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

started blowing her nose and hiccupping. We kneeled again and prayed some more, and I listened as Mr. Butler’s family and friends told stories about the man they loved.
    I’d been right about the young man who’d given me the hateful look. His name was Robbie, and he was the youngest of the five Butler brothers. I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as soon as he took his place at the podium.
    “My brother was a good man,” Robbie said in a shaky voice. His eyes were rimmed red and filled with sorrow. “He was a man who touched the souls of everyone he met.”
    I couldn’t help but think how Mr. Butler had been touching the soul of the woman that was giving him the lap dance, but that probably wasn’t what Robbie was talking about.
    “Bernie was my brother. And my guardian angel. He always protected me, no matter what the cost. But he had no one to protect him when his life was so viciously taken.”
    Robbie’s eyes found mine and stayed steady, the hatred not a figment of my im agination as I had first hoped.
    “Bernie was my guardian angel, but he was also human. A human who made errors and bad decisions. He fell victim to the beauty and seduction of a Jezebel. A woman who might as well have stabbed him in the heart herself.”
    The crowd was looking around nervously, trying to see who Robbie was staring at so intently. I was doing the same thing. I wanted to see a Jezebel just like every other person in the room.
    I could hear Mrs. Butler openly sobbing from the front of the room and the choir was shifting anxiously, prepared to burst into song at a moments notice.
    “Bernie was a victim. This woman teased him with her body and led him astray with promises of immoral acts. Those of you that know Bernie and have heard the gossip know that he would have never been at an establishment like the one he was murdered at unless he was lured.”
    Robbie’s gaze had never faltered from mine during his speech, and it hit me like a bolt of lightning that he was talking about me. I was the other woman. The Jezebel.
    My eyes widened and he gave me an evil smile. Why would Robbie think that I was involved with Mr. Butler? The only thing I could think of was that he knew my secret. But how? And it still didn’t explain why he thought we’d be involved.
    “I ask each and every one of you to be the guardian angels over the people you love. Protect them from evildoers and harlots, and don’t let the task fall to your neighbors, because how well do you really know the person sitting next you?”
    Robbie Butler left the podium and took a seat next to his mother, putting a comforting arm around her frail body. The rest of the church sat still in silence with the fear of God upon them. If my knees weren’t so sore I’d think I was sitting in the middle of a bunch of Lutherans caught at a Baptist tent revival. As far as eulogies went, it left a lot to be desired.
    I sat and kneeled and prayed for another half hour before the pallbearers carried Mr. Butler down the center aisle. I kept my head down and looked at my feet as the family followed slowly behind the body. I wasn’t up to seeing Robbie Butler’s accusing glare again.
    The rows began to file out and everyone was invited to walk next door to the cemetery. Umbrellas popped up and I used the crowd of people as cover to sneak to my car and get away.
    I’d been called a harlot, a Jezebel and a seducer of men in the House of the Lord. Just because no one knew it was me Robbie had been talking about didn’t mean the barb didn’t sting. If I was going to be accused of being a slut, I damn well wanted the sex to back it up.

    It was after noon by the time I got back to my apartment. I changed into a short, black denim skirt and an electric blue halter top to make myself feel better about the lump on my head and looked for something to eat, but the lunch fairy hadn’t visited while I’d been gone.
    When the rain still hadn’t stopped by three o’clock, I ran downstairs and borrowed a couple of boxes of double fudge brownie mix from Mrs. Nowicki so I would stop worrying about Robbie Butler, my principal’s murder, the money for my house and Nick Dempsey—not necessarily in that order.
    “Okay. I’m just going to have to tough this out. The cheating scums of the earth can’t be caught if I’m afraid of a little rain.”
    A little rain might have been under exaggerating just a bit. It was a torrential downpour that no sane person would go back out