Kicking the Habit (15 page)

Mumfry’s
words haunted Ace. The thought of her being a liability and a loose end was
killing him. The reality of the situation was that he couldn’t protect her one
hundred percent, no matter how hard he tried, short of locking her in the
convent. That had been spelled out crystal clear as of late.

“So,
does this mean the case is closed,” Cece asked, after he shut the door behind
them and turned to face her.

“For
the Feds, yes.” Ace rubbed his throbbing temples and then spoke as he popped
some pain medicine he’d found in his desk drawer. “They want this case solved
quickly. I’m sure they have the federal government breathing down their necks
to wrap up the investigation pronto. Mumfry Walker has done plenty to deserve
to be put behind bars, but something doesn’t sit right with me.” Ace dropped
down into his desk chair and closed his eyes. When he felt her light touch on
his shoulders, his eyes sprang open and he stiffened.

“It
doesn’t sit right with me either,” Cece said, pushing him back down with a
surprisingly firm touch when he tried to stand. Too tired to resist, he gave in
to her. “I’m no expert, but his confessing seemed way too easy,” she added on a
soft voice as she massaged his shoulders and neck.

“When
Rocco and I questioned him a while back, Mumfry didn’t know anything about the
Clove cigarettes. He smokes, but not that brand of cigarettes, and he had no
clue that someone was setting up the mayor.” Ace stifled a groan as she
massaged his temples now. Damn, her hands might be small, but they were pure
magic. She knew all the right spots and exactly what to do.

“Why
on earth would Mumfry confess to something he didn’t do?” she asked, her hands
still moving. Her sweet honeysuckle scent mixed with spray starch and soap was
somehow perfectly satisfying.

Ace
had to concentrate to focus on her words. “I have a hunch, but we’ll never get
a warrant to search his place with Washington wanting the case closed now that
they have their man,” he answered, his eyes still closed.

“Lucky
for us, Mr. Walker doesn’t own his own place.” She patted Ace’s shoulders, and
then her hands were gone.

“How
is that lucky?” He blinked his droopy eyes open, astonished that all traces of
his headache had disappeared.

“Father
Flannigan lets him stay in a storage closet by the janitor’s office in the
church. It has a cot, a dresser, and little else, but it seemed to suit the man
just fine. Lucky for you, the church is a public place, and I happen to have a
few connections there,” her voice teased. “Besides, Sister Mary Ethel keeps a
close eye on all that goes on there. If anyone can help us get to the bottom of
this, she can.”

“
The
Sister Mary Ethel?” Ace asked with dread.

“One
and the same.” Cece’s gaze softened. “It’ll be fine, Detective. In fact, it might
even do you some good. I’ll even hold your hand if you want.”

“Great.”
Ace swallowed hard, thinking it would take a hell of a lot more than holding
his hand to get him through a conversation with the Sister. Ace said a prayer
for the first time in way too many years to count:
Please, God, put me out
of my misery soon.

“You ready?” Cece
asked, and his gaze locked on hers.

“As
I’ll ever be.”

Ace
stood and led the way outside to his postage stamp of a rental car. Before he
let Cece anywhere near it, he searched all around the outside and beneath the wheel
wells. Once he was sure it was safe, he waved her over. He unlocked the doors,
and she climbed inside. It took him a bit longer to fold his tall frame inside
the car behind the steering wheel.

“Uh-oh,”
Cece said and gave him a worried look as soon as he was settled.

“What
did I miss—are you okay?” he asked, searching the interior of the car.

“I’m
fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She held her hands behind her back.

“Why?”

“Because
of this.” She slowly brought her hands around in front of her.

He
gaped and felt his skin turn prickly and cold. Mumfry Walker was the least of
his worries. Cece’s crazy Granny was a total nightmare. She’d created a scary,
lifelike voodoo doll of him, with a pin sticking out of his temple and a note
attached that said:

I’m watching
you. Let my grandbaby get hurt again, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

How’s your headache by the way? Hee-hee-hee …

Ace
rubbed his temple as a faint throbbing started up once more. “You don’t think …?
Never mind. Let’s roll,” he said, answering his own ridiculous question, and
started the car, heading for the church without looking back.

Cece
pulled the pin out and slipped the doll into her satchel, apparently sensing
not to say another word until they arrived at Our Lady of Glory. They climbed
out of the car, and as promised, she took his hand. He blinked in surprise, not
having thought she was really serious, but one thing was for certain: he sure
as hell wasn’t letting go.

“Allistair
Jackson, corrupting the innocent I see,” Sister Mary Ethel said from behind
them.

He
froze in his tracks, stiffening slightly, but Cece gave his hand a quick
squeeze.

He
took a deep breath and let go. Her eyebrow shot up, but he tossed her a wink.
He could do this. Silly childhood fears be damned. He turned around and held
out his hand. “Sister Mary Ethel, always a pleasure to see you.”

She
narrowed her eyes, studied him for a long moment, and then grunted. “Finally,”
she said. “It took you long enough to grow up, boy. Now get yourself to church,
and you just might stand a chance.” She turned around without shaking his hand
and shuffled off to the far corner, dragging her feet every step of the way.

“But,
Sister—” Cece started to say.

“He’s
in the back. You’ll find what you’re looking for through him if you look close
enough,” she said, cutting Cece off, and then she was gone.

Ace
dropped his hand and let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been
holding. Cece slid her palm into his once more. He looked down at her and gave
her a weak smile. “I’m okay. You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“I
know.” She sent a shy smile his way and pulled him after her before he could
try to decipher what that meant. Part of him didn’t want to know.

As
they reached the back of the church, Cece discreetly slipped her hand out of
Ace’s and knocked on a door to an office. Father Flannigan came out and stopped
short, his wrinkled face breaking into a welcoming grin. “Cecelia, what a
wonderful surprise.” He pulled her in for a quick hug and then gripped Ace’s
shoulders with his bony hands. “Detective Jackson, my boy. Taking good care of
our girl, are we?”

“Doing
my best, sir.” Ace cleared his dry throat and tried not to fidget.

Father’s
eyes twinkled. “Still struggling under the weight of your troubles, I see.”

“Doing
my best, sir,” Ace repeated and tugged at his collar.

“You’ll
get there,” Father said kindly, dropping his hands. “In the meantime, how can I
help you both?”

“Well,
we were wondering if it would be possible to take a peek at Mr. Walker’s
quarters,” Cece said.

Father’s
face fell, his jubilant expression turning sad. “It’s a downright shame. I
really had such high hopes for that lad, but sometimes temptation is stronger
than the best of us.”

Ace’s
and Cece’s gazes collided and then quickly separated. Beads of sweat popped out
on Ace’s forehead.

“You’re
welcome to look around, but I’m not sure how much help it will do you,” Father
spoke as he led the way to the janitor’s storage room. “The FBI was here this
morning and cleared out Mr. Walker’s belongings, meager as they were. He was a
man of simple means. Didn’t have much.”

“Thank
you, Mr. Flannigan, Father, sir,” Ace said. “We really appreciate it.”

“You’re
welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me, my afternoon tea is calling me.” He walked
off, hollering over his shoulder, “Don’t be a stranger. I’d love to see you
both at tomorrow’s mass.”

“Count
on it, Father,” Cece responded, giving Ace an innocent look. “What? I didn’t
start this, you did. Last time I checked, a shadow never leaves its body. I
guess that means we’re joined at the hip, so to speak. That means wherever I go,
you go.” She quickly slipped inside Mumfry’s room, not giving him a chance to
respond. She might be an ex-nun, but she wasn’t always an angel. He’d witnessed
firsthand a bit of her devilish side. The problem was, he liked it a little too
much.

“Find
anything?” he asked, as he joined her inside the room.

“No,
it looks pretty empty.” She pursed her lips, looking disappointed. “There has
to be something the FBI missed. Like when I found the senator’s little …” She
trailed off guiltily.

“Black
book in the heating vent of his campaign office?” he asked smugly.

She
gasped, and her face flushed a pretty pink. “How’d you know about that?”

“You’re
not the only one who’s done a little snooping when eyes are turned.”

“You
searched my apartment?” She looked appalled.

“Not
searched
exactly. Someone has a habit of leaving everything out in plain
sight. I knew you weren’t blessing his office that day, any more than you were
blessing his barn.”

“I
did
say a blessing. I just happened to find a clue along the way,” she
said defensively.

“Well,
now that we’re working together, I suggest you leave the investigating part to
me.”

“You
just can’t admit that I’m not half bad at your little detective gig.” She
crossed her arms stubbornly.

“Little
detective gig?” He dropped his hands to his hips. “Honey, you have no clue what
I do.”

“I
could say the same thing. You help people; I help people. We’re actually not
all that different.”

“Whatever.”
He gave her an exaggerated eye roll, mimicking her.

“Fine,”
she grunted, mimicking him.

They
both narrowed their eyes, at a standoff.

“You
go left, I’ll take right, and we’ll see just how different we are, Sister,” he
finally said.

“You’re
on,” she growled in response and then got to work.

Ace
had to stop letting her get under his skin. He was supposed to keep her safe,
not go eight rounds in a verbal boxing ring with her, but damn she knew just
what buttons of his to push. And the fact that they were tucked back inside the
church didn’t help either. Shaking his head, he went about his work. He
inspected every inch of the right side of the room, to no avail. He was
searching beneath the cot when she spoke from behind him.

“Not
bad indeed.”

He
slowly turned around and saw she had moved the small dresser in the far corner
of the room, but she stood there empty-handed.

“Not
bad? You got nothin’.”

“Oh,
I’m good, and I’ve definitely got somethin’.”

“Where?”
He peered at her skeptically.

She
rocked on her feet. “Hear that?” She did it again, and he heard the squeak. “My
guess is under here. I’ve spent enough years in this ancient convent to
recognize loose floorboards, and this one looks like it’s been recently cut. I
lived with my sister long enough to know what that means.”

Ace
didn’t say a word. He just walked over to her, knelt down, inspected the board,
and knew in his gut she was right. He pried it up, and—lo and behold—a sack was
wedged beneath the board. Slipping a pair of gloves from inside his sport coat,
he pulled the bag out and then opened it.

Money—and
lots of it.

He
glanced up at a beaming Cece and grudgingly said, “Okay, I admit it. You’re not
half bad, but trust me, sweetheart. We are nothing alike.”

“Technicalities.”
She waved him off. “What exactly do you think this means?”

“That
Mumfry Walker wasn’t working alone.”

This
time her face was the one to go pale. “Then that means …”

“Exactly,
darlin’. The real killer is still on the loose, and you’re not out of the woods
yet.”

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I think I’m
finally coming to grips with merging my new life with my old. I just have to remind
myself that everything I do is for a reason, and it’s okay to make mistakes.
I’m not perfect, but neither is anyone else. The things we’ve found out about
the people in this town are mind-boggling. But those same things lead to a whole
new set of problems, and a degree of danger I never saw coming.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Cece said to the detective
as they left the town jail and drove off in his matchbox rental on Saturday
afternoon. The air had a bite to it, but the sun was shining high in the sky,
making everything sparkle with the vibrant colors of fall.

“Did you really expect Mumfry to admit who
paid him to lie?” Ace asked her, heading toward her clinic.

“No, but I didn’t expect him to confess to
the senator’s murder either.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that he has no idea
where the money came from. Someone definitely paid him to confess. My guess is
they only paid half up front. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone through with it.
He probably gets the other half when he gets out.”

“Do you really think he will get out?”

“He has one of the best lawyers in the whole
state.”

“If he’s dead broke, then how can he
possibly afford that?”

“Exactly. I’m betting the high-priced lawyer
was part of the deal. Walker has served time before, so going to jail won’t be
as traumatic for him as it might be for some people. Not to mention, he’s not
exactly thriving on the outside. He’s dead broke. As long as he’s confident he
can get out in a reasonable amount of time, the incentive of all that money
waiting for him might have been enough to make him agree to something this
crazy.” Ace narrowed his eyes, his jaw hardening, as he finished by saying, “He
knows damn well where that money came from, but he also knows if he says
anything, he won’t get out or get the second half. I just don’t know how the
hell we’re going to find out who he’s working with.”

“I do,” Cece said, excitement filling her as
she thought of an idea.

The scowl left Ace’s face, and he blinked at
her. “You do?”

She smiled a catlike smile. “Political
killers for the 500. Old town folk who go to great lengths to get the perfect
shot.”

His smile came slow and sweet. “Who are the
senior scrappers?”

“Bingo!” She giggled.

His grin turned into a lopsided smile,
making him look way too adorable for her own good. “I do believe the game we’re
playing is Jeopardy, Sister.”

“And I do believe you’ll
be
in
jeopardy if we don’t get to City Hall ASAP, Detective.”

“I hear that, Sherlock.” He hit the brakes
and spun the car around in a one-eighty, heading in the other direction toward
downtown.

“Ooh, I’ve been promoted.” Cece clapped her
hands in glee.

“I’m not above giving credit where credit is
due,” Ace pointed at her, “but don’t let it go to your pretty little head.”

“Moi?” She held her hand against her chest
and batted her eyes. “Never.” She pressed her lips together to stifle another
giggle and basked in the fact that he’d called her pretty—in a roundabout sort
of way.

He rolled his eyes, but the sparkle
twinkling brightly was undeniable. “Right. Onward, soldier. We’ve got work to
do.”

Ten minutes later they arrived at City Hall.

Wilhelmina Trousseau, head of the Senior Scrappers,
was just coming from the back of the hall with her ever-ready camera dangling
from her long, thin neck like a piece of her finest jewelry. She looked fragile
and weak, dressed in her fanciest polyester pantsuit, and patting her beehive
of teased blue-white hair. Cece knew better. The woman was more agile than a
cat and ready to pounce on the tiniest scrap of news. Her eyes lit up when she
spotted Cece and Ace.

“Why, Sister, it’s so lovely to see you this
fine afternoon, now that you’ve been sprung from the convent and all.” Wilhelmina’s
smile was wide and most definitely pasted on. “And Detective, it’s always a
pleasure to be in your company.”

He bowed his head, donning a charming smile.
“Ms. Trousseau.”

“Oh, go on with you now.” Her laugh tinkled
out. “It’s Mina to you, sugar.”

Good Lord in Heaven above
. He got all
the sugar, while Cece felt like a former convict. She waved to get the head Scrapper’s
attention. “Yoo-hoo, Mina. I have a couple of questions for you, if you
wouldn’t mind.”

Wilhelmina’s expression slipped a little,
and it was obvious she didn’t like her little tryst with the handsome detective
interrupted. “Now, now. I don’t recall giving you the same liberty, Miss Monroe,”
she said in a light tone, but there was an unmistakable edge behind it. “You
have to earn the right to call me Mina. Isn’t that right, Detective Jackson?”

“Please, call me Ace. It’s only fitting,” he
fairly purred to the old woman, who looked ready to swoon. Then he turned his
cheesy grin on Cece, obviously enjoying every second of this ridiculous
conversation. “She’s right, Sister. Mina and I go way back. Sorry.”

“My mistake,” Cece corrected, her own smile
turning a bit stiff as she fought hard not to roll her eyes. “Would you mind
directing us to the town scrapbook, Ms. Trousseau?”

The teasing evaporated from Wilhelmina’s eyes,
and a fire burned bright. “Sure thing.” Her sharp gaze sliced between Ace and
Cece like a samurai sword in the middle of a heated battle. “Is there a new
development in the senator’s case?” Her fingers fluttered over the shutter
button on her camera.

“Now, now, Mina,”—Ace wagged his masculine
finger in front of the woman’s face—“you know I can’t divulge the details of
this case any more than you can part with your trade secrets on capturing so
many amazing shots. I think you hold the record, if I’m not mistaken.”

Oh, he is good
, Cece thought, totally
impressed and ready to swoon herself.

Wilhelmina’s face flushed, and she twittered
a bit, fanning her thin-skinned cheeks. “Oh, you! Such a charmer, you are! Your
mama must be proud, even after everything that happened.” She led the way to
the back without another word, totally oblivious to the blow she’d just dealt.

But Cece wasn’t.

She glanced at Ace, and there was no
mistaking the pain he felt by reliving whatever memories haunted him. A muscle
throbbed in his jaw, and he clenched his fists. Cece ran her hand down his
forearm until he relaxed, and then she slid her palm against his. His tortured
gaze met hers in surprise, and then he masked his feelings, acting casual.

“You ready?” she asked with a sympathetic
smile, but no pressure.

He nodded and didn’t say a word, but his
hand gripped hers tightly and didn’t let go.

Wilhelmina turned around, and her gaze shot
to their joined hands with curiosity yet surprisingly no jealousy. She might
like to flirt with him, but she genuinely seemed to care about him as well. Cece
glanced at Ace, and he looked down at her. For a moment, something electric
passed between them … until a blinding white light flashed, making them both
blink the stars out of their eyes. Mina’s face softened tenderly; Cece’s jaw
fell open; and Ace frowned. He let go of her hand and cleared his throat.

“You’re … uh, not putting that in the book,
are you?” he asked Mina.

“Nah, this one’s strictly for you, darlin’.
Call it a gift.” She winked.

“Oh, we’re not … I mean, it’s not like we …
it’s just not necessary, Ms. Trousseau,” Cece finally stammered out.

“Oh, but it is, my darling. And please, call
me Mina. You have most definitely earned it. You’re good for this stubborn
lughead, even if he can’t see it yet.” Mina’s gaze settled on the detective
with such adoration and affection, Cece couldn’t help but warm up to her in a
big way.

“So this is the infamous book I take it?” Ace
focused on the scrapbook, not meeting either of their eyes.

Wilhelmina winked at Cece before responding
to Ace. “That it is,” she said. “You mean to tell me after all these years,
you’ve never consulted the book?”

“Nope, I never have. Never really saw a need
to. Why?” His face puckered in genuine bafflement.

“Only just because every little detail that
goes on in this town is pretty much in the book.”

“That’s what I thought, and that’s why we
need to see it now more than ever,” Cece said to Mina.

“Then have at it. It’s for the citizens of
this town to enjoy, after all. I just finished updating it, and as much as I
enjoy chatting with you both, I have the children’s pre-Halloween party to
attend. I hope you find what you’re looking for. You know where I am if you
have any scoop to dish.” She waved to them both and then headed out of the
building on a mission, the strong smell of mothballs trailing in her wake.

“She’s quite a character,” Cece said to Ace
when they were alone.

“You could say that,” he responded, opening
the book. “Can you believe they’ve documented forty years of this town’s
history in photographs?”

“Yes, actually, I can. I might have been out
of touch for a decade, but even I know a lot of people take their scrapbooking
seriously.”

Over the next hour, they flipped through
page after page and finally came to the senator’s tribute. Cece stared at a
picture of Eleanor Meriwether’s mystery man, Wilbur Trundle, and realized she
hadn’t seen him in church this morning, playing the organ. “I wonder if Eleanor
is coming back to work. We didn’t have an organist this morning because Wilbur wasn’t
there.”

“That’s because he’s not a church organist,”
Ace replied matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?” Cece wrinkled her
forehead. “I’ve heard the man play. He’s good.”

“Oh, he’s good, all right. He’s an
undercover FBI agent. Wallace and Rogers never really left the scene at all.
Eleanor agreed to cooperate, and Trundle’s cover was that they were good
friends and he was doing her a favor by covering for her. He’s been working the
case all along. Now that Mumfry confessed, it’s case closed as far as the FBI
is concerned. Goddamn federal agents,” Ace grumbled.

Ace was about to flip the page again, when
Cece slapped her hand down on the book. “Wait!”

“Why?”

“Look closely in the background of this
picture.”

Ace leaned in and inspected the picture. His
frown disappeared, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. “Holy shit.” He stole
a glance at her and amended, “I mean ‘shoot.’”

“Ditto,” she said on a breathy whisper.

The senator’s boyhood friend, Allen
Rutherford, stood way in the background, shaking hands with Mumfry Walker.
Unusual considering they didn’t run in the same circles and that it was a known
fact Walker didn’t like Senator Sloan. But the most interesting part was the
thick envelope Walker was tucking into his pocket with his other hand.

“This is going to kill Mrs. Sloan,” Cece
said.

“I don’t get it,” Ace said, pacing in front
of the book. “Sloan and Rutherford were genuine friends. I’ve had enough
genuine friends in the military and on the force to recognize the fact. He
wouldn’t betray him for no reason.”

The words
betray him
echoed over and
over in Cece’s brain. Allen must have been the person the senator had been
referring to when he’d said he couldn’t believe someone that close to him had
betrayed him. Was Allen also involved in the prostitution ring with the
senator? What was the illegal matter he had referred to that would ruin him?

“You look troubled,” Ace said. “What’s on
your mind?”

Cece was contemplating whether or not she
should tell him, still wanting to help yet still staying true to her beliefs.
Her phone rang, saving her from having to say anything. “Excuse me,” she said
to the detective, after glancing down and not recognizing the number.

“You take that while I make a phone call to
Rocco, but make no mistake, Sister. We’re not done here.” Ace pierced her with his
sharp gaze and then pulled out his phone.

She walked away to answer her phone.

“Hello?”

“Sister, it’s Creamy.”

Cece tripped to a stop. “Oh, hi. Um, yes,
it’s Sister Spanky,” she tried to purr, her throat going bone dry. Oh, good
Lord in Heaven above, were they calling to invite her to an orgy?

“Save it, sweetheart,” the other voice said
dryly. “I know you’re a woman—and a former real nun to boot.”

Cece almost melted with relief. “I’m sorry.
I was just trying to do what was right and help the senator by solving his
murder.”

“I know. That’s the only reason I’m calling.
Li Wang, his campaign manager, called me. He used to be one of us, you know. He
was one of Woody’s best, but he fell head over heels for Sloan. He left us and
became the senator’s campaign manager to be closer to him. We all thought the
senator would eventually leave his wife for Li, but after his father got
involved, Sloan called off their affair and came back to us. I was his second
choice. I knew I would never be anything but a replacement for Li, but I was
okay with that. We all loved the senator, and we all will do whatever we can to
help put his real murderer behind bars.”

“I’m listening,” Cece said.

“The note the senator received that said you
might want to check out your barn was from me.”

Cece gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Do you know the trouble I could
get in for coming forward? I truly loved the man. That’s the only reason I’m
calling you now.”

“I believe you,” Cece said carefully, and
then added, “You can trust me. What happened?”

“Well, Sloan used to have parties with all
of us and a group of other politicians, but he had an insatiable appetite. He
also used to have private meetings with me. One time we were supposed to meet
at his old farmhouse. His family never goes there, and it’s out in the country,
so it was the perfect spot.”