HEIR APPARENT: Abernathy Novel 2

By Kate Kelly

Secrets.... It seems everyone I deal with has a secret.

I am Detective Ali Rivers with the Abernathy Police Department, and everywhere I go I am uncovering secrets. My blind date, my friends, and obviously in my work. Some secrets are to save face, some are to protect feelings, and others are trying to stop me from finding a murderer. But tr

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Kelly
• Release date: Aug 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087881461

Kate Kelly

Kate Kelly has had a life-long love affair with books, but writing came in fits and starts. She didn't take it seriously until her forties. Now she can't get along without it. She has the good fortune to live on the east coast of Canada with her husband (the children have flown away). She writes, grow herbs and perennials and sails when the wind blows her way.

Book preview

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Heir Apparent

An Abernathy Novel #2

Kate Kelly

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Acknowledgments

My beta readers, Shyan and Mom – without your insight, this would be trash. I appreciate you catching all the typos and errors that come up while typing.

My Discord/Twitter writers group – the encouragement and helpfulness has been immeasurable while trying to finish this book.

My husband – the infinite soundboard and brainstorming partner.

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Chapter 1

The waiter at Alejandro’s drops another beer for my date at our table. Alejandro’s is my favorite Mexican food place, and tonight it seems everyone had the same idea I did – drinks after work. Completing and filing paperwork makes for long, frustrating days for me, and there’s no better way to unwind than getting a nice drink after work.

Thanks for agreeing to come out to drinks with me, Oliver says, taking a swallow of his lager.

Yeah, no problem. I am sorry our moms had to meddle on this, I say with an awkward smile. Yes, I'm on another blind date set up by my mom again. It's not entirely a train wreck - yet, but I need to maintain a healthy level of skepticism, especially considering my mom’s track record with setting me up. Oliver seems like a nice guy. He seems to have his shit together and doesn't seem like the guy who lives in his mom's basement, screaming for more pizza rolls. He's tall, perfectly muscular, and has a very disarming smile. He even wore a vest with his dress shirt and slacks.

His dark brown eyes twinkle. I swear I'm not so weird I have to have my mom do this regularly, he says with his hands in the air in a surrender gesture.

I wish I could say the same, I say with a cringe. My mom does this on a pretty regular basis. I pause. I mean, not like I couldn't get a date on my own if I wanted - my mom just has this weird idea of me settling down and giving her grandkids, I hastily add. I take another swallow of my pale ale.

Oliver just chuckles. Don't worry, you seem pretty normal. I'm not worried that you're a crazy cat lady who's going to skin me alive or something in her basement later.

Pretty ballsy of you to assume you'll be in my house later, I say with a smirk.

Touché, he responds, nodding. Excuse me, I'll be right back. He gets out of his chair and heads off toward the bathroom.

Wow. A blind date that seems to be going pretty well. I think my mom, in all her demented glory, might have actually found a real diamond in the rough this time. To be fair, with all the duds she's found in the past, the odds are that she was bound to find a good one at least once, right? The whole sun shines on a dog's ass once in a while kind of thing, right? Not that I'm saying I'm like a dog's ass. Because I'm not. If I were any part of a dog, I'd be..nevermind. This is silly.

Would you care for another pale ale, ma'am? the waiter asks.

What? I ask, snapping out of my reverie. No, sir, thank you. Could I have a Coke instead?

Sure thing. What about the gentleman?

Um, I'm not sure. Maybe come back in a few and ask him? I don't want to speak for him, I respond.

The waiter nods and walks away. After another minute, Oliver returns. He sits down and puts his napkin in his lap as the waiter gives me my new drink. The waiter points to Oliver’s beer, asking if he wants a refill. Oliver shakes his head and the waiter walks off. So, where were we?

We were discussing how I'm hard up for dates, I say.

I don't believe it, he says, shaking his head. You're gorgeous, you've got a good job, you're smart and driven. What's not to like?

What exactly did your mom tell you I do for a living? I ask, bracing myself.

I was told you work for the city. Something about public relations, I think? What were you told about me? he asks, sniffling.

Public relations? Well, I mean, it's not exactly an inaccurate thing to say. I do work with the public. And I do handle things when relations go awry to the point where there's a dead body or two. I think I was told you were in sales. Pharmaceutical sales, I answer.

Oliver presses the tip of his nose and sniffs a little. Yes. I like to joke about how I'm a professional drug dealer.

I chuckle at his little joke. It's not wrong, I guess. You do go around handing out drugs to doctors.

It's like they're hooked on what I give them. They just can't get enough. It's how I've managed to have some pretty impressive sales numbers over the last few years, he says, sniffling again.

Do you need a tissue? I think I might actually have one in my purse, I offer, reaching for it.

Oh, no, I'm fine, he says. He takes the last swallow of his beer and signals the waiter for the check. Just some allergies or something, no worries.

I try to think back if he was sniffling the whole date, but I honestly don't know. It seems a bit weird, especially with his glassy eyes. I'm starting to get that weird gut feeling, but I try to tamp it down a bit.

Oliver signs the check and helps me out of my chair. Can I walk you to your car?

Sure, I'd like that. We walk out together with his hand on my lower back. A gentleman - way to go, Mom!

We get to my car. This is me, I say lamely. Obviously. Here are my keys and everything. Yikes, could I be any worse?

Another disarming smile from Oliver. I noticed. The next time I'm in town, I'd really like to do this again. What do you say?

Before I can answer him in the affirmative, two giant black SUVs swoop in and surround my car. Four men leap out of the car, guns drawn, screaming at us. DEA! DEA! Don't move! Hands in the air! My brain doesn't have time to process any of this and by the time I realize what's happening, I'm pressed against my vehicle with my hands resting on my vehicle by my head.

Sensing an impending pat-down, I try to warn the agent near me that I’m currently walking around with my pistol in a shoulder holster. Agent, excuse -

Be quiet, the agent says.

Yeah, there’s something I need to tell you.. I start again.

Unless you’re going to tell me where the drugs are in your vehicle or on your person, just keep your mouth shut, the agent says, dismissing me yet again.

I look over at Oliver, who is adjacent to me, currently being pressed against the trunk of my vehicle. He looks both shocked and yet calm, as if he knows how one goes about getting arrested or detained. This is clearly not going to bode well for me.

The agent near me kicks my feet farther apart and proceeds, to his credit, to perform a perfunctory pat-down on me. His hands are swift and don’t linger over any improper areas. Once he finishes my legs and waist, he naturally starts to move towards my upper body. I involuntarily attempt to blade my body away from him getting near my gun and am rewarded with a firm shove further against my car.

Why are you resisting? he asks loudly in my ear.

I’m not resisting, I’m trying to tell you- I try again.

Stop resisting! he shouts.

I can’t help but take a furtive look around and there’s a small crowd gathering to witness this spectacle, phones in hand. I feel uneasy, embarrassed, and pissed off. I’m not resisting, I grit out.

His hands move to my sides and move their way up until he comes up against what is unmistakably my gun. Gun! the agent shouts. He quickly moves to take my gun out of the holster.

Before I know it, I’m being yanked from against my car to practically being forced to face-plant the pavement. The agent’s knee is pressed against my back and cuffs are placed swiftly around my wrists. I hear them click uncomfortably and wince. My cheek and head hurt from hitting the parking lot surface and I’m sure my knees will have bruises or scrapes too. I can’t really feel my knees, though, due to adrenaline and the asshole agent’s knee in my spine. I can feel hot angry tears threatening to fall, but I manage to pull my shit together and am determined for them to not see me cry.

I wish I hadn’t looked up. Two agents are pointing their weapons at me, staring at me as if they’re begging me to twitch or blink the wrong way. I assume the remaining fourth agent is keeping a tight hold on Oliver, who isn’t saying much of anything. Well, he might be, but I can’t really hear it if he is because of the blood rushing through my ears. The agent who took my gun is now emptying it and clearing the extra round from the chamber. I assume he’ll radio off to find out if my gun is stolen based on the serial numbers.

The agents put their guns away. One agent leans over and helps me get to my feet. Looking at this agent is my second mistake. This agent is very tall and well built. His shirt hugs his chest and arms and his closely cropped beard hides an obviously chiseled jaw. His brown eyes are assessing and his undercut haircut is doing his look – and my eyes – all sorts of favors. He is, in short, absolutely gorgeous. I can see how ladies all over must be making eyes at him everywhere he goes. He keeps staring at me, waiting for me to say something, and not one to disappoint, I open my mouth to babble.

I’m a cop, you know, I say.

Sure you are. And let me guess, he told you he’s a pharmaceutical sales rep, the agent says with a smirk.

That’s what he said, anyway, I mumble out of the corner of my mouth. I look at him in the eyes again. Look, Agent..?

Fuller, he responds.

Agent Fuller, this is a colossal mistake. I’m not blaming you or anything, I just..this is a mess, okay?

A mess? Well you’re the one cavorting with a rather big drug dealer, sweetheart. And you’re carrying a gun, which you failed to tell us when we showed up. Agent Fuller folds his arms across his chest.

First off, don’t be a dick calling me sweetheart. Second, I did try and tell your other agent – twice, actually – and the asshole decided he didn’t want to listen to me. That’s not my problem. And third, I’m going to need my gun back. Now.

Excuse me? You don’t get to tell me what to do. We’re not finished searching either of you. Agent Fuller looks a little more than mildly annoyed.

Then hurry up and search my purse. That’ll get started on straightening things out. I start to fold my arms across my chest but then remember the handcuffs. I end up looking like I’m shrugging.

Agent Fuller rolls his eyes and starts digging through my purse. My phone, tissues, pens, and spare change get tossed onto my trunk and I hope there aren’t dents in my car. Finally he reaches the Holy Grail in my purse.

A badge? Agent Fuller asks.

A badge indeed, Agent Fuller, I echo, my voice dripping with disdain. Why don’t you read what it says?

Detective, Abernathy PD, he reads curtly. He looks at the other side of my credentials. Ali Rivers.

So does that explain why I have a gun, Agent Fuller? I ask slowly.

Yeah, but it doesn’t explain why a detective is hanging out with a drug dealer, he retorts.

Excuse me, but I’m not an idiot drug dealer, Oliver pipes in.

Agent Fuller and I both scowl at him. Shut up, we both say.

Agent Fuller turns and takes a few steps towards me and I take a step back. Chill out, he says gruffly. He gently turns me around and removes my cuffs. I massage my wrists to reduce the soreness while the smell of sandalwood engulfs me. Jesus, the guy not only looks good, he smells good, too?

The sandalwood fries my brain and it takes a moment for my brain to kick back into high gear. If I tell you why we’re here together, you’re not going to believe me, anyway.

I’ve been an agent for a long time, Detective. Let’s see if I hear something new from you, he replies.

I sigh. Blind date. Seriously, blind date. My mom knows his mom. They suggested we’d hit it off. I take a sideways look at Oliver, who is currently smirking and looking like he’s really enjoying the pat-down he’s getting from the agent. Can’t say I would see him ever again, to be honest, after all this, I say, gesturing around me.

There’s an awkward moment of silence. Wow, Agent Fuller says. You’ve actually said something I haven’t heard before. He starts laughing and I get irritated. Cupid doesn’t like you at all, does he? he muses.

Yes, yes, very funny, Agent Fuller. My life is hilarious, I say dryly. I’m a cop who can’t get a date without her mother working behind the scenes.

Wait a sec, you’re a cop? Oliver asks. I thought you were in public relations!

First off, I didn’t say I was in public relations. Second, you can’t sit there shocked that you were misinformed when you said you were in pharmaceutical sales, and you’re actually a drug dealer. Now, for the love of God, shut up, I tell Oliver.

So wait a sec, let’s run this back a bit. Tell me about tonight, Agent Fuller says, pulling me aside.

We met up here for drinks, I begin, nodding my head towards Alejandro’s. We had a nice conversation, he went to the bathroom, came back, he signed the check, and we left, and then I was graced with your sunny presence, I tell him.

That’s it? Never saw drugs? he asks.

No, I answer, shaking my head. He went to the bathroom and came back out. That’s it. I look over at Oliver.

The agent has finished the pat-down and pulls out a small baggie from Oliver’s right vest pocket. I think we’ve got cocaine residue, Fuller, he calls out.

You left the empty baggie in your pocket? Why didn't you throw it away in the bathroom when you were there? I ask dumbly.

What if a kid found the bag and, like, licked inside of it? I wouldn't want the kid exposed to drugs. That's not responsible or safe, he says, as if it's the most natural thing to say.

If a kid is licking plastic things they find in bathroom trash cans, I suspect the kid's got a lot more issues than exposure to cocaine, I say. After a moment, I turn back to Agent Fuller. Look, can I go home now? Or do you want to still search my vehicle?

Let's just do a cursory sweep to cover my ass, and then you can go, Detective. I'll need your contact info, but I really don't think you're going to be needed further.

After another hour of them looking through my car and getting my information, I am exhausted, pissed off, and eager to go home to bed.

4

Chapter 2

I’m sitting at my kitchen table trying to relax after last night’s utter fiasco when there’s an incessant knocking at my door. I walk over and see it’s my mother, and because I’m a glutton for punishment, I open the door.

I’m not interrupting anything, am I? she asks, looking around once she gets in.

No, if you were, I wouldn’t have answered the door, I say crankily, walking back towards my coffee. I know she’ll follow behind me.

Well, Donna told me her son didn’t come home last night, so we are both assuming my daughter finally got laid! she chirps.

Getting arrested by the DEA will certainly make you not come home at night, I retort. And honestly, I say, swallowing coffee, what are you and Donna doing, counting my days between getting laid?

We’re just looking out for you. No one wants dried up, dusty parts of a woman, you know, she says matter-of-factly. But let’s get back to what you said. Why was the DEA on your date? Does Oliver work for them secretly?

I choke on my coffee. No, he doesn’t. He’s the reason the DEA exists.

Ali, if a date doesn’t go well, you don’t call the DEA to arrest your date. I thought I taught you better. Maybe this is my fault. I haven’t prepared you enough for the dating world. Maybe you need dating lessons or something.

Jesus Christ. God hates me this morning; I can feel it. Mom, I assure you that’s not necessary. Oliver is a drug dealer. He got on the DEA’s radar and got busted last night.

Ali! she gasps. There must be some mistake, he can’t be a drug dealer.

Mom, he did cocaine in the bathroom of Alejandro’s. Goodness gracious, take a chill pill. I shake my head and finish my cup of coffee. I make my way to my pot and pour another mug for me and one for her.

He can’t be a drug dealer. He has to be in pharmaceuticals like Donna and he both said. How else could he have given me one of those pills that promised to relax and make me not stressed out? She sounds almost apoplectic.

I almost drop my coffee pot. Excuse me? Repeat that.

When I was with Donna yesterday morning, he was there. We were talking and I told him I was stressed out about a few things. He handed me a pill that he said was guaranteed to make me not stress out at all.

Do you remember what the name of it was? I ask, immediately on edge.

MDA? MMA? It had a girl’s name, she says, obviously struggling to remember.

Holy shit. That jackass gave my mother – my dear, sweet, infuriating, meddling mother – MDMA, also known as Molly. Uh, Mom, I hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t a pill you get from the doctor... I begin.

I took it, and you know what? I felt so good! she says with a big smile on her face. I took it when I got home, and once it kicked in, I was immediately relaxed. I got a little warm and very thirsty, but Ali, never has my yarn felt so soft or the colors looked so vibrant. I should look into getting more of that stuff, she says.

No. No, you cannot have that stuff, Mom. It’s illegal. You took bad drugs, I say, horrified at the idea of my mom becoming a molly junkie in her golden years. Look, do not take anything anyone gives you unless it’s coming from the pharmacy or your doctor at his office. End of story, I say, over her protests. I’ve got to head off to work. Feel free to stay and drink some coffee or have some breakfast, but I’ve got to get dressed and go.

–

I walk into the station and the air is charged with something other than the usual hustle and bustle. There’s an air of tension among everyone and I’m not sure what is going on. I wave to the desk sergeant on duty who merely nods at me. Some old lady is upset about some store clerk that she thought was disrespectful. I shoot the sergeant a look that says, I feel your pain; Karens be crazy.

I turn the corner and head down to the cluster of desks I share with Jerry. Stacked high on my desk are a ton of drug tests. Judging by quick math, there have to be at least thirty of them stacked. I look around the room and everyone – Jerry, Daniel, and Elmer included – starts laughing and clapping.

Sure, sure, guys. Laugh it up, I say, rolling my eyes and laughing.

Aww, you know we love you, kid, Jerry says, pulling me into a side hug. He plants a kiss on the top of my head. Jerry is like a second father to me as well as my partner. He and my father were good friends. I couldn’t ask for a better partner. He respects me as a partner, but I’m also something of his oldest child.

Seriously, Ali, what the hell? I told you to let me look into your dates, Daniel chastises. Daniel, lab geek extraordinaire with a flair for the suspiciously well-connected bits of information, looks out for me quite a bit.

Yeah, I don’t think I need to know the guy’s internet history, his entire job history, or whatever other spooky shit you’d find out. That’s what dating is for, genius, I tell him.

So, you’re supposed to just go out with a drug dealer repeatedly until he decides to tell you his profession? Thank God I’m dating James’ sister, Daniel says, shaking his head.

Another fantastic date story, Detective, Dr. James Elmer Flannigan says.

Well, at least you know I’m not a boring date, I tell him flippantly.

Not necessarily. That means they’re not the boring ones. Can’t speak for you, he says with a twinkle in his – albeit gorgeous – green eyes.

You know, I don’t even want to know how you guys found out about this, I say.

Jerry looks at me like I’m an idiot. Kid, you were detained by four DEA agents, who were very loud in announcing DEA, you were shoved against your car, and you were tackled. And all of that happened in front of Alejandro’s right before the dinner rush. How did you think that wouldn’t get out?

To be fair, it helped that I have an RSS feed set up with a couple various government agencies, but it was interesting when certain videos floated online about Abernathy, the DEA, police, and a snarky woman, Daniel says unhelpfully. I can only grumble.

Captain Eversman walks towards us, walking with a purpose. He stops in front of us and holds another drug test in his hand.

Har, har, Captain, I say. Just put it over there on the giant stack on my desk, I say off-handedly.

Excuse me, Detective? Eversman responds.

Oops. Uh, I – I thought you were just, uh, a part of the joke? Obviously, I was wrong, I stammer out.

Yes, you were. This is official – you need to take a drug test since you were hanging around a drug dealer, he says, his voice dripping with disappointment and disdain.

Okay, I say, taking the package out of his hand.

Give it to Daniel when you’re done, he orders, walking back towards his office.

A few minutes later, I’m walking out to hand my sample off to Daniel when I hear an oddly familiar voice. Turning the corner to get to Daniel and the others, I see a looming Agent Fuller standing and talking with Jerry.

I pause for a moment. Agent Fuller looks very different this morning when not in tactical gear. Jeans and a nice shirt make him look much more relaxed. Everyone turns and looks my way and I’m greeted with a big smile from Agent Fuller.

Good morning, Detective, he greets me.

Uh, good morning, I respond. What are you doing here?

Wrapping up some things, had to get Oliver from your station’s holding cell so we can transport him today. I also wanted to check on you, he says, looking me over.

With everyone staring at the spectacle in front of them, not to mention Agent Fuller’s eyes on me, I turn a little red, which I don’t like. Everything’s fine, obviously. If you were that worried, though, maybe you should have called an ambulance or something while I was detained. I try to subtly hand my sample to Daniel, with no such luck.

Ah, you had to take a test? Probably good to rule things out, you know, since Oliver ended up having cocaine residue in that baggie we found, Agent Fuller says.

Yeah, routine. There’s an awkward moment of silence. Jerry and Daniel look too interested in what’s before them and James looks mildly irritated. I’m sorry. This is my partner, Jerry, and our lab tech and friend, Daniel. This is Dr. Flannigan, our Medical Examiner – and friend, obviously, I say, gesturing to them. The men shake hands but for whatever reason, Elmer and Fuller seem to squeeze each other’s hands a little too much. They also look to be staring each other down.

Listen, Detective, Fuller begins, turning to me, my team is going to take Oliver back to D.C. today. I need to have one more interview with you in order to clear up some details about last night. I don’t want to interfere with your work here, so maybe we can do it afterwards?

Sure, I answer, nodding. Happy to help. Why don’t we meet here around 5?

That works for me, he says, starting to walk away. See you then, he calls out.

Jerry and Daniel both have raised eyebrows and Elmer snorts.

What? I ask Elmer indignantly.

He’s going to ask you out, Detective. And with that arrogant insight, Elmer gathers up his stuff and walks towards the exit.

He is not! I childishly call out. Daniel laughs and waves goodbye as he follows Elmer out.

–

Detectives? Officer Mooney comes over to Jerry and me as I finish packing away the excess drug tests into a box.

Yeah? I answer.

We got a call from a person reporting finding a body. He hands me a piece of paper with an address barely legible scrawled on it and walks away.

Thank you, I call out. Jerry, let’s go.

He nods and we both make sure to grab our guns, notebooks, and keys. I start to tell him we can take his car when Captain Eversman rushes out of his office.

Crews, Rivers, wait, he says. You guys got the call right? 9415 West Northlake Drive?

Yes sir, Jerry says. What about it?

This is not just any case. You two are to handle this with all due diligence and professionalism, Eversman tells us.

We always are, Captain, I point out.

Not like this, you’re not. Rivers, you need to be nice. You need to be diplomatic, advises Eversman.

Captain, Jerry and I are always professional when dealing with murders. You’ve never taken too much issue with things before, so what’s the deal? I ask. I’m trying not to take offense to Eversman’s words.

You’ve never worked on a call with such an important family, either, Eversman points out. You don’t know who lives at that address?

With all due respect, Captain, I’m not the Abernathy phone book nor Google, I tell him. Why would I know who lives on that ritzy side of town?

Eversman sighs. Mamie Edwards Abernathy lives there. It’s the Abernathy home.

Oh. The Abernathy family was the founding family of Abernathy, Tennessee, obviously. They have pictures of the family history at the library and among some people in the city, they’re kind of like the First Family. I don’t really know a lot about them, but there’s no reason I would; we obviously don’t run in the same social circles.

Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll be on our best behavior, Jerry says. The Captain dismisses us and we head out to the car. While there, I call Daniel and Elmer to meet us there if they hadn’t already been informed of the call.

–

Jerry pulls up to 9415 West Northlake Drive and it looks like a bit of controlled chaos. We hop out of the car and walk by an open ambulance. There’s a woman sitting in the back with a blanket around her shoulders, her face splotchy with redness complete with tear stained cheeks. The redness doesn’t distract from the pallor; it fact, it emphasizes it. The EMTs are talking to her and it