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

a fist in my face. A broken nose wouldn’t go well at all with my new dress.
    I turned around and looked up into a pair of big blue eyes. Fanny Kimble had always been a beautiful woman, but I took a step back anyway. You never knew what a woman would do when her man was suspected of cheating. Even if I’d been decked out in my red dress with perfect hair and makeup, I couldn’t hold a candle next to Fanny. Hell, Loretta Swanson would look like she’d just rolled out of the missionary barrel standing next to Fanny. Staring at Fanny Kimble was as close as I’d come in a long time to having a religious experience.
    I heard a throat clear behind me and realized I was holding up the line, so I grabbed my new sho es and stepped out of the store with Fanny, Rose Marie trailing after me like a lost puppy.
    “I’m sorry to catch you off guard like this,” Fanny said. “But I’ve been trying to get the courage to speak to you, and this seemed to be my best chance.”
    Her hair shimmered like black diamonds under the mall track lighting and I couldn’t help but notice how smooth her lipstick was. There were no creases or dead skin visible, and her eyebrows were perfectly arched and smoothed. She was six feet tall and I had to look up to see into her baby blues.
    “If this is about the investigation, I believe you’re supposed to speak with Kate. She’s the boss.”
    “I know, and I will, but I just wanted to tell you personally that you can stop investigating John. I guess I had pre-wedding jitters and overreacted. He promised that I was the only one for him and that he loved me. There has to be unwavering trust between two people that are getting married, don’t you think?”
    I nodded, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t the best person to ask. I had unwavering trust in my last fiancé and look where that got me.
    “Thanks, Addison. I knew you’d understand. I think it’ll be best for all of us if you just forget this whole mess. I’ll make sure to compensate the agency for the time you put in.” She walked in the opposite direction and every man in the vicinity stopped what he was doing and watched her exit.
    “What’s that look on your face?” Rose Marie asked.
    “It’s a look that means John Hyatt is scum. I’d bet my Z that he guilted her into making her think she was the one who was in the wrong. All that mumbo jumbo about unconditional trust. Which means he has something very big to hide. And until Kate gives me direct orders to stop working on the case, John Hyatt is going to be on my radar.”

    Depression and guilt over my monetary situation didn’t set in until I was on my second margarita in the Australia room of the restaurant. The walls were made to look like rugged cliffs amidst the outback, and scraggly shrubs sprouted along the walls. A large fake snake was coiled behind Rose Marie’s head and stared at me out of glass eyes, judging me every time I took a sip of margarita.
    I’d sufficiently ogled our waiter—who was wearing nothing more than a pair of low-riding cargo shorts, a big-ass knife at his belt and a hat that sat crooked on his head. His chest was bulky with muscles and he was tanned all over. I would have been much more excited about the ogling if I hadn’t taught him his freshman year of high school almost a decade ago.
    “Wow, I’m just so amazed,” Rose Marie said, looking around with wide eyes. “You live such an exciting life, buying sexy clothes and going to balls. You’re just like a princess in a fairytale.”
    “Yep , that’s me.”
    “I want to be just like you. Maybe we could do this again sometime.”
    The look on her face was so hopeful I didn’t have the heart to tell her no way in hell was I going out in public with her again. So I just lied. Again.
    I was mostly devout Methodist, but I was pretty sure I was going to have to do some kind of penance for all the lying I’ d been doing lately. On the upside, practice did make perfect. I was about to order a third margarita when I glanced out into the busy mall from our window view table and saw a familiar face.
    “Oh my,” I said. I opened my shoulder bag and dug through the new files Kate had dropped off. “I’ll be damned.”
    Eddie Pogue was a Whiskey Bayou resident and a dead beat. He was a few years older than me and he’d married someone a lot of years younger than me. Probably because a younger woman was easier for him to control. He’d been in an auto accident nine months before.