Whiskey Sour (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 2 (Addison Holmes Mysteries)

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Whiskey Sour (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 2 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) Page 18

by Hart, Liliana


  I put a rug I’d gotten half off at Pier One in the living room and another under the dining room table. I’d see if Nick was available to hang some curtains and a few pictures. He did owe me manual labor after all.

  My phone rang from the bedroom and I saw Savage’s number on the screen. There was a part of me that thought about not answering. I was almost positive Savage was bad for me. He fed my need for adventure and my propensity for danger. He was becoming my enabler. And he was starting to grow on me.

  “What’s up?” I answered.

  “The device you planted is active. We just got our first hit. How do you feel about going to the movies tonight?”

  I stubbed my toe on my desk chair and caught myself on the corner of the bed, running through a litany of swear words as my eyes teared up from the pain.

  “Some day you’re going to have to explain what you find so repulsive about me,” he said. “I don’t normally get that kind of reaction out of women.”

  “You just have a tendency to take me by surprise. Maybe you should incorporate a little subtlety into you pick up lines.”

  “You don’t really strike me as the subtle type. You just used every curse word ever invented and a few I’ve never heard. That’s a strong reaction to a man.”

  “I stubbed my toe, okay? Geez.”

  “That’s okay then. And I wasn’t asking you to the movies for my sake, anyway. Becca has two tickets to the ten o’clock showing at Bridgeport Tavern. I thought it would be a good idea for you to see who her guest is.”

  “Right, I can do that. No problemo.”

  Bridgeport Tavern was like the Taj Mahal of movie theaters. They served a six course dinner and wine pairing included in the price of the movie, and their popcorn had real butter. It was expensive as hell, and I didn’t have room on my credit card for a ticket.

  “Is the FBI covering this?” I asked.

  “Just turn in your receipt the next time I see you.”

  I stayed silent, trying to figure out how to break the problem without seeming like a loser. Nothing came to mind so the silence gradually became awkward.

  I heard him sigh just before he said, “I’ll have the ticket waiting for you at the counter.”

  “I can’t go by myself,” I said, horrified.

  There was nothing sadder than going to the movies and seeing the people who sat all alone. Especially women. That was a stigma that was hard to get rid of, and at a place like Bridgeport Tavern, I’d stick out like a sore thumb if I went by myself.

  “Seriously?” he asked. “What’s wrong with going to the movies by yourself? I do it all the time.”

  “Because you’re a man. Women do not go to movies alone. It makes us look like we’re so desperate we’re trolling for theater pickups. And let’s face it, that never turns out well for anyone.”

  “Jesus,” he said. “You’re making my head explode. Fine. I’ll have two tickets waiting for you.”

  He hung up and I sprinted into the shower so I’d have time to do full hair and makeup. The Bridgeport Tavern wasn’t a shorts and t-shirt kind of place. I’d seen women wearing cocktail dresses and men in tuxedos there before. Or at least the one time I’d been.

  I hopped back out and dried off, and I realized I hadn’t invited anyone to use the second ticket. I knew Kate was a no go. She had enough to deal with in her own life, and she’d told me they had some things to do this evening.

  I dialed the number quickly before I could think too much about it.

  “Are you up for a ten o’clock showing at Bridgeport Tavern?”

  “Hell, yeah,” Rosemarie said, squealing in my ear so loud I had to pull the phone away.

  It always took me a little by surprise when Rosemarie opened her mouth. She looked like everyone’s favorite Sunday school teacher, but she talked like a doxy. Or whatever people called doxies nowadays. Let’s just say that Rosemarie had many sides. When she wasn’t in school, she liked her clothes tight and her men large and black. I was pretty sure she had multiple personalities, because when she was teaching next door to me once upon a time, her voice was sweet and southern and her clothes came right out of the Sally Field collection.

  “Okay then,” I said. “I can pick you up or meet you if you’d like.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up? No offense, honey, but your car doesn’t exactly scream Bridgeport Tavern. I kind of miss the Z.”

  No shit. I kind of missed it too. I rattled off my new address and disconnected. Now I was depressed on top of everything else. I blow dried my hair and let it curl around my face, and I took extra time with my makeup, going a little dramatic on the eye makeup to make up for everything else that was going wrong. A little makeup could make a girl feel human again.

  I dressed in a black, halter style sundress and accessorized with chunky silver and turquoise jewelry. I slipped on a pair of black sandals and then called the credit card company so I could get an account balance just in case. The robotic voice on the other end didn’t come back with good news, so I settled for scrounging around in my other purses for loose change. It would also act as a weapon in case I needed to clonk anyone in the head with my purse.

  It was a good thing Rosemarie was driving, because it would have sucked to run out of gas in the Bridgeport Tavern parking lot. She knocked on the door and I went to answer.

  “Let’s get movin’,” she said. “If you get there too close to the start time you don’t get your food as fast. And then people hate you because the waiter is standing in front of the screen, delivering your food during the movie.”

  Rosemarie was decked out in more circumspect clothes than normal. She wore a sarong type dress in neon blue that fastened over one shoulder and hung all the way to the floor. It was like Aphrodite meets Violet Beauregarde.

  “You go here a lot?” I asked, locking up the front door and heading to the yellow Beetle.

  “About once a month. I like to go by myself and sit in the back so I can watch all the couples sitting in front of me. It’s like a game. I try to guess who’s on a first date, or who’s cheating on their spouse or who’s having a fight. And then there are those women who come in with some man they hardly know just so they don’t have to be by themselves. It’s pathetic, I tell you.”

  “Hmmm,” I said.

  “I hardly ever go to the movies with a man. It’s just weird. They always want to hog the Milk Duds and cop a feel in the dark—like squeezing my tits behind a giant box of popcorn is going to get them in my pants later on.”

  “Interesting approach.” I tried not to sound bitter at her assessment. She was hardly a professional on human behavior. The woman fed her dogs off plates at the table every night at dinner for goodness sake.

  “So what are we going to see?”

  “I don’t exactly know. The tickets were given to me at the spur of the moment,” I lied. “I don’t even know what’s playing.”

  “I hope it’s that movie with the dog. I’ve heard it’s hilarious.”

  “I hate watching movies with dogs,” I said, squenching my eyes as Rosemarie rocketed down my street and turned on two wheels as she accelerated towards the highway. I probably shouldn’t have bothered doing my hair as I was pretty sure it had exploded around my head in fright.

  “Why? It’s a comedy.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Anytime a dog is in a movie and he plays a major part, then you know he’s going to die. It’s one of those screenwriter rules or something. Look at Turner and Hooch or Old Yeller.”

  “Dogs are people too,” Rosemarie said somberly.

  Which, in my opinion, was part of Rosemarie’s problem. We drove the rest of the way in silence, mostly because I was praying, and we pulled up to the curb a good forty-five minutes before the movie started. Rosemarie gave the valet her keys and a tip, and I managed to unpeel myself out of the car, only slightly surprised to not see the indent of my body in the leather seats.

  I picked up the tickets at the front counter and saw that it
was, in fact, the dog movie we were there to see. I wanted to get into the theater and get a table in the back so I’d have a good shot of Becca Gonzales when she came in. I’d opted to leave the camera at home, but I had my cell phone to take pictures of her mystery date.

  “This is a good seat here,” Rosemarie said. “It’s the perfect angle so we can see everyone as they’re eating. You’ll like this game. I promise.”

  That cover worked for me. I didn’t want to tell Rosemarie that I was working. She had a tendency to take things a little too far.

  Our waiter came up and we ordered drinks as he told us what the different courses for dinner were. I hoped to God the price of the ticket included gratuity, otherwise our waiter was going to get a new tube of Chapstick and a half pack of gum for his tip.

  Savage texted me and asked if I’d made it all right and I texted him back, telling him to stop hovering. He sent me a frowny face in response that made me laugh.

  Becca Gonzales came in about ten minutes before showtime, and her date wasn’t anyone I recognized right off. He was a few years older than Becca, but he looked like he could afford her. The price of his sport coat could have fed a third world country.

  I held my phone up and acted like I was still texting and took a quick picture, and I sent it to Savage.

  Recognize him? I added to my message.

  No, but I’ll put him through facial recognition and see if I get a hit. Watch them closely. And let me know if they leave the theater.

  Yes, Master.

  Will you get mad if I say I like the sound of that?

  Will you get mad if I smack you in the head the next time I see you?

  I like a woman with a little fight in her.

  I shook my head and put the phone away when our first course came. And then the movie started and I forgot about everything.

  I leaned over to Rosemarie halfway through and whispered, “See! I knew this was going to happen. That fucking dog is going to die, and it’s going to destroy me.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Rosemarie said, her lips already quivering. “He’s such a good dog. They won’t kill him off. You’ll see.”

  The people at the table next to us turned and shushed us and we slunk back in our chairs. By the time the movie was over, I had my head down in my arms and I was sobbing like I’d just lost a family member. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever cried that hard at a human’s death.

  Rosemarie was whimpering beside me, but I couldn’t break away from my own grief to check on her. I was in a state, and nothing beyond medication was going to get me past it for the next little while.

  My phone buzzed on the table and I reached blindly for it.

  “H—hello?” Another sob escaped before I could control it.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Savage’s voice was urgent.

  “They killed him. He got shot right in the head. It was terrible. Right in the head.”

  “Boom,” Rosemarie said from beside me. “It was a fucking big gun too.”

  “Stay where you are,” Savage said. “I’m coming to get you. Who got shot?”

  “Ar—Arnold,” I sobbed.

  “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m assuming the police are on the scene?”

  “Why would they be? It’s not like anybody cares. He dived in front of a gun to save a life that wasn’t even worth saving.”

  “What the holy hell are you talking about?” Savage’s voice was tight and controlled. “Who’s Arnold?”

  “The dog. This is all your fault.”

  “Are you telling me you’re fucking crying over a movie?” he exploded. “Where the hell are Becca and her date?”

  “I’ll have you know it wasn’t just a movie, you insensitive brute. It changed—”sob—“My—”sob—“Life.”

  I looked up to see the theater empty except for the cleaning crew standing against the wall, watching me and Rosemarie like a sideshow. Becca was gone.

  “Oh, shit,” I said, wiping my eyes with a napkin so I wouldn’t smear my makeup. “They’re gone.”

  “You lost them?” he said softly and then hung up without saying goodbye.

  Rosemarie and I supported each other on the way out and she handed her ticket to the valet to retrieve her car. The young man went off to get it, giving us both a wide berth and an odd look. A big black Tahoe pulled up in the space in front of us and I backed up a step behind Rosemarie as Savage got out of the vehicle.

  “Holy mother of God,” Rosemarie whispered, her eyes wide as she got a load of Savage up close and personal. “My prayers have been answered.”

  “Don’t count on it,” I said. “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Savage’s smile was tight as he stalked toward me, and his dark eyes were like black fire.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” I told him, holding up a hand to ward him off. “It was that stupid movie. How was I supposed to know what would happen?”

  “You were supposed to watch the mark. Not the movie.”

  “The whole time?” I sputtered. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Savage clamped his back teeth together with a snap and grabbed on to my arm. “I’ll take you home. It’s on my way.”

  “You always have all the luck,” Rosemarie said.

  “I was just thinking that,” I said sarcastically as Savage pulled me toward the truck. “This is kidnapping. Unhand me, you scoundrel.”

  “A brute and a scoundrel, huh? You better watch out or I’ll show you how brutish I can be.”

  “That’s so romantic,” Rosemarie said, her hand over her heaving bosom. “Don’t worry about me, Addison. I can see you’re in good hands.”

  “He could be an axe murderer. You don’t even know him.”

  “But I’m an excellent judge of character. My great-grandmama was a gypsy and she had the sight. Just remember to keep your knees together if you want to keep your virtue in tact.”

  Savage barked out a laugh and almost loosened his grip enough for me to get away. “Don’t keep them together on my account.”

  “Let me go. You can’t just cart me around like a child.”

  “Believe me, treating you like a child is the last thing on my mind.”

  I pinched my lips together and scooted to the far side of the car in case he got any ideas, and I shot Rosemarie a dirty look as she waved us goodbye. I started to relax a little when Savage drove through a Dairy Queen and ordered me a Blizzard.

  “What’s this for?” I asked. “Not that I’m not grateful. I need about ten pounds of this after tonight.”

  “I figure if you’re putting that in your mouth then you’re not talking. It’s a win-win situation for everyone.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  He smiled and the tension slowly seeped out of his shoulders. “I got a hit on the picture you sent me. The guy’s name is Jason Lyle. He’s the youngest son of Congressman Lyle.”

  “Eww.” Congressman Lyle had been on the list of Sirin clients. “Like father, like son?” I asked.

  “Not exactly. From what I was able to gather, the younger Lyle and Ms. Gonzales have been seeing each other pretty frequently. I’m under the impression that he doesn’t really know what she does for a living.”

  “That’ll be fun.”

  Savage turned onto my street and pulled into the driveway behind my Volvo. He left the ignition running but got out to walk me to the door.

  “Thanks for bringing me home.”

  “Like I said, it was on the way.” He took the key from my hand and unlocked my door, going in first to make sure everything was okay. Once he was satisfied he turned and looked at me.

  “So how serious is it between you and the cop?”

  I swallowed and wiped my damp palms on my dress. “Serious enough to make that an awkward question.”

  “Hmm,” he nodded, smiling slightly. “Cause I would have sworn that there was a little tension between the two of you.”

  “It’s complicated.”

 
; His smile had alarm bells ringing in my head and he moved closer so I had no choice but to back against the wall. My only thought was that I couldn’t let him kiss me again. Not if I wanted to preserve my sanity.

  “I can work with complicated,” he said, running a finger from my shoulder down to my wrist. I gasped and my eyes widened as I started to feel tingles I swore hadn’t been there between us the last time we were in such close proximity. His body was huge and hard, and he had the kind of dominating presence I should have found smothering, but I still had the overwhelming urge to lean up and nibble at the little scar on his chin.

  He took hold of my wrist and leaned forward ever so slightly, giving me plenty of time to call him off. I took a deep breath and tried to get my tongue working.

  “Don’t kiss me,” I finally said.

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile and he brought my hand up, his dark gaze never leaving mine, and he pressed a kiss to the palm of my hand.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said, and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  I fell against the wall and banged my head against it a few times, hoping it would knock some sense into me. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  That pretty much summed it up.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Wednesday

  I didn’t have a restful night’s sleep. I can’t imagine why.

  So at the ungodly hour of whenever the sun decided to peep through the blinds in my window, I got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, cursing the fact that I hadn’t unpacked my coffee maker or the all important grounds the night before. I finally found them in a box labeled linens and set it up before I ripped through the bag with my teeth and ate the grounds dry.

  I took my first cup into the shower with me and stood there staring at the tile in a half daze, impressed by how clean the grout was. The lady who’d lived here before me must have been a cleaning demon, because everything was scrubbed to within an inch of its life.

  I shut the water off and dried haphazardly, throwing on a pair of white shorts that I was sure to spill something on at some point in the day and a black and white polka dotted sleeveless blouse. I braided my hair wet and didn’t bother with makeup. There was no amount of concealer that could fill in the bags under my eyes.

 

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