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

I decided this moment needed the gift of silence.
    “Now there will be no more crying today,” my mother said briskly. “I’ve got just the thing you need.” She whipped a large cucumber out of her handbag.
    I was pretty much speechless.
    “Do you always carry produce in your handbag?”
    “Only when necessary. Now lie back and let me put some slices on your eyes.”
    “Oh. Slices on my eyes. Good idea.”
    “Of course slices on your eyes. What else would I be doing with it?”
    I had no idea, but it was probably best if I turned my brain off and stopped thinking of the possibilities.

    Amazingly enough, the cucumbers worked like a charm and my face lost the puffy redness that too much crying always brings. I’m not one of those pretty criers anyway, so the fact that I looked less like Quasimodo and more like my original self was a step in the right direction.
    I’d gotten my mother to leave before Nick showed up so he wouldn’t have to go through the inquisition twice in one day. I heard my front door open and paused. A combination of adrenaline, fear and ice cream cake roiled in my belly. I’d left the door unlocked and I hoped to God it was Nick letting himself in instead of the murderer.
    I didn’t have a gun or a knife, and the towel rod on the wall had fallen off long ago, so I didn’t have anything I could hit him with either. I took stock of the cabinet and pulled out a can of hairspray in hopes I could blind him long enough to escape.
    I heard the muttered curses and relaxed. It was just Nick, and he was irritated about something. I put away the hairspray and continued to put the finishing touches on my makeup.
    “Don’t you ever lock your doors, woman?” Nick bellowed from the other side of the bathroom door. “There’s a murderer out there.”
    Considering Nick had yelled the statement and I was locked in the bathroom, everybody in the whole building now knew I sometimes forgot to lock the door. It’s not like there was a lot of traffic on the fourth floor of a condemned building.
    When I came out Nick was lounged back in a chair and watching ESPN highlights. I’d pulled on a comfortable cotton sundress in bright yellow and sandals, but when Nick turned and looked at me the desire in his eyes made me feel like I was wearing something sinful.
    Of course, I’d picked the sundress because I hadn’t been able to get my other skirt buttoned after I’d finished off a good portion of the ice cream cake. It was a good thing I’d eaten those cucumber slices to offset the calories.
    “I really don’t feel like going out,” I said. I’d hoped he’d changed his mind about the whole thing. I didn’t feel like facing a crowd of people, some of which would be rude enough to ask what it had been like to run over my ex-fiancé.
    “The last thing you need is to sit in this depressing apartment and wallow.”
    “But I want to talk to you about what happened this afternoon. About Greg. What did the ME say?”
    Greg sighed. “The ME said Greg had been poisoned. The discoloration of the lips and the slight smell when she opened the stomach makes her think it was arsenic. She said it would take a while to get the results of the Marsh test and make sure, but she was almost positive it was the cause of death.”
    “What?” I asked. “But I thought I was the cause of death.”
    “Arsenic is a poison that can be found in almost every household in one form or another.” Nick ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Which means we’re going to have a hell of a time narrowing down the source. The ME said whoever gave Greg the dosage didn’t give him enough to kill him right away. He could have ingested the poison and been deathly ill for up to two days before dying. Stomach cramps, nausea, chills, fever. It’s not a pleasant way to go. He would have been in and out of consciousness. Someone was holding him against his will and he managed to escape, despite the poison working its way through his body. The ME said Greg was in the last stages when he ran in front of your car. She can’t be sure if the organ damage and the hemorrhaging he suffered were due to the poison or your car, so she’s going with the poison. Which means I have myself another homicide that ties into all this. I told you my gut didn’t feel right about Greg’s death.”
    “ That’s terrible.” What Nick had described sounded like the worst kind of torture and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst