Whiskey and Gunpowder

by Liliana Hart

  “Everything goes back to the company?”

  “Bingo,” he said. “Now I just have to prove it.”

  Nick had a sixth sense about these kinds of cases, and if his gut was saying it wasn’t a murder/suicide, then it probably wasn’t.

  “So…” I said. “Big wedding Friday night.” And then I decided to clarify. “Ours.”

  There were several seconds of silence before Nick said, “How’s the planning going?”

  “Great,” I lied. “Everything will be ready. All you have to do is show up wearing your tux. You have your tux, right?”

  I was doing everything I could to not flat out ask him if he’d be able to make it to the wedding. His silence didn’t fill me with a lot of confidence.

  “I’m about to fall over where I stand,” he said instead. “I’m going to chew a roll of Tums, get a couple of hours’ sleep, and then piss off some very powerful people. See you in a month or two.”

  I gasped and he said, “Kidding. Kind of.” And then he disconnected.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “He’ll figure it out. Just a small speed bump in the road. People get murdered in Savannah every day. They mostly all get solved.”

  Savage didn’t have a reply, which did not fill me with a lot of confidence. I decided to get up and make some coffee so I could focus on something besides the wedding for a few seconds.

  The little kitchenette was in the back of the van close to the bathroom. It was just a small counter space with a mini-fridge beneath it. But it was enough room for my Keurig. The small cabinet above held a few cups and snacks.

  “How do you like your coffee?” I asked.

  “Just water for me,” Savage said. “I try not to drink caffeine.”

  I squenched my face up and shook my head. That right there was just one of the reasons Savage and I could never be together. What kind of man could go through life without caffeine?

  I grabbed a water from the fridge, but it was frozen solid. I added powdered creamer and sugar to my coffee and then made my way back to the front. I set Savage’s water bottle in the cup holder and directed the heater vent on it so it would thaw. We waited another ten minutes in silence.

  “I have a good idea,” I said. “Why don’t we play twenty questions?”

  “You think that’s a good idea?” he asked, raising a brow in question.

  “Sure, we can start with something easy. It’s a good way to get to know each other better.”

  “Why do you want to know each other better?”

  “That counts as one of your questions,” I said. “But to answer, because we’re friends. And friends should know each other. It’s good to really get into each other’s psyches. Especially when we’re working together on potentially life or death situations.”

  “You think Matthew Martin is a life or death situation?” he asked.

  “That’s another question,” I said. “And of course not. But just over the last couple of weeks, think of all the times I’ve almost died.”

  “So you want to be friends with me because you’re reckless and I can keep you safe?”

  “Technically, that’s another question,” I said. “You’re down to seventeen. You’ve really got to be careful. It’s my turn to ask one. How come you always wear crazy socks?”

  “Because I’m not supposed to,” Savage said and then he countered with, “Why do you think you’ve procrastinated so much on this wedding? Do you think it’s because subconsciously you don’t really want to get married?”

  “That’s two questions,” I said.

  “I’m fine with that.”

  I hunkered down into my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ve changed my mind. This game is stupid. We know each other well enough.”

  Chapter Three

  The next hour went by with excruciating slowness. I’d handed Savage all my case files so he could look them over, and he’d had his head buried in them ever since.

  “None of these cases are too bad,” Savage finally said. “You’ve got two alleged infidelities, two potential frauds, and a comprehensive background check. I can do that one for you if you want.”

  “Sure,” I said, but I was distracted. I’d spent the last hour mulling Savage’s question about why I was procrastinating about the wedding. I decided to call Rosemarie and see if any progress had been made or if there had been any casualties.

  I wasn’t a technological person, so I had no idea how to take the phone off the Bluetooth setting so it was a private conversation. But I figured we wouldn’t be talking about personal things so it probably wasn’t that big of a deal. I should’ve known better.

  “What?” Rosemarie barked into the phone. It didn’t sound like a cheerful Rosemarie. It sounded like a demon-possessed Rosemarie. But maybe I was projecting.

  “I’m just checking in,” I said. “How’s it going?”

  “That question is relative,” she answered. “Your mom is wasted and passed out on the table. I can’t say I blame her. Scarlet drew a mustache on her with a permanent marker, and your sister just posted it to Instagram. Did you know she has more than a million followers? Is she famous or something?”

  “Or something,” I said. “Mom is going to kill everyone when she wakes up. She doesn’t do hangovers well. The only good news is that she hates social media, so she probably won’t see it unless someone shows it to her.”

  “I don’t mean to be critical,” Rosemarie said. “But your family is a disaster. They’re driving me up the wall. I’ve eaten a dozen cinnamon rolls. Kate had to call in another order from the bakery.”

  I couldn’t argue with her about my family so I said, “The cinnamon rolls are delicious.”

  “Kate said she’d take care of getting your mother home, but she’s got to testify in court starting this afternoon, so she can’t run interference,” Rosemarie said. “Scarlet and Phoebe are driving me bananas. They’re nosy as hell and have all kinds of opinions.” And then her voice dropped down to a whisper. “I had to take your call in the bathroom.”

  I felt bad for Rosemarie. Despite our rocky beginning, she’d become a good friend, and she was taking more initiative for my wedding than I was. I’d made the choice not to elope, so I needed to suck it up and deal with the consequences of that choice.

  “Tell me what I can do to help,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more involved. It just seemed too overwhelming.”

  “That’s what friends are for. Between me and Kate, everything will get done. She’s good at wrangling all the people into shape and I’m good at pizzazz. This will be the most stress-free week of your life as long as your family stays out of the way. Mostly Scarlet. She tends to be a bad influence.”

  I sighed. I knew how to keep Scarlet out of the way. “I’ll swing by and pick her up around lunchtime. But Phoebe’s on her own.”

  “Thank God,” Rosemarie said. “And don’t worry about Phoebe. She said something about how the fire crackling in the fireplace gave her a new idea and that she needed to go paint.”

  “That sounds exactly like Phoebe. Perfect.”

  “Now that we’ve got that figured out, we need to talk details. I’ve got a call in to the church so we can get people in and out for decorating all week. Pastor Charles’s secretary is supposed to call me back. I called in some favors and you’ve got an appointment to try on wedding dresses at Le Couture at six o’clock. Kate and I will meet you there so we can find bridesmaids’ dresses. She’ll be done with court by then.”

  “I can’t afford Le Couture,” I said. “And they have a year-long waiting list to get an appointment.”

  “Don’t be mad,” she said, and then she said nothing at all.

  The only person I knew who could get a walk-in appointment at Le Couture on such short notice was Nick’s mother. I’d rather be skinned alive and roasted on a spit in hell than owe Nick’s mother anything. She wasn’t nice. Though she was probably the most tolerable of Nick’s immediate family. My family drove me crazy, but at
least we were a family who loved each other. I had no idea why Nina Dempsey would help us with any part of the wedding. She hated the idea of her son marrying me. And I hated the idea of having her for a mother-in-law, so it equaled out in a way.

  “No,” I said. “No, no, no.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Rosemarie said. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. And Nina Dempsey is a desperate measure. The woman knows everyone in town and can get anything done with the snap of her fingers.” Rosemarie was quiet for a couple of seconds and I could hear her chewing. I wondered if she’d snuck a cinnamon roll in the bathroom with her.

  “I think she might think I work for her in some capacity. I’m guessing she has a lot of personal staff.”

  “Good Lord,” I said.

  “Did you know Nick has open credit at all these wedding vendors? He doesn’t even need a credit card. It’s like Pretty Woman. Except you’re not a whore.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said dryly.

  “I just tell it like I see it,” Rosemarie said. “Just because that Patty Perkins called you a whore when she found out you snagged a hottie like Nick doesn’t make it true. She was always jealous of you. I thought she was having an orgasm right in the middle of our staff meeting when the new principal assigned her to take your teaching job. And after you bought your 350Z, she went out and got a red Miata. It’s just sad if you ask me.”

  I was having a hard time remembering who Patty Perkins even was, much less why she’d want to immitate me or be jealous. I peeked over at Savage and saw the quirk of his mouth, even though he was still pretending to read the case files.

  “Drop Scarlet at her hotel, and I’ll pick her up from there. And then I’ll see you at six for the fittings.”

  “Will do,” Rosemarie said. “We’ve got everything under control. Just hang out with Savage and don’t worry about a thing.”

  I thought about it for a second and then glanced at Savage. His expression was blank, but there was something there.

  “Wait a sec…” But Rosemarie had already disconnected.

  I turned to Savage. “You’re here to babysit me, aren’t you?” I asked. “So I don’t get in the way.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “The wedding hormones are giving you paranoia. I’m just here to do some legwork and help out a friend in need. Especially since we know each other so well now.”

  “I sense your sarcasm.”

  I glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Matt Martin to make an appearance if he was true to schedule.

  “Look there,” I said. The front door opened and a man fitting Martin’s description came out. He was holding on to a leash, and at the other end was an English bulldog dressed in a sweater and knit cap. It was the most ridiculously adorable thing I’d ever seen.

  The dog did not look as if it was as enthusiastic to go for a walk as its master, but it lumbered along next to him through the gate and down the sidewalk toward the park.

  “Here we go,” I said, and put the van into drive. It had gotten nice and toasty during the time we’d been sitting there.

  I waited until he got to the corner before I eased out and followed behind him, and if I’d waited too much longer I would have missed him altogether. A yellow taxi sat waiting on the corner on the opposite side of the park, and Matt was lifting his dog to put in the back seat.

  “I’m guessing he didn’t catch that cab on the fly,” I said. It was near impossible to catch a cab around the Forsyth Park unless you’d scheduled a pickup.

  “He probably has a standing reservation if he’s been doing this three times a week for a couple of months,” Savage said.

  We wound our way through historic Savannah and out to the highway. I followed behind the cab for about fifteen minutes until they finally took an exit and turned onto a side street.

  “Not a great area of town,” I said.

  “And it’s not like you don’t blend in,” Savage said. “So I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “Again with the sarcasm.”

  The cab had taken a right down a narrow street with old brick buildings. Windows were broken out and there were bars on any that weren’t. The cars in the area were beaten to hell and half of them were missing wheels.

  I stopped at the stop sign and idled there, and Savage and I both looked to the right in the direction the cab had gone. It was stopped about halfway down the street, and Matt Martin and his bulldog got out and went to the door of one of the red-bricked buildings. The taxi didn’t wait to drive off.

  The windows on the bottom floor of the building were boarded up with plywood. I couldn’t see who answered the door, but someone must have because Matt and the dog disappeared inside.

  “You think if I park the van on that street it’ll still be there when we get back?”

  “Life’s a gamble,” Savage said.

  “Very helpful.” I turned onto the street and parked in front of a dumpster that looked like it hadn’t been emptied in a few years. It was in a slight alcove so it got the van out of the street.

  “You have your gun?” Savage asked.

  “It’s under my coat.” Which I’d been wearing since we left the agency. I figured the more layers between me and Savage, the better. Just for precaution’s sake. But I was sweating like a fat kid in a candy shop, and there was no way I was taking my coat off now. There was a swamp in the layers between my skin and the down feathers.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door, and then I started gagging at whatever horrific smell was leaking from the dumpster. It didn’t even matter that it was so cold I was afraid I was going to break. I grabbed hold of the rearview mirror to steady myself.

  “You okay?” Savage asked. “You don’t look so good.”

  “Good God,” I said, gagging again. “Don’t you smell that?”

  “Breathe through your mouth, not your nose,” he said. “And please stop making that sound. A yeti is going to think you’re trying to mate with it.”

  I gagged again in response and Savage sighed and took me by the elbow, leading me farther away from the dumpster.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. My eyes were watering so bad I could barely see what was in front of me until we were standing in the middle of the street right in front of the building Matthew Martin had disappeared into. I wiped my eyes and realized Savage had taken out his gun, holding it down at his side. Then he moved in a slow circle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, perplexed.

  “Just letting all our new friends know that I expect the van to be in the same condition we left it in when we return.”

  “What friends?” But I started looking a little closer in the shadows and could see movement. We were surrounded by the scourge of the street. And then they scurried off in other directions like rats. “Oh, my,” I whispered under my breath, suddenly very grateful for Savage’s company. The garbage had distracted me, and I’d taken my eye off the ball.

  “Maybe it’s a brothel,” I said.

  Savage stared at me. “Yeah, with pet-sitting services.”

  “Maybe it’s a different kind of brothel.”

  He shook his head and pointed up to the fire escapes above us. “You think you can get up there? The windows on the third floor aren’t boarded up.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, but I wasn’t feeling overly confident. My mind wasn’t in the game today, and all I really wanted to do was go back to the office and take a nap on my floor.

  We were standing in front of the building next to the dog brothel, and Savage went over and pulled down the ladder from the fire escape. I cringed at the noise and looked around, expecting Matt Martin and his bulldog to run out of the building next door half-naked.

  I sighed, seeing no other way around getting this job done, and went to the ladder, climbing up with all the grace of someone wearing a puffy winter coat and a sidearm. I waited for Savage to climb up behind me and pull down the next ladder. I wasn’t quit
e tall enough, even when I jumped.

  By the time we made it to the third floor I was both out of breath and freezing, and I could smell the occasional whiff from the dumpster. I gagged one more time for good measure, and Savage took a step back.

  “I’m good,” I said, and moved closer to the window to see if I could see inside. It was filthy and covered in grime, and some of the panes were broken out. “Do you hear that?”

  Savage moved closer and the music swelled from inside. The bass thumped loud enough to rattle the windows.

  “Perfect,” Savage said, and reached inside the empty pane to push open the window.

  “You can’t do that,” I hissed. “It’s illegal.”

  He just stared at me. “Do you want to find out what Matt Martin is up to or not?”

  “I left my camera in the van.”

  “Use your phone,” he said, and then crawled through the window.

  I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. The wedding stress was making me feel like an idiot. And act like one.

  I crawled through the window behind Savage and my coat snagged on something sharp. I heard the rip of fabric, and I swore under my breath. The floor creaked below me, and the smell of dust and must was overwhelming. Old wooden crates were piled high, and a wrong move could send them all tumbling down.

  The third floor of the building was more of a loft. The entire middle area was open and looked all the way down to the first floor. That’s where the lights and music were coming from, so we made our way closer to the edge.

  I grabbed Savage’s hand, not sure if I wanted to see what was going on below. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a dog owner and canine brothel. Savage squeezed my hand and led me toward the edge anyway. The wooden floor was precarious at best and creaked noisily, and part of the railing was gone that looked down over the middle.

  We squatted down and gingerly peeked over the edge. And then I burst into tears and fell back on my butt.

  “What?” Savaged mouthed, looking at me with concern.