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

anything better.
    The truth is my mom’s meatloaf has the consistency of an Acme brick, and it’s still one of her best dishes.
    “We’ve got to get the swelling down,” I said. “I have work to do tonight, and I’m sort of on a deadline.”
    I thought about the murders and how Nick was keeping information from me. I needed to pay a visit to John Hyatt. This time in a professional capacity instead of as a hysterical wanna-be homeowner. There was something fishy about the Hyatt situation. I needed to find out for sure what his relationship was with Loretta Swanson and if she was lying for him to give him an alibi. There was no reason for Victor Mooney to be dead unless he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Since he was supposed to be watching John and Loretta, it made sense that the secrets should lie with them. Not to mention there was still something about Loretta that I didn’t trust.
    “I don’t know if I like you working in all these dangerous situations.”
    “It’s not dangerous, mom. All I do is take pictures.”
    I didn’t bother to tell her I was more of a danger to myself than any criminal could be. I told her about Nick’s suspicion that Mr. Butler’s death at The Foxy Lady was somehow related to Mr. Mooney and now Greg.
    “Poor Greg,” she said. “But I don’t understand what you have to do with Bernard Butler’s death. You’ve never even been to that place where they found his body.”
    “Maybe it’s because we worked together.” It was a lot easier to lie when you weren’t able to look anyone in the eye. There was no reason for her to know about the new job on my resume or the fact that my principal was a stalker. “Mr. Mooney called me and wanted to meet before he died, and someone poisoned Greg. I’ve got to be connected somehow.”
    “This is just awful. I can’t believe something like this is happening in Whiskey Bayou. We have to do something to stop it.”
    “There’s nothing we can do about it, Mom,” I said. A little niggling of worry was making itself present in the depths of my bosom. I knew that tone in my mother’s voice. “The police are doing their jobs, and I’m trying to help them out in a limited capacity.”
    I didn’t bother to mention the promise I’d made to Kate or the fact that Nick wanted me to stay out of police business. I was skating on thin ice as it was. My mom would go ballistic if she found out I was skirting around the police and starting an investigation of my own.
    “You can’t go anywhere in your condition. You need someone to drive you around. I can do that for you. I’ll be your sidekick.”
    I prayed for the cucumber infection to enter my bloodstream and take me quickly, but no such luck.
    “ Now get some sleep. When you wake up adventures will still be waiting. We’ll be just like Batman and Robin,” she said.
    Lucy and Ethel was probably a more accurate assessment.

    I woke a few hours later to cold cream being slathered on my eyes. Amazingly enough, when your eyes are swollen shut you have no other alternative but to eventually fall asleep.
    “ Dr. Jones dropped this by for the reaction,” my mother said. “He said it should make the swelling go down.”
    I was secretly relieved she had stayed while I slept and hadn’t left me alone to stumble my way to the bathroom or the kitchen.
    “And I’ve made you a little something to eat. I hope you don’t mind.”
    I nearly fell off the bed when I realized I could open my eyes the smallest bit. A flood of something I won’t even begin to try to describe ran down my cheeks, and I had a slight moment of panic when I still couldn’t see, thinking that my eyeballs had dissolved.
    “And to think a little cucumber did this,” my mother said. “You’d think it’d do t he same thing to your insides. Maybe it’d be best if you didn’t eat them any more.”
    I couldn’t have agreed more. I laid back in bed with little to do but sleep.

    When I woke up again I could hear my mother rustling around in my closet. I could open my eyes a little farther this time and even managed to see what was going on, though things were still a little blurry.
    “What are you doing?” I asked.
    “I’m getting our things ready. It’s getting dark outside and we’ll need to leave soon if we want to find a good place for a stakeout.”
    I groaned and flopped back on the bed. I felt like hammered dog shit, and now I had to go sleuthing with my menopausal mother. What else could the