Whiskey On The Rocks (Addison Holmes Mysteries Book 5)

by Liliana Hart

  I hurried after them, trying to figure out how things like this always ended up out of my control. I was the one with the expense account, the Lady Glock, and the P.I. license.

  I’d barely tossed my bag in the back and climbed into the monster when Scarlet pressed her foot to the floor and took off. I grabbed the door handle with both hands and tried to pull it closed, the rain pelting me in the face. The only thing keeping me warm was the pure fear of falling out of the car and ending up like my mother’s urn.

  I managed to get the door shut and leaned back against the seat, sucking in deep breaths. I hurried and fastened my seatbelt as Scarlet ran a stop sign. The good news was that if we died before we got there I wouldn’t have to get naked in front of a bunch of strangers.

  “Here, put on a hat,” Scarlet said, handing me a bright orange hat with an alligator on the front. “Your hair is so big I can’t see out the passenger side window.”

  We stopped at Rosemarie’s house and let her pack a bag. Neither of us had mentioned that she wouldn’t need clothes where we were going, but I’d decided it was probably for the best. What Rosemarie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  It took Rosemarie about seven minutes to change into a flirty white skirt with lace edges and an electric blue halter top that laced all the way down the front, showing an impressive amount of cleavage and just a peek of the thorny rose tattoo that wrapped around her left breast. She was wearing straw wedges and I could see her shivering outside from the warmth of the car. When Rosemarie took a vacation from school, she really took a vacation. I’d thought on more than one occasion that Rosemarie might have split personalities. Because one half of her closet looked as if it came out of the Sunday school teacher’s catalogue. The other side looked like it came from the castoffs from Britney Spears’s latest concert tour.

  It took Rosemarie twenty-three more minutes to convince her neighbors to feed and walk her two Great Danes, Baby and Johnny Castle. Rosemarie and her dogs were close. Very close. I’d once seen her let Johnny Castle lick her in the mouth for twenty minutes. The problem was the dogs had a tendency to eat anyone who wasn’t Rosemarie, so I could see the neighbor’s reluctance to feed the dogs.

  By the time Rosemarie made it back to the car, I’d eaten an entire can of cheddar cheese Pringles and Scarlet had fallen asleep. Her head slumped over the wheel and her eyelids hadn’t closed all the way, so it looked like she was staring at me. The only reason I knew she was still alive was the soft snore that escaped every couple of minutes.

  Rosemarie got back into the Hummer with a grunt, splashing little droplets of water everywhere.

  “Lord, I’m tired of this rain,” she said. “My hair hasn’t looked good for two weeks. A little water and it goes flat as a pancake. Though I should probably be grateful it’s not all huge like yours, Addison. Seagulls are going to try to land in your hair, thinking it’s a nest.”

  “Thank you, Rosemarie,” I said. “Have some chips.” I tossed a bag of Cheetos into the back seat and heard the crackle of the bag as she ripped into it.

  Scarlet let out an unladylike snort and her head popped up off the steering wheel. Her coifed hair stuck up on one side like she’d had electric shock therapy and her lipstick was smeared. Chip crumbs were scattered on the front of her shirt, and she looked a little disoriented and a lot crazy.

  “Let’s go,” Scarlet said. “Time’s a wastin’.”

  She threw the Hummer in reverse by accident and I closed my eyes as we made contact with Rosemarie’s garbage cans. Then she put it in drive and we hauled ass through Whiskey Bayou.

  The drive to the Hidden Sunrise Naturist Community should’ve taken close to five hours. We made it in three and a half.

  The sign wasn’t flashy, but there was a guard stand and we had to show identification for him to open the gate. Scarlet was able to bring guests onto the resort as long as we abided by the rules. Which meant clothes weren’t allowed, but participating in theme nights was encouraged.

  The property itself was secluded by palm trees, and Scarlet managed to only hit the curb once as she took the winding road deep into the resort grounds.

  “Wow,” I said once the view cleared. “That’s incredible.”

  It was ocean and beach for as far as the eye could see. If I wasn’t so distracted by the naked people walking around the grounds, I could’ve really enjoyed myself.

  “I think I’m confused,” Rosemarie said, sticking her head between us in the front seat like a Golden Retriever. “Why are those people naked? Are we joining a cult? Because I did that once when I was nineteen and the hallucinogenics really messed with my head.”

  “This is a nudist colony,” I said.

  “Oh, all right then.” She sat back in the seat like it was no big deal and I dug in my purse for one of the pills I’d snatched from my mom. I was going to need a little fortification before I started stripping down.

  “Why is everyone carrying a towel?” I asked and then immediately regretted the question.

  “It’s a requirement here at the resort,” Scarlet said. “You wouldn’t want to sit in the same place someone’s naked parts have been. That would be gross.”

  “Right,” I said. “What was I thinking?” And I was glad she’d explained. I wasn’t too fond of the idea of putting my naked bits where someone else’s naked bits might have been while I was eating beef tips and gravy for lunch.

  We drove past a large two-story beach house that was built about ten feet off the ground. Stairs led up to the front of the house.

  “The regular rooms and one of the restaurants are in there,” Scarlet said. “They serve a buffet three times a day, and I guess it’s okay if you like to get up and get your food for yourself.”

  “I don’t,” Rosemarie said. “If I’m going to go out to dinner I want to be served. It’s the principle of the thing.”

  Scarlet and I nodded in agreement, and by the time we turned onto the winding beach road I was starting to feel the effects of the Xanax. I wasn’t one to medicate often. I’d never done any kinds of drugs or had any kind of major surgery, but something as simple as a Midol made me a little loopy.

  Scarlet parked the Hummer in front of a villa that was bigger than my mother’s house. It had a perfect view of the beach and was about twenty yards away from an identical villa on each side.

  “That’s Elmer’s place down there,” she said, pointing two villas down. “I scoped it out day before yesterday while he was playing dominoes. It’s only a one-bedroom, so I’m wondering if he’s as rich as he’d like me to believe. I don’t even waste my time if their portfolio isn’t double mine.”

  “Aunt Scarlet, he’s a murderer,” I said. “You can’t possibly be considering him as husband material.”

  “A murderer?” Rosemarie squeaked. “That’s what we’re doing here?”

  “Yes, a murderer,” I said, thinking my voice was starting to sound a little bit like Charlie Brown’s teacher. My tongue was numb.

  “I’m not seriously considering him,” Scarlet said. “But he’s the one that got away. He bested me, the bastard. And I want revenge.”

  “You’d think capturing him and sending him off to prison would be enough,” I said.

  “Yeah, you’d think.” Scarlet shrugged. “Addison, why do you keep smiling like that? It’s a little creepy.”

  I could feel the smile, but I couldn’t do anything about it. We all hopped out of the Hummer, and when I turned around to get my bag out of the back, I almost ran smack dab into a naked Rosemarie.

  I might have passed out. I don’t remember. But when I woke up I was lying on the ground and Scarlet was waving smelling salts under my nose.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I think I just need to get some food in my stomach.” I was lying. The last thing I wanted was food.

  “We’re just in time,” Scarlet said. “I told you we’d make it for lunch if we hurried. You’ve got to take care of your body. I’ve lived on the same diet for ninety years and look
at me. I’m fit as a fiddle. Hot cakes and bacon in the morning, along with two cups of Irish coffee. A nice protein lunch with a vegetable—preferably a potato—because that’s the only vegetable worth eating in my opinion. And if you have vodka at lunch you get double the potatoes. A martini at three o’clock along with a Little Debbie Snack Cake. And then a nice home-cooked dinner that has some kind of gravy involved.”

  “What do you drink with dinner?” Rosemarie asked.

  “I don’t drink anything with dinner,” Scarlet said. “But right after dinner I have three highballs because it helps me to get to sleep. I’ve got restless legs.”

  I was still lying on the ground and what I’d noticed from my new position was that Scarlet had disrobed as well. I wondered how long they’d left me on the ground while they’d gotten settled.

  “Come on, girl,” Scarlet said. “Get your clothes off and let’s get to lunch. If we’re lucky we might catch a glimpse of Elmer. The man likes his routine. He plays dominoes every morning after breakfast. And after lunch he likes to sun on one of the loungers down by the beach. I caught Rosemarie up on Elmer while you were out.”

  “Oh, good,” I said, pushing myself to a standing position. My head was pounding and I wondered how hard I’d hit it.

  “You probably got a good lump back there,” Scarlet said. “You went down like a sack of potatoes.”

  I was starting to remember why. The sight of Rosemarie naked had taken me off guard. Not because it was Rosemarie naked. I was an adult and I could appreciate all shapes and sizes of the human body, even if I wasn’t comfortable with displaying my own. It was the sheer whiteness of Rosemarie’s flesh that had put me on my ass. She was the definition of the pure absence of color. I’d never seen anything as white as she was in my entire life. The combination of all that whiteness and the Xanax had made me think I was dying and going toward the white light. I’d just been taken by surprise.

  “I can do this,” I said, trying to convince myself that nothing was impossible when a hundred thousand dollars was on the line.

  “Don’t forget your flip-flops, sunscreen, and towel,” Scarlet called after me as I went into the villa to change.

  I found my suitcase in the guest bedroom and I quickly stripped down to nothing, not bothering to look at myself in the mirror. There was nothing I could do about my appearance. I couldn’t fudge the extra cake I’d had at dinner two nights ago with Spanx, and I couldn’t make my boobs seem like they were twenty-five again by wearing a push-up bra. The naked body told the honest truth.

  Sometimes I wasn’t a fan of the truth.

  Chapter Six

  I wasn’t really in the mood for beef tips and gravy, but Rosemarie and Aunt Scarlet seemed to have their hearts set on it, so I followed along, keeping my gaze averted as much as possible.

  “Just a heads-up,” Scarlet said. “Try not to stare at Marjorie when we go into the restaurant. She’s got three boobs on account of she was in the circus.”

  “Right,” I said. “No staring.”

  I decided the safest course of action was to order a salad and a mojito and pretend to be very interested in both. Keeping eye contact wasn’t as simple as it seemed when I looked up and realized Rosemarie’s breasts were sitting in her beef tips and gravy. It especially wasn’t easy when she decided it was better to lick as much of the gravy off as possible instead of using her napkin. Which really told me two things about Rosemarie. 1.) She didn’t like to let good gravy go to waste. And 2.) I’d never seen breasts as big as hers. It took a magical feat of engineering to be able to lift an entire breast to your mouth.

  I might have snuck another one of my mother’s magic pills. I’ve done a lot of things in my time as a private investigator. Things I’m not proud of and things that have made me uncomfortable. But this took the cake.

  And then I realized what a failure I was at my job and I started to cry. Big, gasping sobs right there at the table.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Scarlet asked. “Get a grip, girl. Holmeses don’t cry. We get revenge and we do damage to people’s cars. We don’t shed tears. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” I gasped, crying even harder. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “Christ, are you pregnant?” And then she called out to the waiter, “Can we get another mojito over here?”

  “She’s not pregnant,” Rosemarie said. “But she’s been popping little white pills since we left Georgia. I had to take some of those last year when Johnny Castle got hit by a car. I had no idea what had happened when my brain finally unfuzzed itself. All I know is I woke up in my recliner surrounded by about twelve pints of empty Häagen-Dazs cartons and I wasn’t wearing anything but a Christmas garland and Tweety Bird slippers. That stuff makes you loopy.”

  I gave Rosemarie a lopsided smile and then started crying again. “My life is a mess. Why can’t I make a simple decision? I want to get married. I don’t want to grow old alone. But I’m terrified. I get heart palpitations just thinking about it.”

  “That’s good,” Scarlet said. “Because marriage is terrifying. My third husband tried to poison me and steal all my money. But karma showed him. He ended up falling off his horse and breaking his neck. So it all works out in the end.”

  My sobs had turned into sniffles while I tried to process Scarlet’s words of wisdom. It was mostly giving me a headache so I focused instead on the fresh mojito.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I just want to catch Elmer and get out of here. I’ve got the picture of his tattoo that Savage sent me, and I’m ready to do this thing. I’m not meant to be naked all the time, I like accessories too much. And it’s really disconcerting to see that man eating ribs over there while his junk is free-styling under the table. Maybe we can hit the outlet on the way home and I can buy some new shoes.”

  “There you go,” Scarlet said. “There’s that Holmes spirit. Focus on the outcome and the reward. You’ve got a fat wad of cash waiting for you at the end of this and a pair of Louboutins with your name on them.”

  “I can only afford Louboutins if I buy them out of the trunk of someone’s car,” I said.

  “Not this time. This time you’re buying the real thing. The reward has to be equal to the risk. And this time the risk is Louboutin levels.”

  I thought about that for a second and it seemed like sound logic to me. “Let’s go catch a murderer.”

  The only thing I had to go by was Elmer Hughes’s driver’s license picture. And I hated to admit it, but there was something about really old people that made it hard to distinguish between them—men and women alike, they all looked the same. And unfortunately, they didn’t photograph genitalia at the DMV, because that might’ve made it a little easier.

  “Lord, would you look at the testicles on that man,” Aunt Scarlet said. “They’re the size of oranges. How do you think he keeps from sitting on them?”

  “You think he’s had implants?” Rosemarie asked. “I’ve heard plastic surgeons down here make a killing on senior citizens. People get to a certain age and then want to discover the fountain of youth.”

  “And testicular implants are supposed to make you look younger?” I asked skeptically, trying to zoom in on Elmer.

  “Everything droops when you get to be my age,” Scarlet said. “We always associate tight and firm with youthfulness. Instead of getting the implants, he should’ve given those puppies a facelift. They almost hang all the way to his knees. I thought he was going to trip over them the other day out on the golf course.”

  Elmer was down on the beach under one of the umbrellas, sunning on a lounger top side up, making sure his oranges got plenty of exposure. I could barely get a decent shot of the tattoo on his arm, and even with the full zoom and focus of the camera, it was still difficult to make out. Age hadn’t been kind to Elmer.

  “I thought about getting my lady parts tightened up a bit,” Scarlet continued. “They call it vaginal rejuvenation, if you can believe that. I haven�
�t had anything rejuvenating down there since the time I walked through Wally Pinkerton’s yard and all the sprinklers came on.”

  “Umm,” I said, for lack of anything better.

  “I was going to get rejuvenated because a couple of years ago I thought I might be getting some action, and I wanted everything to look as if it just came out of the factory. But the fellow up and died on me before we could get all hot and bothered. Take my advice, Addison. Never let a man die when they’re lying on top of you. Thank God he was wearing one of those medic alert buttons around his neck, because I never would’ve been able to push him off to reach the phone.”

  I was in a complete state of Zen. The mojito and the Xanax were magical and I could feel nothing in my brain or my body.

  “It’s probably best you opted out of the surgery,” Rosemarie said. “Sharon Osbourne said it was excruciating.”

  “Ehh, I don’t have much feeling left down there anyway,” Scarlet said with a shrug. “I’ve stopped holding out hope.”

  “You’ve just got to wait for a man who’s big enough to make things seem not so loosey-goosey down there.”

  “I’m going to have to get closer,” I said, hoping this would distract them from the conversation.

  “Look,” Rosemarie said. “Those loungers right next to him just came open. Let’s get them before someone else does. You should be able to take plenty of pictures from that angle.”

  “I still don’t understand how you could recognize the tattoo,” I said to Scarlet. “It’s so wrinkled and distorted it’s nearly impossible to make out.”

  “Some things you don’t forget,” she said sagely. “The Whiskey Bayou bank robbery of ’43 and a Latin lover named Mario are the two things that stick with me the most. Whew, was your Uncle Stan steamed about Mario. But once I explained he was Spanish royalty and it was an honor to be asked to sleep with him, Stan calmed right down.” She looked confused for a minute and slapped her hand on top of her head to keep her hat from blowing away. “May he rest in peace.”