Whiskey Rebellion Part 16

"Can't do that, Eddie. It doesn't belong to me." I stood slowly, put my hands up in an offering of peace and gave him my best pals smile.

"Give me that G.o.dd.a.m.n camera or I'm going to take it from you," he said. His voice was menacing and I automatically took a step back.

"Give it to me," he screamed and charged straight at me.

I didn't stop to try and reason with him. I took off as fast as my gimpy knee and aching a.s.s would allow. I heard the sound of a motor starting and I looked back over my shoulder as Eddie held the weed whacker over his head like an extra on Nightmare on Elm Street.

I stopped to take photographs just to clinch Eddie's guilt and then realized he wasn't about to start tr.i.m.m.i.n.g his lawn again. He took off at a dead sprint wielding the weed whacker in front of him like a sword. He was headed straight for me.

"You're crazy!" I screamed and put everything I had into getting to Kate's car. The camera was flopping around my neck and banging me in the ribs. The sound of spinning blades was getting closer, but I didn't bother looking back. If I was going to get decapitated I didn't want to see it.

I frantically searched my pockets and remembered I'd left the keys in the car. I yanked the door open on the Taurus, slid into the grimy seat and locked the doors just in time to hear the blades make a thwap, thwap, thwap sound on the b.u.mper.

I took a couple of more pictures before I turned the key in the ignition, only for reasons unknown to me, the Taurus decided to sputter into nothingness. I had a crazed maniac after me and the car wouldn't start.

"Come on, come on," I said. My hands were shaking and I pushed down the pedal to see if I could get the ignition to catch. Eddie had moved to the front of the car and was bas.h.i.+ng the winds.h.i.+eld and the side mirrors with all his Bowflex strength.

"Finally!"

The engine caught and I pushed the gas pedal to the floor. I left Eddie Pogue standing in the street waving his weed whacker like a madman.

I parked Kate's Taurus at the back of her building and went inside to swap keys. She was in a meeting (thank goodness), and so the only person in the office was Lucy. When I got back to my car I called and left a message on Kate's voicemail.

"Ummm, Kate? This is Addison. I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry about the Taurus, but it wasn't my fault. I'm sure insurance will cover all the damages, and probably you can find another Taurus that was just as ugly as that one on the Internet."

I hung up. I needed to find Nick and tell him the list of people who could possibly be after me had increased by one. I'd learned my lesson about keeping secrets about my enemies, and probably Eddie Pogue wouldn't be sending me an engraved invitation to his incarceration when all was said and done.

On the drive to Nick's precinct, I realized something crucial. I didn't even know the man's cell phone number. I knew nothing about him at all, not where he lived or even if he was living with someone. Or, G.o.d, what if he had children? The only thing I knew about Nick Dempsey was the shape of his tonsils, that his chest hairs felt great rubbing against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and that he'd been married once before.

Nick's precinct was in the heart of Savannah's historic district, and the building looked nothing like a place that held criminals and overworked cops within its walls. It was pretty, with shade trees and soft red brick.

I took stock of my appearance and grimaced. I looked like 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 gra.s.s 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 bypa.s.sed the hara.s.sed 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 for 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 jacka.s.s."

"Then, no. I don't have kids. I told you I was only married for six months, and I didn't even get s.e.x 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 d.a.m.n good cop. We never worried about him because it's what he loved to do, and I bet it p.i.s.sed 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?"

"h.e.l.l, 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 s.e.x 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 about 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 distracting the rest of us at the gala. n.o.body's seen him since. Veronica's still in the hospital, and Girard Dupres had a solid alibi since he was arrested Friday night for hiring a minor to dance at his club. And your pal Robbie Butler was at home all evening as far as the officers I had posted out front could tell."

"What about John Hyatt?"

"We questioned everyone in Victor Mooney's neighborhood after he was murdered, including John Hyatt. He and his estate manager were going over guest lists and details for some party that is held at the bank every year for the bigwigs. Loretta Swanson corroborated his story when we finally tracked her down. Neither of them noticed anything suspicious about Mr. Mooney's behavior."

"Maybe they're lying for each other," I suggested. "John Hyatt has a fiance, but he seems to spend a lot of time with his estate manager just to have a platonic relations.h.i.+p. And Loretta Swanson doesn't seem like the type of woman to be platonic. She practically oozes s.e.x."

"You've got that right," Nick said with a dreamy smile.

I kicked him in the s.h.i.+n and felt better.

"Sheathe your claws, woman. For some reason I'm attracted to accident p.r.o.ne ex-strippers who have a jealous streak."

"Whatever. I bet you say that to all the girls."

He smiled but I could see the frustration and worry behind his eyes.

"My gut tells me the two murders are related, but the evidence suggests there are different killers. We've got no DNA and so far we haven't gotten any hits from the fingerprints found on the envelope. You're the only thing that links both of them, Addison."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying be careful. And let me know if you get any other surprises."

"I'm not sure I can take any more surprises. My biggest fear at this point is I'll damage my body even more than it already is. I haven't been able to make it to my yoga cla.s.ses in almost two weeks because I've been too sore."

Nick's eyes glazed over at the mention of my yoga cla.s.ses, and I could tell he already had grand plans for our upcoming date.

"Do I need to leave you alone with your fantasies?" I asked.

"Nah, you'll be privy to them soon enough. Just make sure you don't injure yourself anymore between now and tomorrow. I wouldn't want you to miss out on my great idea."

"What great idea is that?"

"The one where we're both naked and your ankles are up by your ears."

My insides heated to the temperature of molten lava, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. The picture that Nick painted was awesome in my mind. It was too bad I'd have to disappoint him, because I didn't think there was any way possible for my ankles to reach my ears with all of my swollen and bruised body parts. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea for me to spend some time soaking in a hot tub though.

I'd fallen asleep as soon as I'd gotten home from seeing Nick, and when I woke up I was running late for the Tupperware party at Rose Marie's friend's house.

I jumped in the shower and tried to tame my hair, but it was still in shock from being chased with a weed whacker. I pulled on the first thing I could find in my closet and barely had time to put on lip gloss and slip on some sandals when I heard the knock at the door.

I glanced at the clock on my way to the door and put a little jog in my step. My tongue caught in my throat when I opened the door and saw Nick leaning with one arm against the frame and holding a six-pack of Corona in the other. His hair was tousled from a long day at work and the dark stubble on his face was way past a five o'clock shadow. His blue eyes held heat and desire and something I didn't even want to think about because I knew it would be dangerous.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that, you won't make it to your party tonight and we definitely won't make it to the restaurant I've made reservations at tomorrow night."

"Oh, man," I said, licking my lips. That was an impressive threat. One I wasn't sure I didn't want to take him up on.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Great. The man had me reduced to a stuttering fool.

"I'm here to watch the game," he said, backing me slowly into my apartment. He slammed the door shut with his boot, and I gulped in reaction. "It's the playoffs, you know."

"Of course I know. I have it set to TiVo. And besides, I've already told you I'm going to be out tonight."

"You like basketball?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course I like basketball. Who doesn't like basketball?"

"What about baseball? Do you like baseball?"

I gave him a look like he belonged in the special cla.s.s. "Baseball is king. All other sports dim in comparison."

"Oh my G.o.d. I'm going to have to marry you."

"Not until you take me to dinner first. What kind of woman do you think I am?"

"One that I want very, very badly," he said, backing me into the wall. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit gently. I moaned in response and tried to think of what it was I was supposed to be doing.

"Wait a minute," I said pus.h.i.+ng him back. "What are you really doing here?"

"Let's just say I want to be here in case you have any uninvited guests."

"You could have just asked, you know, instead of trying to muddle me with the whole seduction thing."

"The seduction thing was just a side benefit for both of us," he said reaching for me again.

"Oh, no you don't. I've got to get out of here. I'm going to be late."

I pushed him back with all my might, with only a small hope that he'd be more persistent in taking things further, that way I could blame him for missing the party.

"Have a good time," he said, already heading to the living room and flipping the TV on.

All I could do was grab my purse and walk out the door. I'd completely forgotten why I was going to tell him he couldn't be there while I was gone. But I'd sure as h.e.l.l give him a piece of my mind when I got back and my brain was in working order again.

Much to my surprise, I'd been able to save up a good chunk of money since I started working for Kate, and I hardly felt guilty at all for planning to splurge on the Tupperware. A few more weeks of falling out of trees and being chased with sharp objects and I'd have all the money I needed for the rest of the down payment. Hopefully, I'd still be alive to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

I pulled in right behind Rose Marie's bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle and hopped out of the car. Rose Marie shoehorned her way out of the Beetle, and I was left standing with my mouth hanging open and my eyes on the verge of exploding at the cacophony of colors that came barreling out of the tiny car.

Rose Marie was wrapped in a swirling sarong of every color in the rainbow and she'd wedged her size eight feet into size six hot pink mules. The fas.h.i.+on G.o.ds were probably in a coma. I wished I could join them.

"Wow, Rose Marie. You sure do look-summery," I said, lamely. I looked down at my own short khaki skirt from The Gap and my white sleeveless top and felt way under dressed.

"Thank you. It's new," she said, her face beaming.

We made our way up to the door of the ranch style house. The sun was still bright though it was almost seven o'clock.

"I'm surprised you actually came tonight," Rose Marie said out of the blue. "I've always thought you seemed kind of prudish. No offense," she hastened quickly.

I was confused. What did buying Tupperware have to do with being a prude? And, dammit, I'm not a prude. Would a prude dance topless at The Foxy Lady? I think not. I almost broke down and told her about it when I remembered it was probably not a good idea to let that knowledge circulate around town.

"I'm not a prude," I said defensively. "And what does that have to do with buying Tupperware?"

Rose Marie gasped. "This isn't a Tupperware party, Addison. I thought you would have gone to the website on your invitation."

A ball of dread gathered in the pit of my stomach, and I asked the only question that mattered. "What kind of party is this?"

"It's a pa.s.sion party," Rose Marie said, her cheeks pink in delight.

By then it was too late. I couldn't run screaming to my car. The front door was opened and I was ushered into a s.p.a.cious living room already crowded with women. Candles were lit and wine and cheese were set out. It didn't look like a den of iniquity so I went further into the room. I stopped next to Rose Marie as a woman approached us.

"Welcome, ladies," she said, handing both of us a Q-tip. "Please go into the restroom and apply this gel to your c.l.i.ts. As soon as you're finished, we'll start the party."

The woman walked off without another word and I was left standing there alone, my mouth hanging open and my face red as a lobster.

Rose Marie had already gone into the restroom to apply the gel, and I took a closer look at the little swab that was bound to make for an interesting evening.

Rose Marie came out of the bathroom, her face flushed pink and excited, so I had no choice but to go in and do the deed. Would people know if I just threw it away? Was there some kind of invisible sign that would tell everyone that I was too chicken to put a little gel on my privates? Well, I wasn't going to be called a coward in front of a bunch of strangers, so I squenched my eyes closed and got the job done.