Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) (28 page)

“Maybe it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. Why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“I can’t bear to speak the words.” She bent down and pulled the camera out of the bag at her feet. “You can see for yourself.”

“I’m not going to be able to see.” I was like a little girl ready to throw a tantrum. I really wanted to see what was on that camera.

She turned on the camera and handed it to me. If I closed my left eye things became a little clearer, but after I caught a glimpse of what was on the screen I was afraid I would be permanently blind. I wheezed in a breath and saw my life flash before my eyes.

“Who would believe me if I told them?” my mom asked.

“Well, we do have the pictures, but you’re right. This town is not ready for John Hyatt’s secrets. We’d have to move out of state.”

“That’s not such bad news for you. You’ve been evicted.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” I said. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Thursday

I opened my eyes the next morning with clarity, something I was hoping for but not expecting, considering the way my life was going. 

It wa
s still shy of eight o’clock. I jumped in the shower and scrubbed quickly so I could look at the pictures my mom had taken the night before one more time. This time with clearer vision. Maybe I’d made a mistake in what I’d seen. I sure to God hoped so.

I jumped out of the shower and wrapped a thick towel around me. I left my hair dripping wet and headed to the computer. I had just opened up my laptop and plugged in the camera when I heard the knock on the door.

“Oh, great.”

I closed the laptop and hid the camera because I had a sneaking suspicion who
it was. When I looked through the peephole Nick winked back at me, so I didn’t really have a choice to do anything but open the door.

“I can’t really talk right now. I’m kind of indisposed,” I said through the crack of the door. 

“I like it when you’re indisposed. Let me in,” he said, slowly pushing on the door and crowding his way inside. 

“Mmmm, you look delicious,” he said, pushing me back.

I felt like Little Red Riding Hood right before the wolf tried to eat her.

“Um
—Nick, I really don’t have time for this today.”

“It won’t take long, baby. It’ll be just enough to take the edge off until tonight. I promise you’ll like it.”

We were playing tug of war with the towel tied around my breast, and I knew I had to pull out the big guns.

“As much as I appreciate the romance of your proposal, I have to decline. I’ve made a breakthrough in the case, and I have things to do.”

Those were the magic words, because the sexy I-want-to-eat-you-alive Nick disappeared and was replaced by Nick the cop.  His eyes went hard and focused and the line of his mouth straightened.

“Wow,” I said. “I’ll have to use that more often.”

“What kind of breakthrough?”

“I can’t give you the specifics,” I said. “You’re the competition.”

He grabbed my wrist in a tight grip and I was so surprised I let go of the fledgling towel. Being naked for the first time (or the first time I was conscious) in front of a man was a big step in any relationship, but I have to say this wasn’t how I pictured the moment. The look in Nick’s eyes was enough to scare me spitless. I had a feeling I’d gone a little too far this time, but I didn’t have any choice but to brazen it out.

“This isn’t a game, Addison. People are dead and you’re playing Nancy Drew.
The killer is getting careless. I don’t want him to be careless with you. It’s only logical that you’re the next target. If you’ve found something out I want to know.”

“I don’t know what I’ve found out,” I said shakily
, pulling my arm free.

I picked up the towel and
wrapped it around me, and then curled myself in the overstuffed chair in my living room. Chills racked my body and goosebumps pimpled my flesh with the enormity of what I knew about John Hyatt. I had good reason to be afraid and Nick was right to worry.

“Just give me a little more time, Nick, and I swear I’ll tell you everything I know. Did it ever occur to you that I might be worried about you during this whole mess?”

“Why? I’m not the one who keeps finding dead bodies. I’m just trying to find a murderer.”

“Except that when we were at the graveyard you ran toward danger like some macho caveman trying to protect the little woman. You didn’t know what you were running to, but that didn’t stop you. And I know it’s your job, but I have a job to do to, and I take it very seriously. I can’t help it if one of my cases accidentally overlaps with one of yours. You can’t stop me from doing this,” I said, a lot more bravely than I felt.

Nick’s jaw was clenched together so tightly I thought he was bound to get a cramp, and the veins in his neck and forehead were bulging dangerously.

“You have until noon to get your act together before I pull the plug. Don’t think for one second that I won’t put you in a cell for your own protection.”

He gave me one last glittering look and walked out of my apartment. I had to wonder if it was for the last time.

A few minutes later I sat in front of my computer screen. The images on screen were different than what I remembered. They were much, much worse than anything I’d thought I’d seen the night before. When I heard the 1812 Overture warbling from inside my handbag, my reflexes were too slow to answer it in time.

Someone pounded on my door but I couldn’t get my shocked body to move from the chair. When Kate opened the door and let herself in, I looked at her with the glaz
ed expression of someone who had just gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar. I was going to have to do some fast footwork to keep my job.

“You will never believe what I just heard,” Kate said by way of greeting.

I stayed silent, but she kept up her end of the conversation and didn’t notice my odd behavior. I had no idea what she was saying.

“Are you okay, Addison?
What are you downloading from the camera?” she asked shifting her attention. “Have you finished the cases I gave you?”

“You could say that,” I said, tossing her the file on Harry Manilow so I could pull the screen saver up on the computer. “We’ve been friends a long time. Right, Kate?”

She uhhmmed as she continued to read the file.

“So let’s say I had something really important to tell you. Something that could change our friendship. Would you want me to tell you?”

Kate finally looked up from the file. “What have you done, Addison?”

“Just answer the question. We’d always be friends, no matter what. Right?”

“Right. Unless you decided you were attracted to my husband. Then I’d have to shoot you.”

“Well that goes without saying,” I said, stalling. “And what if I invoked the friendship rule?” Neither of us had ever called on the friendship rule before, but it had been put in place when we were in junior high just in case. The friendship rule claimed that anything could be said
within a five-minute period, and anything said during those five minutes would have no consequences. The words would be forgotten as soon as the time was over and neither party would walk away mad.

“This must be pretty serious,” Kate said. “Should I sit down?”

“Just say whether or not you agree for me to invoke the rule.”

“All right. The rule is in effect. What have you got?”

I tossed
her the notebook with a blow-by-blow account of the night before.

“
I didn’t know you were writing romance novels,” she said. “What’s the big deal?”

“Just read it.”

Loretta propped her leg on the table so the robe she wore gaped seductively. She rolled the sheer stockings on her legs down slowly, teasing the man who sat captivated across from her with glimpses of the unknown. A passionate embrace, a wet kiss, and the two lovers fell to the floor with thoughts only of each other.

“I can’t read what comes next. Your handwriting is terrible.”

“It’s my mother’s writing. And she wrote down the actual events of what took place while we were snooping around John Hyatt’s house last night.” I squenched my eyes shut and waited for the angry questions to start, but Kate stayed silent. When I opened my eyes I could tell she was angry by the white knuckled grip she had on the notebook, but her face was as calm as ever.

“You’ve got three minutes left,” Kate said.

“I need to ask you to keep the things you’re about to see to yourself. I don’t want you to take the information to Nick.”

“I can’t promise that if it has to do with his investigation. I could lose my license for interfering in a police investigation.
Not even the friendship rule can usurp that.”

“But it’s not really like that. I’ve already talked to Nick and asked him for just a few more hours to get all the information together. He’s given me until noon, and I’m just asking you to do the same. I’ll take this stuff to him myself after that. It’s just a few hours, and I need to prove that I can do this myself.”

Kate looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes. I was a pain in the ass, and I was going to have to make things up to her somehow.

“Why do you feel like you have something to prove, Addison? This isn’t like you at all.”

“I just feel responsible, that’s all. Mr. Butler was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and it’s pretty obvious after looking at these photos that he saw too much. But Mr. Mooney was a sweet old man who was having the time of his life playing some hard-boiled detective. And he’s dead because I asked him to keep watch over John Hyatt and anything that was going on in the house.”

I looked at Kate pleadingly. “I still don’t know how I feel about Greg’s death
, or how his murder is even related to the others. He was at The Foxy Lady, and he knew the other victims. It doesn’t make sense. But just because he’s dead doesn’t mean that I can stop hating what he’s done. And I guess I feel guilty for that. Shouldn’t I have more compassion for the dead?”

“The only reason you should have any compassion for Greg is because he’s hauling coal in hell right now. The man used you and obviously gave you this annoying complex you’ve overtaken to blame yourself for everything. Not to mention how he screwed up the potential for any future relationships.”

“You’re right, but somebody in John Hyatt’s house is a killer, and I need to prove it.”

“What do
you mean somebody?” Kate asked.

I moved the mouse so the images on the screen appeared.

“Is that Loretta Swanson? No wonder Fanny Kimble is nervous that John’s cheating on her. Who’s that man in the chair?”

“I guess tha
t’s where the surprise comes in,” I said.

I flipped to the next photo, and Kate sat
down hard on the floor. “Ohmigod!”

Kate had her head between her knees and was sucking in air through her teeth, so I jumped up and grabbed her a beer from the refrigerator. It was still early in the morning, but if you took away the alcohol beer was probably a pretty nutritious breakfast.

I placed the bottle in her limp hand and closed her fingers around it. Kate took a long swallow and made herself get off the floor. She took the notebook my mom had written in and shoved it in her bag.

“I’ll give you until noon and not a minute more. As soon as this is over I want all of those photographs.
My agency is going to have nothing to do with any of this. I’ll honor the friendship rule, which is lucky for you because I should fire your ass for getting us into this, but you’re handling this on your own. No one in my office has any knowledge of what you’re doing.”

I heaved out a sigh of relief. It was more than I could have hoped for.

“I’m sorry, Kate.”

“Your five minutes is over. We can’t talk about it anymore.”

After the door shut softly behind her I blinked my eyes rapidly to keep the tears from falling. Kate was a good friend.

The beginnings of a plan started to form in my mind once I’d called the bank and found out John Hyatt was sick at home with a cold.

I had enough proof to ruin careers and reputations, but I didn’t have proof of murder. I was going to have to go into the lion’s den and find it myself.

I pulled the Dodge up in front of John Hyatt’s mansion. Immediately my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller I.D. to confirm my suspicions. It was Nick, probably wondering what I was doing. I didn’t answer because I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing either.

I didn’t know who was going to answer the front door after I rang the bell, but whoever it was would determine how I proceeded.

John Hyatt answered the door in pressed khakis and a golf shirt. He looked anything but sick, but as soon as he saw my face he turned an interesting shade of green and tried to shut the door in my face. I stuck my foot in the door and winced as my toes got crushed. Obviously, I should have forgone the flip-flops and worn steel-toed boots.