Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries)

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.
    I n 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