Whiskey Rebellion Part 22

John was looking at me like a child and shaking his head. "Addison, that is hardly conclusive evidence of murder. It could just as easily have been Greg."

"But now he's dead too." I decided now was where I should start to lie a little. "When I identified Loretta as your estate manager the police put her under surveillance. They asked Mr. Mooney next door to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. I happened to be with the detective in charge when Mr. Mooney called him and said he had important information, but Mr. Mooney was killed before we could speak to him. It's obvious Loretta didn't want him telling her secrets. I can only imagine what it was he wanted to share."

John Hyatt looked a little green around the gills. He was staring off into the unknown and I could see sweat stains under the arms of his expensive golf s.h.i.+rt.

"And what about Greg Nelson?" he asked softly. "What's your theory on his murder?"

"Well it's pretty obvious to me that she killed Greg because he knew too much. He was poisoned, you know," I said conspiratorially. "And everybody knows that poison is a woman's murder weapon. If Loretta was threatened because Greg was going to turn her in it would be the perfect motive for killing him. Of course, she kind of botched that job, because she didn't give him enough and he managed to escape from wherever she was keeping him. The police probably never would have figured it out otherwise. I guess it was just her bad luck."

I choked back a sob that was for real this time and stood up. "I'm sorry. Would you mind if I used your restroom to put myself back together? This has been so difficult for me." I dropped my head down and my shoulders shook as I poured on the drama.

"Yes, of course, right this way," he said robotically. John Hyatt's mind was obviously elsewhere. He showed me through a long corridor that led to a large guest suite on the first floor. It was on the backside of the house and had its own French doors that led out to a private patio and hot tub. He showed me where the bathroom door was and left me alone.

I closed and locked the door behind him and turned on the water in the faucet. I needed to get upstairs to the master bedroom, and I had no idea how I was going to do it.

I left the water running and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The guest suite was s.p.a.cious and private, but I was afraid John would come back and check on me if I didn't get out of there soon. I opened the French doors quietly and slipped out. I used a large shrub as cover while I looked for a way to get to the second floor. My answer came when I noticed the vine covered trellis that attached to the second floor balcony. And if I wasn't mistaken that balcony led to the master suite.

I looked down at my flip-flops, kicked them off and was glad I'd at least had the good sense to wear shorts instead of a skirt. I started the slow climb to the top and had an epiphany that I wasn't as young as I'd used to be.

I put my foot through another rung and heard the distinct crack of wood snapping just before the bottom half of the trellis crumbled to kindling twenty feet below. I was hanging by both hands and my feet were flailing in the air.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t." Upper body strength had never been my strong point. My life hung in the balance for a couple of minutes before I realized how much it would hurt to fall, so I pulled with all my might until I was able to hitch a leg over the balcony rail.

I laid on the hard floor gasping for breath and knew I didn't have a lot of time left to do what I'd come for, so I rolled over and pushed myself to my feet.

I hit a stroke of luck when I found the balcony doors were unlocked. I slipped in as quietly as my heaving chest would allow and into an ornate and fussy room in shades of blue. John Hyatt was a man of many facets.

I searched under the bed and through a closet full of navy blue and charcoal gray suits. Ties were color coordinated on a tie rack and shoes were lined at the bottom of the closet. The overly fussy bedroom didn't match the obsessiveness of the closet.

I riffled through dresser drawers and looked in the medicine cabinet in the adjacent bathroom. There was nothing of interest anywhere. Then I noticed the sliding door that was in the corner of the bathroom and painted the same color as the wall. And then I saw it was locked.

I pulled as hard as I could but the door wouldn't budge. I dug through the bathroom cabinets looking for anything that could pry the door open. I found a metal pick like the ones they use at the dentist office to sc.r.a.pe away plaque. It would have to do.

I slipped the tool in the silver lock like they do on the television and moved it around. I had no experience picking locks, but I figured they would teach me that in my private investigator's training.

I crouched down on the floor and jiggled for everything I was worth. It was while I was on my knees that I noticed the small key on the floor behind the toilet. I picked it up gingerly because there was never anything good that happened around a man's toilet.

I stopped to listen and only heard the sound of my pulse beating rapidly, so I slipped it in the lock and 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 b.u.t.ton 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 p.e.n.i.s. 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 t.i.tty 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 a.s.sumed 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 pa.s.s 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 sharp pain in the back of my skull.

I woke up crammed into a tiny box, and I could tell by the strong smell of cedar that it was some kind of keepsake chest like the one my mom used to have.

My head was pounding and the lack of oxygen wasn't making it better. I brought my arm up as best I could and touched the lump on the back of my head. The slippery wetness of blood between my fingers escalated my panic.

I didn't know if I was still inside the Hyatt mansion, but I could hear John's voice coming from somewhere. And then I heard the voice of a woman.

"What the h.e.l.l are we going to do with her? There are cops sitting down the street watching our every move. They're not going to let us waltz out with a body and shove it in the trunk," the woman said.

"Did you move her car?" John asked.

"Yeah, I put on one of your dark wigs and took the keys out of her purse. I left the car at the park. I'm so sorry, John. I know this is all my fault, but I just love you so much."

"I love you, too, but there has to be a way to get out of this mess. You shouldn't have followed me to The Foxy Lady. Now three people are dead because of your jealousy."

"I did it to protect you. I thought you were starting to love Greg more than me, and when I saw the two of you together at that club I was just so angry. I knew the moment that princ.i.p.al looked at you he realized who you were, even with the disguise. I had to make sure your secret stayed safe. And this wouldn't even be an issue if Greg had just died like he was supposed to."

"I know, babe. You did what you thought you had to. And I did what I had to do to protect both of us, but there was no need for you to be jealous of Greg. He was a distraction. A one-time thing. You're the one I love."

"How could I not be jealous? I'm your fiancee. Why would I want to share you with anyone when what we have is so special, so unique?

"Be that as it may, we have another problem on our hands. How did the Holmes girl get involved in this, and better yet, what are we going to do with her?"

"That's my fault," f.a.n.n.y said, sounding as if she were near tears. "I hired a detective agency to keep tabs on you. If you'd cheat once then I was sure it was only a matter of time before it happened again."

"Wait. You hired a detective agency? Are you nuts?" John yelled. "Detective agencies are good at finding things out, f.a.n.n.y. No wonder Addison Holmes has been snooping around. She mentioned she just started working for them last week. Even as inept as she is, there were bound to be one or two important details regarding our pastimes that would be impossible for her to miss."

"Well you shouldn't have cheated on me," f.a.n.n.y yelled back. "I told you I wasn't thinking straight. I was upset. That's what happens when the person you love betrays you. Besides, I told her I changed my mind about the investigation. She was supposed to stop."

I groaned from the ache in my head and the fact that John Hyatt and f.a.n.n.y Kimble were Cracker Jack crazy. From what I could understand John Hyatt dressed up as Loretta Swanson and f.a.n.n.y Kimble dressed up as Loretta's main squeeze so they could spice up their s.e.x life. The only problem was that John got a little carried away and used his alter ego to live a second life. One that didn't include f.a.n.n.y.

"Be quiet for a second," John hissed. "Do you think she's waking up?"

I could practically hear them breathing as they leaned over the chest. I was as weak as a kitten and wasn't sure I'd be able to fight them off. The sc.r.a.pe of the key and the snick of the lock opening rang loud in my ears. I closed my eyes and feigned unconsciousness, while the pulse in the side of my neck beat frantically "What should we do with her?" f.a.n.n.y asked. "Do you think we could get her to promise not to say anything if we let her go?"

"You know we can't let her go. She won't be able to keep it to herself."

"But I don't want to kill her. There have already been too many deaths. And her mother would hound everybody in town until she had a search party gathered and every house searched. Can't you just bash her over the head hard enough so she gets amnesia?"

I could hear John sigh in frustration. "You know we have to get rid of her, f.a.n.n.y. This will be the last time. I swear. We just have to figure out how to get her out of the house without anyone noticing."

John hoisted me over his shoulder and it was everything I could do not to groan in pain and give myself away. I took a quick glance around and noticed we were still in the living room before I closed my eyes again.

"I had to give my mother daily morphine injections before she died," John said. "I still have the syringes and medication. I'll just give her more than the normal dosage. It'll be quick and it won't be messy."

"Take her to the guest room," f.a.n.n.y said. "We can keep her there until it gets dark and then we can move her."

John headed out of the living room with me, and I knew I'd never get out alive if I didn't do something quick. I hung limply with my arms hanging down his back, and when we pa.s.sed a low table I grabbed a heavy candlestick and hit him in the back of the knee.

We both went down in a screaming heap, but I had fear on my side, so I kicked and clawed until his hands loosened their grip. Spots danced in front of my eyes and a thin sheen of sweat gathered over my clammy body. It wouldn't be long before I was pa.s.sed out in a heap on the floor, so I scrambled off the ground and ran for my life.

f.a.n.n.y stood her ground and blocked my way, so I squinted my eyes and channeled my inner middle linebacker before running right through her. We crashed over a table, and gla.s.s shattered around us. Pillows, overturned lamps, and a broken candy dish filled with sugared almonds littered the floor around us.

I had f.a.n.n.y in a headlock and was trying to get her to stay down so I would have a chance to escape, but my palms were slicked with sweat and the blood that dripped down the back of my neck was more than a little distracting. John Hyatt came up behind me and pulled at my arms and legs like I was a human wishbone, and my screams echoed through the room.

"Let her go, you b.i.t.c.h! You're hurting her," he yelled.

I knew I was losing, so I let my body go slack. John gave a great heave as he threw me from f.a.n.n.y's body. Everything seemed to go in slow motion from there. I flew through the air, and I knew when I landed it was going to hurt like h.e.l.l. I got satisfaction in seeing a swarm of cops enter the room with guns drawn just before I hit the long expanse of gla.s.s windows at the back of the living room.

I tucked my head and tried to roll into a ball as the window gave and shattered at my back. My last thought was that I hoped the gla.s.s wouldn't leave scars.

"Addison-"

I heard the sound of my name in the distance, a persistent buzzing I wanted to ignore but found impossible to do.

"Let me die in peace," I said.

I lay spread eagle on the ground. My head hurt worse than it had a half hour ago, and I couldn't feel my legs. I didn't want to open my eyes and see the damage, but the annoying drone of my name being called didn't give me any other choice.

The flutter of the leaves on the trees above me was hypnotizing, and the ground was hard below me. In my imagination I was in a tropical paradise where there was no pain. I thought about swaying in the breeze on a hammock, a tall gla.s.s of lemonade in my hand and a half-naked man fanning me with giant palm leaves.

"Earth to Addison," the voice said again.

"I should've known it was you," I said to Nick.

His face looked strained and worried. "How many fingers?" he asked.

"A million. What happened to John and f.a.n.n.y? Did they get away?"

Nick was doing some deep breathing exercises, and I realized he was as angry as I'd ever seen him before. I had a sinking suspicion he was angry with me.

"Please don't yell at me yet. I think I need some Tylenol first. I know you're angry," I said, licking my lips.

"Do ya think? I just watched your body fly twenty feet and crash through a plate gla.s.s window like you were on an episode of Smackdown. I ought to lock you up. Unfortunately we can't arrest people for being stupid."

"Don't call me stupid. I was trying to gather evidence so you could make an arrest since you seemed to be a little inept when it came to tracking down vicious killers. I was going to give you the information once I'd left here."

"I had a tap on his phone, and I was waiting for a warrant to come through to search the premises when you made your grand entrance. Fortunately, I'm aware of your tendency towards dumb luck and ordered the cops watching the house to let me know when and if you showed up."

I gasped at this admission. "You didn't trust me."

"Not as far as I could throw you. I've got everything I need to put these two away for a long time, and I had it all before you showed up. The only difference is my hands were tied because I had to go through legal channels."

My head was pounding, and I wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl under the covers for the rest of my life.

"I think I need to go home," I said, closing my tired eyes.

"From the looks of you, I think a trip to the hospital is the better choice. Let's have the paramedics check you out."

"Fine. Whatever. I'm too tired and sore to argue."

"That's a first. Hey," he said, brus.h.i.+ng the hair back from my face. "For a minute there I was really worried. Maybe you can take up skydiving or NASCAR instead of hunting down criminals."

Nick was looking at me with an expression I'd never seen before, and if my head hadn't been pounding so badly I would have given it more thought. From the way my body was aching, I was pretty sure the craziest hobby I wanted to take up was knitting. Though with my luck I'd end up stabbing myself in the eye with one of the needles.

EPILOGUE.

It took more than a week for me to be able to sit without a rubber donut or operate heavy machinery due to painkillers, but I hadn't been left out of the loop just because Nick was too busy cleaning up loose ends to fill me in. I'd had Kate and the rest of the town to keep me up to date.