Kicking the Habit

by Kari Lee Townsend

  Atta girl, he thought, and then replied, “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him. That’s probably why he kept his sexual preferences quiet all these years.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. That’s also probably why he was a great advocate for equal rights for everyone.”

  “I agree.” Ace did one final sweep of the area. Everyone had spoken and things were winding down. The sky was overcast and looking darker by the minute. If he were going to learn anything new, he had to make a move now. “I’m going to go pay my respects to the senator’s widow. See if I can dig up anymore leads for us to follow. You might want to stay here since you’re still not exactly on friendly terms with her.”

  “Okay.” Cece folded her hands behind her back, looking up at him wide eyed.

  A little too wide eyed. And she’d replied a bit too quickly for his liking. He narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Are you going to be okay?”

  She scoffed, looking offended, as if she wanted to say: Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the queen of self-defense now. But all she actually said was a simple but firm, “Naturally.”

  He raised a brow. “The better question to ask is: Are you going to behave?”

  “Scout’s honor.” She blinked.

  “Hmmm.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me see both hands.”

  She flushed a guilty pretty pink and then held up both hands, fingers spread wide apart as she replied sweetly, “I promise to be good.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “Happy now, boss?”

  “That remains to be seen,” he responded as he walked away, but he couldn’t have missed her exaggerated eye roll if he’d tried.

  Chapter 12

  Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Well, I can’t really say I’ve sinned this time, as kissing isn’t a sin, but it sure felt like one. Trust me when I say being me is still not easy. You see, I have a truce with Detective Jackson, so I’m legitimate now, or at least my investigating is. I let him protect me, and he lets me tag along while he’s working on the case: mostly because he can’t stand to let me out of his sight, mind you, but it works for me. There are some scary people in the world I now live in. Bless me, Father, for I can use all the help I can get.

  Cece watched as Ace walked over to the senator’s widow. He shook her hand, then Sloan Sr.’s, and then Rutherford’s. They were all busy in deep conversation: even Trumble was there. Eleanor was nowhere in sight, so maybe he was supposed to report back to her. Wallace and Rogers—the FBI guys—were questioning him like Cece had. Probably because he was new in town. She hadn’t seen them around lately, but after the latest attack on her, they’d reappeared. Must be whatever lead they had been following hadn’t panned out any more than hers had.

  Councilwoman Reynolds was talking to the senator’s campaign manager, Li Wang. When she finished, Cece made her move. She’d told the detective she would be good … it wasn’t her fault he misunderstood she meant she’d be good and friendly. Besides, she’d learned her lesson. She wasn’t about to be bad and wind up in trouble on her own again. She was simply being social.

  Cece was halfway there when she spotted Mumfry Walker. His gaze ran over her bruised face, and then he gave her an evil smirk that said, I told you so. The man sent chills through her body, and she clenched her fists, taking deep breaths and striving to remember her moves. If he made a move toward her, she’d be ready. She waited a second, and his smirk widened as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her and enjoying every second of it. Cece clenched her jaw, refusing to give him that satisfaction for one more minute. Ignoring him, she started walking again but didn’t remember to breathe until she came to a stop by Ms. Reynolds.

  “Councilwoman Reynolds, so nice to see you here.” Cece pasted a pleasant smile on her face and tried to focus on the task at hand. “I hear things are looking good for you in the upcoming election. It’s terribly unfortunate that the senator died, but that aside, I do want to offer my congratulations. No one else has stepped up in his place against you, have they?”

  “No, they have not, and thank you.” Ms. Reynolds smiled, looking sharp and sophisticated in her kelly green pantsuit. “I too am terribly saddened by the senator’s death. This is certainly not the way I wanted to win the election.”

  A bright flash went off, blinding Cece for a moment. When the stars finally left her eyes, she realized it wasn’t lightning when she saw a senior scrapper dart out from behind a bush and scramble after her next victim. They truly were relentless in their quest to outdo each other in the town scrapbook. There wasn’t a single person there who hadn’t been photographed at some point. The councilwoman didn’t even blink, too used to living life in a fishbowl, Cece imagined.

  She tried to refocus. “I’m sure people know you would have preferred to win this election by a fair fight. You went out of your way to get someone as esteemed as the general to speak on the senator’s behalf today. That was really nice of you.” She let her face soften and her tone gentle, trying to remember all that Father Flannigan had taught her: how to make people feel at ease and comfortable enough to open up. The detective might not be able to get anything out of the councilwoman, but Cece had a skillset that neither he nor his partner possessed.

  “Well, thank you for that. Not everyone thinks as you do.” Councilwoman Reynold’s eyes wandered to the senator’s widow and then to Mumfry Walker. “Some people think I’m ruthless and cold. That I’ll stop at nothing to get what I want. And then they try to take advantage of that.”

  Cece followed her gaze. “Hmmm. I know exactly what you mean.”

  The councilwoman looked startled for a moment, and then she studied Cece curiously. “How so?”

  “Well, I couldn’t help noticing that you looked at Mrs. Sloan. She’s not exactly a fan of mine either. I can’t blame her. I feel horribly responsible for the senator’s death. I won’t be satisfied until his killer is behind bars,” Cece responded sadly—and meant it.

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Politicians are a tricky bunch. There’s usually a lot more going on than what’s on the surface,” the councilwoman said, almost to herself.

  Interesting, Cece thought, and then she decided Father Flannigan would keep the councilwoman talking, so that’s exactly what Cece did. “I also saw your gaze wander to Mumfry Walker. Yet another person who’s not a fan of mine. In fact, just the other day he warned me to back off or else.” She pointed to the bruises surrounding her neck. “And lo and behold or else happened to me.”

  “You don’t think that was by his hand, do you?” The councilwoman looked alarmed and angry at the same time, her glare slamming hard in Walker’s direction, with a definite warning behind it, then turning sympathetically toward Cece’s throat.

  “I don’t know what to think when it comes to that man, especially after he showed up in church with his own black eye the other day. Maybe the same people who gave me one did the same to him.”

  “That’s not possible considering my security guards were the ones who gave him the black eye when he refused to back off.” Ms. Reynolds blinked as though surprised at her own admission.

  “Was that the night I saw you two together at Benny’s Brewpub?” Cece asked innocently, trying not to sound like she was interrogating the woman.

  Councilwoman Reynolds looked startled even further, then she quickly smoothed her features. “There’s something about you that has me rattling off at the mouth it would seem.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, I’m just trying to lend a friendly ear. That’s what I do, and you looked like you could use someone to talk to.”

  “You’re very astute, Miss. Monroe, yet somehow trustworthy. I can see why people love you.” The councilwoman studied her for a moment, making up her mind about something, and then said, “Benny’s Brewpub isn’t exactly a place where politicians hang out, but Senator Sloan knew Benny’s father when they lived in Boston. He met him during a political rally to clean up the streets and get rid of the violence and guns. He was instrum
ental in helping Benny’s father buy the brewpub and move Benny to New Hope for a better life after the death of his older brother.”

  “How wonderful,” Cece said. “The senator really did do a lot of good for this town and Massachusetts in general.”

  “I agree. After Benny’s father passed away, he and the senator remained close. I was there to pay my respects to Benny and to ease his mind that even though the senator and I had opposing views when it came to stricter gun laws, that didn’t mean I supported gun violence. Walker cornered me before I had the chance. He’s a dangerous man. Not too many people know him well, except the organist Eleanor Meriwether. She was always nice to him. In fact I think she’s the closest thing to a friend he might have. If anyone has any insight into the mind of the man, she’s the one you want to talk to.”

  “I will. Thank you for that.” Cece made a mental note to talk to Eleanor later.

  “Contrary to popular belief, I really didn’t want the senator to die. Anything I can do to help catch his killer is my pleasure.”

  “I believe you, Ms. Reynolds. What happened that night, anyway?”

  “He’d obviously had one too many drinks before he arrived. Let’s just say he wanted me to basically write in blood that I would stick to my campaign promises or else. When he wouldn’t back off, I had my men give him a little taste of his own threats. No one threatens me and gets away with it.” The ruthless politician that Harriet Reynolds was known to be resurfaced.

  “Maybe I need to hire my own security guards,” Cece said lightheartedly to ease the tension a bit.

  The councilwoman looked behind Cece as she said, “Seems to me you already have one, though judging by your bruises, not a very good one.”

  “Not a very good what?” Detective Jackson asked as he stopped beside Cece.

  “Tailor,” Cece said without hesitation. “The fit of this dress is all wrong, but thanks to Councilwoman Reynolds, I have a new lead.” Cece gave her a knowing look and a wink, then added, “Thanks again for your help. It was a pleasure talking with you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Monroe.” She shook Cece’s hand and then looked down her nose at Ace. “Detective. No sidekick today?”

  “He has other matters to look into.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Her gaze wandered to a man heading with determined strides in her direction, and her spine stiffened ever slightly, but Cece noticed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to mingle. Make the rounds so to speak.” Councilwoman Reynolds walked away, successfully avoiding Mayor Evans and stopping to check on the general.

  “I’m sure you do,” Ace said more to himself.

  Cece could practically see the wheels spinning in his head as he watched the mayor veer in another direction, looking frustrated until he spotted the senator’s father. And then he looked like he was on a mission.

  When Cece and Ace had come to their truce, they had exchanged any information they had—except for the senator’s confession that he’d been involved in something illegal, of course, or the fact that someone close to him had betrayed him. She knew about the mayor blackmailing the senator’s father.

  The question was … why?

  “Your dress looks fine to me,” Ace broke into her thoughts with his suspicious tone. “Care to tell me what you two were really talking about?”

  Cece decided a truce was a truce, and she hadn’t been in a confessional or her clinic, so telling the detective what she knew would be morally okay. She relayed everything she’d just found out, with the exception of the councilwoman saying he was doing a bad job of protecting her. There were some things that were definitely better left unsaid.

  “Good job.” Ace cleared his throat.

  “Pardon me?” Cece sputtered. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

  His face flushed a tiny bit, and he tugged at his tie. “I have no problem giving credit when credit is due; just don’t let it go to your head.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.” She bit back a smile. “Tell me more. What did I do exactly to earn this wonderful credit?” She knew what he was talking about, but she couldn’t resist prolonging the moment just a little. Obviously doling out compliments wasn’t something he did often. It was about time he changed that.

  He fidgeted and then finally added, “You managed to get the councilwoman to talk to you. That’s something neither Detective Antonelli nor I have been able to do.”

  “Well, thank you.” Cece beamed. “That was very nice of you to say.”

  He looked down at her warily. “You’re welcome. It was just a compliment. Not a big deal.”

  “It wasn’t so bad, either, now was it?” Cece peeked up at him, biting her bottom lip and poking him in the stomach.

  He grunted, but his features relaxed and the flush left his cheeks. “Don’t push your luck.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” This time she did smile, turning the full wattage up at his face.

  He just stared down at her and shook his head, but his lips twitched ever so slightly at the corners. “Care to try your luck again?”

  “Depends. How do you mean?”

  “By questioning Eleanor Meriwether with me. We could bring her some of those tea and scones you’re so fond of.”

  “Together? As in you and me? Like we’re a team?”

  “We are a team now. Unless you’re not up for it.” His gaze held a challenge.

  “Oh, I’m in, Detective.” Her gaze challenged him right back. “According to you, I’ve got better game than either you or your partner.”

  “Prove it.” He grinned.

  She smirked as she replied, “Game on.”

  ***

  Ace and Cece stood outside of Eleanor Meriwether’s house, preparing to knock on the door. The wind had whipped up, carrying with it an ominous feel and an icy bite, as though a shower of snow were about to fall upon them at any moment. He looked down at Cece, who stood there all smiling and innocent, yet still looking so damn vulnerable. And cute. Well, hell.

  He might have been busy talking with Sloan’s widow, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully aware of every move his little nun made. If Walker had taken one single step in her direction, he’d have been a dead man. In fact, Ace’s questioning hadn’t been successful at all since he couldn’t take his eyes off of Cece, making sure she was okay. Distraction was not good for this investigation or his soul.

  “Let me handle the questioning, okay?” he snapped, irritated with himself for getting irritated with her.

  Her face puckered in distaste. “But I thought you said I ‘done good?’” She made a set of air quotes.

  “You did.” He patted her arm, striving for a calm expression and having to work hard to ease the tension from his brow.

  She scowled and shrugged him off. “Really? Then why do I have to remain silent? It’s not like I committed a crime for Peter’s sake.”

  “Because like it or not, I am the professional.” He slapped his chest, his frustration winning, hands down.

  “Yet this amateur is the one who gets people to talk.” She slapped her chest and then winced, rubbing the spot.

  “My point exactly,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re not strong enough.”

  “I’m stronger than you think, Detective. Besides, it’s not like Eleanor is going to jump me. And last I checked you were the one who hit the floor, not me.” She smirked as she reached out and knocked before he had a chance to say one more word.

  Women! Ace rubbed his temples to ease the headache that had already started to form. Can’t live with them; can’t live without them had never been so true.

  A woman in her forties with blond hair and stylish glasses answered the door. She smiled curiously as she said, “Sister Mary Cecilia, how lovely to see you. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She eyed Ace warily.

  “Please, Eleanor, call me Cece. I’m no longer a sister, though I do so love the values of the church. I have a counseling
clinic now and am still doing what I can on the outside.” Her face looked so angelic, Ace could see why people stay glued to her every word and trusted her implicitly. She was born to help people. Yet another reason why he needed to stay away from her romantically. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish her goodness, and her getting mixed up with a bad seed like him would do exactly that.

  “I heard about your clinic, and I think what you’re doing is simply divine.” Eleanor nodded, clasping her hands over her chest.

  “Isn’t it though?” Cece blushed, and Ace was sure she was about to swoon.

  Good grief.

  “Ladies, maybe we could take this inside?” he asked, glancing around, ever on guard for something to go wrong.

  “Oh, my heavens. How rude of me.” Eleanor stepped back. “Won’t you please come in?”

  “Why, we’d love to.” Cece marched forward, taking the lead and shooting Ace a look that said, Who’s the boss?

  He didn’t say a word, simply followed meekly behind; wondering when the hell he’d lost his manhood.

  “I’d offer you something, but I see you brought tea and scones. How thoughtful of you,” Eleanor said, leading the way to her living room.

  “Thank you, but actually, it was Detective Jackson’s idea that we do so. We met Mr. Trumble in church, and he said you were going through a tough time.” Cece set the tray on Eleanor’s coffee table and then sat in the seat on the couch across from her. “He said he was filling in for you as church organist while your sister was here visiting.”

  “That’s right, but my sister, Maggie, is out running errands now, so you’ve called at the perfect time. Thank you so much, Mr. Jackson. You have no idea how hard this whole ordeal has been for me,” Eleanor replied, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a hankie.

  Ace sat on the other half of the couch and squirmed. He hated being the center of attention and especially hated praise of any kind. He nodded, not knowing what to say. He didn’t do well with tears. So much for him taking the lead. Her cat popped out from nowhere, and he jumped. He frowned hard. Che-rist almighty, he thought and rubbed his sweating brow with his own hankie.