrowed as I joined him on the small landing at the top of the steps. He shot his uncle a hard glance before asking, “Why do you ask that?”
“Because you took a much-needed vacation to the Sunshine State over New Year’s.”
“Arizona isn’t the Sunshine State, Sparky.” Harvey squeezed in behind me. “That’s Florida.”
“I know that. I’m just saying Arizona gets a lot of sun.”
“What’s your point?” Cooper prodded, literally, with his pointer finger jabbing my shoulder.
“Ouch,” I complained, leaning back into Harvey. “Never mind, you big bully.”
I looked at the door to the second floor of the old building. The lock and chain put in place by the captain of the fire department months ago to keep curious troublemakers from sneaking inside now hung loose, the metal quaking in the frigid breeze along with Harvey and me. Cooper had stayed true to his agreement to help me take another peek inside the building that had imprisoned the lidérc, aka the elusive Hungarian devil I had to find if I wanted to keep my aunt Zoe free from a life of a harem-type servitude.
Harvey grunted as another blast of wind rattled our bones. “It’s as cold as a cast iron commode out here.”
“Let’s get out of this wind.” Cooper pushed the door open, hesitating on the threshold. “Parker, is there anything I should know before I step inside?”
“Uhhhh.” I sent a pair of raised eyebrows in Harvey’s direction, trying to think of something fitting for the moment. A phrase I’d heard long ago popped into my head. “Oh, I know. Never give the devil a ride. He’ll always want the reins.”
“And never drop your gun to hug a grizzly,” Harvey added, playing along.
Cooper cursed at us both, and not very nicely either.
“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” I asked, scowling back at him.
“He’s been kissin’ someone, that’s fer sure,” Harvey mumbled.
The pointed glare Cooper shot at his uncle would have left holes in a thinner-skinned target, but Harvey’s hide was so thick that dirty looks, cutting insults, and sharp-toothed remarks bounced off of him.
I, on the other hand, liked my head stuck smack-dab in the middle of my shoulders and not bitten off, so I ignored Harvey’s intriguing comment about Cooper playing k-i-s-s-i-n-g … for now.
Cooper turned back to me. “I meant anything I should know regarding this place and the whacky shit you and Nyce wade hip-deep in when you’re not doing all of that lovey-dovey crap together.”
I lifted my chin. “Doc and I aren’t doing lovey-dovey ‘crap,’ thank you very much. We are building a long-term relationship based on trust, respect, and communication.”
Boy howdy, that sounded as stupid out loud as it had in my head when I’d read it in a women’s magazine while waiting at the dentist’s office the other morning. The truth about our relationship was much more raw and messy, involving a lot of blood, sweat, and tequila.
“Don’t forget about the hot sex,” Harvey added.
“And that, too,” I confirmed, even though discussing my romantic life in front of the bristly detective and the old buzzard made my cheeks warm.
“Jesus, Parker. Can we not talk about your sex life for five whole minutes?”
“Hey, you and your uncle brought it up, not me.”
Harvey snickered. “Coop’s just jealous. When’s the last time you dipped your stinger in the honey, boy?”
Cooper’s cheeks darkened. Without another word, the detective stepped inside the building.
“What was that about?” I asked Harvey.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to prod Coop for answers. He swears he’ll shoot me if I get to sufferin’ from jawbone diarrhea.”
We followed Cooper inside the building, pulling the door closed behind us.