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

I’d just been chased down the street by a madman wielding a weed whacker. My hair was disheveled, my eyes still looked slightly dazed and there were grass stains on the back of my pants. I was pretty sure the cops inside had other things to do besides worry about what I looked like, so I grabbed my purse and climbed the stairs to the front entrance.
    It might be hard to tell that this was a police station from the outside, but the inside was exactly how I remembered from my childhood—horrible pea soup colored walls, metal desks lined straight as soldiers, and frazzled cops who looked years older than they actually were.
    I let the sweet smell of nostalgia rush over me, and then I held my breath because cop shops always smelled like BO, urine and burned coffee. I bypassed the harassed looking woman at the front desk and looked around to see if I could find Nick. And boy did I find him.
    He looked to be in the middle of a heated discussion with one of the other plainclothes officers. His brow was furrowed and his dark hair hung slightly over his forehead. He was dressed like the other detectives, a sport coat and tie knotted loosely at his throat. The only difference was that he looked good. Too good for my peace of mind. His hands were at his hips and his shoulder holster was visible. And then that heated gaze pointed in my direction and I didn’t know whether to run fo r cover or rip my clothes off.
    He left the man he was talking to in mid-sentence and headed in my direction.
    “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been in some kind of accident.”
    “Eddie Pogue,” I said by way of explanation. “Did I come at a bad time? That guy you were talking to sure looked angry.”
    “No, it’s not a bad time. He’s just mad because he lost a bet on the game last night.”
    We stared at each other for several seconds, me knowing he’d just lied and Nick probably wondering if I was going to make a big deal about it. I decided to let it rest. It was too early to argue, so I blurted out something else instead.
    “Do you have children?”
    “Is this one of those trick questions that women ask?”
    “It’s a yes or no question, you jackass.”
    “Then, no. I don’t have kids. I told you I was only married for six months, and I didn’t even get sex out of it the last three. But I wouldn’t mind trying to make a few if you were up for it. I’ve got about twenty minutes to spare,” he said looking at his watch.
    I shook my head no, so he led me to a metal desk in the middle of the room stacked with file folders and paper cups and pulled a yellow plastic chair up close for me to sit in.
    “I’ve never understood how you guys can work in all the chaos,” I said, looking around.
    “That’s right, I’d forgotten your dad was a cop. Not everyone can live with one, that’s for sure. Especially when they don’t know if you’ll be coming back.”
    “Well, that’s just stupid. I was never anything but proud of my dad. He was a damn good cop. We never worried about him because it’s what he loved to do, and I bet it pissed him off something fierce that he died in front of the T.V. instead of in the line of duty. You can’t take that away from someone when it’s that entrenched in their blood. That would be cruel.”
    “My ex-wife didn’t think so. She thought I was selfish for not at least trying to be something else.”
    “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you divorced her then.”
    “I didn’t divorce her. She divorced me, and then promptly went and married an orthodontic surgeon in Atlanta. I consider myself lucky.”
    I had to wonder if Nick still had feelings for the woman who had left him. Had he had closure? He seemed kind of sad about the whole thing. So of course I had to open my big mouth.
    “Are you sure you don’t still love her?”
    “Hell, no. I don’t think I ever really did. It was just one of those things you do when you’re too young and stupid to know any better. We had great sex and thought it would sustain a marriage. So what’s this about Eddie Pogue?” he asked, all business.
    For some reason, I didn’t particularly feel like sharing any more.
    “Have you found out anything abou t Mr. Mooney’s murder?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
    “I’ve got a lot of theories and a lot of suspicions, but so far everything is leading to a dead end. We still haven’t been able to find your ex and question him. He took off while you and Veronica were