“I do,” Cece said, excitement filling her as she thought of an idea.
The scowl left Ace’s face, and he blinked at her. “You do?”
She smiled a catlike smile. “Political killers for the 500. Old town folk who go to great lengths to get the perfect shot.”
His smile came slow and sweet. “Who are the senior scrappers?”
“Bingo!” She giggled.
His grin turned into a lopsided smile, making him look way too adorable for her own good. “I do believe the game we’re playing is Jeopardy, Sister.”
“And I do believe you’ll be in jeopardy if we don’t get to City Hall ASAP, Detective.”
“I hear that, Sherlock.” He hit the brakes and spun the car around in a one-eighty, heading in the other direction toward downtown.
“Ooh, I’ve been promoted.” Cece clapped her hands in glee.
“I’m not above giving credit where credit is due,” Ace pointed at her, “but don’t let it go to your pretty little head.”
“Moi?” She held her hand against her chest and batted her eyes. “Never.” She pressed her lips together to stifle another giggle and basked in the fact that he’d called her pretty—in a roundabout sort of way.
He rolled his eyes, but the sparkle twinkling brightly was undeniable. “Right. Onward, soldier. We’ve got work to do.”
Ten minutes later they arrived at City Hall.
Wilhelmina Trousseau, head of the Senior Scrappers, was just coming from the back of the hall with her ever-ready camera dangling from her long, thin neck like a piece of her finest jewelry. She looked fragile and weak, dressed in her fanciest polyester pantsuit, and patting her beehive of teased blue-white hair. Cece knew better. The woman was more agile than a cat and ready to pounce on the tiniest scrap of news. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Cece and Ace.
“Why, Sister, it’s so lovely to see you this fine afternoon, now that you’ve been sprung from the convent and all.” Wilhelmina’s smile was wide and most definitely pasted on. “And Detective, it’s always a pleasure to be in your company.”
He bowed his head, donning a charming smile. “Ms. Trousseau.”
“Oh, go on with you now.” Her laugh tinkled out. “It’s Mina to you, sugar.”
Good Lord in Heaven above. He got all the sugar, while Cece felt like a former convict. She waved to get the head Scrapper’s attention. “Yoo-hoo, Mina. I have a couple of questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Wilhelmina’s expression slipped a little, and it was obvious she didn’t like her little tryst with the handsome detective interrupted. “Now, now. I don’t recall giving you the same liberty, Miss Monroe,” she said in a light tone, but there was an unmistakable edge behind it. “You have to earn the right to call me Mina. Isn’t that right, Detective Jackson?”
“Please, call me Ace. It’s only fitting,” he fairly purred to the old woman, who looked ready to swoon. Then he turned his cheesy grin on Cece, obviously enjoying every second of this ridiculous conversation. “She’s right, Sister. Mina and I go way back. Sorry.”
“My mistake,” Cece corrected, her own smile turning a bit stiff as she fought hard not to roll her eyes. “Would you mind directing us to the town scrapbook, Ms. Trousseau?”
The teasing evaporated from Wilhelmina’s eyes, and a fire burned bright. “Sure thing.” Her sharp gaze sliced between Ace and Cece like a samurai sword in the middle of a heated battle. “Is there a new development in the senator’s case?” Her fingers fluttered over the shutter button on her camera.
“Now, now, Mina,”—Ace wagged his masculine finger in front of the woman’s face—“you know I can’t divulge the details of this case any more than you can part with your trade secrets on capturing so many amazing shots. I think you hold the record, if I’m not mistaken.”
Oh, he is good, Cece thought, totally impressed and ready to swoon herself.
Wilhelmina’s face flushed, and she twittered a bit, fanning her thin-skinned cheeks. “Oh, you! Such a charmer, you are! Your mama must be proud, even after everything that happened.” She led the way to the back without another word, totally oblivious to the blow she’d just dealt.
But Cece wasn’t.
She glanced at Ace, and there was no mistaking the pain he felt by reliving whatever memories haunted him. A muscle throbbed in his jaw, and he clenched his fists. Cece ran her hand down his forearm until he relaxed, and then she slid her palm against his. His tortured gaze met hers in surprise, and then he masked his feelings, acting casual.
“You ready?” she asked with a sympathetic smile, but no pressure.
He nodded and didn’t say a word, but his hand gripped hers tightly and didn’t let go.
Wilhelmina turned around, and her gaze shot to their joined hands with curiosity yet surprisingly no jealousy. She might like to flirt with him, but she genuinely seemed to care about him as well. Cece glanced at Ace, and he looked down at her. For a moment, something electric passed between them … until a blinding white light flashed, making them both blink the stars out of their eyes. Mina’s face softened tenderly; Cece’s jaw fell open; and Ace frowned. He let go of her hand and cleared his throat.
“You’re … uh, not putting that in the book, are you?” he asked Mina.
“Nah, this one’s strictly for you, darlin’. Call it a gift.” She winked.
“Oh, we’re not … I mean, it’s not like we … it’s just not necessary, Ms. Trousseau,” Cece finally stammered out.
“Oh, but it is, my darling. And please, call me Mina. You have most definitely earned it. You’re good for this stubborn lughead, even if he can’t see it yet.” Mina’s gaze settled on the detective with such adoration and affection, Cece couldn’t help but warm up to her in a big way.
“So this is the infamous book I take it?” Ace focused on the scrapbook, not meeting either of their eyes.
Wilhelmina winked at Cece before responding to Ace. “That it is,” she said. “You mean to tell me after all these years, you’ve never consulted the book?”
“Nope, I never have. Never really saw a need to. Why?” His face puckered in genuine bafflement.
“Only just because every little detail that goes on in this town is pretty much in the book.”
“That’s what I thought, and that’s why we need to see it now more than ever,” Cece said to Mina.
“Then have at it. It’s for the citizens of this town to enjoy, after all. I just finished updating it, and as much as I enjoy chatting with you both, I have the children’s pre-Halloween party to attend. I hope you find what you’re looking for. You know where I am if you have any scoop to dish.” She waved to them both and then headed out of the building on a mission, the strong smell of mothballs trailing in her wake.
“She’s quite a character,” Cece said to Ace when they were alone.
“You could say that,” he responded, opening the book. “Can you believe they’ve documented forty years of this town’s history in photographs?”
“Yes, actually, I can. I might have been out of touch for a decade, but even I know a lot of people take their scrapbooking seriously.”
Over the next hour, they flipped through page after page and finally came to the senator’s tribute. Cece stared at a picture of Eleanor Meriwether’s mystery man, Wilbur Trundle, and realized she hadn’t seen him in church this morning, playing the organ. “I wonder if Eleanor is coming back to work. We didn’t have an organist this morning because Wilbur wasn’t there.”
“That’s because he’s not a church organist,” Ace replied matter-of-factly.
“What do you mean?” Cece wrinkled her forehead. “I’ve heard the man play. He’s good.”
“Oh, he’s good, all right. He’s an undercover FBI agent. Wallace and Rogers never really left the scene at all. Eleanor agreed to cooperate, and Trundle’s cover was that they were good friends and he was doing her a favor by covering for her. He’s been working the case all along. Now that Mumfry confessed, it’s case clo
sed as far as the FBI is concerned. Goddamn federal agents,” Ace grumbled.
Ace was about to flip the page again, when Cece slapped her hand down on the book. “Wait!”
“Why?”
“Look closely in the background of this picture.”
Ace leaned in and inspected the picture. His frown disappeared, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. “Holy shit.” He stole a glance at her and amended, “I mean ‘shoot.’”
“Ditto,” she said on a breathy whisper.
The senator’s boyhood friend, Allen Rutherford, stood way in the background, shaking hands with Mumfry Walker. Unusual considering they didn’t run in the same circles and that it was a known fact Walker didn’t like Senator Sloan. But the most interesting part was the thick envelope Walker was tucking into his pocket with his other hand.
“This is going to kill Mrs. Sloan,” Cece said.
“I don’t get it,” Ace said, pacing in front of the book. “Sloan and Rutherford were genuine friends. I’ve had enough genuine friends in the military and on the force to recognize the fact. He wouldn’t betray him for no reason.”
The words betray him echoed over and over in Cece’s brain. Allen must have been the person the senator had been referring to when he’d said he couldn’t believe someone that close to him had betrayed him. Was Allen also involved in the prostitution ring with the senator? What was the illegal matter he had referred to that would ruin him?
“You look troubled,” Ace said. “What’s on your mind?”
Cece was contemplating whether or not she should tell him, still wanting to help yet still staying true to her beliefs. Her phone rang, saving her from having to say anything. “Excuse me,” she said to the detective, after glancing down and not recognizing the number.
“You take that while I make a phone call to Rocco, but make no mistake, Sister. We’re not done here.” Ace pierced her with his sharp gaze and then pulled out his phone.
She walked away to answer her phone.
“Hello?”
“Sister, it’s Creamy.”
Cece tripped to a stop. “Oh, hi. Um, yes, it’s Sister Spanky,” she tried to purr, her throat going bone dry. Oh, good Lord in Heaven above, were they calling to invite her to an orgy?
“Save it, sweetheart,” the other voice said dryly. “I know you’re a woman—and a former real nun to boot.”
Cece almost melted with relief. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to do what was right and help the senator by solving his murder.”
“I know. That’s the only reason I’m calling. Li Wang, his campaign manager, called me. He used to be one of us, you know. He was one of Woody’s best, but he fell head over heels for Sloan. He left us and became the senator’s campaign manager to be closer to him. We all thought the senator would eventually leave his wife for Li, but after his father got involved, Sloan called off their affair and came back to us. I was his second choice. I knew I would never be anything but a replacement for Li, but I was okay with that. We all loved the senator, and we all will do whatever we can to help put his real murderer behind bars.”
“I’m listening,” Cece said.
“The note the senator received that said you might want to check out your barn was from me.”
Cece gasped. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. Do you know the trouble I could get in for coming forward? I truly loved the man. That’s the only reason I’m calling you now.”
“I believe you,” Cece said carefully, and then added, “You can trust me. What happened?”
“Well, Sloan used to have parties with all of us and a group of other politicians, but he had an insatiable appetite. He also used to have private meetings with me. One time we were supposed to meet at his old farmhouse. His family never goes there, and it’s out in the country, so it was the perfect spot.”
“I know of it. Go on.”
“So, I show up, but he doesn’t. I can’t figure out why, so I think maybe he’s out in the barn. Maybe the farmhouse isn’t enough for him, and he wants to make things interesting. So I go out to the barn, but he’s not there. Except, someone has definitely been there.”
“What do you mean?”
“The barn was full of illegal stolen weapons and ammo. I’m not saying the senator was perfect, but I do know he was a man of conviction. His stance for stricter gun control laws and cleaning up the streets was real. He wanted nothing more than to get the illegal guns off the streets.”
“Then why on earth would he be storing them in his barn? That could ruin him if it got out.”
“Sound like you’re finally asking the right questions,” Creamy said, and then the line went dead.
***
“You’re shitting me, right?” Ace said to Cece after she got off the phone and returned to the town scrapbook at the end of City Hall.
“Detective …” Her angelic, heart-shaped face puckered into a frown.
“Sorry. I’m trying,” he responded sheepishly, and her almond-shaped brown eyes softened. He tore his gaze away and started to pace so he could concentrate on his thoughts. “That’s crazy, right? It doesn’t make sense that the senator would knowingly be involved in the buying and selling of illegal firearms. And one of his best friends is the man who hired Walker to kill him? That doesn’t make sense either.”
“That’s what my source says—and could you please stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” She wobbled a bit.
Ace stopped walking and faced her. “You mean the stripper from Woody’s? How credible can she be?”
Cece squared her slight shoulders, hoisting her chin in the air, and Ace had to admit she looked bigger than she was, impressive and confident. “As credible as Li Wang, his campaign manager. At this point, I say any leads we get are worth checking into. And by the way, it would be nice if you would do something in return for her coming forward, like get the security increased at Woody’s. You know what they say about karma.”
Ace parted his sport coat, dropping his hands to his hips as he nodded. “Fine. I’ll make some calls. In the meantime let’s go see if we can find Allen Rutherford.”
“You read my mind.”
Ace drove to the only hotel in New Hope, Massachusetts—The Newhopian. They went inside, and after Ace flashed his badge, they found out what room Allen was staying in. They knocked on the door, and Allen opened it.
He was fiddling with the handle on his luggage, not really paying attention as he said, “You can take my bags down—”
“To your car?” Ace asked, cutting the businessman off. “I think not. You’re not going anywhere.”
Allen’s gaze whipped up, his lacquered gray hair not moving an inch. “Detective Jackson.” He looked floored, stumbling back several steps and grabbing his heart, seeming much older and more tired than when they’d first met him. “Miss Monroe? What on earth are you doing here?”
“Cut the crap, Rutherford. We know everything.” Ace stiffened in a ready position, going into ultimate cop mode.
Allen’s face paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The hell you don’t,” Ace spat.
“Mr. Rutherford, I know the senator was a good friend of yours.” Cece stepped inside, defusing the situation like she always did. “We just want to help get to the bottom of who killed him. It’s only right, and God would want justice served.”
Allen turned downright ashen now.
“Speak now, Rutherford, or forever hold your peace and go down with the ship,” Ace growled. “The Sister is a lot more forgiving than I am. And the Senior Scrappers are relentless. We’ve got the proof we need to convict you, and Mumfry is singing like a jailbird. You might as well tell us all what you know, and maybe things will go easier for you.”
Rutherford looked at them both with resignation, great sadness, and admittedly a bit of relief. “I don’t need things to go easier for me. Lord knows Stanley didn’t have that luxury. Please, come in and shut the door,” Allen said, and he led the way into the li
ving room part of his suite. Once they were seated, he began speaking.
“I truly don’t know how things got so out of control, but I can tell you Stanley was my best friend. I adored him, but we all have our demons. Mine just happened to be gambling.”
Ace’s eyes cut to Cece’s, but she was listening intently with that look on her face that invited the world to unload their problems on her. She was so honest and genuine and forgiving, that in her presence people felt like they could tell her their deepest darkest secrets and not be judged. She truly was an angel in every sense of the word.
That’s why she was so goddamned dangerous to his soul.
“Anyway, the senator was up for reelection and in need of campaign funds, especially after his father found out about his affair with his campaign manager, Li Wang. He threatened to cut him off, so Stanley was desperate. I knew that.” Allen’s face filled with anger, disgust, and condemnation toward himself. “I knew Stanley better than anyone, so I exploited that.” His gaze shot to Cece’s. “Please don’t judge me. Addictions make the best of us do things we’d never dream of doing in other circumstances.”
“I don’t judge anyone, Allen. You can talk to me. I’ll listen and help you in any way that I can,” she said with complete sincerity and without hesitation. Damned if Ace didn’t believe every word of it. His admiration for her grew tenfold, and he hadn’t thought that possible.
“Stanley and I go way back. We met in an upper-crust all boys’ school when we were young. His father had always been hard on him. I knew how he felt. Mine was the same way. It was part of their generation and upbringing. We bonded instantly. After all these years, that had never changed. The thing that did change was Stanley became a man of conviction. He had strong values and core beliefs on what he felt was right and wrong. I became a wealthy businessman of a certain degree of power in my own right. I moved to Boston while Stanley moved to his wife Mary’s hometown of New Hope, Massachusetts, but we’d never lost touch.”
Kicking the Habit Page 20
