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

easier for me to believe that a stranger killed him than someone I’d slept with for a year.
    “We’re not ruling out the possibility,” Nick said, cautiously.
    “How does Girard Dupres fit into this?”
    “Dupres has been under surveillance for running guns and money through The Foxy Lady. If he went outside to do business and Butler saw something he wasn’t supposed to, Dupres or his clients wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. They’ve done it before.”
    “So you’re telling me I was engaged to a potential murderer and I went to work for an illegal arms dealer,” I said as the blood drained from my face.
    “Pretty much,” Nick said unfazed. “You’ve got lousy instincts, but cheer up. I’m a good guy. You’ve made a step in the right direction by deciding to not have rebound sex with me.”
    “Don’t remind me,” I said, feeling slightly ill. I remembered something else that had been bothering me. “What do you know about Robbie Butler?”
    “After that scene he made at his brother’s funeral mass I’d say there’s a few pieces of silverware missing out of his drawer. He’s obviously angry at a woman he thought his brother was seeing, but we didn’t find any evidence Bernard Butler was in any type of relationship. Why?”
    “I think maybe I was the woman he was talking about.”
    “So you’re the Jezebel that led Butler to his death?” Nick laughed so hard I thought he’d fall out of his chair.
    “You don’t have to be insulting,” I huffed. “I could be the kind of woman that leads men astray if I wanted to.”
    I was saved from defending my sexual prowess by the ringing of the phone. Then I remembered that there was someone out there who liked to leave scary messages and take pictures of me without my knowledge.
    Or it could be my mother on the line. I couldn’t decide which person I’d rather talk to.
    “Answer the phone, Addison. If it’s the same guy as before, we’ll deal with it. This is my job.”
    I picked up the phone with the care of someone holding a bomb that was about to detonate. “Hello?”
    “Addison Holmes?” a man asked.
    “This is Addison.”
    “Oh, thank heavens. This is Victor Mooney.”
    I could hear his rapid breathing and wondered what he was doing.
    “I have information for you regarding what we talked about. I don’t want to tell you over the phone because I think someone has been listening in on my calls. I’ve made a few inquiries that might have made someone angry.”
    “Are you all right?” I asked concerned that I’d involved Mr. Mooney in something that I shouldn’t have.
    “I’m just a bit winded. I ran from my car to a pay phone so I could call you. Meet me at The Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in half an hour. I’ve even got pictures,” he said, sounding excited. “I’ve been giving some thought to getting my P.I. license ever since you came to talk to me. I haven’t had this much fun in years.”
    “I’ll meet you there, Mr. Mooney. Be careful,” I said, but he’d already hung up.

    We arrived at the Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church with five minutes to spare. The rain had started again but was just a miserable drizzle instead of a torrential downpour. I’d changed out of the soft cotton tank and shorts into a short denim skirt and a stretchy pink top, which might not have been completely appropriate clothing for church , but none of the fabric touched my numerous scratches or bruises, so God would just have to understand.
    “Have you ever noticed how creepy churches are when they’re empty?” Nick asked.
    “No. Not until you mentioned it.”
    The gothic style cathedral was a cornerstone in Whiskey Bayou. Its flying buttresses and stoic arches were intimidating enough to make even the worst sinners walk with a soft step past its doors. I kept expecting bats to swoop down, so I let Nick walk in front of me.
    The church was empty as we made our way inside, and the little creaks and groans of the building settling around us gave me the willies as we walked down the nave to the altar. My voice echoed through the empty room as I called out for Mr. Mooney.
    “Maybe he changed his mind,” Nick said.
    “He said he thought someone had been listening to his phone calls. You don’t think something happened to him, do you?”
    We walked up the aisles and headed to the north balcony just to make sure he wasn’t there.
    “Nah. He could have gotten caught in traffic for all you know. You women always worry over