“Wow, I’m just so amazed,” Rose Marie said, looking around with wide eyes. “You live such an exciting life, buying sexy clothes and going to balls. You’re just like a princess in a fairytale.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“I want to be just like you. Maybe we could do this again sometime.”
The look on her face was so hopeful I didn’t have the heart to tell her no way in hell was I going out in public with her again. So I just lied. Again.
I was mostly devout Methodist, but I was pretty sure I was going to have to do some kind of penance for all the lying I’d been doing lately. On the upside, practice did make perfect. I was about to order a third margarita when I glanced out into the busy mall from our window view table and saw a familiar face.
“Oh my,” I said. I opened my shoulder bag and dug through the new files Kate had dropped off. “I’ll be damned.”
Eddie Pogue was a Whiskey Bayou resident and a dead beat. He was a few years older than me and he’d married someone a lot of years younger than me. Probably because a younger woman was easier for him to control. He’d been in an auto accident nine months before. According to the file, Eddie was suing the insurance company for refusing to pay him when he put in a claim that he’d been unable to work due to injuries and mental trauma caused by the accident. My job was to disprove his claims of injury.
“What is it?” Rose Marie asked excitedly. “I heard in the post office the other day that you were a genuine private detective now. Is this a sting? Should we act covert?”
I looked at Rose Marie’s lime green flamingo print blouse and matching broom skirt and sighed. Rose Marie was my cross to bear. I opened my mouth to tell her there was nothing we could do, figuring Eddie was probably not stupid enough to stop his act out in public. I was probably going to have to catch him around his house, mowing the lawn or beating his wife.
“Do you know who that is?” I asked Rose Marie as I pointed to Eddie.
Rose Marie had grown up in Whiskey Bayou the same as I had—only she’d graduated a few years before me.
“Sure, that’s Eddie Pogue. Why’s he using a walker?”
“Auto accident. How well do you know him?”
“We graduated together,” she said, shoveling a nacho into her mouth. “He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch. He was always too hoity-toity for the circles I ran with in high school. He was the no-neck jock, while I was Glee Club President.”
Rose Marie said it matter-of-factly without resentment, so I didn’t think much of it. The world was divided into two categories—the jocks and everybody else. Rose Marie and I were in the everybody else category.
“He liked to pull pranks on those of us that were unfortunate enough not to be him. He always thought they were funny, but he was really just cruel. He got that Warwick girl in trouble a couple of years ago and married her. Everybody knows he knocks her around all the time.”
I gave one more look at Rose Marie’s flamingos and winced. “Come on,” I said, grabbing my bag and throwing enough money on the table to cover both our meals. “I need to see what he’s up to.”
Rose Marie scurried after me, and I kept expecting her to slink behind columns and put her fingers up like a gun. I waved bye to the hostess when she gave us a strange look and kept my eyes on Eddie Pogue. He was headed toward the Starbucks at a brisk pace, his walker used like a battering ram to get through the crowd and into the line.
Perfect. I could grab a mocha latte to counteract the margaritas and get some pictures with my camera phone at the same time. Eddie wore a neck and knee brace to go along with his walker.
I inhaled the scent of coffee as we walked in the Starbucks, and we took our place in line a couple of people behind Eddie, and I silently judged him as he ordered a skinny mocha no-whip latte. The drink didn’t fit with his baggy gangsta shorts and tank top, especially since he was rocking the middle-aged redneck look from the neck up.
Eddie took his latte and sat by himself at a table that overlooked the parking lot, managing to look pitiful as he sipped his coffee and we waited on ours.
Once we’d gotten our drinks, I directed Rose Marie to a corner table that gave me a direct line of sight to Eddie. Rose Marie’s face was flushed red with excitement and her compact mirror was out so she could see what was going on behind her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there was no way in hell Eddie hadn’t noticed us.
Eddie exaggerated a limp as he tossed his drink in the trash and came over to our table.
“Hey there, Addison. Make sure you tell your mother hello for me.” He ignored Rose Marie completely and walked off.
Damn small towns.
Catching Eddie Pogue was going to be difficult. Of course, every case I’ve had so far had left me maimed or addled, so having one that was only “difficult” sounded like a breath of fresh air.
When I was a junior in high school the quarterback of the varsity football team asked me to go to the prom. I, of course, being the naïve nerd that I was, thought he’d finally come to realize that smart girls could be fun, and I was going to represent the overlooked and underappreciated at James Madison High School.
So in preparation for the big event, I decided I needed a tan to show off my stunning white gown to its best potential. Never having tanned before, I didn’t realize how necessary it was to wear the eye goggles when UV Rays are frying your body. I didn’t want to have white eyelids on a tan face, so I didn’t wear them and managed to sunburn my eyelids and damage my cornea, not to mention that I fried the rest of my poor body to pork rind quality. I couldn’t see anything for almost two days after the incident.
This of course put a serious kink in the plans of Clint the quarterback, as his goal had been to bag the overlooked and underappreciated. To get his revenge on me for screwing up his plans of debauchery, he walked me into every doorway and table we came across. I finally realized what he was doing, so I sat down and listened to the music, my eyes so swollen I couldn’t even see light, and called my dad to come pick me up.
There was a part of me that felt just like that sixteen-year-old kid with fried insides and blinders on every time I looked at Nick Dempsey, but I opened the door for him anyway.
“Wow.”
A good vocabulary happened to be one of my strengths, but the minute I opened the door and saw him in a tux I was reduced to wow.
“Wow, yourself. Nice dress,” he said, walking in and making himself at home while I held on to the doorknob for support with my mouth agape.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to end up staying here and doing something that would probably be considered a mistake when we wake up tomorrow morning.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
Somehow the threat didn’t seem all that scary. The man looked like he’d just come off the cover of GQ. His almost black hair was combed back, but there were still a few unruly strands that fell onto his forehead. The dark growth of beard on his face was freshly shaved, and he looked completely at home in a tuxedo, though I think I preferred him in worn jeans and t-shirts.
He started for me in a determined stride—I guess I’d been staring too long—and I could see the intent for wickedness clearly in his eyes.
“Let’s go,” I blurted out before he could get too close. I grabbed my purse and ran to the front door, ignoring his satisfied laugh. It was a damned good thing I’d remembered to put on my Spanx.
The Officer’s Gala had been a tradition in Savannah for almost a hundred years. It began as a way to show support for our men and women in uniform and to recognize the best of the best. In recent years, it had become more of a political schmooze fest, but I’d always enjoyed going despite that fact. I went to support my friends now that my father was gone, because for some reason I liked hanging out with people who carry guns.
I sat in the passenger side of Nick’s black truck while he gave his keys to the valet and came around to open my door. I twisted my hands nervously and picked invisible specks of
lint off my dress. Tonight had potential for disaster written all over it, and with my luck disaster was bound to fall directly in my lap with minimal effort.
Nick held his hand out to me and I grasped hold of it tightly and planted my red spiked heel on the ground.
“You look beautiful,” he said, kissing my hand, his eyes soft and seductive as he looked into mine.
My heart melted a little at the touch of his lips against my skin and my nerves settled.
“Thank you.”
I’ve got to say, we looked stunning together, and I stood next to him proudly as more and more glances turned our way. I quashed down any feelings of jealousy at the women who looked at Nick with hungry glances. After all, he was with me for the night.
I spotted Kate and Mike right off and headed in their direction. Mike was a huge teddy bear of a man with dark red hair, so he was hard to miss in a crowd. His Irish roots made his cheeks red whenever he had anything alcoholic to drink and also made him seem completely out of place in a tuxedo.
Next to Mike’s large form, Kate looked like a doll. She had managed to leave her ugly suits at home and put on a little black dress. She’d even bothered to put on makeup and jewelry.
“There you are,” Kate said. “I was wondering if you’d have the guts to show up, since I know you lied to me about having a date.”
“I didn’t lie. I came with Nick.” Though I’d saw my tongue off before I told Kate that Nick had practically blackmailed me into going with him.
“Oh,” Kate said and her smile was genuine. “I thought it would take a little longer for the two of you to hit it off. You can both be a little hard to get along with.”
“You were trying to set us up?” I asked, appalled, and then a beat later, “I’m not hard to get along with.”
“Well, of course I was trying to set you up. I wanted to find someone for you to replace Greg with. I didn’t want you to be mopey, so I thought Nick would be a good choice for rebound sex.”
“Thanks,” I said, wincing.
The problem was I didn’t want to have rebound sex with Nick. I wanted to have relationship sex with Nick. Now I could never be sure if it was one or the other.
“You look great tonight,” I told her.
“Well, I figured if I didn’t try at least a little in the dress up department you’d just bitch at me all night.”
I thought about denying it, but she was probably right, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Speaking of Greg,” Kate said. “I hate to have to tell you this, but they’re assigned to our table. And before you ask, I’ve already tried to swap the seats out at another table, but no one else wants to sit with them either.”
“What?” I asked horrified.
I was already looking for the exit, when I noticed Nick walking over to our table. I knew his full attention was on me because all the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my nipples wanted to turn in his direction like homing beacons.
“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling my chair out for me.
“We have to leave,” I said, grabbing my handbag.
“You can handle this, Addison,” Kate said, pushing me down in my seat. “Just remember you can’t hit Veronica unless she attacks first. I’d hate for you to get arrested. Of course, you do have friends with enough clout to get you off easy, and if we get a sympathetic judge you probably wouldn’t have to serve any jail time.”
Mike rolled his eyes at Kate. “Maybe you just need to have a drink and relax.”
“A drink. That’s a good idea,” I said, the panic sending me close to hyperventilation. I grabbed Nick’s arm in a death grip and stuck my head between my knees.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Nick asked, looking at us both like we belonged in a looney bin.
“Addison’s ex-fiancé and the other woman are sitting with us tonight,” Kate whispered.
“Oh. So what’s the big deal? We’re all adults here,” Nick said, obviously unfamiliar with what had transpired in the breakup process.
“Greg and the floozy got caught doing it in the limo on Addison’s wedding day,” Kate said, leaning as far around me as possible so Nick could hear the sordid story.
“Really?” Nick asked, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile that promised laughter.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” I said. “It’s not the least bit funny.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, continuing to smile. “Does that mean I’m your rebound?” He brushed his finger down the side of my cheek and sent heat straight down to my unmentionables.
I blushed red because I didn’t really know how to answer him. Was I interested in him only on the rebound? The tingles that coursed through my body told me I didn’t want to be. I’d never felt those tingles before with anyone. I’m not the most experienced person in the world, so maybe the tingles only came when you were on the rebound. I’d have to ask someone who knew.
The good news was that the sexual pull of Nick’s touch kept me from hyperventilating. The bad news was I still hadn’t figured out how to get out of a situation that was bound to be uncomfortable.
The table got quiet when Greg and Veronica approached. Veronica was pulling Greg along behind her like a dog on a leash, a look of devilish excitement on her face when she saw where she was sitting. Her double D’s barely held up a slinky column of shimmering silver that was slit up her side to show long tanned legs. I had no idea what that woman was teaching to a room full of teenagers, but it probably wasn’t how to cook a roast turkey.
“Well hello, everyone,” Veronica said, oozing honey and southern charm, all of which was as fake as her implants.
She made a point of shaking both men’s hands and she lingered over Nick just a little too long for my taste. I think I started to growl because she backed up rather quickly, and Nick started to laugh.
“Easy, tiger,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Oddly enough, his words comforted me. Nick might have issues in etiquette, but there was something about him that said you could trust him. I relaxed in my chair and watched Greg take his seat next to Veronica.
Greg picked at invisible lint on his jacket and tapped his fingers nervously on the table. A light film of sweat coated his upper lip and forehead. Greg didn’t look so good, and it took him several minutes before he met my eyes.
“Addison,” he said, nodding his head. “You look lovely tonight.”
I nodded a polite thank you and was extremely proud of myself. Civil was my middle name tonight. In fact, I wished I could have returned a compliment equally inane in value, but I couldn’t lie. Next to Nick, Greg was wallpaper. Sure he was dressed up in his tuxedo and looked like the up and coming insurance salesman he was, but he was pale and boring next to Nick.
“I didn’t think you’d be coming tonight, Greg,” Kate said. Bless her soul for trying to keep the conversation away from me so I didn’t say anything I’d regret later.
“I’m always looking for new clients,” Greg said, a pinched smile in place.
This bit of news made me smile a big toothy grin because if Greg was out schmoozing for clients it meant Kate had been right and the gossip was true. Probably no one wanted to buy insurance from a known cheater.
I leaned over to Nick and whispered in his ear. “I think there’s something wrong with Greg,” I said, only marginally concerned.
“That’s a no brainer. The man left you for a blow up doll. He’s probably wishing he wasn’t such a moron.”
I grinned and kissed Nick on the cheek spontaneously. That was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to me.
“Thank you for the compliment, but that wasn’t what I was talking about. Greg looks like he’s about to keel over from a heart attack. Look how red his face is.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Nick said, taking a sip of beer. “It would make me nervous too if I was sitting in a room full of cops when I was wanted for police questioning.”
“What?” I hissed in his ear. “You can’t be serious. What happened?”
“It seems that you and Greg share a common hangout. The Foxy Lady is a popular place for Whiskey Bayou residents.”
“Greg was at The Foxy Lady?” And then I thought about it for a minute and realized what that meant. “He saw me dance on stage?” I asked horrified.
“Yes and yes. I’ll explain later. Just keep a smile on your face and pretend you don’t know anything.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Perfect. And remind me later to give you some techniques on the art of stripping. I wouldn’t mind you trying on that little leather number for me some night.”
“In your dreams,” I said, but I was smiling like he asked even though I wanted to move to Alaska.
We made it all the way through the first few courses in strained silence and awkward tension. Nick seemed to be the only who was oblivious to the undercurrents at the table, or at least he was a better actor than the rest of us.
I’d also managed to drink three glasses of wine before dessert was served, so I was at the point I didn’t really care about undercurrents, though Veronica had yet to stop sending Nick sultry glances and massive flashes of cleavage.
The dancing and glad-handing had started, so Greg used it as an excuse to work the floor, shaking hands and smiling his phony smile. Both Nick and Mike were up and out of their seats as well, doing whatever it is men do when they have to wear a tuxedo in a crowded place with no sports available to watch.
So that left me, Veronica and Kate sitting cozy as little clams at the table all by ourselves. I decided some kind of variation was in order to keep things interesting, so I asked for white wine with dessert instead of the red I’d been drinking.
“So I hear you’ve had to get another job because you’re having financial troubles,” Veronica stated, dropping the gloves as soon as the men were out of sight.
Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) Page 11
