Whiskey, You're The Devil: An Addison Holmes Mystery (Addison Holmes Mysteries Book 4) (5 page)

“You are wise,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “Husbands are good for one thing. And most of them are no good at that. They suck life right out of you and then get eaten by mountain lion. Did you know mountain lions bite the back of the neck to kill?” She mimicked the motion with her hands and made a cracking sound. “Took Jorge’s head clean off. You much better off being alone with nobody to love.”

Spock gagged and put his hand over his mouth and then ran to the bathroom. The rest of us watched him go and then went back to our own food.

“Poor dude,” Byron said. “Hasn’t been the same since the break in. Jumps at his own shadow.”

I perked up at this bit of information. It was just the opening I needed to dig a little deeper. “What break in? What happened?”

Mrs. Rodriguez narrowed her eyes at me and pounded her walker against the floor. “All your fault. You abandoned NAD Squad for fornication.”

I sputtered indignantly. “Wait a minute. Phoebe took my place in the neighborhood. Why am I getting the blame for Spock’s break in?”

“Phoebe is artist,” she said. “How you say? Ahh—creative spirit. She is busy with things simple folk can never understand.”

I looked at Phoebe and the smile on her face was the same one she’d given me when I was nine and got blamed for letting the goldfish die, even though it had been her responsibility to feed it.

I rolled my eyes and pushed my ice cream away. I wasn’t feeling so good all of a sudden. And probably scarfing down ice cream and brownies the day before I had to do the physical fitness test from hell wasn’t a good idea.

The toilet flushed and Spock came out of the bathroom, a little pale but no longer green. He took his spot on the stool and Phoebe handed him a bottle of water.

“I heard about the break in,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “What happened?”

“It was awful.” He turned to face me, his unblinking eyes never wavering from my face. “It happened right in the middle of the day. It was Tuesday, and on Tuesdays they do an all day Star Trek revival at the SCAD Theater.”

Sweat beaded on his upper lip. I stared at his earlobe so I wouldn’t get distracted by the no blinking thing and nodded in encouragement.

“I got home at 3:07—a minute later than usual because they had the blinking red lights going at the stoplight on Stephenson—and I knew before I walked through the front door that something wasn’t quite right. I’ve got extraordinary extrasensory skills.”

“It’s true,” Byron said, nodding. “Just like Spiderman.”

“Is the time you got home important?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said, appalled at my obvious lack of detective skills. “Someone clearly knew my routine. Down to the minute. I know it was that bastard Khan.” He arched a brow and looked at me expectantly, as if that should explain it all. And then he sighed in exasperation. Spock was starting to remind me a lot of my mother.

“Khan would’ve never missed the Star Trek revival unless he was up to something hinky. And I know he wasn’t there. When his name was called at roll call he didn’t respond with the password.”

“Huh,” I said for lack of anything better. I’d never actually heard anyone use the word hinky in a sentence other than Velma from Scooby Doo. I wondered briefly if Spock had started doing drugs but immediately dismissed it. He was always like this. Maybe Phoebe could give him a hit of marijuana sometime so he could relax a little.

“Is there another reason you suspect Khan other than just his absence from the revival?”

“It’s been Khan’s goal all along to destroy the Enterprise.” Frustration leaked through his normally passive expression and he stood up. “Do you know nothing, woman? He’s Khan. KHAN!”

I put my finger to his forehead and pushed him back onto the barstool, and then I narrowed my eyes and leaned into his personal space. “I don’t know shit about Khan. But I know I saw a dead body this morning and I’m not opposed to seeing another.”

He swallowed once and nodded. “My apologies. I’m overwrought.” He took a long sip of water and collected himself and then wiped his face with the bottom of his Avengers T-Shirt.

“It’s understandable,” Byron said. “You’ve been violated and you don’t feel safe in your own home.”

Spock looked back at me. “Have I told you I like it when you’re feisty? That’s why you were so great on the NAD Squad. I knew it from the moment I saw you staring through my window with your binoculars. NAD has a vacancy without you. You’re a hard hole to fill.”

“Shut up, Phoebe,” I said, before she could get the words out. She burst into laughter and clapped her hand over her mouth. I knew my sister well, and Spock had left the door wide open with that comment. “Go on, Spock. I want to hear what happened.”

He nodded. “Khan came to one of my reenactment parties last month, and he was unable to take his eyes off my Enterprise replica. I keep it on display in a glass case in my dining room. It’s the prototype you know. That’s why it’s appraised so high. The very first one ever made, and the basis for all the models that came after it.”

His eyes got a dreamy, far away look in them and I wondered if he ever had problems with his eyes getting dry.

“I won it in a card game when I was at Comic-Con several years ago. George Lucas is terrible at poker.”

“What would Khan do with it?” I asked. “Sell it?”

“Oh, no. A true collector would never sell something of that value. He’d put it with his collection and display it proudly. Khan is known for his collection. He practically has a museum in that old house he lives in. Money isn’t an object. But neither is stealing to a man like Khan. He’s evil. Probably the most vicious and dangerous villain the crew of the Enterprise ever went up against.”

I had no idea where fantasy and reality divided, so I just nodded. “Did the police talk to him?”

“Are you kidding me? Khan has every cop and politician in the city in his pocket.”

I winced and squirmed in my chair uncomfortably. As someone who’d been raised by a cop and was currently sleeping with a cop, I wasn’t too happy to hear that particular insult, and the urge to grab Spock by the throat to shake some sense into him was becoming my top priority, just behind finishing my ice cream. I wasn’t going to let it go to waste after all.

I’d just taken a bite when Spock opened his big mouth. “Hey, I know! You can find the Enterprise for me. You’re a P.I.”

I choked on my ice cream and started shaking my head. “Technically I’m not—”

“You can hunt down that low down, good for nothing Khan and prove he’s the thief he is.” Spock scrunched his face up and pounded his fist into his hand, no doubt imagining Khan’s face in the place of his palm.

“You see, I can’t actually—”

“Byron can tell you exactly how to break into his house. He designed the security system.”

“Conflict of interest—” I trailed off, the spit in my mouth drying as his words penetrated.

“It’s true,” Byron said, nodding. “He’s got a lot of weaknesses on the property. Cheapskate. I told him he was practically begging for someone to break in.”

“Breaking the law isn’t really allowed—” I was still shaking my head as the horror of what was transpiring crashed down on me like a bucket of cold water, but I’d lost control somewhere along the way. If I was ever in control to begin with.

“I’ll pay you, of course,” Spock continued. “What do you think, Mrs. Rodriguez? Doesn’t a ten percent finders fee seem reasonable?”

“Are you kidding me?” Phoebe piped in. “She’s going up against Khan. That’s like signing her death warrant. Twenty-five thousand dollars and not a penny less.”

“Umm, hello?” I said, my chest tightening with panic. “Death warrant?” I looked at Phoebe. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“You’re right,” Spock said, everyone ignoring my protests. “Twenty-five thousand is more than fair for the Enterprise. It’s only going to appreciate in value. It’ll be worth more than five times the value when my grandchildren are adults.”

“You must have the sex to have grandchildren,” Mrs. Rodriguez said, her lips pinched together in perpetual disapproval. “I give you those magazines so you can practice, but still you alone.”

She waved her hand in a shooing motion like Spock was a hopeless cause, and I kind of had to agree with her. Unless Lara Croft or Princess Leia set out to seduce him, Spock was likely to remain a virgin for eternity. I got the unholy vision of what it would be like to make love with someone like Spock, eyes bulging and open, staring at you even through the embarrassing parts of sex that everyone knows you’re supposed to close your eyes through.

I shuddered and pushed back from the counter. “I’ve got work to do. Thanks for the ice cream and chocolate. I probably would’ve committed murder or driven off a bridge if I hadn’t had any.”

“I hear ya,” Phoebe said. “It’s best to stay off the road and away from sharp objects on those days.”

I had one foot out the door when Spock stopped me. “How are you going to hunt down Khan if you don’t gather the intel? I thought you’d been taking classes. They’re not teaching you very much if you don’t know the basics.”

“I’ll send the security schematics over,” Byron said, before the urge to unload my Lady Glock into Spock’s unblinking eyes fully registered.

I deliberately took a deep breath and counted to ten. Maybe I needed anger management classes. Or some Xanax. Going from extreme weeping to wanting to commit murder in less than an hour didn’t seem healthy. Or maybe I was going crazy like my Great Aunt Scarlet and would eventually end up sitting naked on my front porch and shooting a potato cannon at passing traffic. Something to look forward to.

“Fine,” I agreed. “Give me his real name. I can run a background check back at the office. But no promises.”

“His real name is Dexter Kyle,” Spock said. “AKA Khan. The most evil man in existence. Proceed with caution.”

“Dexter Kyle the federal judge?” I asked incredulous. “That Dexter Kyle?”

“It helps that you know him.”

I wasn’t about to mention that he’d played poker with my dad every Thursday night for twenty years.

“Fuck,” I said, and slammed the door behind me.

Chapter Four

I
DON’T KNOW
how long I drove around aimlessly, but my jeans were making the drive uncomfortable so I unbuttoned them and laid the seat back a little so the sugar in my system could digest properly.

I didn’t want to go back to the office. There wasn’t anything new to do except study for the written P.I. exams, and I knew all of that information forwards and backwards. It was implementing that information in real life situations that I seemed to have trouble with.

The other file Lucy had given me was a standard surveillance. A cheating husband who was about to get his ass handed to him in a divorce if half the allegations the wife had listed in the file were true. I wouldn’t be able to start work on that until after dinner. Which begged the question, why didn’t more people cheat in the daytime? It seemed to me like there was less of a chance of being caught, and I’d be able to go to bed before ten.

Nick lived about halfway between Savannah and Whiskey Bayou in a secluded area off the highway. I was just now used to picking out the little one-lane dirt road hidden by mossy trees, though I still had trouble finding it in the dark. Nick liked his privacy. I liked to pretend I wasn’t completely creeped out by the shadows the trees made at night when I looked out the windows. It was all too easy to imagine the limbs were long bony fingers reaching for me every time the wind blew.

By the time I drove down the mile of road to the house, the last thing I wanted to see was the yellow Beetle parked in the driveway. My stomach wasn’t feeling so good, and I was pretty sure I needed to vomit before dinner.

I parked the car next to the Beetle, but when I looked over into the driver’s seat Rosemarie was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sitting on the front porch either, so I grabbed my purse and left the warmth of the car for the drizzling cold.

“Rosemarie,” I said, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of her. “Where are you?”

Nick’s house rose up in the center of the clearing like an oversized origami—smooth white walls and angles at every turn dominated by floor to ceiling windows in the front and the back so you could see straight through. Which I always forgot about until after I’d had my first cup of coffee every morning and remembered I was standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but my underwear. Fortunately, we didn’t get a lot of guests.

There wasn’t much of a yard, but moss-covered trees hovered creepily, and I was pretty sure they were watching us and would one day probably kill us and use our bodies as fertilizer so they could take over the world. I’m not sure what brought me to that conclusion—maybe too many viewings of Lord of the Rings and Treebeard—but it seemed as possible as anything else in my life.

I had about an hour before I was supposed to meet my family for dinner, and it was already starting to get dark. Rosemarie still hadn’t made an appearance, and I shivered, wondering if the trees had already gotten her.

“Rosemarie,” I hissed out in a whisper. I wasn’t sure
why
I was whispering, but it seemed like an appropriate course of action.

I had my hand beneath my coat and at the small of my back, my palm resting against the butt of my gun, when I heard the rustle of leaves and the snapping of twigs in the distance. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I don’t have a quick trigger finger.

The leaves rustled again and I saw a flash of blond peep out from behind one of the trees.

“Addison, is that you?” Rosemarie whispered back.

I let go of my gun and rolled my eyes. “Of course it’s me. What in the world are you doing?” And then I looked a little closer. “Are you wearing face paint?”

“Did you come alone?”

“Was I supposed to bring someone with me? Can you come out here? It feels weird talking to the trees. It’s like they’re listening. And it’s creepy.”

“Of course they’re listening,” she said. “If I were you I’d move. These trees are going to eat you one day. Pluck the roof off your house and snatch you right out.”