So About the Money

by Cathy Perkins

  She didn’t know what Lee would do if he thought she was a threat, but the sneak attack today sounded like something he’d orchestrate. She might’ve registered on the man’s radar since she’d stirred up Yessica over the divorce and the will. But wasn’t he still missing, with how many policemen looking for him?

  Frank was the wild card. She remembered his verbal threats when she’d tried to break up with him. JC had warned her that Frank might come after her about losing his job in Seattle. His call and the flowers made it seem like he thought he was still in love with her though. Frank didn’t know about Alex or JC, so he wouldn’t have lashed out in a jealous rage. Although he’d mentioned seeing her with Tim in the parking lot…

  If he was following her, would he have seen Thursday’s session with JC? Or Alex’s showdown on Friday morning?

  Frank wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing her with either man.

  And what was up with that weird conversation after the wreck? He’d scared the crap out of her, but he seemed to think he was looking out for her. That had been his excuse in Seattle for following her around. Damn, why did he have to show up in Richland? Was it a coincidence or had he followed her from Seattle? And why had he run away instead of telling the police what he saw?

  She stopped, roller frozen in place. What if the assorted vehicle incidents were completely unrelated to Marcy’s death? Had she pissed off another client?

  No. Desert Accounting’s clients—other than maybe Tim—were happy.

  She moved ahead, swinging the roller in a long W. Everything—all the weirdness of the week—was tangled together. If she could pull the right thread, maybe the mess would unravel and she could see it clearly.

  Names and motives churned as she painted her way across the wall, but she didn’t have any clearer idea who’d attacked her than she did when she’d started. She made the last pass with the roller, then turned and surveyed the room. Creamy white walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the oversized windows and lit the interior, making the space look bigger.

  Not bad.

  Her phone chirped. She fished it from her pocket and checked the screen. Blocked number.

  No way.

  She stuffed it back into her jeans and reached for the roller. Cleanup sucked, but it was part of the process.

  The phone chirped again. The screen again announced, “Blocked number.”

  Wrong number? Reporter? Sales pitch? Frank Phalen?

  Irritated—and determined to be strong—she opened the connection. “Who is this?”

  “Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer before?” JC’s rapid questions didn’t disguise his concerned tone.

  “The number was blocked.”

  A pause. “Good point. Sorry. I forgot to override it.”

  Part of her was still pissed he’d tried to give her an order that morning, but she actually liked that he was worried, which was rather disturbing. And damn, had he really said the word “sorry”?

  “How’s your head?”

  Her fingers touched her nose and the bandage from Thursday’s gash. Today’s close encounter with the air bag hadn’t helped either one. She channeled her best airhead. “There are these voices…”

  “That’s a relief. Now you have somebody else to call up and pester.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?” she said dryly. “Like, I don’t know, catching criminals?”

  “I needed to check on you.”

  Needed to? “Check on, or check up on? Admit it, you wanted to make sure I was at home.”

  “C’mon, Holly. Be reasonable. I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you.”

  “So, is half the police force in two counties listening to this conversation?”

  She felt JC’s silent count to ten. “I tried your cell, but no one answered. Using the radio was the fastest way to get in touch with you. Nunez is a friend. He patched the call through.”

  Damn. Her cell had been in the car after the EMT moved her to the ambulance. “Having helpful friends is nice, but why would a highway patrol officer know to contact you in the first place, when I had a wreck? I didn’t ask him to.”

  “Ah…yeah. About that. I put a code in your file.”

  “I have a file? As in, the police have a file on me?”

  “More like a flag.”

  She ground her teeth. “A flag.”

  “On your license.”

  “Let me get this straight. You coded my driver’s license with your contact information?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious. “When did you plan to share that little detail?”

  “Now sounds like a great time.” From his tone, if he were standing in front of her, both of his dimples would be on display.

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Uh-huh.”

  “The state patrol turned your latest incident over to us. We’ll consolidate the cases.”

  That took her aback. “You really think they’re related?" She could almost see JC trying not to make a smartass remark and said, “I’m not that dense. I realize they’re probably related, but the cars were different. I seem to be the common element.”

  “I wish today’s incident was a coincidence, rather than because you disobeyed my direct order to stay out of my investigation.”

  “Excuse me? Direct order? I don’t think so. And for the last time, I am not running around asking people where they were the day Marcy was killed.”

  Someone spoke in the background and JC muffled the phone. “I have to go. I’ll come by and check on you later. If that’s okay with you,” he added in a tone that could be polite or smartass, depending on the way she interpreted it.

  “Yeah. About that. I have plans for this evening.”

  “Cancel them.”

  “I’ll be with friends. Being with them is better than being here alone if that asshole comes after me.”

  “Holly.” Exasperation morphed into cop mode. “Which asshole are you referring to?”

  “Frank Phalen.”

  There was a beat of silence. “And?”

  “You did tell me to let you know if Frank contacted me. I told you he was at the wreck, but he sent flowers too.”

  “When? Where?”

  “To the office yesterday, but I didn’t figure it out until today.”

  “Trust me, I intend to interview him.”

  From JC’s grim tone, she almost wished she could be there to see the confrontation. There was no question who’d win that battle.

  “Phalen might’ve sent the flowers to the office because he doesn’t know where you live. You’re not listed in the phone directory.”

  And JC knew that how? She let that one pass.

  “If he’s out there looking to make trouble, I want you to stay home.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m going to Bookwalter with my friends. I’ll be safer there with people around me.”

  “How are you getting there? Your car’s totaled.” JC clearly realized he wasn’t going to win this battle.

  “They have this amazing invention called a rental car. They even bring it to you. Of course, my insurance company would only spring for an econobox.”

  “At least it isn’t as distinctive as your BMW. It’ll be harder for the next maniac to spot.”

  “Especially since it’ll be sitting in my driveway. Gwen and Laurie are picking me up.”

  “If you insist on going, wait for me at the winery. I’ll meet you there as soon as we finish here and give you a ride home.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re necessary.”

  Before she could respond to that cryptic remark, he said, “We need to finish the conversation we started Friday night.”

  Her heart stopped beating and she stood there with her mouth hanging open. A guy who actually wanted to talk?

  Wow. Hell really could freeze over.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Saturday night

  Holly watched t
he flickering flames in Bookwalter’s fire pit. Propane heaters hissed discreetly from the terrace edges. Vines climbed the latticed windbreak. The remaining leaves shifted in the faint breeze, a soft rustling counterpart to the patter of conversations and light jazz piped through the outside speakers.

  The size of their group ebbed and flowed as friends stopped to chat and then moved on. Someone on the other side of the fire pit called, “Holly, I heard you had a wreck today. What happened?”

  She remembered not to shake her head. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else.”

  Laurie elbowed her in the ribs.

  “What?” Holly would’ve poked her back if Laurie’s foot weren’t propped on a bench, making her look especially vulnerable. Her friend’s crutches leaned against the windbreak and a heavy cast encased her elevated ankle. “There’s a difference between bottling everything up and not talking about something because it was terrifying and you’d rather not re-experience it.”

  “Ooh. An unsolicited admission of feelings. I feel like Yoda, or was it the old guy in The Karate Kid? ‘My work here is done.’ ” She leaned closer and whispered, “One more thing. Quit feeling guilty. It’s working for me.” Looking like a blue-haired elfin sprite, Laurie smiled at a cute blond guy who handed her a glass of white wine and pulled a chair close beside her.

  Conversation moved to the upcoming Wine Harvest celebration, the artists’ open gallery tour, and whether the area could support the proposed water park and how to pay for it. Holly let the voices move past her, punctuated by pops from the fire and bursts of music when the wine-bar door opened.

  “Since you’re giving all this up, you must really miss it,” Laurie remarked quietly.

  Holly turned to her best friend. “Miss what?”

  Laurie gave her a Well, duh? expression. “Ever since you got here, you’ve been saying you couldn’t wait to get back to Seattle.”

  “I do miss the restaurants and shopping.”

  “I meant to your job. It always sounded so impressive. Megadollar wheeling and dealing. Hanging out with the movers and shakers.”

  Holly shrugged. “I really don’t miss the pressure or the hours.”

  “What about the challenge? I mean, a local practice has to be a step down by comparison.”

  “Maybe what I do here isn’t glamorous, but I like getting to know the clients, helping them with their business. I’m having fun working on my house. And I have time for stuff like the book club. When people don’t try to run over us.” There were good things here. World-class vineyards. Live jazz. Friends who weren’t ready to cut her throat on the next deal.

  “That rather sucked, but is that why I caught you staring into the fire like Little Orphan Annie? Could it possibly be you’ll miss what you found here when you leave?”

  Holly shifted in her chair. JC’s words echoed. We didn’t finish our conversation. “I thought working all the time was the reason I hadn’t found anybody special. I figured there’d be plenty of time, that eventually…”

  “You’d meet Mr. Right?”

  “I know it’s stupid. But…” She sighed. “I’m almost thirty and I’m going home alone to my mother’s cat. How pathetic is that?”

  “Totally. Especially since your mother took the cat home when she brought over chicken soup. You don’t even have the fur ball.”

  Holly rolled her eyes and picked up her wine glass. “Smartass.”

  “Seriously, don’t settle for just anyone. We both know it’s always been JC.”

  She nearly choked on her sip of wine. “You’re imagining things again.”

  “JC was doing some major hovering action Thursday night.”

  “If he was hovering, it’s because he wants to catch me doing something wrong.”

  Laurie leaned close. Her eyes gleamed with conspiratorial fun. “It looked to me like he wanted to catch you doing something naughty, but it’s only illegal in certain states.”

  Holly laughed. “That part I might not mind.”

  “Let’s not forget what I interrupted last night.”

  She quit laughing. It would be all or nothing with JC. There’d be no half-assed dating, marking time as she’d done with Alex. If she planned to go back to Seattle, JC was out of the picture. Permanently.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  And if she stayed? She’d seen things this week to admire in the man. Could they figure out a way to make a relationship work?

  Laurie was looking at her expectantly. “Well?”

  Unilateral decisions had landed her in this position to begin with. She still had no idea what to tell JC when they resumed their conversation. Communication and trust. Identifying the core issues was one thing. Doing something about them was the real challenge.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Don’t do anything with Blond Guy you’ll regret while I’m gone.”

  “Who’s going to regret anything?”

  ~$~

  Holly stepped out of the restroom stall, crossed to the sink, and checked her image in the mirror. Color brightened her cheeks and a spark lit her eyes. Refusing to cower at home felt as though she were making a statement. She wouldn’t be intimidated or made a prisoner by fear. Tonight was all about enjoying life. No obsessing over Tim and Marcy or the fraud. Not even any worries about Frank.

  She had to admit Laurie was right about one thing. Having JC and the Richland cops watching out for Frank—and her—meant she didn’t have to constantly watch her own back. In spite of the ongoing murder investigation, which she would happily leave to the cops for the next few days, she felt more relaxed than she’d been in months.

  The outer door opened behind her. The chilly blast had nothing to do with the air temperature. Nicole appeared in the mirror behind her, her eyes narrowed. “Leave my husband alone.”

  Holly reached for a paper towel. Nicole was not going to ruin her evening. This misunderstanding had to end. Remembering how angry she’d been at Meredith—okay, that bitch really had snaked her man—she could understand Nicole’s fury. But the woman had reached the wrong conclusion about what she thought she’d seen.

  Since she planned to dump Tim as a client, she could approach Nicole woman-to-woman. “I don’t have any designs on Tim. He doesn’t interest me in the least.”

  “I’m not stupid. You’re ruining everything.” The petite blonde spun on her pretty little heel, stalked into a stall, and slammed the door.

  Well, that worked just wonderfully.

  “Don’t worry,” Holly called, feeling ridiculous and more than a little eager to leave the room. “I’ll stay as far away from Tim as possible.”

  She jerked open the outside door and stepped into the discretely lit breezeway. Music, firelight, and laughter drifted around the corner of the building.

  A man’s form detached itself from the deep shadows of the terrace. Her heart leapt at the possibility it might be JC. But the reptile-fearing remnant of her brain screamed, Run away!

  “I need to talk to you.”

  A different set of warning bells rang. She glanced over her shoulder toward the restroom. She had no interest in feeding Nicole’s delusion. “Call Tracey and make an appointment.”

  She stepped toward the back patio. Tim’s hand shot out, capturing her elbow. “No, now. You have to stop.”

  “Let go of me.”

  She tugged her arm, but he pulled her closer. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I’ll fix it, but you have to stop digging into everything.”

  Holly froze. Why had she thought she could do the cloak and dagger thing? How many times had she complained she couldn’t make a move without half the town commenting? Of course he’d noticed she was asking too many questions about him.

  Did he know about her visit to Yakima?

  Had Tim been driving the SUV?

  “I did not kill Marcy, but all the noise you’re making could bring the cops down on my head.”

  She pried his fingers off her arm. “Then do the right thing.�
�

  “I will. I promise. Just give me some time.”

  “Everything okay?” A man, one of the group from the fire pit, stepped onto the terrace.

  She could’ve kissed him, except the way her luck was running, his girlfriend would pick that moment to visit the restroom.

  “It’s fine. He’s leaving.” She pulled her arm free as the door to the women’s restroom banged closed. Crap. How much of this conversation had Nicole heard?

  Before she could say more, Nicole stepped beside her husband and threaded her arm through Tim’s. “I’m so tired, honey. I need to go home.”

  Both men turned their attention to the petite woman, who looked fragile and beautiful in the dim light. Holly took another step away from the couple.

  “Negative people ruin the evening.” She shot a glance at Holly before nestling her head on her husband’s shoulder.

  “Whatever you want, Honey.” Tim wound his arm around her shoulders and the pair headed toward the parking lot.

  “What was that about?” Her rescuer gave her a curious glance.

  For a second, she wanted to tell him everything, Tim and the fraud, whether Marcy was involved, and how much Nicole knew or suspected, but she bit her tongue. The guy was a complete stranger. “Damned if I know.”

  They watched Tim bundle Nicole into the front seat of his Mercedes. “That is one weird woman.” He shrugged and grinned. “I never went for the helpless waif routine.”

  Finally, someone else saw through Nicole’s act. Not that it helped Holly deal with the deluded woman. She gave him a grateful smile before she turned back to the fire pit. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  The jazz trio playing inside the wine bar finished their last set.

  “Are you ready to go?” Laurie asked Holly.

  Gwen hovered on the other side of the chair, purse slung over her shoulder.

  Holly glanced around the back patio. Several other people drained their glasses and rose, preparing to leave as well. “Well…I’m supposed to meet somebody here.”