Whiskey and Gunpowder: An Addison Holmes Novel (Book 7)

by Liliana Hart

  The corner of Savage’s mouth tightened, but that was his only reaction.

  “No way,” Rosemarie said. “I had no idea.”

  “You’d have thought with all the strippers there that none of y’all would’ve had time to talk,” Savage said.

  “We’re women,” I said. “We multi-task. Speaking of multi-tasking, did you happen to run that background check I needed?”

  I had one open case left, and it was the simple background check he’d volunteered to do for me.

  “I already emailed it to Lucy for you,” he said.

  “I guess you’ve got her email,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes, but still didn’t give away any information. It was a maddening skill.

  “He’s good,” Rosemarie said.

  “I’ll get him to break one day.”

  Savage just smiled and kept driving. “You’ve got a clear caseload,” he said. “Now you can focus on the wedding. You do still want to get married, don’t you?”

  “How come you get to ask me questions, but you don’t answer mine?”

  “I save that kind of information for my girlfriends,” he said. “The position is open. You didn’t answer the question about getting married.”

  “Damn,” Rosemarie whispered. She was leaning forward from the back seat and her head was right between ours.

  I sighed and slumped back in my seat. “Thanks for the background check. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a completely clear caseload.” And then I thought about the implications of Kate selling the agency. Would I even have a job when all was said and done?

  Savage took the exit for Whiskey Bayou and drove straight to the church. Pastor Charles’s car was exactly where it had been the last couple of days, but there were no other cars in the lot. Beverly didn’t come in until nine.

  Savage parked at the back of the lot and we all got out. The sky was gloomy. I was having trouble remembering the last time I saw the sun shine.

  “This is like déjá vu,” Rosemarie said. “It seems just like yesterday when you were getting married here for the first time.”

  Savage coughed to cover his laugh, and I gave him the stink eye.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” I said, shivering beneath my coat. I was almost positive my shivers had everything to do with the weather and not the feeling of impending doom. Almost.

  “Do you think he’s really here?” Rosemarie asked. “This place looks deserted. No cars in the parking lot, and his car hasn’t moved in three days. It’s like an omen.”

  It did look rather bleak. “Beverly said he’s been in and out. Morning is the best time to catch him. Do you think he’ll talk to you?” I asked Savage. The cold must have affected my thinking process because one look at his face made it very clear Savage had no plans to talk to him.

  He just smiled at me, like that was going to have any effect on me whatsoever. I mean, sure he had that cute dimple at the corner of his mouth and he was giving me that look he always had right before he wanted to kiss me. But I was an engaged woman, and all that kissing stuff was off the table. He was nothing more than an incredibly hot, muscle-bound…co-worker. Who had a life I knew absolutely nothing about.

  “I don’t know what’s happening here,” Rosemarie said. “But I feel like a dark spirit has descended over this place. It’s giving me the chills. I say we go home and you can find a new place to get married.” She made the sign of the cross and that gave me the chills.

  “Stop it,” I said. “You’re not even Catholic. And this has nothing to do with me getting married. He hired me to do a job, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” she said, and crossed herself again.

  I was feeling the wedding day pressure and Rosemarie had just hit my last nerve. I launched myself toward her. Savage grabbed the collar of my coat like a puppy, and I almost strangled myself.

  “Slow down there, tiger,” he said. “Are you sure you want to get married?”

  “Stop asking me that,” I said, shaking myself loose. “You’ve got to move past me. I know that you’re mildly attracted to me, and on another level, I’m sure I give you a glimpse of the lighter side of this job. I know you’re mired in the muck of the horrible things people do to one another on a day-to-day basis. And here I am, like a zoo animal, ready to amuse you when you’re bored.”

  “What you’re saying is you’re a zoo animal I’m mildly attracted to?” he asked.

  “Shut up. You know what I mean.” I was starting to get flustered, but I was having trouble closing my mouth. “Plus, you’re a fantastic kisser. And I’m not so bad myself, so I see the appeal there.” For some reason, I wanted to make sure I didn’t take away from the compliment I’d just given him about his kissing, so I reinforced it with a, “Really, you’re very good.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said, grinning.

  Rosemarie was staring at me wide-eyed, as if I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.

  “You just don’t seem like the settling down type,” I said against my better judgment. “You’re very tempting because you have that bad-boy, rule-breaker vibe. And all the crazy socks are weirdly sexy. And then your body…”

  I was talking so fast I was starting to deprive my brain of oxygen. Maybe I’d pass out and by the time I woke up the wedding and anything else I could possibly embarrass myself about would be over.

  “I’m just saying that you need a woman who gives you hell,” I said. “Everything seems to come easy for you, and that includes women. The second I would’ve given in to temptation you would’ve dropped me like a hot rock. And then where would I be?”

  “Not standing in single-digit temperatures in a church parking lot,” he answered.

  “Right,” I said, nodding.

  Rosemarie looked back and forth between the two of us and crossed herself again.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “What?” she asked. “I like it. I do it all the time. I saw that demon woman Patty Strobel at the Piggly Wiggly fighting over the last roll of toilet paper to prepare for the big storm. I tell you, she was going to punch Maggie Gerber right in the face. And you know Maggie is older than dirt. She would’ve disintegrated right there on aisle seven. But I made the sign of the cross and cast out the demon. Patti collapsed right there at Maggie’s feet.”

  “That’s because Maggie tased her. She had burn marks right in the center of her chest.”

  Rosemarie hmmphed and gave me the side eye. “I’d expect that from an unbeliever. Got an explanation for everything.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I said. “I’m in a crisis. In case y’all haven’t realized it, we don’t have a preacher to marry us.”

  “One person’s crisis is another’s opportunity,” Savage said.

  “Is that in the Bible?” Rosemarie asked.

  Savage just smiled at her, and she unbuttoned her puffy yellow coat and started fanning herself. I couldn’t blame her. Savage’s smile was dangerous.

  “I have a backup plan,” I lied. “Everything is going to be just fine. By this time tomorrow I’m going to be a married woman.”

  Rosemarie flipped open her binder and ran a scarlet-tipped finger down the page. “Nope,” she said. “At this time tomorrow, you’ll be getting your eyelashes put on.”

  I looked at her, horrified. “I already have eyelashes. What are you going to do with my real ones?”

  This wasn’t the first time she’d made comments about my wedding day preparations that absolutely terrified me.

  “Relax,” she said. “And I’ve got you covered. I’m an ordained minister. Got my certificate online last week. I like to have a backup plan. Just in case.”

  “You’ll be an excellent wedding planner,” I told her. I was only a little freaked out by the thought of Rosemarie delivering our wedding vows.

  “Can we just get this over with and discuss the wedding later?” Savage asked. “If Pastor Charles is here, I’ve got to arrest him.”

  “I
don’t want any part of that,” Rosemarie said. “The people in this town will skin you alive for arresting their favorite pastor. There’s got to be some rule about that somewhere. Are you allowed to arrest a man of God?”

  Savage just stared at her blankly. “He’s a murderer.”

  “I’m just saying, I think it’s best if maybe we don’t associate with you after the arrest. We want people to still come to the wedding.”

  Savage took his gun out of its holster and held it down by his side in case anyone passed by. The citizens of Whiskey Bayou weren’t exactly known for being subtle.

  Rosemarie was right. I was going to be the most hated woman in Whiskey Bayou. Everyone loved Pastor Charles.

  I was carrying my Glock concealed, but it wasn’t worth the trouble of undoing all my winter gear to get it out. Between Savage and my goose down, I figured I was practically bulletproof.

  Rosemarie and I followed Savage up the front steps to the big wooden double doors of the church. My heart hammered in my chest, and I was having a little trouble breathing. The truth was, I hadn’t stepped foot in this church since my previous wedding debacle.

  Savage put his hand on the heavy iron knob and turned to look at me. “You okay? You look a little green.”

  “It’s the fried egg. I’m all good. Nothing but happy thoughts about this place. I’m getting married. Nothing is going to dampen that excitement.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Rosemarie said. “You just put all that other junk out of your mind. The past is in the past. I bet no one even remembers that you got left at the altar, or that they found your fiancé butt naked in the back of your honeymoon limo.” She giggled and then put her hand over her mouth. “I’ve still got the newspaper clippings in my scrapbook. They put those little smiley faces right over his junk and plastered him all over the front page.”

  Savage’s lips twitched and I could see the laughter in the crinkle of his eyes.

  “Why are you bringing all this up if you think no one is going to be talking about it?” I asked Rosemarie.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Every time I walk into this church it’s the first thing I think about. It’s like I can’t help myself. You’re always good for headlines.”

  “Are we going to stand out here and reminisce all day?” I asked.

  “It’s almost worth it,” Savage said with a sigh.

  He opened the door and slipped into the dim foyer, and Rosemarie and I went in behind him. It took a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust, but everything looked the same. Marble floors, stained-glass windows, and weird wood-and-iron light fixtures that would instantly impale anyone if they fell from the ceiling.

  The doors to the sanctuary were closed, and it felt like the church was completely empty. But a shiver still ran down my spine.

  Savage slowly opened the sanctuary doors and we filed onto the red carpeted aisle. I could smell the linseed oil they used to polish the pews and the musty pages of the hymnals. Light filtered in from the floor-to-ceiling, stained-glass windows, and there was a giant cross that hung above the baptismal at the back of the pulpit.

  My heart sank, and I looked over at Rosemarie. She crossed herself and held out her fingers in the sign of the cross toward me.

  “No offense,” she said. “But you have the worst luck.”

  I wish I could’ve argued with her, but she was right. There was a body hanging on the cross, and it didn’t belong to Jesus.

  “Well,” Savage said. “Looks like you’re going to have to postpone the wedding after all. This is officially a crime scene.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I think it was all just too much, because the next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on the ground and Savage was patting my cheek to wake me up.

  “I think I fainted,” I said when his face came into focus.

  “No kidding. Took ten years off my life.”

  “That’s not Pastor Charles,” I said, glancing over at the body.

  “I have a hunch it’s the guy that answered the phone that day you called looking for Tilda Sweeney. He’d need someone he could trust to help him with some of the details, and Emile Cardonas wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends. If Charles and his friend had any contact, Emile would know about it.”

  I rolled to my side so I could sit up. Rosemarie had taken one of the hymnals and was waving it in front of my face for extra air, but it only made me sneeze, which made my face hurt again.

  “You’re a mess,” Savage said. “I have a theory.”

  “Listen, Mister,” Rosemarie said, getting in Savage’s face. “Unless your theory involves getting up there and moving that body out of this church so it’s no longer a crime scene, we don’t want to hear it. This is our wedding we’re talking about. And it’s happening whether you want it to or not.”

  I put my hand on Rosemarie’s arm to try and pull her back, but she was fully invested. Savage wasn’t really the kind of guy to get overly excited about much. He was like Nick in a lot of ways, which might have been why I’d been a little bit attracted to him. He was still a cop, even beneath his suits, crazy socks, and devil’s smile.

  All he did was give her a look and she let go of his sleeve. “Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s the wedding hormones.”

  His lips twitched and he looked back at me. “They seem to be going around. I need to call in a team and secure the scene. We need to find Pastor Charles.”

  “Rosemarie and I can look for him while you’re stuck here,” I said.

  “You okay to drive?” He handed me the keys to his Tahoe.

  “Just a slight malfunction. I’m good as new.”

  “Maybe knock on Pastor Charles’s front door and see if he answers,” Savage said. He stared directly into my eyes and spoke in an unusually even voice. “It’s possible there’s been a break-in and the front door is already open. It would be perfectly natural and legal for you to go inside and make sure he’s okay.”

  “Right,” I said, taking his hand as he helped me off the floor. “Perfectly legal. Come on, Rosemarie. Let’s see if we can find a fake preacher.”

  “I think you should take vitamins,” Rosemarie said as we walked around the side of the church to the rectory. “This much added stress isn’t good for the body. Look at me, I take my multivitamins every day and I’m fit as a fiddle. I never get sick. And I look healthy. People always talk about my weight, but you don’t see me fainting at the drop of a hat or throwing up my eggs.

  “Look at you, all scrawny and black-and-blue. You’re looking like Anne Hathaway in Les Mis after they pulled out her teeth and chopped off her hair. You need some sun and some pie.”

  “We leave for Tahiti on Sunday,” I said. “I’ll get more sun and pie than I know what to do with. And sex. And maybe we’ll never come back. I could adapt to island life.”

  “Better watch out,” she said. “I heard they have a very active cannibal lifestyle there. They hunt unsuspecting tourists, and before you know it you’re being roasted over a spit. Though you might be safe. You don’t look very appetizing.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I think.”

  The rectory was a simple two-bedroom home made of the same stucco as the church. It was very plain and simple, which I guess was all a single pastor needed. I knocked on the door and then waited to see if anyone would answer.

  As expected, no one came to the door, and I listened to see if I could hear anyone moving around inside.

  “Should we bust out a window?” Rosemarie asked.

  “Probably not,” I said, and tried the door knob. It was locked.

  I got my phone and called Beverly.

  “What’s going on?” she said when she answered. “I’ve already had a hundred phone calls from people asking me what’s going on at the church. I was just about to come in.”

  “I wouldn’t bother. The church is going to be shut down for a little while. A body was found on the premises.”

  She gasped. “Anyone I know?”
/>   “Looks like an out-of-towner,” I said.

  “Thank God.” And then she must have realized what she’d said because she followed up with, “Not that I’m wishing death on anyone. Wow, you have really bad wedding mojo.”

  “I’m aware,” I said. “Is there an extra key to the rectory?”

  “Is Pastor Charles in trouble?”

  I didn’t want to tell her that Pastor Charles was a lying murderer so I just said, “We’re making sure he’s okay. No one has seen him.”

  “He keeps an extra key under the little rock in the front flower bed.”

  I thanked her and hung up, and then bent down to check under the rock. Sure enough, there was a house key sitting there. I unlocked the front door and Rosemarie and I went inside.

  “That was easy,” I said, looking around.

  It was a simple room. White walls and mission-style furniture. There was a crocheted afghan thrown across a worn recliner, and one wall was lined with bookshelves and filled with tattered books. Charles had done a great job of adapting to his new life and making it credible. The fact that he’d been preaching almost every Sunday for ten years blew my mind.

  “You know,” Rosemarie said. “I always liked his sermons. But I guess it makes sense that I never heard him preaching on the Ten Commandments. The whole murder thing was probably a sticking point.”

  I grunted and moved to the bookshelf, looking at the tattered volumes. I took out a few of the more used ones and flipped through the pages. Rosemarie was moving between all the framed pictures.

  “None of these pictures have him in it,” she said.

  “Because those are from someone else’s life,” I said. I went over to the phone and looked through the trashcan next to it. It had been emptied. And then I went through the drawers. They were empty. Where was the clutter? The stuff that showed a person had actually lived there for ten years?

  “I’ll check the bedroom,” Rosemarie said.

  I went into the tiny kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Basic stuff—milk, eggs, lunch meat. The freezer was much the same. A stack of TV dinners. I pulled them out and then noticed one of the middle ones wasn’t sealed all the way. I pulled back the wrapper and inside the TV dinner were two flash drives.