I was going to be the best employee the McClean Agency had ever seen. Sam Spade would be no more than a name by the time Addison Holmes had made her mark. The sigh must have tipped Kate off to my thoughts.
“You’re totally having delusions of grandeur, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little,” I said, pouting.
“Why don’t I show you how exciting detective work is? Finish your beer and get out of your pajamas.”
“You won’t regret this, Kate.”
“That’s what you said when we were in the tenth grade and you talked me into sneaking out and borrowing my mom’s car to go to Brad Cooper’s party.”
“Yeah, but she never did find out how that dent got on her fender.”
The rain was still pouring when we left my apartment and headed out to the parking lot. Kate had no problem with parking in range of falling bricks, and after I looked at the car she was driving, I could see why she wouldn’t care.
“Nice car,” I said, eyeing the taupe Taurus with immediate dislike.
“The first rule of thumb is to always blend in to your surroundings.”
I looked at my shiny red Z and back at Kate’s Taurus with a shake of my head.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take my car?” I asked. I grimaced as the sticky stuff on the door handle attached itself to my hand.
“No, I just told you we need to blend in. People have a tendency to notice flashy red sports cars. Especially one that says HISTORY on the license plate.”
“All right, all right, show me the ropes,” I said. “Who are we going to bust?”
“No one,” Kate said with an eye roll.
We headed into Savannah at a boring, law-abiding speed and it was everything I could do not to fidget in my seat and sneak glances at the speedometer. We turned into a sub-division of middle class, ranch-style houses built in the seventies. There were cars of various makes and models parked along the street, and I was ashamed to say Kate was right. My car would have stood out like a sore thumb, even with the added cover of the rain. She parked behind a minivan that had “Wash Me” written in the dust on the back window and then shut off the engine. I cracked my knuckles, not used to sitting in silence with Kate.
“So if the first rule is to blend in,” I said, “what’s the second rule?”
“The second rule is that we do not confront or apprehend,” she said. “Not ever. And the third and most important rule is that we never break the law. Your only job is to watch, photograph and take notes for the file. That’s ninety percent of what we do. We rely on the facts and our instincts to get us out of trouble if the need arises. Then it’s case solved and we file it in the drawer.”
“Cool. I’ve got great instincts.”
To give Kate credit, she did keep her face perfectly blank after I made this statement. I had terrible instincts, and no one knew that better than Kate.
Kate had always been the serious one, bordering on anal, and then she evened it out by having a sense of humor so dry it was almost too late to laugh by the time you thought about what she was saying. Kate never got into trouble. Unless she was with me.
While my body was finishing my homework and doing chores, my mind was thinking of different ways Kate and I could have the best adventure possible. Whether that be taking apart her parents’ television to build a robot to do our chores or stalking a teacher home so we could see if he was really a superhero in disguise. About the time we reached our senior year, Kate was finally able to tell me no and think of creative ways to keep me from doing anything too over the top or just plain stupid.
I owed Kate a lot.
I was startled back into reality as the Taurus sputtered to life and Kate drove out of the neighborhood.
“Where are we going?” I asked, confused. “We just got here.”
“Addison, we’ve been here for half an hour. I’ve taken pictures and given you a full rundown of what you can expect when you’re on your own. You, however, have been humming the theme song to Growing Pains and checking the mirror to see if your roots are showing.”
She was right. I was hopeless. Sitting still was not one of my strengths.
“You’re a good friend,” I said, patting her on the arm.
CHAPTER FOUR
Monday
“You look like you’ve had a rough day.”
I winced at the chirpy voice that was, in my opinion, the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard.
Rose Marie Valentine teaches choir in the room next to mine, and unfortunately her singing voice is even worse than her speaking voice. The walls are thin at James Madison High School, and sometimes I wish I could teach kids about the Battle of Little Bighorn in a padded cell. If only life were that easy.
Rose Marie was the last person I wanted to talk to today. In fact, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be the invisible woman today, and I figured if I wished it hard enough, kept my eyes closed and didn’t say anything to acknowledge her presence, she’d just go away and leave me floating in an invisible cloud of depression.
“Are you all right, Addison?”
So much for luck. I slowly brought my head up off my desk and peeled away the term paper that was stuck to my cheek. I could tell by the smears on the page that I’d have a big fat F marked in red on the side of my face. A merry band of hammering men were pounding away in my left temple, and I was pretty sure I’d hit rock bottom around my third period class. Technically, things could only get better.
Once his family had been notified, the news of Mr. Butler’s death had spread through our small community like wildfire. I’d been fortunate that my involvement in finding his body hadn’t gotten out yet, but I wasn’t holding onto too much hope my luck would continue.
Teachers had been roaming the halls all day with red-rimmed eyes and the school counselor had been available for all students and faculty who were having a difficult time coping with the situation. I personally wouldn’t take advice or comfort from James Madison’s counselor if I had an ingrown toenail. My mother went to school with him, and she said he used to tie firecrackers to cat’s tails and light them when he was a kid.
“Addison?”
“I’m fine, Rose Marie. I just have a little bit of a headache.”
What I was really thinking was that it wasn’t such a great day to go into the police station and give Detective Dempsey the statement he was so hot and bothered for or to start a new job, but then I thought of the little house on Hutton Street and decided to suck it up.
I opened my eyes and saw more than I wanted to of Rose Marie. She was dressed in hot pink capris and a pink and white striped sailor’s top. What they say is true about large women not wearing horizontal stripes. Her permed blond hair was teased high around her head, and she always wore two perfect dots of rouge on her cheeks. I had the sudden urge to take out my makeup sponge and show her how to blend.
“Bless your heart,” she said in a syrupy accent thick enough to spread on toast.
Rose Marie wasn’t a bad person. She was just someone who took a great deal of energy to deal with, like a toddler or a Great Dane.
“I just can’t believe Veronica said those things to you at lunch today,” she continued. “I don’t believe for a minute that someone posted naked pictures of you on the Internet, but I’ll go home and check for you this afternoon just to make sure.”
“Thanks, Rose Marie. You’re a true friend.”
“I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Veronica posted those pictures herself.” Veronica had experience in posting naked pictures of me on the Internet, so I wasn’t completely surprised by her bombshell during lunch. She’d done the same thing our senior year after I’d been voted Most Likely to Succeed by setting up a camera in the girls locker room. I like to think she wouldn’t have bothered with such a thing if she’d known in advance that my greatest successes would be teaching high school history and being the president of the Whiskey Bayou Yoga Assoc
iation. But here we are again.
“She’s always been vindictive and spoiled,” Rose Marie continued. “I heard she seduced her mother’s third husband when she was sixteen and blackmailed him with the tape because he didn’t buy her the car she wanted.”
“I heard that, too,” I said. I knew for a fact Veronica had always been vindictive and spoiled. Just like I knew the moment she came back to town she’d set her sights on Greg Nelson. It was me who was naïve enough to think he’d ignore her advances since he was so madly in love with me.
“I tell you, you girls have been entertaining this town for twenty years, but it’s not just a simple case of female rivalry anymore. In my opinion, Veronica’s out to draw blood. I’d watch my back if I were you.”
“Well that makes me feel better,” I said.
God bless Dairy Queen. When life lets you down, they’re always there to pick up the pieces with the help of twenty-percent butter fat.
I’d gone home to change into what I considered to be “spying on adulterous spouses attire.” Which included a short black skirt, a George Michael concert tank top that said FAITH in hot pink glitter, a pair of flip flops, an oversized straw hat, and large sunglasses to help hide my identity. I’d wiped the red marker off my face, but I still wasn’t in top form, so I stopped for a banana split to calm my nerves before driving to Kate’s office.
I was multitasking, steering with my knees while eating my ice cream as I weaved in and out of traffic on Harry Truman Parkway. My stereo was cranked and Lynyrd Skynyrd was vibrating the fillings in my teeth.
I savored each bite of ice cream and hot fudge and almost missed my exit because I was lost in semi-orgasmic bliss. I was in the far left lane of traffic, so I punched my horn to warn the people around me and zipped over two lanes. A black Ford F150 swerved when I cut him off at the exit, and I winced and waved an apology as I headed down the exit ramp.
In my rearview mirror I could see the truck parked at a funny angle on the side of the road and all four of its tires smoking. Whoever was inside looked to be okay though so I didn’t stop to lend a hand.
I glanced back at the road in time to see the stop sign, so I slammed on my brakes and jerked as my body slammed against the seat belt and my head hit the steering wheel. Fortunately, I’d finished my ice cream because the plastic container was now face down on the floorboard.
I made the rest of the drive to Kate’s office in peace with no more close calls and decided it would probably be best if I didn’t indulge in one of my greatest weaknesses while traveling at a high rate of speed from now on.
The McClean Detective Agency was run from a two-story, red-bricked building that was more than a hundred years old. There were black shutters on each side of all the windows, green ivy growing riotously across the front and large white columns flanking the front door. It was on the corner of a block filled with similar looking buildings that housed law firms, doctor’s offices and tax agencies.
The street was packed, so I parked at the end of the block and walked to the building. My head was throbbing by the time I made it up the stairs to the second floor.
I waved hello to Lucy Kim, Kate’s secretary, and as usual hurried past her desk as quickly as possible. The woman scared the crap out of me. There was something in her eyes that made it very clear she was way more than an average secretary. She looked really crazy and deadly at the same time. She always dressed in black and the highest heels I’d ever seen in my life. Her hair was straight as rain down her back and her lips were always the color of blood, like she’d just finished feeding.
I shivered when she just stared at me with a blank expression instead of saying hello in return. Like I said, she scared the crap out of me.
I nodded to a few other familiar faces and knocked on Kate’s open office door before sticking my head inside. Kate sat at her desk, piled high with papers, and still managed to look professional and cool.
“Hey, come on in. I was wondering if you’d changed your mind after yesterday,” she said, standing up to give me a quick, but preoccupied hug.
I looked down at Kate’s practical blazer and white stretchy shirt tucked into dress slacks in no-nonsense gray and shook my head. I’d never been able to get her to see the importance of colors and accessorizing. I could see her shoulder holster when she moved back behind her desk, and I wondered if I got my P.I. license if Kate would let me carry one too.
“I got held up in a little traffic on the way here,” I lied. “What is this suit you’re wearing?”
“Don’t start, Addison. I’m a private detective, not a supermodel,” she said, exasperated.
Kate looked me over from top to bottom. “That must have been some traffic because you’ve got chocolate sauce on your shirt and a bump the size of the Grand Tetons on your forehead.”
My forehead was a little sore, but I ignored the pain. I was more concerned about the small glob of chocolate on my left breast. It was an exercise in self-control that kept me from leaning down to lick it off.
“Dammit, this is vintage George Michael.”
“Look on the bright side. No one will be able to see you since you’ll be hiding out in your car the whole time.”
“Good point. You know, I have some serious reservations about your secretary. Have you done a background check on her? I bet she’s an assassin for hire or maybe even a vampire. I bet she’s the head vampire, not one of those lowly minions that have their minds warped during the transition.”
Kate looked at me like I was an idiot and rolled her eyes. “I think your mind’s warped. Lucy is very good at her job, but I wouldn’t stand in her way if I were you. I’m lucky to have her.”
“Well, I tell you, something’s not right about her. I saw her at the supermarket a couple of weeks ago, and it surprised the hell out of me to see milk and eggs in her grocery basket. I figured she had the blood bank make deliveries right to her door.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re weird?” Kate asked.
“All the time,” I said, giving one last glance at the chocolate sauce on my shirt. “Okay, hit me with everything you’ve got. I’m ready to catch some bottom feeders.”
“Since you weren’t listening yesterday when I was passing along my infinite wisdom, I’ll repeat everything. The most important thing you need to remember is that you’re not out to catch anyone. Your only job is to trail each subject and snap a few photos. If you run into any trouble whatsoever, I want you to drive away. Period. And we never break the law.”
I nodded my head furiously, trying to convince her that I would never be so stupid as to get in the middle of anything dangerous or marginally illegal, but she knew me too well. Disaster was my middle name, and it showed a serious lack of judgment on her part that she’d even offer me a job like this. But for a hundred bucks a night, I could be agreeable to almost anything.
“We also have a confidentiality clause you need to sign. Most of our clients are from out of town, but we give local residents our promise to be discreet as well. There could be times when you’ll recognize somebody.”
“I can talk about it with you though, can’t I?”
“Absolutely. I always enjoy hearing the juicy tidbits. But you can’t tell your mother.”
Kate must have read the intent on my face because a guilty flush washed over my skin. I had planned to do just that. Old habits were hard to break, and gossip in a small town was the same as breathing. My mother would never forgive me if she found out I knew other people’s dirty secrets and didn’t share them with her. That was grounds for being cut out of the family will.
“Oh, all right. I promise not to tell a soul. Except for you, of course.”
“Here are three of our most recent cases. All of them are allegedly cheating on spouses or significant others. I would take them home tonight and read them through before you start tailing them. It’ll make your job easier in the long run to have all the information in your head.”
I flipped through the files. There
was a doctor from Savannah, a librarian from Thunderbolt and a banker from Whiskey Bayou.
“Whoa, this is a file on John Hyatt,” I said.
“Yeah, you remember Fanny Kimble?”
“A couple of year older than us, head cheerleader, president of the math club, homecoming queen and valedictorian. Black hair down to her ass, big blue eyes and built like a supermodel—all leg and no breast. How could I forget Fanny Kimble?”
“Well in a few months she’s going to be Mrs. John Hyatt. The only problem is she thinks he’s cheating on her. She suspects it’s a relationship he had before they ever met that has continued over the past couple of years. She’s found expensive lingerie a time or two and receives hang up calls when she spends the night at his house.”
“But how could he cheat and get away with it?” I asked naïvely. “He works at the bank and lives on the busiest corner in town. You’d think someone would notice.”
“Which is why you’ll need to talk to the neighbors when you get a chance. Besides, just because we live in a small town doesn’t mean the people there don’t have secret lives. Look at Greg, for example. He’d been sleeping with you and Veronica for two months before you were supposed to get married, and you never had a clue.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said. “I think I’ll leave on that pleasant note and go earn some money.”
Before I could gather all my things there was a terse knock and a powerful presence at the door that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and heat shoot straight to my unmentionables. I looked down to make sure my clothes were still on and hadn’t melted away at the first sign of such masculine vitality.
“Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I caught two homicides this morning, and then some drunk woman ran me off the road and a nail punctured my tire. I should have given her a ticket, but I couldn’t drive on a flat.”
Uh-oh. I recognized that voice now, though it was more expressive than the first time I’d heard it. I looked up into the familiar face that hadn’t yet noticed my presence. He was an electric force standing in the doorway of Kate’s office, and a quick spurt of jealousy rushed through me as I wondered how they knew each other.
Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) Page 4
