Kicking the Habit (6 page)

Rocco chuckled. Thumping through the
pages of his notebook, he refocused. “Yeah, I got the same vibe about Evans.
Nice office for a small-town mayor.”

“Even with traffic, it doesn’t take
that long to get to Boston. My guess is, he made a pit stop he doesn’t want
anyone to know about, but where did he go and who did he see?”

“When you and the mayor were over by
the pack of cigarettes, I took a quick peek inside a file on his desk. I didn’t
read it because I didn’t want him to catch me, but one thing did stand out
before I joined you guys,” Rocco said.

“What’s that?”

“Sloan Senior’s
name.” Rocco studied his notes for a minute. “The senator’s father lives
in Boston. The morning of the senator’s death, his father was on his way to New
Hope to see his son. Someone ran him off the road, and he ended up in the
hospital. He said he had a meeting that morning too, but he wouldn’t tell the
police who it was with. Do you think the mayor and the senator’s father could
have met with each other?

“It’s a possibility.” Ace chewed on
the inside of his cheek as he studied the mayor’s BMW, two spots down from his
own truck. “Here’s another fact we might consider. The mayor makes a decent
living, but he sure as shit doesn’t come from money. Whereas
good ole Daddy Sloan is loaded.”

Rocco looked pensive for a minute,
then his eyes widened. “Holy shit. You think the son
of a bitch was blackmailing the old man. Over what?”

“That’s what we’re going to find
out. Put a tail on the mayor, pronto,” Ace said.

“I’m on it.” Rocco made a note. “And
here’s another thing. If the mayor and Old Man Sloan really did meet, it would
have been right about the time the senator was killed. If your hunch is right,
the lucky bastard just scored himself an alibi.”

“My gut told me the mayor wasn’t
lying about those cigarettes, anyway.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t buying him as a
smoker either. It’s way too easy.” Rocco looked at Ace. “Which means someone
really did leave the cigarettes in his office by accident.”

“Or someone is trying to set him up.” Ace rubbed the back of his
neck. “One thing I don’t get, though.”

“Why Sister Mary Sassy is hot for me
and not you?”

Ace scowled. “You’re such a
jackass.”

“The name’s
asshole.” Rocco punched Ace on the shoulder and sent him a meaningful
look. “‘Jackass’ is already taken by a good friend of mine.”

“Okay,
asshole
.” Ace settled his hands on his hips. “Can you keep your
mind off “T and A” for two whole minutes?”

“I can try, but I ain’t makin’ any promises.”

“Anyway.”
Ace stared up at the mayor’s window and saw Evans watching them, but the mayor
stepped away and closed the blinds. “I don’t get why the mayor wanted to meet
with Sloan Jr. if he was blackmailing his old man. What could he have to talk
to the senator about unless the blackmail involved him too? And everyone knows
the senator was cheap. Why didn’t he show for a free meal, especially in a
place as nice as La Crème de whatever? For what—to confess in
church? I just don’t get it. Must have been one hell
of a confession.”

“I’m telling you, there’s more to
this story than a crime of passion. I think you’re right. It’s political, and
the mayor’s involved somehow. We need more information, and since you said
Sister Mary Sassy still isn’t talking, maybe it’s time we went to someone who
might.”

“The widow?”
Ace asked, and Rocco nodded. “Good thinking.”

“Thanks.” Rocco smoothed his fingers
along the sides of his black hair. “I do have one or two good thoughts in
there.”

Ace snorted. “Maybe there’s hope for
you yet.” He checked his watch. “The reception should be over by now, and Mrs.
Sloan is leaving for D.C. tomorrow morning. Guess if we want to talk to her,
it’s now or never.”

“I’ll drive since you’re too hot and
bothered.” Rocco held out his hand for the keys.

“You aren’t touching my truck.” Ace
jogged around to the driver side. “Get in, Jack—”

“Asshole, remember?”

“Jesus, you really are one.”

“I try.” Rocco laughed and climbed
inside. “Let’s roll.”

Fifteen
minutes later, Ace and Rocco pulled up in front of a mansion, a massive old
colonial with a couple of acres for a yard and a driveway that had to be half a
mile long. He let out a low whistle, easing his truck through the open gate and
down the road. “Damn. We’re in the wrong business, son.”

“No shit.” Rocco climbed out of the
truck, and Ace joined him as he rang the bell.

They flashed their badges, and Ace
said, “I’m Detective Jackson, and this is my partner Detective Antonelli. We’d like to have a word with Mrs. Sloan, if
she’s available.”

The tall, gaunt doorman glared down
his long, pointy nose at them and sniffed. “Mrs. Sloan is in no shape to—”

“Let them in,” a woman’s voice
called from behind the butler, and he stepped aside with reluctance.

“Thanks,
pal.” Rocco slapped the guy on the shoulder and winked as he walked inside.

Ace gave the man an apologetic smile and joined the senator’s
widow and his partner in the sitting room. Ace met Rocco’s gaze, and an
unspoken message passed between them. This was
not
the time for good cop, bad cop.

“We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Sloan. Is there anything we can
do for you?” Rocco handed the woman a box of tissues.

“You can catch the person who murdered my husband,” she said, taking
a tissue and dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes. “And top off my vodka tonic,
please.”

“Absolutely.” Rocco got up to make her
another drink from the bar in the corner.

Ace sat in the chair next to hers. “That’s why we’re here, ma’am.”
His gut told him those were genuine tears. The woman obviously still loved her
husband, infidelities be damned. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have
snapped. Although hiring a hit man didn’t involve snapping; it involved
premeditation. His gut told him she didn’t do it, but she might be able to shed
some light on who did. After all, she had been talking to the mayor at the
wake. What Ace wouldn’t give to have heard that conversation.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here alone?” Rocco
handed her a refill.

“To get away from those vultures.” She took a
big swallow of her drink.

Ace’s eyes locked on Rocco’s, and Rocco raised one shoulder. “Vultures, ma’am?” Rocco asked.

“Politicians.” She sighed. “They all pretend
to care, but they don’t. They just wanted a piece of my Stanley. Kept pecking at him until there was nothing left. And now
they want a piece of me.” Her eyelids drooped. “Well, they’re not going to get
it. I won’t let them.” Her words began to slur, and she looked ready to pass
out.

“Mrs. Sloan, did your husband say or do anything unusual the
morning of his death?” Ace asked, wondering if one of the vultures she’d been
referring to had been Evans. “He never made it to his breakfast meeting with
the mayor. Any idea why?”

She flinched at the mention of the mayor’s name and then took
another sip of her drink. “I didn’t know my husband had a meeting with the
mayor, and I have no idea why he went to confession that morning. It wasn’t
like it was Sunday. He acted nervous, like something had upset him, but he
wouldn’t talk about it. Then he kissed me before he left—even told me he loved
me.” She lifted her tear-filled gaze to Ace’s. “He hadn’t said those words in
so long. It was almost as if he knew he was going to die.”

“I don’t know, ma’am, but I am sorry. If you
could just think back and try to remember anything else. We really do
want to help.”

“No, there’s nothing else.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’m
sorry. Like I told the other policemen, my husband liked to keep his business
matters separate from our personal lives. Said he wanted to focus on the
children and me when he was with us, and he did. He might not have been the
most attentive husband, but he was a wonderful father.”

“I’m sure he was.” Ace handed her his card. “Thank you for your
time, and please call if you remember anything.”

She took the card and stared as though in a trance. Then she
blinked and said, “There was one thing. It’s probably nothing, but the week
before he died, Stanley started acting strange. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t
sleep, had even gotten physically sick. I tried to get
him to see a doctor, but he said he was just stressed. Worried
over the upcoming election.”

She pulled herself up and turned her back to them as she set her
empty glass on the fireplace mantle. “He’d been a politician for too long to
let campaign tactics and smear campaigns worry him. Besides, he was leading in
the polls.” She blew her nose and then turned around to face them.

“I don’t know what was going on, but something had him worried
like I’d never seen before. He even made several road trips out to the country.
Said he needed to get away, clear his head.” She laughed. “I told him I could
think of better places to clear my head than an old, dirty barn, but he said
that was the perfect place to go. No one would think to disturb him there. He’s
right. I haven’t been to the farm in years. I refused to allow my children to
stay in a dump, and he never deemed it worthy to fix up. If you find out what
was bothering him, you just might find out why someone wanted him dead.”

The door opened, and a distinguished looking man with lacquered
gray hair stuck his head inside. “Ah, there you are, Mary.” His eyes shot over
to Rocco and Ace. “Is everything okay? I’m sure the police would understand if
you wanted to answer their questions later, given that your husband just died.”
He stared them down.

“It’s okay, Allen. We were just finishing
up.”

“Good. Oh, and Stanley’s campaign manager was looking for you, but
I told him you were sleeping. I’ve gotten rid of just about everyone else as
well. You really should get some rest.”

“I will. Sleep sounds like a blessing right now.
Would you mind checking on the children, seeing if they’re okay? I know they’re
with the nanny, but I’m sure they’d love to see their favorite uncle.”

“Certainly. Don’t be too much longer.” He nodded once to Rocco
and Ace. “Gentleman.” He slipped back out into the
hall and closed the door softly behind him.

“Don’t mind Allen, he’s just protective of me and my children.
He’s not really their uncle, just a close friend of the family. He and Stanley
have known each other since they met as boys in boarding school. Allen has been
my rock, even though this is just as hard on him. In fact, he’s escorting the
children and me to D.C. for the funeral.” Her voice hitched. “I don’t know what
I’d do without him.”

“I’m glad you have someone helping you, and he’s right. We’ve
taken up enough of your time. Thank you, ma’am.” Rocco
stood.

“Like I said, call if you think of anything else. We’ll let you
know if something turns up.” Ace led the way back outside.

“Speaking of better halves, where’s Sister Mary Sassy?” Rocco
asked Ace as they drove away.

“Funny,” Ace said. “She’s letting Sister No-Classy give her a
makeover.”

“The hottie sister?”

“That would be the one, if you like that sort of look.”

“Oh, trust me, daddy like,” Rocco purred, then added, “No-Classy
is making over Sassy, and you’re not worried?”

“It’s just a makeover.”

“Riiight. Remind me
what happened the last time you left them alone together.”

“They had lunch.”

“Last time I had lunch, it didn’t involve the Our Father and
rosary beads. Blessing the senator’s campaign office, my
ass.”

Ace shot his partner a look. “Well, shit.” Then he whipped his
truck around in the other direction, but he wasn’t too happy about going over
the river and through the woods to Granny’s house.

And he sure as hell wasn’t bringing cookies.

By the time
Ace and Rocco knocked on the Monroes’ door, the sun
had almost set. Once again, Ace hoped Cece would
answer. Last time, he’d gotten lucky. The door swung open, and this time Candy
stared at him with a smirk on her flawless face.

He guessed today wasn’t his lucky day.

“Why, if it isn’t Detective Hardass
standing there, groveling at my door. What can I do ya
for?”

“You can’t ‘do’ me for anything.”

“Dang, darlin’.” Rocco’s gaze
traveled the long length of her. “You could do me any day of the week.” He
grinned like a buffoon.

“In your dreams, Loverboy.”

He slapped a hand over his heart, smiling wider. “How’d you know
you were in my dreams every night? Must be magic.”

Ace looked between the two of them. “You two need a room?”

“Actually—” Rocco started.

“Hardly!” Candy flat out cut him off at the knees with her
ice-blue laser beams. “I don’t need magic to tell me you’re a player.”

“Magic? Who said magic?” came a
raspy voice from behind Candy. “Who’s at the door, Charity?”

“Oh, shit,” Ace muttered.

“No one important, Gran.”

“Charity?” Rocco’s lips formed a shit-eating grin. “Interesting.”

“Oh, stuff it, Rockstar,” Candy said.

He touched her arm. “Rockstar,
huh? I’m getting to you. Admit it.”

“Puh-lease.” She shrugged
off his hand. “You know what they say: Men who are cocky don’t have much of
one.”

“Would you two cut it out,” Ace huffed.

“He’s back, Kitty!” the raspy voice hackled. “Now’s
your chance. It’s Satan.”

Rocco burst out laughing, and Ace smacked him on the shoulder. “Can
it, Antonelli.”

“Yeah, just wait until she gets a load of you.” Candy stepped
aside and crossed her arms over her small, perky, braless breasts. “This I gotta see.”

The door flew open wide, and Rocco’s shit-eating grin vanished. Granny
stood with a wand in one hand and Kitty in the other. She set Kitty down, but
the dog just blinked at Ace with his one eye, then trotted back into the house,
whining all the way.

“It’s okay, Kitty, you’ll get him next
time.” Granny hobbled behind Ace and bent low, squinting at his ass, then let
out a shriek. “
Still
no tail! I must’ve done something wrong.” She held up her hand and
counted off on her fingers. “Frog’s tongue, squirrel tail, raccoon tooth, and
gunpowder,” she said.

Ace narrowed his eyes. That was the second time she had mentioned
gunpowder. But then she distracted him with her next words.

“Nope, those are the right ingredients. Maybe I just need to
repeat the spell.”

Oh, hell, that didn’t sound
good.

She started screeching some chant over and over and over, twirling
around in circles, her long, gray, frizzy curls looking as though she’d stuck
that wand in a dozen light sockets. Stopping suddenly, she closed her eyes
tightly, and her body stiffened.

“Jesus Christ, forget who …
what
the fuck is she?” Rocco said in barely more than a whisper.

But a whisper was all it took.

Granny’s eyes snapped open wide and locked onto Rocco’s, sending
the fear of God into him by the looks of it, but Ace could relate. He’d been
there before. Still was, every time he came in contact with the nutcase.

“Satan’s sidekick! Straight to
the depths of hell with you. Be gone!” She held up her wand and ran toward
Rocco, her black cape billowing out behind her.

Rocco let out a scream—an actual high-pitched scream, bolting for
the truck as though the crazy old crone were a rabid dog. Jumping inside, he
slammed and locked the doors. Granny circled the truck, banging on the hood,
casting chant after chant.

Rocco dialed Ace’s cell. “Get the hell in here, man. I’m calling for
backup.”

“No need. You just cover me by keeping Granny occupied. And try
not to let her dent my truck. Think you can handle that?”

“As long as she stays out there.” Rocco
glanced at Candy, still standing in the doorway, and tried for a smooth smile,
then slicked back the strand of hair that had flopped forward in his mad dash
to save his ass. “Hey, yo, man. I gotcha covered.” He
cleared his throat. “Tell Candy I’ll call her.”

Ace looked at Candy, who must have heard Rocco through the phone
because she stuck her finger in her mouth and made a gagging noise. “I’m not a
betting man, but I’m guessing from the look she’s giving you, that ship has sailed.
Sorry, buddy.” Ace flipped his phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket. “Listen,
I didn’t come to argue with you; I came to talk to your sister.”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean, she’s not here?”

“Don’t get all snippy with me. You’re the one who’s supposed to be
nun-sitting.” She tucked her sleek, brown bob behind her ears.

“And you’re the one who told me to beat it because you were giving
her a makeover.”

“Well, I finished early.”

“Do you have any idea where she went?”

Candy stared at him for a long moment and then finally shrugged. “She
said something about going for a drive in the country.”

“And you let her go? Don’t you know she could be in real danger? There’s
still a killer on the loose, and your sister has information that could lead us
to that person. How could you let her go alone?”

“Uh, hello, I’m not stupid. I didn’t
let
her do anything. First off, she’s a grown woman. She makes her
own decisions. And second, she told me she was going with you,” Candy growled. A
second later, she groaned as she slapped the palm of her hand on her forehead. “If
she didn’t go with you, then she’s driving Gran’s Witchmobile. Cece hasn’t driven a
car in ten years. She’ll be lucky if that old black station wagon gets her
there.”

“Do you have any idea what building out in the country she might
be talking about?”

“How would I know? You’re the cop.”

Ace remembered Sloan’s widow saying they had an old barn in the
country.
Damn!
Knowing Cece, she probably planned to create her new charitable
foundation in the senator’s name because she blamed herself for his death. “Don’t
worry. I think I know where she is.”

“You’d better, because if anything happens to my sister, Granny
will be the least of your worries.”

Ace nodded once and then headed for his truck. Cece
had no business being out there, especially now that it was getting dark. He
didn’t have a good feeling about this. When he saw her again, he planned to
wring her neck, but first he had to rescue Rocco. Maybe he’d make the smart-ass
sweat a little more with the crazy old witch lady.

Nah. Even
he
wasn’t that
cruel.

Thirty minutes later, after dropping his traumatized partner off
at the station, Ace used his GPS system to find the farm in question. He
thought a car was following him, but he managed to ditch it before maneuvering
his truck back on track. “Out in the country” didn’t begin to describe where
this place was located. Out in Podunk was more like it.

Rounding a corner, he came upon what had to be the barn on some
unused farmland. Probably belonged to Sloan’s family for generations, and he’d
just let it sit empty.

Cece was crazy if she thought the town would go for setting up a
charity way out here. Her story didn’t ring true. His gut told him she’d found
something the cops had missed in the senator’s campaign office, but like with
the confessional thing, she wasn’t talking.

“What the hell?” He pulled his truck to a stop next to a black
hunk of junk with a dent in the side and a missing taillight. This had to be
Granny’s Witchmobile. He grunted. Candy was right. Cece obviously hadn’t driven in years. She’d parked the
sucker right in the middle of a ditch.

Mental order: Never let her
touch your truck.

He scanned the area through the darkening sky but didn’t see
anything amiss, and there were no new tire tracks other than hers. Still,
someone was out there. He’d stake his career on it. Damn, he had been so sure
he’d lost whoever had been following him. He must be losing his touch. Getting
out of the truck, he shoved his keys in his sports coat pocket and made his way
to the front of the barn to peek inside.

Jesus, what the hell was she doing?

There she was on her goddamn hands and knees again, crawling
around behind empty crates and boxes, tossing items aside, looking for Lord
knows what. The place was empty, but it was obvious something had been there
recently. Someone had cleaned it out in a hurry by the looks of it, but what
the hell could have been stored in there? And could it have anything to do with
the mayor possibly blackmailing the senator’s father?

Cece distracted him by making enough racket
to draw a whole arsenal of bad guys—that was for damn sure. She struggled to
her feet and dusted off her hands. He squinted to make out her form as dusk
settled around them, and his groin instantly tightened.

“Christ almighty, what the hell did she do to you?” he boomed out louder than he’d intended. He strolled in and
flicked on the lights. Coming to a stop right behind her, he had to get a
better look.

“Eeeeek!” Cece whirled
around on platform shoes, her big hat flopping about as her feet tangled and
arms windmilled.

Ace reached out to steady her, his hands on her waist, hers on his
shoulders, and it somehow felt right. He frowned.

“You scared me. What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I followed you,” he muttered, still
in shock from seeing her like this. “New shoes?” was the safest thing he could
think to comment on.

“Oh, these silly
things?” She dropped her hands, taking a step back until his palms—which
were dangerously close to touching her breasts—fell away. “The shoes and
clothes are Charity’s,” she said, and he balled his hands into fists to keep
from doing something stupid. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her no, though as
you can see, we’re not even close to being the same size.”

Oh, he could see, all right. Candy’s
“skinny” jeans were more like painted on as they clung to Cece’s
form, and her skin-tight shirt pushed Cece’s generous
breasts over the top. He had to admit, he didn’t mind Candy’s taste in clothes
at the moment, but then he remembered Cece was a nun.
Ex or otherwise, it was all the same to him. His appreciative thoughts cooled
in an instant.

“Right, well, it does look kinda hard to
move in that getup.” His gaze traveled back to Cece’s
face, and he winced. Her natural beauty had been covered up with heavy makeup,
and her hair … he let out a gasp.

Another frigging gasp.
For chrissake.

Where had her hair gone? Horror filled him at the thought that
she’d let her sister chop off her curls. Nun or not, she still had the best
hair he’d ever seen on a woman, and it would be a damn shame if she’d let her
insane sister cut it off.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Cece asked.

“I’m fine.” He stroked his whiskers,
reminding himself he needed a shave, as he tried to act nonchalant. “Did you,
um, cut your hair?”

“Oh, that? No.” She reached up and
pulled off the big, floppy hat she wore. The long glorious strands fell to her
hourglass waist once more. “Why?” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes.

“Oh.” He stifled a sigh of relief
and rocked on the balls of his boots, uncomfortable with the turn the
conversation had taken. “No reason. Just curious.”

“I didn’t want it to get dirty while
I was …” Her gaze met his, and her wide eyes looked nervous. Nervous
and guilty. “While I was praying, that is.”

“Praying?” He crossed his arms over
his chest. “I’m supposed to believe you came all the way out here to pray? Not
buying it, Sister. You’re up to something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Don’t be silly.” She marched over
to her tote bag, her ankles wobbling all the way, then
pulled out her prayer book and rosary beads again. “See?”

“That might have worked once, but
I’m no fool. Start talking. What’s the real reason you’re here, and it better
not be what I think it is.”

“I have no idea what you’re getting
at. I was simply trying to think of a way to make the senator’s name live on
forever. When I found out he owned an old barn he never used, I figured I’d
better see what it was like before I approached his wife. She’s not too happy
with me these days, so I thought this might be a way to form a new bond of
peace between us.”

“And what kind of building were you
thinking of making it into, exactly?”

Her eyes surveyed the room and then
lit up. “A boys’ and girls’ club.”

“A place for city kids way out in Podunk? Yeah, that makes a lot
of sense.”

“Well, I can’t worry about what
makes sense to you, Detective. I’m on a mission.”

“Oh, I get that. It’s the mission
you’re on I’m not so sure about.” He poked her collarbone.

She sucked in a breath. “How dare
you.”

“How dare
you
lie to me!” he retorted. She lowered her eyes, just like a
guilty person would. “When I came in, you were crawling around on the floor
looking for something.” He leaned way down until their noses almost touched. “I
want to know what.”

She stepped back, squared her
shoulders, and walked away. Pulling out a small bottle of water, she said, “I
told you, I was blessing this place. I couldn’t possibly send children in here
without saying a prayer or two.”

“Right. What
is that stuff, anyway?” He followed her.

“Um, well, it’s … holy water.” She
smiled brightly. Too brightly. “Yes, you heard me
right.” She nodded once. “Holy water.”

Looked like ordinary bottled water to him. “You’d better only be
praying. Because if I find out you
were
doing something else, I’d be forced to haul your ‘holy’ ass off to jail for
your own safety.”

She opened the water, sprinkling it
about the room as she recited some prayer. When she finished, she turned to him
and said, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not in any danger.” She
took a step back before losing her footing and falling to the floor.