Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: An Addison Holmes Mystery (Addison Holmes Mysteries Book 5) (4 page)

I also needed a fucking cookie, so I snatched one off the table and bit into it, thinking I’d turn over a new leaf tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday—the Lord’s day. And everyone knew it was easier to stick with dieting commitments when the weight of church guilt was pressing on your shoulders.

I was drawing little caricatures of Anthony Dunnegan on my notepad. My favorite was the one where he was holding his own head. The image was a little dark for me, but it immediately made me feel better. Or that might have been the cookie.

Anthony continued his disgusting tale. “We just sat in silence for a while, drinking away our miseries, and all of a sudden she turns to me and says, ‘Want to get out of here?’”

“Did you introduce yourselves?” I asked. “Get her name?”

“I didn’t care what her name was,” he said, as if I was a moron for even asking. “I cared that she was hot and that she wouldn’t be yapping in my ear about how she wants a new Porsche because Jennifer’s husband gave her one for her birthday.”

I might have actually growled low in my throat, but I kept taking notes. I was going to give the people that stole this guy’s kidney a medal when I found them.

“What time did you leave the bar?” Kate asked.

“About ten-thirty. I helped her on with her coat and I paid our tabs.”

“That was real gentlemanly of you,” I said.

Anthony stared at me, trying to decide if I was making fun of him or not. I was. But sometimes my sarcasm was really subtle.

“You said you were in walking distance of some hotels?” Kate prompted. “Where’d you go?”

“Things get hazy at that point. I was pretty hammered, and she wasn’t too steady either. There was a long line for cabs, but there were a few pedi-cabs lined up across the street. I remember it made me laugh. I couldn’t imagine a woman like her riding around the city in a pedi-cab. It was ludicrous. But we climbed in, laughing like two horny teenagers.”

“Do you remember the pedi-cab company? Or your driver’s name? Maybe a description?”

“Are you kidding? I was shitfaced and she had her hand down the front of my pants. I wouldn’t have recognized my own mother. All I can tell you is we got in a bright red pedi-cab and our driver was a man. I think. We ended up at another bar. I’m not sure of the name. Charlie’s? Chester’s? I think it was something like that.”

“How long were you in the pedi-cab?” I asked, thinking I could at least get a radius from where they’d started.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think I need another pill. It feels like someone set fire to my spine.” He popped another pill and chased it with water. “It was a short ride. All I know is that one minute I’ve got my tongue down her throat and the next I have a case of blue balls that won’t quit. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about stopping at another bar. But she just laughed and told me she’d make it worth my while. Teasing bitch.”

“Yes, focus on that instead of the fact that she probably scammed you for your kidney,” I said, shaking my head. Anthony didn’t seem to notice. I think his pain pills had started to kick in. He was looking glassy-eyed and a little bit of drool had dripped onto the conference table.

“Do you remember what direction you headed?”

“We were headed toward the river. I think. It could’ve been the opposite direction. But it wasn’t a long ride. She paid the pedi-cab driver and we went into the bar, but I don’t remember much about it,” he said, shrugging. “The music was loud and it was a real dive. Raina ordered us a couple of martinis and then we danced for a while.”

“Wait, who’s Raina?” I asked, confused.

“The woman,” he slurred. “Aren’t you paying attention? That’s the name she gave me. It’s not her real name, of course. I told her my name was John.” His hands were flying in agitation as we struggled to follow his disjointed explanation. “Things got pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor, so we decided to head to the hotel. We took a couple of to-go cups with us. That bar made a damn good martini. Anyway, I was glad we were leaving and getting down to business. I don’t always do my best work when I’ve had a lot to drink, and I wanted to show her a good time.”

“I’m sure she was grateful for your thoughtfulness.”

“That’s what I was thinking too,” he agreed, his smile lopsided. “The cab line was long again, so we hopped in another pedi-cab.”

“The same one or different this time?” I asked.

“Different. This one was yellow. I only remember that because the color hurt my eyes. It reminded me of Big Bird.”

“Which direction did y’all take this time?”

“I’m not sure. Raina just told the guy to start pedaling and she’d let him know where to stop. Things really got hazy after that. Before I knew what was happening she’d crawled up in my lap and I found out firsthand she wasn’t wearing any underwear. There’s not much you can do in a situation like that except sit back and enjoy the ride, if you know what I mean. She was real discreet too. Used her fur coat to keep us covered. I do remember telling the driver to keep to the darker and less crowded streets. All I needed was one of my clients or a friend of my wife’s seeing me. She’d take me to the cleaners in a divorce.

“I can’t tell you how long we rode around for or in which directions. That’s the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. And that’s pretty much where my memory of the night ends. The next thing I know I’m waking up in a bathtub full of ice and I’ve got a pounding headache.”

“You’ve got no memories after the sex?” I asked.

“Nothing. I’d literally thought I’d died when I had that orgasm. I saw white lights. I think I maybe took another drink to wet my throat, but it was lights out after that.”

“What happened after you woke up in the tub?” Kate asked.

“I had no clue where I was, and my vision was pretty blurry after the anesthesia wore off. I panicked. I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t figure out why I was sitting in the ice bath. And then I saw the little tray of surgical instruments sitting by the sink. Freaked the hell out of me. They were clean, but I just had that gut feeling that someone had used them recently. And then I saw the cell phone next to the tray.

“I had no idea who I should call. Not my wife. She’d ask too many questions. My partners at the law firm would ask questions too. The police were out, because if I filed a report and opened an investigation then my wife would find out what’d I’d done all night, and I’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble than I already was sitting in a bathtub full of ice. Then I saw the note on the door.”

Anthony visibly shivered and I had a hard time not doing the same. It sounded like something out of a horror story.

“What did it say?” I asked.

“It said if I wanted to live that I needed to call 9-1-1. So that’s what I did. I didn’t get out of the tub. I didn’t do anything. I was too scared. So I called 9-1-1 and sat there and shivered until the manager opened the door for the paramedics.”

“You’ve been in the hospital for a couple of days and you look like hell,” I said. “How have you been keeping this from your wife? She’s bound to find out.”

“I told her I was in Charleston on a business trip. She doesn’t really care. The kids are with the nanny and she’s taking some extra tennis lessons with her instructor in the Bahamas. I’ll be good as new in another week. I told the office I had the flu, so I’m working from home.”

“It must be hard to keep all the lies straight,” I said.

“Nah, you get used to it. I’m going to lay my head down for a few minutes.”

Kate and I watched as he lay his head on the conference table and immediately passed out.

“Mr. Dunnegan,” Kate said. “Mr. Dunnegan?” She shook him this time, but he was out. “Dammit, this place is not a hostel for people doped up on pain meds. What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”

In any other situation this would’ve been funny. But I mostly wanted to drag Anthony Dunnegan by his heels and leave him in the middle of the street.

“Maybe we can shove him in a closet,” I said.

“We don’t have any closets left. We turned the last one into your office.”

“Then I’m out of ideas. What we really need to talk about is this case. Kate, I hate this man. I hope he caught an STD from that woman in the pedi-cab.”

Kate sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’d normally agree with you. My first inclination was to turn him down when he called. He’s an obnoxious ass, and I can’t even imagine what he’s like to deal with when he’s a hundred percent healthy. But there’s a bigger picture here. I did a little digging. Six months ago in Hilton Head, a vacationer was relieved of his heart. He clearly wasn’t as lucky as Anthony Dunnegan, but the police report is in your file. There are some similarities, so this isn’t necessarily about our current client. This is about the other people out there who are possibly being hunted for their organs. I want you to track these guys down. This is a huge case.”

“Then why in heaven’s name are you giving it to me? Are you out of your mind?”

Kate smiled and said, “Possibly. But Anthony was right about one thing. You’re tenacious and determined. You’ll see this through to the end. And you also have solid FBI connections, since this ring will most likely fall into federal territory. Everyone here is on notice to help if you need it, including me. But you have a major talent for getting information from people who don’t normally want to give it. You don’t look like a cop like the other guys. Read up on the file and start digging.”

“Didn’t the police have to file a report when Anthony was taken to the hospital by ambulance?”

“The hospital reported it to the police like they were supposed to, but it’s the victim’s choice whether or not to file a report. He chose not to file one, so the police didn’t investigate. A man like Anthony Dunnegan has everything to lose if information leaks about him to the wrong people. He’s well acquainted with Nick’s parents, and he’s got his eye on Nick’s grandfather’s senate seat when he retires in a couple of years.”

“He’s not getting my vote. And last I heard, Nick’s grandfather isn’t planning on retiring. He’s still pretty young and in great health.”

Nick’s grandfather was the only person in Nick’s family I liked. He was pretty much the only person in Nick’s family that Nick liked too. Nick came from a long line of alcoholics and womanizers on his dad’s side, and on his mother’s side he came from wealthy debutantes that automatically hated anyone who hadn’t inherited family money for the last five generations. I have no idea how Nick turned out so good. His grandfather probably had a lot to do with it.

“I think Nick’s parents are pushing the retirement angle. They don’t particularly like the senator’s politics,” Kate said, shrugging. “I guess you won’t have to worry about it if you decide not to marry Nick.”

“Shut up,” I said.

Kate grinned and I took another cookie. “If you keep eating cookies like that you’re going to put on a lot more than ten pounds.”

“It’s the stress. Between the marriage proposal and Aunt Scarlet coming to town, I can’t seem to help myself.” I wanted to feel sorry for myself and maybe have a good cry, but I didn’t really have the motivation at the moment. Mostly I was just tired.

“At least you’re not turning to booze and prostitutes,” Kate said.

“They have male prostitutes in Savannah?” I asked naively.

“They’ve got all kinds of prostitutes in Savannah. This town offers a real smorgasbord of sex.”

“Huh,” I said.

“Let’s roll the future senator here into Jorgen’s office. He’s visiting his daughter in D.C. until next Tuesday.”

“How come I never know these things?” I asked. “I could’ve been sleeping in his office.”

“That’s why we have the big calendar in the break room. Maybe check it every once in a while.”

“I never go in the break room. Jimmy keeps cooking those frozen burritos in the microwave and they explode. It smells like dirty feet.”

“Probably better to sleep in your office anyway. Jorgen likes sardines.”

W
e rolled
Anthony Dunnegan to the end of the hallway and into Harry Jorgen’s office. I think it said a lot about the agency that none of the employees even looked twice as we wheeled his office chair down the hall, his head slumped forward on his chest.

I stopped to check on Aunt Scarlet and saw that she was still sleeping peacefully, so I took the file Kate had given me back to my office so I could get better acquainted with it.

My office was at the opposite end of the hall from Kate’s, not far from the employee bathroom. It had once been a janitor’s closet, but they’d painted the walls a soft neutral and put new carpet down to turn it into an office. I hadn’t been able to sit in there for long periods of time after the carpet had been laid because the fumes from the glue made me high, but it was mostly gone now, due to the fact I had three Scentsys plugged in. The office smelled like apple pies, which might have been a contributing factor to my constant hunger.

It had one small desk and a chair, my laptop, a printer, and a floor lamp with an animal print shade that I’d gotten on sale at Pier One. I’d put a round shag rug on the floor in bright red to make the space seem more personable. Shoved against the opposite wall was the thin memory foam mattress I’d miraculously squeezed into the space, covered with Laura Ashley sheets. A rolling suitcase with as many clothes as I could fit into it sat against the wall. It was pathetic.

But it beat the heck out of living with my mother. She was newly married and the walls at Casa de Holmes were a lot thinner than a grown daughter could handle. I’d never had that problem as a child. Apparently my parents hadn’t had a very active sex life.

I squeezed behind my desk and opened my laptop, booting it up so I could do some background work. I’d learned my first day on the job that being a P.I. wasn’t always excitement and adventure. It was mostly tedious research and backtracking until you stumbled across the thread you were looking for. I was a champ at research, and I actually enjoyed that part of the job.

There was no police report, since Anthony didn’t want the cops to pursue the situation, so I went through my notes again. I printed out a map of downtown Savannah and did a search for bars in the area to try to retrace his path. What I did know was that he started the night at the Olde Pink House and ended up eighteen blocks away at a Rest Easy Inn and Suites. And he got there by pedi-cab, unless they’d moved him to a regular cab once he’d passed out.

I also ran a search for bars within three blocks of the Olde Pink House and came across a place named Charlie’s. I marked it on the map to pay a visit to, and then opened the police file on the similar crime that had occurred in Hilton Head.

Jonathon Hunt had been a forty-one-year-old man in the prime of his life. He was married with two children and worked as a broker at a top firm in New York before going out on his own. He did even better then. He was a financial genius. He and his family had been on vacation when Jonathon had gone missing. His wife had immediately called the police and filed a report. She’d known something had to be wrong for him to disappear like that. His body was discovered in a hotel three days later by the maid. There was no sign of trauma except for the hole where his heart should’ve been.

Jonathon’s last known whereabouts had been the Shrimp Shack, a restaurant on the water in Hilton Head. The wife said he hadn’t been feeling well after a couple of drinks, so he got up to go to the restroom. Witnesses also placed him there. He briefly bumped into a woman who was coming out of the ladies’ bathroom, but witnesses said it seemed like he was in a hurry and just moved around her. He went into the bathroom and never came out. He just disappeared.

The autopsy report came back with a minimal dose of Ketamine in his system, as well as traces of GHB. The medical examiner presumed the GHB was used to incapacitate the victim enough to get him moved, and the ketamine was what was used for the surgery, as it was a common anesthetic.

There were contusions around his wrists and ankles, indicating the drug had worn off before the surgery was complete. That, combined with the amount of blood loss arterial bleeding would’ve caused, led the medical examiner to state the victim had more than likely been awake during the surgery.

I shuddered, thinking of the unbelievable terror Jonathon Hunt must’ve endured before his death. He’d been awake and aware as his killers took out his heart. And it was killers, plural. The hotel room where Jonathon’s body had been found had been spotless at first glance. But blood was hard to clean up, and traces of it had been found with Luminol. They’d had to throw a tarp on the floor and bag all their clothes after the surgery had been done. Most likely anyone in the room would’ve been covered in blood, especially if the victim had been awake and struggling. The medical examiner made a note that the lack of blood in the body would’ve been due to the high stress rate of the victim, making blood spurt if they hadn’t clamped it off.

It was a surgery that couldn’t have been done without medical training, as the autopsy showed that the heart had been removed cleanly.

That was as far as the investigation went. There was no weapon, and no suspects. And nothing even remotely similar had been done in the resort community before, so there were no like crimes to compare it to. And just because someone stole a heart six months ago in Hilton Head didn’t mean it was the same people who took Anthony Dunnegan’s kidney, though my gut was telling me the two crimes were very much related.

I was going to have to take a trip to Hilton Head and do a little investigating of my own. See if any memories had been stirred since some time had passed.

I looked back through the hospital report that Anthony had given to Kate. A mix of Ketamine and GHP had also been found in his system. And it was notated in the chart that the removal of the kidney had been done professionally. He’d been sutured and put on ice to slow his blood flow until the paramedics could rescue him. Anthony and Jonathon also had something else in common. They were both O-negative. And if I remembered right, only a small percentage of the population had O-negative blood.

I did a quick Google search and learned that transplant recipients that had type O blood could only receive transplants from donors that had the same blood type. It was a thread I could tug on later for sure.

My office door banged open and I jumped in surprise. And then I almost screamed when I saw Scarlet standing in the doorway. The swelling on her head had gone down some thanks to the ice, but her face was more colorful than it had been when I’d left her. Her papery thin skin was shades of purple, black, and green, but she’d taken the time to reapply her bright red lipstick, as if that would be a distraction from the rest of her face.

She’d left her fur coat in Kate’s office and was wearing a siren-red velour jogging suit that matched her lipstick and the bright white tennis shoes with the hidden knives in the toes. She didn’t look altogether sane, but her hair hadn’t budged an inch. I was thinking the military should weaponize whatever she used on her hair.

“That medicine Kate gave me was a doozy,” Scarlet said. “I feel like a million bucks. It’s been seventy years since I haven’t felt any aches and pains in my body. Not even the bullet lodged in my hip is paining me today. I need to find a man before it wears off. Think of how good sex would be if you didn’t have to worry about pulling a muscle or popping a joint back into place.”

“I don’t know, Aunt Scarlet. Your face looks like it hurts pretty bad. It’s very…colorful.”

“It’s no wonder you’re not married if you think a man cares about what your face looks like when you’re horizontal. Not if you’re doing it right. I knew a girl in France who was ugly as homemade sin. Best spy I ever met. Men didn’t care what she looked like. Taught me a few tricks too,” Scarlet said, waggling her eyebrows.

“Or you can just put a bag over your head and a man can pretend you’re anyone he wants you to be. That’s what I do. The men in my age bracket aren’t anything special to look at. Use paper though, not plastic. I once had a lover who liked plastic bags. Come to find out that’s a whole different kind of sex. I didn’t particularly care for it, but that was back in the seventies, so sexual exploration was a little bit of a grab bag.”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” I said softly.

“Or you can just turn the lights off. That’s probably an easier solution.” She came inside my office and looked from side to side. “This here is an embarrassment of an office. I thought you and Kate were best friends.”

“I’m a junior agent,” I said. “I’m lucky to have an office at all.”

“You’re a Holmes, and Holmes women don’t take crap from anyone, especially their best friends. Sometimes you’ve got to make demands and not back down. Stare them straight in the eye like a snake charmer.”

“Uh, huh,” I said. “Kate will love that.”

“So what are we doing today?” Scarlet asked. “It’s Saturday and I hate being cooped up inside on a Saturday. I know you were sitting here waiting to make sure I was okay, but now that you see I am, I think it’s important to get back to work while we still have daylight. I heard the weather is supposed to get real nasty tonight.”

“I was actually just working on a new case,” I said, the thought of working another case with Scarlet sending a cold knot of fear straight to my belly.

I was almost positive that therapy would never undo the damage of what I’d experienced at the nudist resort.

“Since you’re not on the single’s cruise, where are you staying?” I asked her.

“I’ve got a suite over at The Ballastone. They don’t riffle through your things when you’re out, so I always stay there. Leave pieces of tape stuck to my drawers just in case though.”

“Why don’t I take you there so you can get some rest? You probably have a concussion.” And then I remembered I didn’t have a car and sighed.

“Of course I have a concussion, girl. Did you just fall off the turnip truck? I think being an old maid has made you wonky. I was on my third husband by the time I was your age. Bless their souls. You’re going to dry up like a raisin if you’re not careful. Best thing you could do is dip your raisin in the ocean and plump it right back up.”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means, but I think my raisin is still plump enough, thank you.”

I wasn’t going to get rid of her. She had that look in her eye I occasionally saw when looking at my own reflection. There was only one way I knew to get her to go rest, and it was playing dirty.

“I need to stop by Mom’s. There are still a few of my things there I need to pick up.”

Scarlet was silent for a few seconds, her red lips pinched tightly together, and she drummed her fingers on the corner of my desk. I would’ve hated to play poker with Scarlet. She finally nodded and said, “That’s fine. I probably need to pay my respects to your mother anyway. Haven’t seen her since your father died. Heard she got remarried. Should probably get her a vase or something. Or maybe her new husband a bottle of whiskey. He’ll probably need it.”

“Be nice, Aunt Scarlet,” I told her.

“I am, I am. Well, let’s get going. I’ll probably need another one of Kate’s magic pills once I see your mother.”

“I need to buy a car first,” I said, gathering up all the files on my desk and sticking them in my backpack. “I gave Nick’s Audi back.”

“Well, that was dumb. Who’s Nick? Is he hot? Does he have a brother?”

“Nick asked me to marry him. He’s Senator Dempsey’s grandson.”

“Herbert Dempsey?” Scarlet asked, brows raised in surprise. “I knew Herbert’s daddy back in the day. And not in the biblical way either. Herbert is good people. His son is a real a-hole though. Hope the grandson isn’t. If he is, I can tell you how to get rid of the body without too many questions.”

I took a deep breath and grabbed my handbag. “Nick is a lot like his grandfather. He’s not an a-hole. He’s a cop.”

“I always wanted to marry a cop. I hear they’re dynamite in the sack.”

We headed out the front door of the agency and Lucy was mysteriously gone again. I had a feeling she just wanted to stay out of Scarlet’s way. I helped her down the front stairs since her balance was a little off due to the black eyes and her not being able to see all that well, and I hailed a taxi that happened to be passing by.

The cab driver gave a horrified look at Aunt Scarlet and then muttered something under his breath. He was a middle-aged Indian guy with salt-and-pepper hair and bags under his eyes. His name badge clipped to the air vent said Jayesh.

I gave him the address and we mostly rode in silence out of downtown Savannah and across the highway. It wasn’t the best part of town. In fact, it was a pretty bad part of town, and I was glad I’d remembered to grab my Glock from the shower caddy. We crossed the highway and Jayesh hit the automatic locks on the doors.

“Don’t worry,” Scarlet said. “I’ve got my sneakers on. And my handbag is loaded.”

“Right,” I said, thinking that would be the weirdest news story ever. Private investigator and her ninety-year-old aunt gunned down in the projects after buying stolen van filled with snacks and a working toilet.

“Lady, I don’t know what business you have here, but it can’t be good. I hope you’re not expecting me to wait for you.”

“No worries, Jayesh. You heard my aunt. She has her sneakers on. I wouldn’t want you to do the gentlemanly thing and wait for two women who are in a bad area of town.”

“Good,” he said, nodding.

“I don’t know where chivalry has gone,” I said, shaking my head.

“Right in the crapper,” Scarlet said.

“Yep,” Jayesh said. “This is 2016. Women’s lib and all that junk.” He came to an abrupt halt on the corner of Graves and Stiles and idled there, hitting the fare button so we could pay our tab.

“Oh, no,” I said. “You’re not dropping us at the corner. Take us all the way. I’m not walking a half mile down this road in these boots. And look, it’s starting to drizzle.”

“You’re crazy,” he said. “Look. Everyone is staring at us. We’re sitting targets.”

“Time’s ticking, Jayesh.”