Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: An Addison Holmes Mystery (Addison Holmes Mysteries Book 5)

by Liliana Hart

  “Yeah, she said the guy was a real prick,” I improvised.

  “Stella can handle a dick,” Raf said, breaking into giggles again. “No pun intended. It was a real difficult job too. I had to concentrate and keep out of the crowds. Dude was a moaner. Totally embarrassing.”

  “I bet,” I said overselling it. “Still don’t know how y’all got him out of here when he passed out. That must’ve been intense.”

  “Nah, it was no big.” We were about a block from the Hamilton Inn. “This is like, total déjà vu. This is the same hotel I dropped them at.”

  “Whoa,” I said, deadpan. If Raf wasn’t the perfect example of the Say No To Drugs campaign, I didn’t know what was.

  “I know. But like I said, it was no big. Do you know Kimmie?” he asked.

  “No, but I’ve heard so much about her,” I lied.

  “Meh, she’s okay, I guess.” Raf shrugged. “But she’s on the housekeeping staff, so she let us in that side door there and up the stairs. No cameras in the stairwells, and Stella said we had to be super sneaky cause the dude was rich and married and his wife would be mad. See, we’re like philanthropists.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “What does Kimmie look like? Maybe we’ll run into her while we’re here.”

  “I dunno,” he shrugged. “She’s a girl. Like from Clueless.”

  “She’s rich?” I asked.

  “No, she’s a real bitch. Lots of curly blonde hair. Mega tits. Like, super mega. Wouldn’t mind motor-boating those puppies. And she’s got one of those little moles at the corner of her mouth. Like that supermodel.”

  Raf stopped the pedi-cab right in front of the hotel and I gave him forty bucks.

  “Rad,” he said.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said.

  Raf and Scarlet were exchanging some kind of information that I probably didn’t want to know about, so I headed inside the hotel. I’d seen the van parked in the back corner of the lot with Rosemarie sitting behind the wheel, waiting on us to arrive.

  The lobby of the hotel was beige with splashes of burnt orange spread throughout the rugs and throw pillows and weird modern art on the walls. It was deserted and there was only one man behind the registration desk. I was guessing a Monday night in January wasn’t all it was cracked up to be on the economy hotel circuit.

  The man was tall and shaped like a pear, and his sandy hair was thin and stuck out about an inch all over so he looked like an overgrown Chia Pet. His nametag said Kevin, and he was the manager.

  “Are you checking in?” he asked with a smile.

  He checked me out from head to toe and his smile turned smarmy. I resisted the urge to shudder.

  “No, but I’m wondering if Kimmie’s here? I’ve been driving around for a couple of weeks with a box of her stuff in the back of my car. I thought I’d just swing by and give it to her since I’m in the area.”

  His smile dimmed at the mention of Kimmie’s name. “Kimmie is no longer employed here,” he said stiffly. “We had an incident on the grounds a little over a week ago, and I guess it disturbed her. She quit a couple of days later. Didn’t even give us two weeks, so we’re shorthanded.”

  “Yeah, that pretty much sounds like her,” I said sympathetically. “Try getting back rent from her.”

  I left with a wave and headed back to the parking lot. I stopped to text Kate and Savage and let them know what I’d found out from Raf about Stella and Kimmie. At least we were getting some names. And I also let them know that Ugly Mo had very possibly been playing me all along. I was guessing it wasn’t an accident that Raf called him God.

  In a sense, that was what it was all about. One omnipotent being that no one could touch, moving his pawns around the chessboard. Taking away life and giving life.

  Kate answered the text with a thumbs up emoji, so I dropped my phone back into my handbag and went to get Scarlet.

  I looked right and left, but the pedi-cab and Scarlet were nowhere in sight. I glanced over at Rosemarie, still sitting in the driver’s seat of the van. She caught my eye and pointed to the side of the building, a scandalized look on her face. I sighed and walked toward the area where she’d pointed.

  The smell was unmistakable, and so were the high-pitched giggles. The bright yellow pedi-cab was sitting under the only light on that side of the hotel and Raf and Scarlet were getting cozy in the back, passing a joint back and forth between them.

  “Aunt Scarlet,” I said.

  She turned to look at me and then waved, her smile a little loopy. “Addison!” she said. “My vagina feels much better.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. But we really need to go. Maybe you could let Raf finish that off as a peace offering.”

  “Right-o,” Scarlet said, giving Raf the joint. “Gotta go.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tuesday (sometime in the middle of the night)

  By the time I came out of my deep sleep, it was too late.

  I wasn’t sure what had woken me. It wasn’t a sound. More the absence of sound. The rumble from the heat vents was missing. There was no buzz of electricity. Just dead silence. And the feeling that I wasn’t alone.

  I tried to keep my breathing steady and my panic at a minimum. But someone had broken into the agency, cut the electricity, and slipped into my office without waking me. And they’d done it quickly, because the second the electricity went out, an alert would’ve been sent to the alarm company.

  My gun was at the edge of the mattress, but the second I moved they’d know I was awake and be ready. Then it didn’t matter, because I felt the sharp prick of a needle in my arm and then nothing at all.

  * * *

  When I woke again the pain in my skull was like nothing I’d ever experienced and my vision was so blurry it took me several minutes to realize I was staring at a beige ceiling and not the gates of heaven, which was good news, because I had much higher expectations for heaven.

  I rolled my eyes from side to side because it was too painful to move my head, and recognition started to kick in—shower curtain—toilet—sink—dingy towels—tray full of sharp surgical instruments. One of those things didn’t belong.

  My gaze froze on the tray, and I felt the panic start to take over. My teeth chattered uncontrollably, and I couldn’t seem to function—couldn’t get my wits about me. Not having my wits about me wasn’t unusual, but this time it was serious. I was in deep trouble. And my charm and adorable personality weren’t going to get me out of this mess.

  I stared into the tub and my lungs constricted. Blood pumped with a roaring whoosh in my ears, and I tried desperately to suck in a breath. I was naked. And buried in an ice bath.

  High-pitched wheezes escaped from my lips until I sounded similar to a balloon having the air slowly leaked from it. This was not good. In fact, this was about as far from good as I’d ever been. If my tear ducts hadn’t been frozen I probably would’ve cried.

  I rolled my head to the side and tried to listen—to see if I was alone or if my surgeons were still present. But nothing greeted me but silence and my erratic heartbeat.

  The sign on the door was crudely written with black marker, and it said, Call 9-1-1. Now. An envelope with my name written on it was taped just beneath the sign.

  Bile rose in my throat and little black dots were dancing like dust motes in front of my eyes. It was everything I could do to keep the contents of my stomach down. If I even had a stomach. I had no idea what kind of wounds the ice was covering, but I was almost one-hundred percent sure that vomiting wouldn’t be good for it.

  I looked at the surgical tray where there was supposed to be a phone, but there was nothing there—only sharp-edged instruments that mocked me. Panic clawed at me again. My ice was going to melt and I was going to bleed out, and I’d die alone in a bathtub in a three-and-a-half star hotel. I’d always imagined I’d die with a bit more glamour. It was kind of a letdown.

  I couldn’t die like this. My unwritten biography demanded I not end my story this way. My only c
hoice was to try to move. To escape the tub and crawl my way out to the hallway where someone might find me before it was too late.

  I was going to fall apart at some point, but not yet. I needed to survive. I had things in my life I still wanted to do. Like make out with Chris Hemsworth and get laser hair removal.

  I focused on my body and tried to move my limbs, even if just a little. I managed to get my knee bent so it stuck up out of the ice bath, and it was then I noticed the plastic bag that surfaced with the movement. It took me a couple of tries to get my fingers to curl and pick up the bag, but once I did I was back to almost bursting into tears.

  Inside the plastic bag was my cellphone, and there was only one person I could think of calling. Someone who would drop everything and come for me because I asked. Someone I didn’t mind seeing me naked. Believe it or not, it was a short list.

  My fingers fumbled at the opening of the plastic bag and I prayed like crazy that I didn’t drop it in the water. Getting out of the tub at this point wasn’t an option. I needed whatever insides I had left to stay put.

  Wild animal sounds escaped my mouth as I dialed with shaking hands. It seemed to take forever as the phone rang—and rang—and rang. Then the sweetest voice I’d ever heard answered the phone.

  But when I opened my mouth no words came out. Just hot air and desperation. I was well and truly fucked.

  “Addison?” Nick said, the worry in his voice unmistakable.

  All I could do was breathe into the phone. My teeth were chattering so hard I couldn’t speak.

  “Addison, is that you?” he asked again. “Who is this?”

  I made a sound that came out something like a newborn goat, and then a sob escaped in my frustration.

  “Addison, honey, if that’s you, I want you to take some deep breaths. You’re fine and I’m going to come get you, okay? I just need you to tell me where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

  Nick’s soothing words helped get my panic under control. I was alive. That was the important thing. If I wanted to stay alive then I needed to help him so he could help me.

  My eyes moved wildly toward the little sink where the shampoo and soaps were sitting. I had a feeling I was back at the Hamilton Inn, but I needed to confirm it.

  “N-Nick,” I said, teeth chattering. “P-pl-please.”

  “Okay, baby,” he said, his sigh of relief so audible I could hear it through the phone. “We’re all here. I’m going to come and get you. Do you know where you are?”

  The letter Y was really difficult to say for some reason, so I couldn’t get the word yes past my lips. I grunted instead.

  “Okay, good,” he continued. “Kate is right here next to me. We’re all here looking for you. She wants me to ask if you’re at the Hamilton Inn. Just grunt again if it’s a yes. Stay silent if no.”

  I grunted again, and I heard a lot of movement on the other end. Nick was on his way. He was coming and we’d get through this together. Together was all that mattered.

  It felt like the wait was endless, but Nick stayed on the line with me, talking nonsense the entire time to fill the silence. My teeth chattered audibly now and speaking was impossible. The cold was exhausting and my head kept lolling to the side.

  And then I heard it. The sound of voices outside and the key card being slipped into the door. Then it opened and Nick was there in the bathroom with me. He scanned the scene quickly, not missing anything, and then he was kneeling beside me.

  I was crying now, big silent tears that I couldn’t have held back if I’d wanted to.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Nick said, but I noticed his hands were shaking as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. “I’m going to drain the water and then we can see what we’re dealing with.”

  I just stared at him. I was tired all over and nodding would’ve taken too much effort. My teeth chattered again violently and I watched as he stuck his hand in the tub, the icy water coming past his elbow, and heard the glug of the drain as he pulled the stopper.

  I saw the EMTs hovering behind Nick, ready to take action, but I was so tired my vision blurred.

  “Addison,” Nick said. I had the feeling he’d been calling my name for a while. He patted me on the cheek lightly and another shiver wracked my body. “The water’s all gone. You’ve been drugged, which is why you’re having so much trouble staying awake. But they didn’t take anything. It’s only been a couple of hours since the alarm alerted us, so they didn’t have time to do the surgery. It was just a warning.”

  “W-worked,” I said, shaking violently again.

  “The paramedics are going to get you out and take you to the hospital to be checked. Did you happened to see any faces?” he asked.

  I shook my head no, because it was all I could do, and then the paramedics were moving Nick out of the way so they could do their job. I hardly cared at all that I was naked.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wednesday (early afternoon)

  I was mad. I was still cold too. And cold and mad didn’t go together one bit.

  I was sitting at the conference table at the agency, surrounded by Nick, Savage, Kate, Jimmy Royal, Lucy, and Rosemarie. I wasn’t sure why Rosemarie was there, but she hadn’t left my side since I’d been admitted to the hospital the day before.

  I’d finally convinced my mother and Aunt Scarlet to go home and get some rest. Scarlet felt awful that she’d been bamboozled by Ugly Mo, and my mother was trying to deal with the shock that she had a daughter in the hospital and that she was having to come face-to-face with Aunt Scarlet. It was a trial for all parties involved.

  “Explain to me again why Ugly Mo isn’t the target,” I said, furious.

  “Because you’ve got to get all the little fish to lure the big fish,” Savage said. “He all but admitted to you that he was involved. He even gave you the woman in Atlanta to send you running after that trail. Look at the network that he’s got set up. Think about all the contradictions.

  “It wasn’t coincidence that Mo called Jimmy and told him about a new van being ready, and that he’d sell it at a great price if anyone new at the agency needed a surveillance vehicle. It wasn’t coincidence that he kept in contact with Scarlet, so he could keep up with you. It wasn’t coincidence that he’s so well-known at the Olde Pink House. You said yourself you were amazed at how he blended in, depending on where he was. The restaurant was a set-up from the beginning. I guarantee, everyone from the clients who met them there to this Stella woman are all involved in the black market transplant operation. Ugly Mo owns the city,” Savage said. “At least most of it. And he owns the people in it.”

  “Okay, so we can’t touch Ugly Mo. There’s no proof, because he hasn’t gotten his hands dirty,” I said. “How do we round up all the other players if there are so many?”

  “That’s the question,” Kate said, “I’m not altogether sure that Anthony Dunnegan didn’t know more than he’s saying going in. He said he was meeting with clients about a merger they backed out on. We need to find out what clients and what the merger was.”

  “Boggy ground,” Nick said, wincing.

  “Which is why we’ll take care of it instead of the cops,” Kate said with a sharp smile. “I’m not so concerned about laws just now.”

  “We need to find Stella,” I said. “She’s the key. She’s the one who’s putting herself on the line by being identifiable. If we can get to her, there’s no reason why she wouldn’t roll on others.”

  “Ugly Mo is smart,” Savage said. “We’ve been watching him a long time. He’s gone all this time with nothing but suspicion surrounding his name. You can bet none of those people could point to him and say Mo specifically gave them orders. Mo doesn’t mind sacrificing his own. They can’t go anywhere else anyway. He brands them so they’re unusable to any other potential employee.”

  “No wonder he knew so much about how Fat Louie did business,” I said, getting angrier by the second. I hated being duped. And I especially hated it, because for a short m
oment of time, I’d gone to bat for the guy.

  “I agree that we need to find Stella,” Kate said. “If she can give us some names, we can at least hold them long enough to make Mo think they spilled everything. They won’t want to leave jail. Because when Mo picks them up he’ll put them through an interrogation we could never hope to compete with.”

  “I can help with that,” Savage said. “I spent my time yesterday trying to run all the leads on her.”

  Savage clicked the remote and the screen came down from the ceiling and a woman’s image was projected on it. My mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “It’s Wonder Woman,” I said. She really did look uncannily like her.

  “Also known as Stella Pedrotti. She’s the coordinator for the national transplant list. Every name and case is given to her, and she decides who goes higher on the list based on need.”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Where is she?”

  “She lives here in Savannah. And is happily married to Richard Drake.”

  “Richard Drake?” I said, wondering why the name sounded so familiar. “Ohmigosh. The manager at Olde Pink House. No wonder they were so familiar with each other.” And then I thought about it. “Richard Drake let his wife sleep with that slimeball Dunnegan?”

  “They do what Mo tells them to do,” Savage said.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” I asked. “Let’s go get them.”

  “Richard and Stella are currently out of town, according to their credit card statements and airline tickets. In fact, they left town just after Richard finished speaking with you the other day. A couple of days in New York for a fundraiser to raise awareness for becoming an organ donor.”

  “Well, that’s convenient.”

  “Not really,” Savage said. “But we’ve got the alert out.”

  Chapter Nineteen