Whiskey and Gunpowder Read online

  “Yep,” I said, a little too cheerfully. “He said he saw an open invitation in the newspaper this morning, and that the Korbels had cancelled their sixtieth anniversary party to go to Jamaica, so the church was free.”

  Technically, I hadn’t lied. I just left out the part about the threats.

  “Their poor family,” my mother said, clucking her tongue. “Their family has been looking forward to that party for months, and then they go off on their own and don’t let everyone be a part of the celebration. Those people wouldn’t even be there if the Korbels hadn’t gotten horizontal back in the day. Maybe they should’ve thought about that.” She gave a soft hiccup and picked at the rest of her cinnamon roll.

  “Gross,” Phoebe said. “Nobody wants to think about that.”

  “Are you having an open bar?” Scarlet asked. “Because I don’t go to weddings that don’t have an open bar. That’s just rude. Bad enough I’ve got to buy you a gift when you’ll probably end up getting divorced or one of you dying soon.”

  Rosemarie came to her feet and slammed her giant binder on the table. She looked scared to death, and while I admired her guts, she had every right to be scared. She was putting herself in the middle of a Holmes family feud. People had died for less.

  “Listen up, people,” she said. “I took off school today to be here, and I don’t want to hear another word about whores, seven-month babies, or micro-penises. We have five days to put on the most spectacular wedding you’ve ever seen. As friends and family of the bride, it’s our job to make sure it goes off without a hitch. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.

  “I’ve got everything itemized in this binder, along with a full itinerary. God didn’t make Nick rich for no reason, so we’re going to use his resources and pull this off. Addison, you’ve got cases to solve. Go solve them. Savage, you make sure the groom is at the church on time. Whatever you have to do. We’ve got this.”

  “Umm,” I said.

  I’d never seen Rosemarie like this, but she’d just given me my escape and I’d be stupid not to take it.

  “Sorry, Kate,” I said. “Looks like I’ve got to run. Have fun.”

  “I feel like I deserve this somehow,” she said.

  “Karma’s a bitch.”

  Chapter Two

  To my dismay, Savage followed me out of the conference room and into the reception area. Lucy Kim was sitting at the big L-shaped desk that blocked the front waiting area from the offices at the back.

  Lucy scared the crap out of me. She’d worked for Kate at the agency since the very beginning, and I was almost a hundred percent sure Lucy was more than just a secretary. But I couldn’t prove anything. And if I ever discovered anything I was pretty sure she’d kill me.

  She was wearing her customary black pantsuit with red-soled black stilettos. Black concealed blood the easiest, or so I’ve been told. Her long black hair was pulled up on top of her head and secured with decorative chopsticks. I’d never actually heard Lucy speak. My only conclusion was that she was trying to hide her sharpened incisors.

  “Heading out for the day,” I told her. “You coming to the wedding Friday night?”

  She held up two more files instead of answering.

  “Is that a no?” I asked, taking the files and opening them. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve already got three active cases. Why are you giving me more? When am I going to have time to do wedding stuff?”

  She went back to typing away on her computer, her crimson nails clicking a rapid staccato.

  I looked at Savage, and he took the files from me and said, “No problem. I just wrapped up a big case and am taking some personal time this week. I’m free to help you.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Thanks, Luce,” Savage said and then looked at me. “Better put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

  I glared at him and gritted out between my teeth, “Yes, I’m aware.” But I put on my puffy coat and grabbed my toboggan and gloves from my pocket and put them on.

  When he opened the door a shock of cold sliced through my body and took my breath away. It was the most painful thing I’d ever experienced, and that’s saying something because I’ve been shot.

  “Don’t think that just because you’ve got a penis and a badge you’re going to push me around all day,” I said through chattering teeth. “These are my cases and I’m in charge. I’ve got wedding hormones and I’m feeling real mean today. I’m letting you come with me. Got it?”

  “Right,” he said, straight-faced. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

  The problem with Savage was he could pretty much get away with anything. He was a beautiful specimen of man, he was smart, and he had a great sense of humor. God wasn’t being chintzy on the day Savage was created. He had the kind of chiseled good looks movie stars paid for, and his muscles had muscles. He was Native American, and if I had to guess what his parents looked like, I’d say it was a cross between The Rock and Pocahontas.

  I did not want to spend the day with Savage working cases. Okay…maybe I kind of did because he was fun, and when he did work cases with me they got solved without me falling out of trees or having to take trips to the emergency room. But Savage was a distraction, and not the good kind. The last thing he wanted was for me to marry Nick. I was a challenge to him. And I wasn’t cooperating. I was pretty sure Savage’s ego wasn’t used to being passed over.

  I mean, it’s not like Nick is any slouch in the looks and body department. But there’s a connection between me and Nick that I’ve never had with another man before. He’s smart, he makes me laugh, and he’s a ten on the orgasm Richter scale.

  There was no ice or snow on the ground, but the skies were overcast and the clouds fat with the possibility of something ominous. I’d parked my giant conversion van right in front of the agency. It was like a mini-RV, and it blocked the view of Telfair Square and traffic in all directions. I’d started calling her Black Betty on account of she’s black and someone had keyed the name Betty above my back left wheel well.

  “Want me to drive?” Savage asked.

  I sighed. I really did want him to drive. That thing wasn’t easy to maneuver in regular traffic, much less downtown Savannah traffic. But at this point all I had left was my pride, and I had to maintain the illusion that I was in control.

  “I’ve got it,” I said and clicked the key fob to unlock the doors.

  I hoisted myself into the driver’s seat and punched in Matt Martin’s address on my GPS. I was congratulating myself on my ability to play it cool when I turned the key in the ignition and I Wanna Sex You Up blared through the speakers.

  I had two choices to make. The first was to frantically turn off the music and look like a fool because Color Me Badd was blaring through my van—a van that had a foldout bed in the back and blue mood lighting for a little romance. Since I’d bought the van from a drug and arms dealer, I couldn’t really complain about the enhanced features.

  My second choice was to let it play and pretend there was nothing out of the ordinary. I could feel Savage’s stare from the corner of my eye, and he was playing a hell of a game of poker, wondering what I’d do next. I shifted my weight in my seat, adjusted my mirrors, and pulled into traffic.

  “Interesting choice of music,” he said, having to speak a little louder because it was turned up to full volume.

  I didn’t want to tell him that when I’d parked the car that morning I was listening to Broadway’s Greatest Hits so loud it rattled my windows, and I’d forgotten to turn it down before I turned off the car. I didn’t need to lose any more cool points with Savage.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, turning it down. “I was jamming out this morning.”

  “No worries, happens to me all the time. I figured you more for a show tune kind of girl,” he said. “Or maybe big band.”

  I made a snort of derision and halfway made eye contact, because I enjoyed both of those genre
s of music. “Nah, man. That’s for old people. I’m hip.”

  What was I doing? Getting married was making me a crazy person. I didn’t need to impress Savage. I didn’t care what he thought. The only explanation was the wedding hormones. I couldn’t imagine what I’d be like by the end of the week.

  I pushed the button on the stereo and there was blissful silence from the chorus. Then I took a right on Broughton Street.

  “Have you ever been married?” I asked for some inexplicable reason.

  Savage looked at me and was thoughtful before answering. It seemed like a pretty cut and dried question to me.

  “No.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “Just no? It feels like there’s more there.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched in what I assumed was a smile. “You only asked one question. I answered. Where are we going?”

  I was going to have to be sneakier if I wanted to get more personal information about Savage.

  “The guy’s name is Matthew Martin. He lives over on Gaston not far from Nick’s parents.” I handed him the blue file folder from my bag. “The wife hired us. Thinks he’s cheating. They both work from home, but on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he leaves at eleven forty-five like clockwork and takes the dog for a walk. Doesn’t come back home until one-thirty or so.”

  “Maybe he just likes to have a long lunch with his dog,” Savage said, flipping through the file.

  There was a headshot of Matthew Martin paper-clipped to the inside of the file folder. He was a middle-aged man with dark hair, a beard, and brown eyes. He was attractive in an average kind of guy way.

  “That’s what he tells her,” I said. “But she found a receipt for a florist in his pants pocket for a box full of rose petals and he didn’t buy them for her. And she says he hasn’t been interested in her romantically for the last couple of months.”

  “Yep, that’s always a sign. A man has to be almost dead before he goes that long without sex.”

  I’d known Savage for a year or so, but he’d never talked about dates or other women. So I was naturally curious if he’d been almost dead for the past year or if he’d been getting his kicks elsewhere since I wasn’t giving him what he wanted. Not that it mattered in the slightest to me, but I still found myself to be a little perturbed at the notion of Savage with another woman.

  I slammed on the brake a little harder than necessary at the intersection just before Gaston, and felt better when Savage jerked against the seatbelt with an oomph.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  “I’m getting a feel for his habits. It shouldn’t be anything more than easy surveillance. I’ll grab a few shots if the moment calls for it, and that’s that. We can move on to the next case.”

  “I can’t believe he’d take his dog out for a walk that long in this kind of weather. The wife’s right. Something is going on.”

  “You ever been engaged?” I asked. “Had a long-term girlfriend?”

  Savage just smiled. He was mysterious, but it was my new mission to crack him like a nut. I told myself I was doing it for Aunt Scarlet. She’d hired me after all. But in reality, I was just nosy.

  I made a pass by Matthew Martin’s house. It was a big, pink monstrosity of a Victorian with a small front yard, closed in by a waist-high wrought iron gate.

  “That’s an ugly house,” Savage said.

  “Yep, you’d think as much as it probably cost they could afford to make it not look like a cake maker vomited icing all over it.”

  “Money doesn’t buy taste.”

  “There are a lot of creepy houses in Savannah,” I said. “But this one takes the cake.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “See what I did there?”

  Savage’s expression could have cracked stone. “Yeah, good one.”

  I rolled my eyes and circled the block and came back down the opposite direction.

  “I remember you being more fun,” I said.

  He just smiled in response.

  Black Betty wasn’t exactly known for her maneuverability and I didn’t want to lose my subject while I was doing a twenty-four-point turn in the middle of the street. From what Mrs. Martin had said, her husband always headed toward Forsyth Park when he left on his tri-weekly jaunts, so I parked at the side of the street facing the park. I left the ignition on because I wasn’t brave enough to sit in the van without the heat on. I was accustomed to certain creature comforts. Heat was one of them. A working bathroom was another.

  I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, and tried not to make the silence awkward.

  “So,” I said. “Aunt Scarlet read an interesting article in Cosmo the other day.”

  “I don’t have a micro-penis,” Savage said.

  “Well, then. Case closed. That was an easy one.”

  “You don’t remember?” he asked, arching a brow. “I’m crushed.”

  I remembered all too well. I felt the heat creeping into my face, so I bent down to grab a bag of trail mix I kept in the little console holder. It had been sitting in the car all night, so the M&Ms were rock hard and shattered in my mouth. But I was committed now and grabbed for another handful so I didn’t have to answer.

  “Looks delicious,” Savage said.

  I swallowed the icy shards of nuts and chocolate and managed to look him in the eyes. “Why are you here with me again?”

  “Because you’re supposedly getting married in four days, and you’ve got five open cases.”

  “Six,” I said. “I didn’t tell Kate everything about Pastor Charles’s visit this morning. He traded me the use of the church for the wedding and reception if I’d do a little side job for him. What do you mean supposedly getting married?” I narrowed my eyes.

  He shrugged. “Anything can happen. I’m here to help. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Why do people keep saying that? It makes no sense.”

  “I’m assuming you need to do wedding type stuff this week while you’re working your cases. The faster we get this done, the sooner you can do all that.” I didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was entirely too shifty. “You know…a wedding dress, cake, flowers, rings…”

  “Piece of cake,” I said. But I was lying.

  The pressure was enormous. There was too much to do in too few days, which was why I was procrastinating. When I got overwhelmed I had a tendency to do one of two things: I’d either become a drill sergeant and make everyone’s life around me miserable until I accomplished the goal, or I’d become an ostrich and stick my head in the sand, pretending that there were no problems in life and everything was amazing. There was no in between for me.

  “Maybe you could help with Pastor Charles,” I said, digging in my bag for the file I’d made for his case. “Someone’s been tailing him, leaving pictures they’ve taken in his car and on his nightstand. I can’t imagine anyone in Whiskey Bayou doing such a thing, so it’s got to be an out-of-towner, but out-of-towners tend to stick out, so surely someone has seen something.”

  “He hasn’t had any trouble?”

  I shrugged and repeated everything Pastor Charles had told me. “I don’t know…it’s just weird. Maybe you could dig around some. The only thing I can say for certain is that he was scared and trying not to show it.”

  My cell phone rang and it came through the Bluetooth on the stereo. Nick’s name flashed across the screen and I blew out a breath.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “I’m heading home for a shower and a couple of hours of sleep.”

  “I’m sorry, who is this again?”

  I heard his sigh through the phone and chanced a look at Savage. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about listening in.

  “Sorry I haven’t checked in,” Nick said. “But cut me some slack. I’ve been knee-deep in brains for three days.”

  “I know. I watch the news. I just like to know you’re still alive on occasion. Just send me a text with a thumbs up while you’re sitting on the toilet.”

&n
bsp; “But that’s when I play solitaire,” he said.

  “Hilarious. What’s up with the case? You wrapping it up?”

  “Not by a long shot,” he said. “At first glance it looked like a murder/suicide. Husband, wife, and kid. All sitting down for dinner. Husband pulls out gun and blasts wife and kid over dessert. Then he turns the gun on himself. Weapon found at the base of his chair. Residue on his hand from firing the gun.”

  “But?” I asked.

  “The vics were well off. Very well off. They make my parents look like paupers.”

  “Geez,” I said.

  “Anyway, the family lives over on Wilmington Island. Huge mansion, gated, security cams and a full staff. The staff had been released after dinner was served, so no one was on the premises.”

  “Makes sense if the guy was going to off his family,” I said.

  “Yep, but around seven o’clock there was a blackout and all security glitched off. A system like that isn’t supposed to do that if there’s a blackout or power surge. For fifteen minutes the entire compound was shut down. We’ve pulled feed from neighbors’ cameras, but haven’t found anything there yet.”

  “Anything taken?” I asked.

  “Nothing that we can tell, and all of the staff says everything looks as it’s supposed to. The house manager knew where the passwords to the safes were, and all the contents were inside.”

  I could hear the doubt in his voice. “But?” I asked.

  “I’m not buying it. I did a little digging into the vic’s tech company. He was about to enter into a merger and release the reins to a new CEO and partners. He’d be a silent member of the board, mostly to keep his name attached to the company and reassure people during the transition, and he’d take the twenty-three billion dollars they were paying him and spend most of his days on the golf course.”

  “Holy cow,” I said. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Yep, and there’s a clause in the contract. If our vic happened to die before the merger took place, they’d only have to pay his estate a hundred million and they’d have full control of everything anyway. Except that the vic’s wife and child were his only beneficiaries. Guess what happens to the estate if they die?”