In It For the Money

by Cathy Perkins

  “Fentanyl.” She recoiled. “That stuff is deadly.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if it was part of why Shaw wrecked or where he got it. If that crap is floating around your client’s event—around your client—I want you to be careful.”

  “I am careful.”

  “I don’t mean professionally. I mean personally.” He shook his head. “I know you. If you think something’s going on that impacts your friends, you won’t leave it alone. When you have ‘insights,’ you get in the middle of the investigation. Then, not only do I have to figure out what’s going on and who did it, I have to worry about whatever the hell you’re doing and whether you’re going to get hurt.”

  “I’m—” She opened her mouth to argue, but he kept talking.

  “Remember how you felt when Laurie got hurt?”

  Her cheeks warmed. “That was an accident.”

  Not that she’d admit it right now, but she’d felt horribly guilty. The maniac had been trying to get at Holly, and Laurie got caught in the crossfire.

  “It would rip my heart out if anything happened to you.” JC’s hands again tightened into fists. “It would be a thousand times worse if you got hurt because of one of my investigations.”

  She stared at him for a long, long time. “I worry about you every day. I worry every night if I haven’t heard from you. If anything happened to you, would I even get a call?”

  He blinked. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “Tell that to the families of those Seattle police officers who were sitting in a coffee shop doing paperwork when that guy walked in and shot them. I have to constantly tell myself, JC’s okay. He’s good at his job. It’s something I have to accept is a part of being with you. It will always be a cloud hanging over us if we move forward, because it’s part of the package that comes with you.”

  Concern—or maybe surprise—twisted his eyebrows. “You’ve never said anything about worrying. And what do you mean, if we move forward?”

  Voices and footsteps drifted through the open doorway. The rest of the staff was arriving.

  This conversation was so overdue. But once again… “This isn’t the time or place to have this conversation.”

  “Holly—”

  She rose and slid her laptop into her briefcase. “I have to go. I have a meeting.”

  His lips flattened into a straight line as his jaw tightened. “Do I have to call Tracey to make an appointment? To get on your calendar?”

  She picked up her purse and briefcase. “Don’t go there. Don’t you dare blame my work schedule for us not having time together.”

  And she walked out the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Poker Face (Lady GaGa)

  Holly sat in her car in the parking lot at the Tom Tom Casino and stared at the stucco building. The bagel and coffee she’d had for breakfast roiled her stomach. Her emotions were still flipped every which way after that conversation with JC and now she had to deal with Frank.

  Get out of the car.

  Oh, God...

  Frank.

  Frank’s changed, she told her inner demons. He learned his lesson. You don’t have to worry about working with him. Even JC had admitted Frank helped with his last murder case.

  But what if Frank started up again?

  She’d lose it, and JC would do something stupid and...and...

  Look at this week—Frank was at Boulder Bounders, the hospital, had dragged her into this drug investigation...

  He was showing up everywhere.

  Just get through this meeting.

  Most likely the DEA agents would be there and take over. She could act like a professional today and then avoid the place—and Frank—while Amanda wrapped up the cage accountability audit.

  She could do it.

  Gritting her teeth, Holly stepped out of her car and strode into the casino. Five minutes later, she placed her laptop on Frank’s desk. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.”

  He clicked a button on his keyboard and his screen went dark. “And?”

  “There are two parts to the drug scheme. How does the buyer approach the seller and pay? How does the seller deliver?” She nodded at his darkened computer screen. “You have cameras everywhere. You must’ve been studying the security tapes. How do you think they’re making the sales?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say for certain.”

  “Guess.”

  He blew out a sigh and tipped his cowboy hat back on his head. “We had a problem with card counters recently. The dealers all know about it, so they’re used to seeing me on the floor. I’ve been out there every day—even before those DEA agents showed up—watching for patterns. I’ve noticed a lot of people come in and only stay a short time.”

  “That could be because they only have X dollars to lose and they lose it fast.”

  “Could be.” White teeth flashed against his tanned skin. “We’d go out of business if they didn’t. As far as the dealers go, it’s hard to say who to suspect because of the turnover of the players. Without knowing who to watch, I can’t zero in on a pattern.”

  “I may be able to help you with that. My staff finished the regression analysis this morning.” She opened her computer and swiveled the machine so they both could view the screen.

  Frank peered at the jagged lines marching across it. “What am I looking at?”

  “Patterns. The dealers’ tips should be completely random, like these lines.” She pointed to the upper rows in the diagram. Sharp peaks and valleys were scattered across the screen.

  “None are alike.” He scanned down the screen, looking at the individual results.

  “Now look at these two people. The scatter is there, but there’s a sub-rhythm you can isolate.” She mashed a few keys, and the jagged lines disappeared. Most of the rows went to a nearly straight line but two lines stood out. For them, the pattern resolved into a regular, smooth rise and fall, like an ocean wave. “This repeats on a weekly interval.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his cheek as he studied the graphs. “What do you think it is?”

  “Something is supplying them with a steady income. It fluctuates, but it’s steady. Consistent.”

  “You think someone’s paying off these two dealers? What does that have to do with the drugs? Or is this the drug sales?”

  She stared at the screen, her thoughts abruptly returning to her lunch with JC. “OMG, it’s the taco trucks.”

  “We don’t have a taco truck.” His over-patient tone dripped, Don’t be a girl.

  “I don’t mean an actual truck. Not here, anyway.” She stopped and took a calming breath. “I’m pretty sure the taco truck scandal happened after you moved here. Don’t you remember hearing about them?”

  Obviously not, his expression said. “I know there are a bunch of those trucks in Pasco.”

  She propped a hip on the edge of his desk. “One of the truck owners got busted in a gloriously public way.”

  “For...?”

  She hurried through the explanation.

  He laughed. “Dumb, but ingenious. You think they’re doing something similar here?”

  “Maybe.” With a half-shrug, she rose.

  “How? The cards are too random.”

  “You’re going to have to watch for it.” She chewed her lower lip. “What if they made some kind of odd bet, tipped the dealer, then picked up the drugs from... Somewhere.”

  “Possible.” Frank tapped his fingers on his desk. “It could explain the buy, but how does the dealer deliver?”

  She paced the narrow aisle in front of his desk. “Too much of the casino is covered by cameras. Are those DEA guys sure the drugs are coming through here?”

  “They are.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  He shrugged. “Let me think about it.”

  “And watch some more?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. At least now I can watch these two instead of everybody.”

  “I’ll PDF th
e screens into a report for you.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “In case Super Secret Agent Penick needs more than my word for it.”

  “I doubt it’ll make it to court, but verifying usually is a good idea in law enforcement.”

  She schooled her expression and closed the laptop. She didn’t need the reminder he used to be a cop. “We’re done, right?”

  She kept her attention on her computer and stowed it in her briefcase. Finally, she looked up. As she’d suspected, Frank was studying her.

  He held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to his own computer monitor. “Unless something else comes up. Send me your bill and I’ll make sure those guys pay you.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll see you around while we finish our audit.” She stepped out of his office and headed for the front entrance.

  Relief battled a bit of guilt that she’d helped in the drug investigation without JC finding out. But the bigger relief came with each footstep away from Frank. The last thing she wanted to do was spend time with him. Becoming his obsession again would send her running back to Seattle, regardless of any commitment she might feel in the Tri-Cities.

  Chapter Nineteen

  With A Little Help From My Friends (The Beatles)

  A clatter came from the steam table as a black-coated worker replenished the buffet line at the Chinese restaurant where Holly and Laurie had met for lunch. The noise bounced off the red lacquered walls and mingled with the din of multiple conversations from the Thursday noon crowd.

  “You want buffet?” the pretty hostess asked.

  Holly exchanged a glance with Laurie. “Sure.”

  They picked through the buffet offerings, then chose a table in a quieter section of the restaurant, far from the clattering noise of the hot plates. While they ate, they caught up on the week’s events. Laurie offered more gossip about the book club. Holly asked her opinion about a new car. Through it all, a frisson of anxiety trickled across Holly’s mind, down her spine and around her stomach. She pushed the Kung Pao chicken around her plate.

  Laurie forked up more Moo Goo Gai Pan. “You aren’t eating.”

  Normally, Holly would dive right into the food. “I’m not hungry.”

  “That’s a first.”

  Holly leaned back and pushed away the plate. “It’s making me queasy. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” A potential virus was better than admitting the men in her life—everything in her life—were spinning out of control.

  “I haven’t heard about a new virus running through the hospital.”

  “Speaking of the hospital.” Holly picked up her chopsticks and poked at a chunk of chicken. “When we were there on Monday, when you told us Danny Shaw died, why didn’t you tell me he was murdered?”

  Laurie’s throat spasmed as she choked on a bite of Moo Goo Gai Pan. Finally, she sputtered, “What?”

  “You heard me.” A tiny bit of anger might’ve leaked into Holly’s tone.

  “Who told you he was murdered?” Laurie’s fork hit the plate with a clatter.

  Holly raised an eyebrow. “Read the newspaper?”

  “Not recently. Seriously? The guy was murdered? At the hospital? My hospital?”

  “I’m surprised the cops aren’t all over everyone connected to it.”

  Laurie sagged in her chair. “Damn. I bet that’s what that staff meeting is about.”

  “Maybe. I bet they’ve already talked to your security people. The photo in the paper probably came from them. Of course, JC came by last night and accused Tate and me of killing him.”

  “No way.” Shock widened Laurie’s eyes.

  “Way.” Holly gave her the two-minute version of Wednesday night’s argument with JC.

  Laurie’s hands rose and fell. “I’d have told you if I knew.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you or blaming you for not telling me.” Holly set the chopsticks aside. “I’m just out of sorts with everything. Maybe it’s the stress getting to me. Work. This thing with Tate. Frank.”

  Trying to make things work with JC.

  Figuring out how—if—to buy Desert Accounting.

  “I could tell something more than the usual is bothering you. Wanna talk about it?” Laurie sipped some tea and waited.

  Holly didn’t want to discuss the mess with George and the possible lawsuits or the ramifications of it. Besides, she couldn’t talk to Laurie about a client any more than she could discuss it with JC. With the DEA and the casino—she had all kinds of confidentiality issues there.

  But she could talk through a career decision with her best friend. Besides, considering a return to Seattle wasn’t running away. It was a triumph.

  Maybe.

  If she decided to go back.

  If she changed her mind about running Desert Accounting.

  Again.

  She scanned the restaurant dining room. No visible clients. No one she recognized. Please let this be the one time nobody in this town hears me sneeze. She leaned across the table. “Guess who called me yesterday?”

  Laurie dabbed stir-fry sauce from the corner of her mouth. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the Pope or the President.”

  “This is important.”

  “Oh.” Laurie tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Well, JC wouldn’t be a secret. Your dad? A competitor waiting to buy the company?”

  “Close. Ashiro called.”

  “Who?”

  “My boss in Seattle.”

  “Oh.” Laurie leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah.” Holly grimaced. “He told me my leave of absence is over.”

  “Well, that’s a problem.”

  “Then he tried to make nice, which made me super suspicious. I called Devon.” She waved an impatient hand at Laurie’s blank expression. “My friend on the team. Devon told me the client demanded I run their deal diligence. That’s why Ashiro wants me back.”

  “A big problem. But doesn’t that gives you leverage if...” Laurie’s voice trailed off as the repercussions registered.

  “Right. If I go back. Professionally, this would be huge. I would probably make partner on it.”

  “But...” Laurie propped her chin on her hand. “You’d leave. No biz for Mom. No JC.”

  “I know.” Holly shifted in her seat, already debating the wisdom of sharing her crazy idea. “What if I bid on the work for Desert Accounting?”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I’d have to talk to my attorney. I’m sure Ashiro would scream non-compete clause.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The bigger problem would be resources. I’m beyond maxed out as it is. The staff have been great, but they have zero experience doing a diligence. Understanding how the deal’s structured. The operating and tax repercussions. Hunting for liabilities.” Holly shook her head. “I could teach them, but I don’t have time.”

  “Sooo.” Laurie dragged out the word. “What are you going to do?”

  Holly drummed her fingers against the table. “I don’t know. If it was just me, I’d go back to Seattle in a heartbeat. It’s what I wanted for my career. I worked my butt off for years to be in that position.”

  “And if you were a guy, there wouldn’t be a question.” Laurie grimaced. “Expectations are changing, but it doesn’t make it any easier for women.”

  “I’m trying to do the right thing. Problem is, I don’t know what that is anymore.”

  “You have been doing the right thing. How many people would put their careers on hold for their parents? I’m not talking about care-taking. That’s a whole different issue. I see that every day. Women shouldering the load—work, kids, up at the hospital taking care of whoever’s sick. Do not sell yourself short.”

  “Yippee. I’m a saint. Except I’m not. I’m so confused and wound-up, I think I’m giving myself an ulcer. What am I supposed to do about Ashiro and Seattle? Stay? Go?” Holly raised her hands, fingers spread. “Okay, I’ll say it. I might be in love with that idiot hunk of a detective. Bu
t if JC doesn’t respect me and what I do—what I can do—how far will love carry us? When do we start bickering instead of wondering when and where we can tear each other’s clothes off?”

  “Happy to hear that part works.”

  Holly narrowed her eyes to slits. “I’m serious.”

  Laurie held up a hand. “You have valid points. But let’s review. I’m not Yoda. I don’t have the answers. But damn, woman. I finally saw you relax when you said you liked it here. I saw you happy whenever JC showed up. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  Holly chewed her lower lip. What had that reaction really told her? That JC had become a terrible relationship risk? That behind his gorgeous façade he could be devious, manipulative and suspicious? Getting involved with him again was begging to get kicked in the emotional teeth. Her logical side—the side that evaluated risk on a daily basis—could list all the reasons a relationship with him was a Bad Idea.

  None of that mattered because she was teetering on love’s cliff. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to fall head first over that cliff’s edge and maybe get herself shattered.

  Again.

  “Well?” Laurie prodded.

  Holly rearranged her chopsticks, aligning them precisely in the center of her plate. “Since we got back together, I’ve seen JC’s downside, but I’ve also seen so much to admire in him. And I liked the way he made me feel.”

  “Oh, really?” Laurie raised an eyebrow.

  Holly gave her the squinty-eyed grimace. “You were the one who kept telling me to examine my feelings.”

  “That past tense didn’t escape me. So, what are you feeling now?”

  “Confused.” She pushed the plate away. “It seems like he’s backslid right into his old pattern. His work is more important. He’s the man, and I should wrap my schedule, my life, around him and his needs.”

  “Have you talked to him?” Laurie chased down a last bite of Moo Goo Gai Pan.

  “I’ve barely seen him. ‘Cause you know, his work.” Holly rolled her eyes. “I knew we needed to talk about Seattle, Ashiro’s offer, so I called and asked him to come over. He showed up and didn’t even know about that phone call. He just wanted to check alibis.”