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

winced as the sound of the tumblers seemed to echo through the room.
    I slid the door open and felt for a light switch along the wall. I pressed a button and lights flickered on, one row after another until a closet the size of a bedroom appeared. In it were rows and rows of women’s clothes and shoes. And along the far back wall were wigs of every length and color.
    Loretta Swanson hadn’t taken a day off for personal reasons. Loretta Swanson was waiting in the closet until John Hyatt decided to bring her out again.
    John Hyatt and Loretta Swanson were the same person.
    The pictures hadn’t lied, and no one had been more surprised than me to look at those photographs and see that Loretta Swanson had a penis. Everyone in town was going to be surprised that John Hyatt spent his spare time dressing like a woman and making out with men in titty bars.
    I poked through the room quickly because I knew my time was running out. I’d already been out of his sight for more than ten minutes composing myself. He’d be knocking on the bathroom door downstairs before too long.
    I opened drawers along the walls and only felt the slight pull of jealousy as I saw the cashmere sweaters and expensive jewelry. Loretta Swanson had good taste for a man.
    Sitting in a drawer with a diamond tennis bracelet and a broach the size of a hen’s egg was a small pistol and a Swiss Army knife. I knew that with the photographs I’d taken and the new knowledge that Loretta Swanson had been at The Foxy Lady, Nick would have enough to get a warrant to search the premises.
    I was satisfied that justice could now be done, so I closed and locked the door and slipped back to the bedroom. I realized only then that I was stuck on the second floor because my way back down was lying in a heap on the ground.
    I listened at the bedroom door and opened it slowly. I looked both ways and slunk along the wall until I reached the stairs. I stopped when I heard the sound of John’s voice speaking from somewhere in the house. I assumed John was on the telephone since I could only hear one side of his conversation.
    “We’ve got serious problems here. I’m telling you she knows something,” John Hyatt said into the phone. I had no idea who he was talking to, but I had a sneaking suspicion he was talking about me. As far as I could tell the conversation was coming from a room somewhere under the stairs. Probably his office.
    “Listen, this is all your fault. You shouldn’t have followed me.”
    There was silence while he listened.
    “I don’t know how she knows, but it’s only a matter of time before the cops stumble onto the truth. Everybody knows that she can’t keep her mouth shut.”
    I put my hands on my hips indignantly. I could keep a secret when I wanted too. It’s just that there were very few secrets that weren’t interesting enough to pass on to others.
    “Just get over here,” he demanded. “I’m tired of being the one who always has to get us out of these messes.”
    I hurried down the stairs and toward the front door as fast as my sore feet could carry me. I had no idea how I was going to explain my lack of shoes, but all I knew was I had to get out of the house. Now.
    I stopped and tried to slow my breathing when I heard the distinct sound of the phone slamming down and footsteps on the tile. I picked up my purse from the table I’d set it on and prepared to give excuses why I had to run off.
    I was standing behind a chair when he came into the room so my feet were hidden. “I’m sorry to fall apart on you like that,” I said with a tremulous smile. I hoped my shaking voice was only in my imagination and not in reality. “I’ve just been through so much lately.”
    He looked me over like he was just seeing me for the first time. Did I look like someone who had just climbed a trellis and snooped through all his things? I had no idea, but his pensive look couldn’t be a good sign.
    “Thanks for hearing me out. I know I sounded crazy. It’s been a difficult couple of weeks, and I don’t know what I’m talking about.” I backed away toward the entryway and thought this might be a good time for those plainclothes cops eating donuts in the dark blue sedan to make an appearance. “I’ve got to be going though. I’ve got an appointment I can’t miss,” I fibbed.
    “Sure, sure. Let me walk you out,” he said with a broad smile.
    We were back in the cold marble entryway when I felt a cool rush of air against my neck and a