Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries)

by Hart, Liliana

  “Umm—what exactly am I supposed to—”

  The breath was knocked out of me as Nick backed me against the fence. He kissed me like he was searching for the lost city of Atlantis and all I could do was open my mouth in surprise and try to keep oxygen flowing to my brain.

  “Move slightly to your left,” he said, biting my earlobe. I could hear the click of the camera on his iPhone as he got off several shots of the back of the house. “I don’t see him anywhere on the premises, but he’s left all of his tools out, so it’s likely he won’t be gone long. We’ll have to come back so we can catch him in the act.”

  The jerk was working. The kiss had no effect on him at all, and I was a pitiful puddle at his feet. I shifted slightly and made sure my foot connected with his shin in the process.

  “Ouch, dammit, what the hell was that for?” he said, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

  “I don’t like being used as a distraction.”

  “Geez, what’s the big deal? It’s not like you didn’t like it.”

  Men. The fact that I liked it was beside the point, though I wasn’t going to ever admit it out loud.

  “Let’s just get out of here. I’ll have better luck catching Eddie Pogue when you’re not here to stick your tongue down my throat.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Monday

  I smelled the fresh aroma of coffee before I noticed the alarm blaring in my ear. I looked at the time and didn’t care that I was running a few minutes behind. School was out and all I had left was one lousy teacher workday. What were they going to do? Fire me?

  I threw on some jeans, a T-shirt and my Nike Shox because I had to get my room packed up for the summer. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and cursed the bangs I’d thought were such a great idea.

  I’d gotten my books packed away and most of the things off the wall by ten o’clock, and I was ready to say to hell with it and not bother with the rest. Rose Marie came in just as I’d decided to sneak out for the day. My eyes crossed at the zebra print top she was wearing, so I busied myself by stacking boxes on a dolly to wheel out to my car.

  “Hey, I heard what happened at the Officer’s Gala between you and Veronica,” she said loudly.

  “Everyone’s heard about what happened at the Officer’s Gala. I got a call from Rudy Bauer at the Gazette asking if I had any comments to contribute to the article that would be in Thursday’s paper. All I could tell him was that Veronica’s tits were fake and she wasn’t a natural blonde, but he told me he already knew all that.”

  I thought about the surprise on Veronica’s face as I ripped out a chunk of her bleached hair. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.

  “She’s not here today,” Rose Marie said. “Word has it that you ruptured one of her implants while y’all were rolling around on the floor.”

  I gasped in surprise, pulling my arm close to my body to protect my own breasts in an involuntary movement.

  “Ouch. I didn’t realize,” I whispered, horrified. “I got tasered before I could assess the damage for either one of us.”

  I got a mental impression of Veronica walking around town with a deflated boob and started to giggle. Rose Marie wasn’t far behind me, and before long we were both doubled over with tears running down our face.

  “We shouldn’t be laughing about this,” I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. “It must have been horribly painful,” I said, trying to stifle another fit of giggles.

  Tears of mirth rolled down my face and Rose Marie looked like a jolly cherub, pink and round.

  “I think this is karma,” she said. “It’s okay to laugh when other people’s karma comes around to bite them in the ass. In fact, it’ll make your karma bad if you don’t laugh.”

  I couldn’t really argue with her logic so I let another roll of laughter peal out before getting myself under control.

  We both deflated like a balloon with a hole in it and I sat down in my desk chair. Veronica was in the hospital, which meant she couldn’t have killed Mr. Mooney. But that didn’t let her off the hook for Mr. Butler’s murder in my opinion. Nick did say both murders looked like different people had committed them, even though he was certain they were related in some way.

  “I came by to ask you for a favor,” Rose Marie said.

  “What do you need?” I had my fingers crossed that she didn’t need me to feed her dogs. The last time I’d had the honor I’d ended up with a hole in the back of my favorite pair of jeans and dog slobber in places best left unmentioned.

  “A friend of mine is starting a new business. She gives those home parties, you know, and she’s giving one tonight to show some new products her company has just marketed. I told her I’d get as many people as possible to show up since this is her first one. She’s a little nervous. There are a few other teachers going too, so you’ll know some people there. It would really mean a lot if you’d come.”

  “Sure, that sounds like fun.” And I actually meant it. A night out with the girls was just what I needed.

  “Great, here’s the invitation, and the address is on it. I’ll see you there.”

  It was turning out to be a great day. Veronica Wade’s boob exploded, and I’d get to buy some new Tupperware. And it’s not like buying Tupperware was splurging. It was economical and something I’d need to store all the Welcome to the Neighborhood casseroles and cakes I envisioned my new neighbors bringing me. Life was good.

  I heard the first strains of the 1812 Overture and fished my cell phone out of the bottom of my purse while avoiding a head-on collision at the same time.

  “Damn, I’m good.”

  I’d stopped by the agency and traded the Z for Kate’s boring beige Taurus. I was on my way to Eddie Pogue’s house for an impromptu visit, and I was doing it without Nick.

  “Hello,” I said into the receiver as I parked the Taurus down the street from Eddie’s house.

  “How was your day, sweetheart?” Nick asked on the other end of the line.

  I could hear the smile in his voice and pictured him sitting at his desk with his feet propped up, the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he accomplished ten things at once.

  “Just fine, honey buns,” I said sweetly. “Veronica Wade’s tit deflated and I’m going to a Tupperware party tonight.”

  “Sounds like a full day. Let’s talk about murder.”

  “You know, sometimes a girl likes to talk about things other than work. Sometimes a girl likes to have a little courtship.”

  “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Sure.”

  “Now can we talk about murder?” he asked.

  “Sorry. My plate’s a little full at the moment.”

  “You wouldn’t be going after Eddie Pogue right now, would you?”

  The man would have made a fortune as one of those psychics on television. “Nope, not me,” I lied and hung up. Sometimes a girl had to take drastic measures.

  I parked in front of the big Colonial down the street from Eddie’s and decided I’d go from the front this time. The street was quiet since it was a Monday and it was the middle of the day. These were working class people that had to pay for car loans, dance lessons and time-share packages.

  I looped the camera around my neck and shoved open the door of the Taurus. I didn’t bother locking it because I figured Kate would be better off if someone stole it.

  The only sounds I heard as I approached Eddie’s house were birds chirping and the blare of Montel Williams from someone’s T.V. I hid behind a crepe myrtle that was exploding with pink blooms and peeped around until I could see the front of Eddie’s house. The lawn was freshly mowed and someone had left an expensive looking lawn mower and weed whacker lying on the grass. There was no sight of Eddie, so I walked up his sidewalk as bold as you please and looked in the open window.

  I got a glimpse of a spotless kitchen and figured Eddie’s wife was the responsible party. She was probably at work like Eddie should have been, but Eddie was
in front of the T.V. involved in the woes of hermaphrodites in love and using his Bowflex. He was shirtless and in a pair of loose athletic shorts and there was no sign of a neck brace or the walker. Eddie Pogue looked like he was in the prime of his life, and he was busted.

  I snapped several pictures before I forgot that I was standing in a flowerbed. I looked down at the smushed flowers beneath my feet and scooted back, but my heel hit the brick ledge that lined the beds. I sprawled onto my backside and couldn’t muffle the curse as my posterior took a hard knock.

  I looked up as the front door opened and Eddie Pogue stood in the doorway.

  “Addison Holmes, what the hell are you doing here?”

  And then he saw the camera slung around my neck. His face turned red and veins started popping out all over his body. I crab walked backward until I thought I had a chance of getting my feet under me.

  “Give me that camera,” he said and started to head in my direction.

  “Can’t do that, Eddie. It doesn’t belong to me.” I stood slowly, put my hands up in an offering of peace and gave him my best pals smile.

  “Give me that goddamn camera or I’m going to take it from you,” he said. His voice was menacing and I automatically took a step back.

  “Give it to me,” he screamed and charged straight at me.

  I didn’t stop to try and reason with him. I took off as fast as my gimpy knee and aching ass would allow. I heard the sound of a motor starting and I looked back over my shoulder as Eddie held the weed whacker over his head like an extra on Nightmare on Elm Street.

  I stopped to take photographs just to clinch Eddie’s guilt and then realized he wasn’t about to start trimming his lawn again. He took off at a dead sprint wielding the weed whacker in front of him like a sword. He was headed straight for me.

  “You’re crazy!” I screamed and put everything I had into getting to Kate’s car. The camera was flopping around my neck and banging me in the ribs. The sound of spinning blades was getting closer, but I didn’t bother looking back. If I was going to get decapitated I didn’t want to see it.

  I frantically searched my pockets and remembered I’d left the keys in the car. I yanked the door open on the Taurus, slid into the grimy seat and locked the doors just in time to hear the blades make a thwap, thwap, thwap sound on the bumper.

  I took a couple of more pictures before I turned the key in the ignition, only for reasons unknown to me, the Taurus decided to sputter into nothingness. I had a crazed maniac after me and the car wouldn’t start.

  “Come on, come on,” I said. My hands were shaking and I pushed down the pedal to see if I could get the ignition to catch. Eddie had moved to the front of the car and was bashing the windshield and the side mirrors with all his Bowflex strength.

  “Finally!”

  The engine caught and I pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I left Eddie Pogue standing in the street waving his weed whacker like a madman.

  I parked Kate’s Taurus at the back of her building and went inside to swap keys. She was in a meeting (thank goodness), and so the only person in the office was Lucy. When I got back to my car I called and left a message on Kate’s voicemail.

  “Ummm, Kate? This is Addison. I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry about the Taurus, but it wasn’t my fault. I’m sure insurance will cover all the damages, and probably you can find another Taurus that was just as ugly as that one on the Internet.”

  I hung up. I needed to find Nick and tell him the list of people who could possibly be after me had increased by one. I’d learned my lesson about keeping secrets about my enemies, and probably Eddie Pogue wouldn’t be sending me an engraved invitation to his incarceration when all was said and done.

  On the drive to Nick’s precinct, I realized something crucial. I didn’t even know the man’s cell phone number. I knew nothing about him at all, not where he lived or even if he was living with someone. Or, God, what if he had children? The only thing I knew about Nick Dempsey was the shape of his tonsils, that his chest hairs felt great rubbing against my breasts and that he’d been married once before.

  Nick’s precinct was in the heart of Savannah’s historic district, and the building looked nothing like a place that held criminals and overworked cops within its walls. It was pretty, with shade trees and soft red brick.

  I took stock of my appearance and grimaced. I looked like I’d just been chased down the street by a madman wielding a weed whacker. My hair was disheveled, my eyes still looked slightly dazed and there were grass stains on the back of my pants. I was pretty sure the cops inside had other things to do besides worry about what I looked like, so I grabbed my purse and climbed the stairs to the front entrance.

  It might be hard to tell that this was a police station from the outside, but the inside was exactly how I remembered from my childhood—horrible pea soup colored walls, metal desks lined straight as soldiers, and frazzled cops who looked years older than they actually were.

  I let the sweet smell of nostalgia rush over me, and then I held my breath because cop shops always smelled like BO, urine and burned coffee. I bypassed the harassed looking woman at the front desk and looked around to see if I could find Nick. And boy did I find him.

  He looked to be in the middle of a heated discussion with one of the other plainclothes officers. His brow was furrowed and his dark hair hung slightly over his forehead. He was dressed like the other detectives, a sport coat and tie knotted loosely at his throat. The only difference was that he looked good. Too good for my peace of mind. His hands were at his hips and his shoulder holster was visible. And then that heated gaze pointed in my direction and I didn’t know whether to run for cover or rip my clothes off.

  He left the man he was talking to in mid-sentence and headed in my direction.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been in some kind of accident.”

  “Eddie Pogue,” I said by way of explanation. “Did I come at a bad time? That guy you were talking to sure looked angry.”

  “No, it’s not a bad time. He’s just mad because he lost a bet on the game last night.”

  We stared at each other for several seconds, me knowing he’d just lied and Nick probably wondering if I was going to make a big deal about it. I decided to let it rest. It was too early to argue, so I blurted out something else instead.

  “Do you have children?”

  “Is this one of those trick questions that women ask?”

  “It’s a yes or no question, you jackass.”

  “Then, no. I don’t have kids. I told you I was only married for six months, and I didn’t even get sex out of it the last three. But I wouldn’t mind trying to make a few if you were up for it. I’ve got about twenty minutes to spare,” he said looking at his watch.

  I shook my head no, so he led me to a metal desk in the middle of the room stacked with file folders and paper cups and pulled a yellow plastic chair up close for me to sit in.

  “I’ve never understood how you guys can work in all the chaos,” I said, looking around.

  “That’s right, I’d forgotten your dad was a cop. Not everyone can live with one, that’s for sure. Especially when they don’t know if you’ll be coming back.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid. I was never anything but proud of my dad. He was a damn good cop. We never worried about him because it’s what he loved to do, and I bet it pissed him off something fierce that he died in front of the T.V. instead of in the line of duty. You can’t take that away from someone when it’s that entrenched in their blood. That would be cruel.”

  “My ex-wife didn’t think so. She thought I was selfish for not at least trying to be something else.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you divorced her then.”

  “I didn’t divorce her. She divorced me, and then promptly went and married an orthodontic surgeon in Atlanta. I consider myself lucky.”

  I had to wonder if Nick still had feelings for the woman who had left him. Had he had cl
osure? He seemed kind of sad about the whole thing. So of course I had to open my big mouth.

  “Are you sure you don’t still love her?”

  “Hell, no. I don’t think I ever really did. It was just one of those things you do when you’re too young and stupid to know any better. We had great sex and thought it would sustain a marriage. So what’s this about Eddie Pogue?” he asked, all business.

  For some reason, I didn’t particularly feel like sharing any more.

  “Have you found out anything about Mr. Mooney’s murder?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “I’ve got a lot of theories and a lot of suspicions, but so far everything is leading to a dead end. We still haven’t been able to find your ex and question him. He took off while you and Veronica were distracting the rest of us at the gala. Nobody’s seen him since. Veronica’s still in the hospital, and Girard Dupres had a solid alibi since he was arrested Friday night for hiring a minor to dance at his club. And your pal Robbie Butler was at home all evening as far as the officers I had posted out front could tell.”

  “What about John Hyatt?”

  “We questioned everyone in Victor Mooney’s neighborhood after he was murdered, including John Hyatt. He and his estate manager were going over guest lists and details for some party that is held at the bank every year for the bigwigs. Loretta Swanson corroborated his story when we finally tracked her down. Neither of them noticed anything suspicious about Mr. Mooney’s behavior.”

  “Maybe they’re lying for each other,” I suggested. “John Hyatt has a fiancé, but he seems to spend a lot of time with his estate manager just to have a platonic relationship. And Loretta Swanson doesn’t seem like the type of woman to be platonic. She practically oozes sex.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Nick said with a dreamy smile.

  I kicked him in the shin and felt better.

  “Sheathe your claws, woman. For some reason I’m attracted to accident prone ex-strippers who have a jealous streak.”

  “Whatever. I bet you say that to all the girls.”