Whiskey Lullaby: An Addison Holmes Mystery Read online

  Whiskey Lullaby

  An Addison Holmes Novel

  Liliana Hart

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Copyright © 2020 by Liliana Hart

  All rights reserved.

  Published by 7th Press

  Dallas, TX 75115

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Scott -

  Thank you for taking me on trips and buying me snacks when I’m stuck in a story. You understand my process well. And thanks for loving me when I want to throw every book in the trash and start over at the halfway point. You’re an awesome husband.

  Acknowledgments

  A special thanks to all the team of people who help get these books on the shelves. It truly takes a village.

  Thanks to Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs for the amazing cover. Thank you to my editing team, Imogen Howsen and Ava Hodge.

  And a special thanks to Scott Silverii, for reading this book as fast as I could throw chapters at him and helping me plot through the storms. You’re an excellent researcher, brainstormer, sounding board, and formatter. I’m glad we’re married, otherwise you’d be really expensive.

  Prologue

  Friday

  They say it’s not over till the fat lady sings.

  I wasn’t fat yet, but my time was coming. I figured it was best to get my last rodeo out of the way before cankles and stretch marks set in. Though technically, my last rodeo had been a few weeks ago when I’d closed my last case. But retirement had caused a proverbial hitch in my get-along.

  I wasn’t sure where all the cowboy imagery was coming from, but I’d been having weird dreams that Sam Elliott was trying to recruit me to become a US Marshal and hunt down outlaws. Sam also wanted me to put a bit in his mouth and ride him like a stallion, but I declined because I’m a married woman now.

  Pregnancy hormones are weird.

  My name is Addison Holmes, and I’m no stranger to weird. It was a miracle Nick had married me at all. I’m Southern by birth, which means I come from a long line of crazy. The good news is Nick is Southern too, so he wouldn’t know what to do with a normal woman.

  My mother always said that good intentions paved the road to hell, and my intention had been to retire from the PI world and move on to the next phase of my life. I had no idea what that phase was going to be. I was in what the experts liked to call “transition.” The limbo of not knowing anything about my future, except that there’d be a tiny human attached to it, was daunting to say the least, and I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t handling it all that well.

  Between Sam Elliott and my murky future, it didn’t take a psychologist to know that I was missing the action my previous life provided. I was the kind of woman who needed adventure and excitement. In truth, I’d become an adrenaline junky and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Which might have been the reason I’d agreed to take this case, even though I’d told Nick I was done with PI work forever. Which was why this was going to be my little secret.

  For the past couple of years, I’ve been halfway decent at my job at the McClean Detective Agency. I was as surprised as anyone else as far as the halfway decent moniker went. It’s not skill or experience I possess, so much as bulldog tenacity and luck.

  Sometimes my tenacity got me into trouble. I could have turned this whole thing over to a veteran PI, the cops, or even the FBI. But this case hit close to home, and I’d promised my mother I’d take care of it without dragging our family name through the mud. But considering Aunt Scarlet had been dragging our name through the mud for years, I wasn’t so sure what she was worried about. Holmes women had been making headlines for decades.

  I was pretty sure if I got out of this alive I’d be making more than headlines, because if Nick became aware of my current situation I’d have to move to another country.

  Vince Walker was my stepfather, and I’d tracked him to a fishing cabin on the bayou where I’d hoped to catch him in the throes of passion with a twenty-something townie skank.

  I’d been there about five minutes when a car had pulled up and Vince had shushed me and shoved me out the back door onto a floating dock the size of a doormat that moved every time I shifted my weight. He told me to avoid the flotants and keep quiet.

  I didn’t know what a flotant was, and if I’d had cell service I would’ve Googled it, but I figured whatever it was, I’d at least be able to see it coming for me. There was a pirogue tied to the dock and it swayed gently in the marshy green water. Gnats and other bugs hovered over the scummy surface, and other things I didn’t want to think about made creaking noises off into the mossy trees.

  The bayou was a cacophony of smells—hot mud, dirty dishwater, and fish—for the most part. My sense of smell had become heightened over the past few weeks—meaning if the wind blew the wrong way I was probably going to throw up. I was going to have to add the bayou to the growing list of things that made me vomit, along with pancake batter, air freshener, and concrete after it rained. Like I said, pregnancy is weird.

  The temperature was a lot colder on the water, and I shivered in my brand-new leather jacket, wishing I’d gone for practicality instead of style. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, and at least I looked really good while I shivered uncontrollably.

  I wasn’t sure who’d driven up, and Vince hadn’t said, but he had mentioned there were only a couple of people he could trust with the information he’d found out. Considering the delicate nature of said information, I hoped he knew what he was doing.

  I decided standing on a swaying dock wasn’t in my best interest, and I couldn’t see or hear anything from my current position. I was one of those people who had constant FOMO—fear of missing out—and I needed to see what was happening in the worst way.

  My choices were limited. I tried to recall the layout of the fishing cabin, at least what I’d seen of it. It was basically one main room that served as a bedroom and living room, a small kitchen that was no more than a sink, a microwave, and a minifridge, and a closed door I could only assume was the bathroom.

  My best chance of curing my FOMO was to make my way over to the kitchen side where there were two small windows. I leaned as far as I could without toppling into the water to see what the layout was like.

  There were stilts spaced evenly apart on the entire left side of the cabin, as if someone had planned to build onto the structure at some point. They stuck up about two feet out of the water, and if I could manage to stand on one I’d be able to look into the window.

  I was feeling pretty optimistic about my chances of success. The mucky water surrounded almost the en
tire house, but there seemed to be solid ground just on the other side of the kitchen window, leading back up to the front.

  I debated whether or not to untie the pirogue and row myself to my destination, but I was afraid it’d make too much noise if I accidentally hit one of the stilts. I wasn’t exactly Sir Francis Drake when it came to boats. My only other option was to jump from stilt to stilt until I reached the window.

  I heard a car door slam and knew my time was limited to get into place without being seen or heard, so I took a deep breath and channeled my inner ninja warrior. The stilts were a good size, big enough I could fit both feet on them, but there wasn’t extra room for forgiveness if I missed my target.

  I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans, said a little prayer, and then stepped onto the first stilt, which just happened to be directly beside the dock. It was solid beneath my feet, and I let out a whoosh of surprise. I didn’t give myself time to think or I would’ve chickened out. I jumped to the next one. And then the next. Until finally I stood on the one just outside the kitchen window.

  I had to admit it felt good to know that marriage and pregnancy hadn’t totally stolen my mojo.

  If I stood on my tiptoes I could barely see in the kitchen window. I gasped in surprise as I saw Vince staring back at me, his lips thin and his eyes narrowed. I was used to this look from men, so I gave him a thumbs-up, and he blew out a breath and went to answer the knock at the door

  Vince stood with his back to me and his weapon drawn and down at his side while he cracked the door an inch to see who it was. Then he opened it wider and let two men inside.

  They were older, probably in their late fifties to early sixties, and I could tell by looking at them they were cops. Or at least they used to be. Cops all looked the same—not in physical appearance, but there was something in the eyes that was a dead giveaway. My father had the same look.

  I didn’t recognize either of the men, but Vince shifted where he stood so when they faced him they didn’t have a clear shot of the kitchen window. Vince put his weapon back in the holster.

  “Jimmy,” Vince said, shaking the man’s hand.

  Jimmy was tall and lean, and he seemed to be in good shape despite his age, and he was very handsome. His hair was thick and silver, and his face clean shaven, showing a little dimple at the chin.

  “Bruce,” Vince said, reaching out to the other man. Bruce was considerably shorter than Jimmy, maybe a couple of inches taller than my own five foot eight. His hair was dark and thinning on top, but his mustache was Super Mario Brothers quality. He was also quite a bit thicker through the middle than his friend. They both wore khakis and loose button-down shirts that screamed retirement.

  “Thanks for coming,” Vince told them.

  “Anything for you, Vince,” Bruce said, clapping Vince on the back. “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do. Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” I raised my brows at that tidbit. I’d called that one right. “I’ve remodeled every room in our house, and Helen told me if I didn’t get out of her hair she was going to put me in a home. Thirty years of marriage, and the woman wants to put me in a home.”

  Vince snorted out a laugh and seemed to relax some. “Could be worse. She could want you dead. Cop wives are very resourceful. Remember back when Johnny Russo kept getting those stomach aches and no one could figure out what was wrong with him? I swear his wife was poisoning him.”

  “Well,” Bruce said. “Johnny Russo was a horse’s ass. Who could blame her?”

  “I heard he died in a car crash a few years ago,” Vince said.

  “May he rest in peace,” Bruce said, giving the sign of the cross and then spitting on the floor. “Probably drunk, the worthless bastard.”

  Jimmy slapped Vince on the back a couple of times, his smile wide. “It’s been too long, Vinny. It’s like you disappeared after you retired. How come you don’t come to none of the get-togethers with the old crew? Too good for us?”

  “Nah,” Vince said, hands on hips. “I just discovered there’s more to life after retirement. I don’t want to sit around and drink beer and talk about the good old days. I moved to Whiskey Bayou and started over. Now I get to travel and do all the things I never got a chance to do when I was on the job.”

  “I heard you started your new life with Charlie Holmes’s wife,” Bruce said, waggling his eyebrows. “How come you didn’t send us invitations to the wedding? More than twenty years we worked together and you can’t spare some wedding cake?”

  “You were always first in line for cake,” Vince said.

  Bruce put his hands on his round stomach. “Yeah, but now my metabolism is shot, and Helen has me eating celery sticks and gluten-free everything.”

  “Doesn’t seem to be working,” Jimmy said.

  Bruce gave a boisterous laugh. “That’s ’cause she don’t know about my secret stash.”

  “She only wants you to think that,” Jimmy said. “Wives know everything.”

  Bruce pursed his lips. “Says the guy that’s been divorced three times.”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I’ve been divorced three times because wives know everything.”

  Vince shook his head, his smile wide. It was clear these men were his friends, and he enjoyed their company. I couldn’t figure out why I was standing on a stilt in the swamp and not inside where the floor heater was going full blast.

  “In this case you didn’t miss out on any cake,” Vince told them. “Phyllis and I got married by Elvis in one of the little chapels in Vegas. We said our vows and they gave us buffet vouchers and a bottle of champagne.”

  “That’s the smart way to do it,” Bruce said, nodding his head in agreement. “We all had a bet going that someone would snatch Phyllis up quick after Charlie died. That’s one fine woman. Never did figure out why she married Charlie. She always seemed like a bit of a wild card, and Charlie was the most uptight guy I’ve ever known. He was always one for rules and regulations. I don’t know how you stayed his partner for so long. It would’ve driven me to drink.”

  I winced at that. I’d always thought the same thing, but it was upsetting to hear it coming from a total stranger.

  “If I recall,” Vince said, “everything drives you to drink. Charlie was a good cop, and he was a good partner. And I’m lucky I got a second chance with Phyllis.”

  “Oh, right,” Jimmy said, his grin sly. “I forgot you two had a thing for a while after she and Charlie split up that time.”

  I squeaked and slapped a hand over my mouth. I never remembered my parents splitting up. But I do remember Vince always being a part of our lives. That nugget of information was definitely something to delve into later.

  Vince shuffled his feet and changed the subject. “So who won the pot?”

  “Stuart Marcel,” Bruce growled. “Won three hundred lousy bucks. None of the rest of us figured you’d make a move again since you’d already ridden that merry-go-round.”

  “Some things are worth a second ride,” Vince said. “Being a cop was some of the best years of my life, but it seems I wasn’t able to leave all of it behind me. I’ve had some close calls recently. That’s why I called you. There are very few people I can trust right now.”

  “You know you can trust us,” Jimmy said. “Whatever you need, we’re here.”

  “I appreciate that,” Vince said, letting out a deep breath of relief.

  “We heard through the grapevine that you started digging into the RICO case again,” Bruce said.

  “If you guys have heard it through the grapevine, I can only assume everyone has,” Vince said. “That would explain the sudden close calls.”

  “There’s no honor among thieves,” Jimmy said, shrugging. “The second you started sniffing around and re-questioning old informants, the information made its way down the food chain. Some of those informants are still active. So yeah, I’d say everyone knows what you’ve been doing at this point.”

  “That’s why I need help,” Vince said. “I’m
being watched, and I can’t move as freely as I’d like. Someone is trying to kill me.”

  “Man,” Bruce said, his hands moving animatedly. “This case is twenty years old. And we closed it up tight. We sent people to prison. I don’t think you want to open this can of worms. We knew back then we didn’t round up all of the players. If you start digging you’re going to have more than a close call. And I’m not ready to go to your funeral just yet.”

  “I wish I could let it go,” Vince said, dropping his head slightly. “But we didn’t get the right guy. And I have the proof. Or at least enough to start a new investigation. And apparently that’s starting to piss some people off.”

  “Look, man,” Jimmy said. “I love you like a brother, and we all worked our tails off on that case. It is what it is, and I’m telling you to leave it alone.”

  I held my breath. The tone had changed and the atmosphere in the room was heavy.

  “Where’d you get proof?” Bruce asked.

  “Charlie always had a feeling things were off with that case,” Vince said. “I never believed him. I told him to drop it, just like you just did to me. But there was something that never settled right in Charlie’s gut about that case. Even after he retired he kept files and was still working the investigation on his own. I found all of his notes. And then I found the key.”

  “Key to what?” Jimmy asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in slightly.