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

in. It was a hell of a day to dig a grave.
    I wrapped the brownies up, exchanged my sandals for a pair of cute pink galoshes with daisies painted on them and put on my pink raincoat. I was glad I’d been lazy and parked close to the building once I saw how high the water was rising in the parking lot. Galoshes weren’t helpful in a swimming pool.
    As I suspected, there was no one crazy enough to be out in the weather but me, so the drive to Kate’s office was made fairly quickly, considering I was mostly driving blind.
    “I smell brownies.”
    I had barely gotten in the door when Kate and ten other people started making their way towards me. All of Kate’s employees were former law enforcement of some kind, and they were like Pavlov’s dogs over day-old jelly donuts, much less homemade brownies.
    “I only made two dozen so you’ll have to share.”
    “That’s not the way it works here,” Kate said, grabbing two. “This office is about survival of the fittest.”
    I grabbed two for myself and handed the rest of the brownies over before I was accidentally eaten. I followed Kate to her office and brought the camera and notes I had collected on Barry Crumb.
    “That bruise looks painful.”
    “Dammit. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
    I peeled off my raincoat and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of Kate’s office. Kate was a big film noir fan, so everything in her office looked like it just came out of a black and white movie, right down to the slatted blinds and black lettering on her office door.
    She was wearing a pinstripe suit today, as equally shapeless as the one she had on the last time I saw her, and sensible flat shoes. I guess the jacket had to have plenty of room to hide her gun.
    “I like the bangs by the way. And the outfit makes for a nice diversion,” Kate said.
    “Thanks. Obviously not diverting enough if my forehead was the first thing you noticed when I walked in.”
    “Well, technically I noticed the brownies first. And maybe I noticed the bruise because Nick stopped in this morning and told me what happened last night.”
    “I don’t think I like Nick. Nick has the sensitivity of a clod of dirt.”
    “Well, he’s a man. But he is a damn good cop. He seems to have developed a little bit of a soft spot for you.”
    “Oh, yeah. I could tell that right off last night when he told me he only stayed around to help me because you’d be pissed if I got your camera stolen.”
    “If he didn’t care a little he would have let you fall to the ground and taken the camera with him to make sure it was safe.”
    “Okay, so Nick’s a saint. I’d just as soon he achieved sainthood by bothering somebody else. I’ve already dealt with enough jerks in my life.”
    “Oh, so you’re telling me you weren’t attracted to him when he first walked in yesterday? I’ve known you too long to not know when you’re hot for someone.”
    “Sure I was attracted. The man’s a god. He just has the personality of a troll. If I could keep him from talking and then have my way with him everything would be fine, but I have a feeling he’s a hard man to shut up.”
    “You’re letting this deal with Greg make you cynical.”
    “I know. I’m just so pissed off about everything. My life is spiraling down the toilet.”
    I blew my new bangs out of my eyes and wondered what I could have been thinking. Now I’d have to go through that awkward growing out stage.
    “How was the funeral?” Kate asked.
    “Long, sad, boring. The usual,” I said. “And Mr. Butler’s brother got up in front of the whole congregation and called me a harlot, but other than that it was the same old, same old.”
    “What?”
    “Well, he didn’t actually say That Addison Holmes is a whore beyond all reasonable doubt , but he was looking right at me when he gave the eulogy about his brother being seduced. He really looked like he hated me. It was scary.”
    I thought about the anonymous message I’d gotten on the phone and the photograph taped to my window and wondered if Robbie Butler could be the guilty party.
    “If he didn’t call you by name, then you’ve got nothing to worry about. Maybe he has a glass eye and couldn’t look at anyone but you.”
    “You could be right. But I’ve always thought glass eyes were kind of expressionless , not hate-filled and menacing.”
    “Like I said, don’t worry about it. You’ve got bigger problems with John Hyatt and Veronica Wade. Not to mention the fact that