Free Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: An Addison Holmes Mystery (Addison Holmes Mysteries Book 5) by Liliana Hart

mother anyway. Haven’t seen her since your father died. Heard she got remarried. Should probably get her a vase or something. Or maybe her new husband a bottle of whiskey. He’ll probably need it.”
    “Be nice, Aunt Scarlet,” I told her.
    “I am, I am. Well, let’s get going. I’ll probably need another one of Kate’s magic pills once I see your mother.”
    “I need to buy a car first,” I said, gathering up all the files on my desk and sticking them in my backpack. “I gave Nick’s Audi back.”
    “Well, that was dumb. Who’s Nick? Is he hot? Does he have a brother?”
    “Nick asked me to marry him. He’s Senator Dempsey’s grandson.”
    “Herbert Dempsey?” Scarlet asked, brows raised in surprise. “I knew Herbert’s daddy back in the day. And not in the biblical way either. Herbert is good people. His son is a real a-hole though. Hope the grandson isn’t. If he is, I can tell you how to get rid of the body without too many questions.”
    I took a deep breath and grabbed my handbag. “Nick is a lot like his grandfather. He’s not an a-hole. He’s a cop.”
    “I always wanted to marry a cop. I hear they’re dynamite in the sack.”
    We headed out the front door of the agency and Lucy was mysteriously gone again. I had a feeling she just wanted to stay out of Scarlet’s way. I helped her down the front stairs since her balance was a little off due to the black eyes and her not being able to see all that well, and I hailed a taxi that happened to be passing by.
    The cab driver gave a horrified look at Aunt Scarlet and then muttered something under his breath. He was a middle-aged Indian guy with salt-and-pepper hair and bags under his eyes. His name badge clipped to the air vent said Jayesh.
    I gave him the address and we mostly rode in silence out of downtown Savannah and across the highway. It wasn’t the best part of town. In fact, it was a pretty bad part of town, and I was glad I’d remembered to grab my Glock from the shower caddy. We crossed the highway and Jayesh hit the automatic locks on the doors.
    “Don’t worry,” Scarlet said. “I’ve got my sneakers on. And my handbag is loaded.”
    “Right,” I said, thinking that would be the weirdest news story ever. Private investigator and her ninety-year-old aunt gunned down in the projects after buying stolen van filled with snacks and a working toilet.
    “Lady, I don’t know what business you have here, but it can’t be good. I hope you’re not expecting me to wait for you.”
    “No worries, Jayesh. You heard my aunt. She has her sneakers on. I wouldn’t want you to do the gentlemanly thing and wait for two women who are in a bad area of town.”
    “Good,” he said, nodding.
    “I don’t know where chivalry has gone,” I said, shaking my head.
    “Right in the crapper,” Scarlet said.
    “Yep,” Jayesh said. “This is 2016. Women’s lib and all that junk.” He came to an abrupt halt on the corner of Graves and Stiles and idled there, hitting the fare button so we could pay our tab.
    “Oh, no,” I said. “You’re not dropping us at the corner. Take us all the way. I’m not walking a half mile down this road in these boots. And look, it’s starting to drizzle.”
    “You’re crazy,” he said. “Look. Everyone is staring at us. We’re sitting targets.”
    “Time’s ticking, Jayesh.”
    He blew out a sigh and skidded out on the loose rocks in the street. Maybe street was being a little too generous. The road wasn’t paved and it was half overgrown with weeds. A semi-truck graveyard sat to the left, and a bunch of overgrown trees and weeds taller than the trailer houses grew on the other side.
    A couple of Hispanic guys leaned against one of the dead semis, the trailer colorful with graffiti, and stared us down as we passed by. The sky had turned gray and the wind had started to blow. The drizzle was coming a little harder and faster.
    “That guy either has a hell of a boner or his gun is bigger than mine,”