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

lucky some poor sap would find me dead on the floor after I’d choked to death from a wad of pretzel dough stuck in my throat. I’d be the Mama Cass of Whiskey Bayou, except without the soundtrack.
    Everything I’d been working for all this time was for nothing. I’d degraded myself in front of strangers and stumbled over dead bodies in the pursuit of my dreams, but it all came down to nothing. It was a devastating realization. And pathetic.
    The wet plop on my forehead that had nothing to do with tears was the last straw. I looked up at the ceiling from my position on the floor and saw the new water spot and moisture gathering at its center.
    I was going to do something drastic. I knew this because I had the same feeling in my gut now as I did the morning I answered the ad in the paper for The Foxy Lady. I was going to find somewhere better to live than that stupid house on Hutton Street.
    I grabbed my bag and didn’t bother with an umbrella or galoshes. I waded out to the parking lot and shook my fist at the sky, as the heavens seemed to open and pour more water onto Whiskey Bayou. The water was halfway up my tires and I wondered not for the first time why I couldn’t have been more practical and gotten a Jeep or a monster truck to navigate washed out country roads.
    “I don’t get this wet in the shower,” I mumbled. I searched in my bag for my keys, but couldn’t find them. It was then I realized Nick had somehow found out where I’d left my car the night before and brought it to me. I opened the door and saw the keys on the floorboard along with a note.
    Interesting friends you have. She asked if I would be willing to sleep with you—Nick
    I could only assume the friend he was talking about was Rose Marie, since she was the person who’d confiscated my keys. I tried to look at her comment to Nick in a positive light. Rose Marie probably wanted me to be happy and wasn’t thinking she’d made me look pathetic and desperate. I wasn’t going to worry about it. I had a new purpose in life.
    I climbed into the car and took off my shoes, tossing them in the floorboard on the passenger side. I breathed a sigh of relief as the Z started with no problem and I rammed it into reverse. I looked behind me and pressed the gas pedal, slogging my way out of the parking lot and towards downtown Whiskey Bayou. Visibility was almost zero and I was fortunate there were no other cars on the road as I sped down Main Street with rage boiling in my blood. It seemed I had a little pent up resentment from the bank’s phone call after all.
    I noticed something on the side of the road and slowed down a little. I was pretty sure it was some kind of large animal, but I couldn’t see well enough to be sure. The only thing I did know was that it wasn’t in good shape. I was trying to decide if I should stop and try to squeeze it into the Z or call animal control when it ran into the street right in front of me.
    I slammed on the bra kes and the Z hydroplaned, turning at an odd angle as it skated along the street. It was everything I could do to maintain control of the wheel. The car hit something solid and my teeth smacked together and my head jerked back and hit the headrest as impact was made.
    “Oh , God,” I said. The front of my car steamed and the hood was slightly buckled. Whatever I’d hit had been big enough to do major damage. I was crying as I got out of the car, positive I was going to see Lassie under my tires.
    Instead I saw a pair of Kenneth Cole shoes peeking out from under the car a la Wicked Witch of the East. Spots danced in front of my eyes until I thought I’d gone blind with shock.
    I knew those shoes.
    I’d bought them for an anniversary present less than a year before.

    “So I guess you know why you couldn’t get in touch with Greg,” I told Nick less than half an hour later.
    After flattening Greg, I’d run screaming back to the car to grab my cell phone and call 911, and then I’d promptly thrown up in the gutter on the side of the street. Nick found me huddled on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, rocking myself back and forth and crying. I was on the edge of hysterical leaning toward straitjacket crazy. Nick had taken one look at my chattering teeth and shoved my head between my knees before wrapping me in a blanket and putting me in the back of a squad car.
    It’s not everyday a woman gets to run over her cheating ex-fiancé, but I have to say the reality isn’t nearly as exciting as