So About the Money

by Cathy Perkins

  “Really?” That was strange. Holly was surprised Tim let Marcy get in over her head.

  Kaylin straightened, taking on an aggrieved expression. “Half the permitting and inspection requests got rejected because the paperwork was wrong.”

  Surely, Tim wouldn’t knowingly jeopardize his buildings. Why would he let Marcy take on the remodeling project if she couldn’t handle it?

  “I had to redo the PERT charts, figure out what should’ve been done, and rework what was done.”

  Kaylin rattled off a litany of woes. Holly made sympathetic noises while her mind churned. Why was Tim burying Marcy in work? Could something be happening with the Yakima project a more experienced property manager would recognize? Or was he hoping to keep her so busy she wouldn’t have time to notice any financial discrepancies? And what about the new companies?

  Marcy might not have picked up on weirdness with the Yakima project, but she definitely would’ve noticed the new companies.

  And asked about them.

  “Even if I was remotely interested in bookkeeping,” Kaylin continued, “I wouldn’t have time to touch it. God, I hope it isn’t as screwed up as my paperwork is.”

  “It isn’t messed up. There’s just a lot to go through before I meet with Alex and Tim tomorrow.”

  Think positive. Maybe Tim wanted to help Marcy move into a new field.

  Or maybe it was simply cover for all the trips she made to Yakima.

  With a sinking heart, Holly wondered if Marcy actually handled the Yakima retrofit or if the trips were just an excuse to spend time with Tim.

  “If you’ll pack up the papers you found, I’ll take them with me,” Holly said. “We can get the QuickBooks download and pull the trial balance, but I need a starting point for the new entities.”

  “I know the financial stuff is important, but you might as well be speaking Chinese. I don’t have a clue what that means.”

  A superb idea occurred to her. “How about I pull the records in Marcy’s, I mean, your office? I can get the information on the new companies and see what needs to be filed before the end of the year.” There. Brilliant.

  Kaylin shrugged. “Sure. Let me set the phone to auto.” She mashed a few buttons on the console and rose to her feet.

  Holly followed the woman through the familiar hallway. Developers started new entities all the time. Typically there was a separate corporation for each development project. Separate legal entities shielded the rest of the business if anything went wrong. Problems at one development didn’t create a liability for the others. Maybe Tim started the new companies, planning ahead to when pent-up demand for housing and office space returned with the improving economy.

  With a lighter heart, Holly entered Marcy’s former office with Kaylin trailing behind. There wasn’t anything ominous about the messed-up paperwork or the volume of unfiled and disorganized documents. Marcy had simply been buried in learning a new job and got behind with the bookkeeping part.

  Twenty minutes later, Holly closed the last file cabinet. “Nothing.”

  Damn.

  The metal drawers contained only the normal information related to the existing operating companies. “Tim started five new companies. Where’s the paperwork?” she asked the temp. “Not the current statements you sent over. The permanent files. Incorporation. Property. That stuff.”

  She glanced at Lillian’s file cabinets but didn’t bother opening the payroll records. Drumming her fingers, Holly studied the desk Marcy had used. “Those papers you found, they were in the desk?”

  “The envelopes were crammed in the top drawer. I guess she didn’t have time to file them.”

  “Maybe Marcy planned to take the records to the satellite office. She used that office a lot.” Holly leaned against the file cabinet, thinking through the missing paperwork. Bits and pieces of misfiled paperwork she could understand, but entire files? For all the new companies? The part of her that used to dig into financial statements for the M&A team smelled something that stank as bad as a dead skunk in the middle of Columbia Parkway.

  Holly stepped away from the cabinets, heading for the door. “It sorta makes sense that the files are at the other office.”

  If Tim—and by proxy, Marcy—was hiding something, the small, unstaffed Yakima office offered a good starting point to discover what it was. “I have to go by there anyway. If you’ll give me Marcy’s keys, I can pick up everything while I’m there.”

  Kaylin hesitated. “Tim didn’t say anything about that.”

  Holly shrugged and kept walking, the other woman at her heels. “You can drive over there yourself if you want. You’ll have to go by the post office and then pull everything I need from the files.”

  Reaching the lobby, she half-turned and hoped the woman would take the bait.

  Kaylin dropped into her chair behind the reception desk, her expression a combination of curiosity, caution, and dismay. “Where is the other office? What kind of stuff would you need?”

  Holly placed a hand on the front door and spoke over her shoulder. “Yakima. I need incorporation documents, everything that was filed with the Secretary of State. Then there’s property records, loans, any operational activity. I’m not sure how file Marcy filed them, but worst case, it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” She frowned. “Maybe a little longer.”

  “I don’t know what that stuff looks like.” Kaylin opened the center drawer and removed a ring of keys. “I found these in Marcy’s desk. Are they what you’re talking about?”

  Holly took the keys and shuffled though them. She recognized three of the distinctive flat post office box keys. One box here, one in Yakima. Where was the third box? “These are the ones. Thanks. I’ll drop them off later.”

  Tim opened the door to the building’s atrium as Holly left his office.

  “Were you looking for me?” he asked.

  Not really.

  She didn’t want to talk to him, much less accuse him of anything, until she knew more about the new companies. It could be innocent, if somewhat messy. She glanced over her shoulder at his office. Kaylin would tell him she’d asked about the new companies.

  Come on. Think of something. She blurted out the first question that came to mind. “Who is Alan Bowen?”

  Tim looked blank. “No idea.”

  He moved past her. “I don’t want to be rude, but Nicole and I have a meeting with the bankers about Southridge Park. I need to prep for it.”

  Holly’s “due diligence” radar pinged with his answer. Tim should’ve recognized the man’s name. “Bowen’s listed as the managing director on TNM Ventures.”

  Tim pivoted toward her. A flush started at his chest and climbed his neck. “What are you doing looking at TNM? I told you that isn’t an operating company.”

  Holly blinked, surprised by his anger. “Whoa, slow down. I’m confused. Kaylin sent over the bank statement. It looked like there was substantial activity.”

  “Well, there isn’t. I set up TNM for future activity. I’m considering a development in Spokane.”

  Hadn’t he said it was to buy land for Nicole on the Snake River? Having trouble keeping his stories straight? And none of that explained the bank activity. “Spokane? Then why is the company registered in Wyoming?”

  Tim sighed, looking impatient. “The business climate in Wyoming is more favorable. The restrictions and regulations in Washington are out of control. The liability insurance alone is eating me alive.”

  A knot of worry loosened in her stomach. She was reading something into the situation that didn’t exist. “I noticed the premium increase.”

  His explanation didn’t line up with the facts, the tiny voice in her head nagged. Insurance followed business operations, not the incorporation location. “Tim, that doesn’t make sense.”

  A look close to panic slid across Tim’s face, then vanished. “Maybe we should talk about this.”

  “No hurry.” Holly moved toward Desert Accounting’s door, already regre
tting asking the questions. “I’m sure it’s just a mixup. And I can’t talk right now. I have a meeting. In fact, I was just leaving.”

  “You can’t.” Tim grabbed her arm. “We need to talk. Now. Not tomorrow.”

  He swung her around. Clutching her arms, he pulled her close. His face hovered inches away from hers. “You’re getting the wrong idea.”

  She turned her head and strained backward in the too intimate grip. “Tim—”

  He tightened his hold, grasping both her arms, nearly shaking her. “I can explain.”

  “Am I interrupting?” Nicole stood in the outer doorway, a stunned expression on her perfect features.

  Tim released Holly’s arms as if they were radioactive.

  Nicole’s eyes flicked from Tim to Holly and back. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Tim and Holly answered simultaneously.

  She spun away from Tim and headed for the safety of her own office. “Don’t be late for our meeting tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder.

  ~$~

  Holly’s fingers drummed a pattern on Bruce Fairchild’s conference table. Catching herself, she stilled the nervous gesture and offered the gray-haired man a smile while her gaze slid to the clock on the credenza. 2:34. “I’m sure Mrs. Price will be here any minute.”

  Making excuses made everyone look bad—Holly, her mother, Desert Accounting. She had to pin down her mother—Donna—about why she’d been so uncharacteristically distracted this week. Groping for a topic—any topic—Holly tried to remember if the morning news offered more than the continued hunt for Marcy’s ex. Where was the guy? Outer Mongolia? The longer Lee Alders stayed hidden, the guiltier he looked.

  She glanced around the conference room. Dark leather chairs surrounded the highly polished mahogany table. Slatted shades behind heavy drapes filtered the afternoon sun. Her attention landed on a pair of mounted pheasants. “Do you hunt?”

  Bruce followed her gaze. With a smile, he relaxed, slowly rocking his chair. “I got that pair of roosters on the same day. I was out at Schoolhouse. You know where that is?”

  “Off Highway 12, near the McNeary Refuge?”

  “That’s right.” He looked a little surprised and a little pleased. He launched into one of those step-by-step reenactments that men gloried in. She pasted an interested expression on her face and silently cursed her mother. Where was she this time?

  Selling Desert Accounting’s services was different than her other job. It had taken her a while to figure out how to approach people. With the Seattle-based M&A team, clients came to them, drawn by the firm’s aggressive reputation. In a smaller town like Richland, business depended on relationships. Once she had the right project and the right opportunity to get inside the company and up-sell, her mother was supposed to pave the way through her network. Every time she bailed, Holly was left scrambling to cover.

  As if she’d read Holly’s mind, Bruce’s secretary appeared at the door. “Excuse me. Donna Price just called. She said she was running late and to start without her.”

  Holly pasted a fresh smile on her face. Her mother was a dead woman.

  The secretary directed her next comments at her boss. “Donna said to tell Cynthia ‘Hello’ and that she’s enjoying working with her on the Holiday gala. The chefs lined up for this year sound fabulous.”

  Major employers like Bruce sponsored the event—a primary fundraiser for area charities and one of the few dress-up affairs in the area.

  Bruce beamed after his secretary left. “Your mother is a wonderful woman. Terrific organizer. You must be happy to be here, working with her.”

  “It’s been a real adventure.” Holly kept the ironic note out of her voice.

  She opened her folio and pulled out the analysis Rick had produced.

  Why wasn’t Rick here, delivering this? If her mother kept pushing responsibility for the practice onto her shoulders, Holly intended to make some changes, starting with Rick’s role.

  Forty minutes later, she wrapped up her assessment of the company’s tax position. The company had overlooked several opportunities in the latest legislation. By Holly’s—make that Rick’s—assessment, they’d receive a healthy income tax refund.

  Bruce watched her over steepled fingers. “Do you intend to stay in Richland?”

  Holly smoothed the startled expression off her face. Not many clients asked this bluntly. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie outright. “We’ll see how things play out.”

  He accepted the veiled reference to her father and she didn’t amplify. Her comment had been vague enough to imply whatever Bruce wanted it to mean.

  “I hear good things about you and your mother’s firm. Fresh ideas.” He gave an approving nod.

  People talked about Desert Accounting? Called it “her” firm? “Thanks. I’ve met some terrific people here.”

  She reached for her briefcase, but stopped midway as she realized two things. She had more friends here than in Seattle…and she liked what she did at Desert Accounting. The little voice in her head muttered, No shit, Sherlock. You just figuring that out?

  Bruce made polite chitchat while she stowed her papers. After the requisite handshake, she left his office and climbed into her Beemer, armed with a follow-up meeting to discuss succession planning. Once she cleared the parking lot, she tapped the Bluetooth. “Mother.”

  The phone connected, but she wasn’t surprised when the call went straight to voicemail.

  “The meeting went well.” Holly gave her mother the one-minute version. The corners of her mouth turned up. “Did you know people refer to Desert Accounting as ‘our’ firm—as in yours and mine, rather than Dad’s? We should talk about that.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Thursday evening

  Holly parked in front of La Boutique, triumphant she’d found the store without making any wrong turns, and hurried inside.

  “Holly?” Yessica stepped away from the cash register.

  “My book club meeting starts in a few minutes—we meet at the library—but I have another question.”

  She’d already decided not to mention the pregnancy. If Yessica didn’t know, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. The woman didn’t need another reason to grieve. “Lillian told me about Lee coming to see Marcy at the office. About him giving her a letter. Did she talk to you about that?”

  Yessica fidgeted with her rings, then looked directly into Holly’s eyes. “I realize you’re trying to help, but why are you doing this?”

  Holly went still, wondering what she’d done wrong. Yessica had talked to her before. “What do you mean?”

  “The more I think about it, the stranger it seems. Why are you looking into Maricella’s death?”

  Holly pursed her lips and considered how to answer. At last she said, “I want to know why.”

  At first, it had been to clear her name and Desert Accounting’s reputation—plus some curiosity—but the more she learned about Marcy, the more she needed to know how and why Marcy’s relationship had spiraled out of control.

  Yessica tilted her head and waited. Her expression said, Not good enough.

  Holly straightened the brochures heaped on the counter. If she expected Yessica to open up, she had to meet her at least halfway.

  Painful admissions didn’t come easily.

  “I knew a man in Seattle…with the same…dominance issues. He tried to…” How could she describe it? Rearrange? Control? “Take over my life.”

  “And?” Yessica demanded.

  “You mentioned earlier about Marcy and Lee meeting at a coffee shop. That caught my attention…I started seeing a guy that way too…”

  How to explain? Holly sighed. “It sounds so ordinary. Like anyone else meeting a new guy. We had coffee. I mentioned to Frank I loved mocha lattes. A few days later, he brought a mocha latte to my office. I thought it was nice. I was working crazy hours and it gave me a break and us a chance to talk. He did it again the next week, and again, it seemed sweet.”
r />   Yessica shifted. “I don’t understand. How is this connected to Maricella?”

  “Frank started coming by every day. He expected me to stop whatever I was doing and talk to him. He never considered the fact that I was working sixteen-hour days on a transaction or that I had a demanding job. It was all about him. And he always brought the damned mocha latte. It turned creepy and controlling, like he was making decisions about what I could drink. I mean, what if I didn’t want a mocha? What if I wanted a double-shot or a decaf?”

  She forced her mouth to close. She sounded crazy.

  “Why?” Yessica asked. “You and Maricella. You’re smart. Pretty. Why would you get involved with men like that?”

  Holly fiddled with the stack of brochures. “It’s insidious. At the beginning, Frank was charming. Attractive. Charismatic.” Devon’s comment smacked her. In the boardroom, Alders was pure charisma.

  Damn. She raked a hand through her hair. “Bottom line? I got away, but it’s made me more sensitive to women trapped in a bad relationship. In Marcy’s case, I think the police are asking the wrong questions. That they’re going about this the wrong way.”

  Yessica’s lips thinned. After a long moment, she said, “Maricella was very angry after Lee came to see her. He had no right to come to her office. She had the paper to make him stay away.”

  Yeah, yeah. He walked right through that restraining order and put her in intensive care. The line from the old song rolled through Holly’s head and she nearly gagged. No. No country music. She had to get back to Seattle, home of Nirvana and grunge music. “Did she mention other papers? Lillian said Lee gave your sister an envelope. Whatever was in it upset Marcy.”

  “Lee made a divorce settlement offer. It was an insult.”

  Gee, what a surprise. Lee tried to stiff Marcy at the end of their marriage. “You didn’t mention the settlement offer the other day.”

  Yessica’s hands lifted and fell. “What was there to say? It was another example of what a cabrón he is. Lee wasn’t just a bastard, he was a cheap bastard. Maricella didn’t sign the divorce papers. Are they important?”