For Love of Money (4 page)

“Wha..?” She sputtered with outrage, but he cut her off with a slashing hand motion.

“Tell me, Holly. What am I supposed to think? You and your boyfriend just happen to find the murdered body of a woman who is your friend and his partner’s employee. Interesting coincidence?”

Chapter Four

JC’s suspicions lay on the table between them.

Holly stared at him and hung onto her incredulity and her temper. “It may be a coincidence, but it’s only an issue if you make it one. This interview is over.”

“You said you’d help.” Disapproval frosted his voice.

She crossed her arms in a defensive move. This wasn’t about JC and the antagonism between them, her frustration with Desert Accounting, or her life in exile. “I said I’ll help you find Marcy’s killer. All you have to do is ask me about her. Quit pushing me on the other stuff. I didn’t kill her, and you know it.”

His gaze dropped to his notepad. Rather than reopen it, he drummed his fingers across the cover.

Dammit, was he admitting he was being an ass about their past, or did he actually need her help? How was she supposed to help when she didn’t know anything?

The muscles across his shoulders relaxed, and his voice warmed from deep freeze to room temperature. “I need to understand Ms. Ramirez’s regular routine. Then we can retrace her steps and figure out when and where she disappeared. Fill me in on the details of her day.”

Holly softened her posture, and reached for her coffee mug. “You should talk to Tim Stevens or one of the Stevens Ventures office staff. They can tell you more than I can.”

“I have that covered. An outside opinion can be helpful.”

What did that mean? Had he already talked to people at Stevens Ventures? Did he think Tim was lying?

Did he think
she
was?

JC’s expression didn’t give her any hints about his thoughts.

“As near as I could tell, Marcy did a little of everything.” Her hand swirled in a vague, encompassing gesture. “Bookkeeper, project manager. She even filled in occasionally as the receptionist.”

“A key employee.”

Holly placed the mug on the table. “Marcy was smart and she caught on fast. Tim talked about promoting her to full-time project manager. When she didn’t come in Wednesday, people assumed she’d gone up the Valley to check on one of the sites. At the time, everybody figured she was working out of the Yakima office.”

JC scribbled on his note pad. “What does that mean? Work out of Yakima? Check on the sites?”

“Inspections, checking on contractors.”

“This was at buildings Stevens leases out?”

“No. The property managers handle the occupied buildings—rents, maintenance, that kind of thing. Marcy occasionally did an inspection for the managers, but she handled properties under renovation. She was working on several projects, but the Yakima one was the largest.”

He rocked his pen between his fingers, his expression a thoughtful frown. “She could’ve vanished from any of those places.”

“Marcy never mentioned trouble with the workmen.” Holly combed her fingers through her hair, trying to remember anything else Marcy had said about her trips around the Valley. At an almost subconscious level, she noticed JC’s gaze tracking her movement.
Yikes
. Not preening.

She dropped her hand. “But you can see why we weren’t too concerned about her whereabouts.”

Whereabouts? Did she really just use that word in a sentence?

His dimples flashed, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “No signs of duress?”

“Duress?” A blush warmed her cheeks and she cursed her fair complexion.

“No one saw or knew anything indicating she didn’t leave voluntarily.”

“Oh. Right.”
Brilliant
.

Hoping to blow past the faux pas
,
she said, “I talked to Brea—the Stevens Ventures receptionist.”

He raised an eyebrow, asking how this was relevant.

“Last week, when we thought Marcy was missing”—
instead of dead
—“Brea said Marcy mentioned a guy named Lee, but I don’t know if that’s who Marcy took off with.”

JC sat up a lot straighter. “Ms. Ramirez’s ex was in town?”

“Marcy has an ex? I mean,
had
an ex?” JC seemed to already know about the guy, whoever he was. “Why didn’t she tell people about him? You think he’s the one?”

“How long have you been dating Alejandro Montoya?”

Holly blinked. “I thought we agreed you’d just ask about Marcy.”

“Answer the question.” The hard-ass cop was back in charge.

Was Alex still a suspect? Or was JC using the investigation as an excuse to pry into her current relationship? “Why?”

“Holly.” His glare was part threat and part exasperation.

“Fine.” She threw up her hands. “Not that it’s any of your
official
business. Not long, a month or so.”

His lips tightened when she emphasized
official
. “How well do you know him?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer. Well enough to go out. Well enough to at least
think
about sex.

Yeah, like that was a good idea.

Not.

None of that was an answer she wanted to give, especially to JC. She shrugged. “I’m getting to know him.”

JC draped an ankle over his knee. “I need background information. Where does he work?”

“He owns a restaurant in Pasco. He told the cops about it this morning.”

The detective lifted an eyebrow, clearly expecting more.

“What?” She lifted her hands, palm up. She and Alex might not be headed for a happily ever after, but he wasn’t a murderer.

“I understand he’s Tim Stevens’s business partner.”

Alex and Tim invested together, but as far as she knew, they weren’t criminal masterminds. “I believe we’ve established that fact. Is there something specific you want to know?”

“Tell me about Ms. Ramirez and Tim Stevens’s relationship.”

“Tim is Marcy’s boss, not her boyfriend.”

“I know she worked for him. Did Ms. Ramirez get along with him?”

So now Tim was a suspect? “Everybody gets along with Tim. Tim and his wife Nicole treat everybody—employees, clients—like friends. They asked me to their Labor Day party.”

“And?” he asked. “Relevance?”

“Wait a minute.” She crossed to the alcove she used as a home office, rummaged through the drawer, and found a picture. “This was taken at the party. Tim gave all of us a copy.”

JC squinted at the photo. “Is that Ms. Ramirez?”

Holly smoothed the creases from the surface. The picture showed half a dozen people clustered in a tight pack. Holly stood to one side, sandwiched between Alex and a property manager. Thankfully, the photo had been taken early in the day and she still wore a cute cover-up over her bathing suit.

She focused her attention on Marcy. Even with her dark, lustrous hair scraped back in a wind-blown ponytail, wearing a ridiculous John Deere baseball cap, Marcy looked adorable. Her dark eyes glittered with laughter and her grin was wall-to-wall. This was how Holly wanted to remember her, not as the horrible corpse they’d found.

Her finger traced the gold necklace at Marcy’s throat and lingered on the intertwined hearts. Who’d have thought the ornament would one day help identify her body?

“May I?” JC extended his hand and she surrendered the picture. He studied Marcy’s image. “The necklace.”

“Marcy started wearing it a couple of months ago. That party was on Labor Day, so I guess she got it around then. She wore it all the time.”

“Do you know where she got it? Who gave it to her?”

“She never said.”

He continued to stare at the picture. “I wasn’t aware you were so tight with that group. I see Alejandro Montoya was at the party, too.”

Why did he insist on using Alex’s full, Hispanic name? “Tim’s a client. As you pointed out, Alex is his partner.”

“Do you hang out with all your clients in a bathing suit?”

She stiffened. “What business is that of yours?”

Their past history was still complicating this...whatever it was—meeting, interview, interrogation.

JC placed the photo where she could see Marcy’s smile.

Holly glanced from the picture to the detective. She didn’t need his less than subtle reminder about his reason for being there. Except this wasn’t about Marcy anymore.

She pushed back from the table and rose. She crossed the empty living room—a walk rather than a stomp—and pulled his coat from the closet.

He remained seated at the table, watching her.

“When you decide to actually investigate Marcy’s death, we’ll talk. For now, you’re leaving. We’re done.”

He shook his head. “We’re just getting started.”

“Then I better start my own investigation, because this isn’t getting anywhere.”

Chapter Five

Sunday, late afternoon

Holly cruised Howard Amon Park’s small parking lot. She scanned the rows for her best friend’s car, hoping she was in the right place. Laurie Gordon’s Prius was tiny, but distinctive.

The park ran for miles along the west bank of the Columbia River, from somewhere below the Blue Bridge in Kennewick all the way to the Hanford Nuclear Site. It widened periodically into named areas, but she always had trouble remembering what the different segments were called. She should’ve just told Laurie to meet her at the Fingernail. The bandshell’s pale blue top poked through the trees like the index finger it resembled.

She parked, climbed from the car, and tugged the zipper on her jacket higher. She’d changed into jeans and a fleece top, but the wind off the Columbia River carried a bite. Rather than pace, she leaned against the Beemer’s fender and idly watched other people enjoy the autumn sunshine. Teenagers, families, ordinary people living ordinary lives.

The sun felt good on her face. Eyes closed, she tilted her head. Children’s voices, the teenagers’ music, an occasional car rumbling through the parking lot receded into a background drone. White noise for relaxation.

“Holly?”

The male voice jolted her to attention. Heart thumping, she pivoted toward the sound.

Never let your guard down
. Especially not in public. That was one lesson she’d learned from Frank.

“Sorry,” the middle-aged man said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Hand pressed to her chest, she managed a weak smile when she recognized him as a client.

“I wanted to introduce my wife.” He gestured to a brunette who held a leash connected to something small, fluffy, and cute.

They chatted and petted the dog, while Holly told her overactive imagination to get a grip. A few minutes later, the couple headed for the wide, riverside path.

A Prius purred into the lot and parked. Laurie emerged. The sun caught a bright blue streak in her dark hair. Before Holly could wonder how the hospital administration reacted to the hair enhancement, Laurie closed the gap between them, grasped her, and squeezed her tight.

“I can’t believe Marcy’s dead.” Holly leaned against her friend, worn out by too many emotional slams. For a while, they hugged in shared grief. Finally, she sniffed and dabbed a knuckle under her eyes. “I thought I was all cried out.”

“That takes a while.” Laurie pulled tissues from her pocket and handed her one.

They wiped their eyes and blew their noses. Without making a conscious decision, they headed toward the paved walking path.

Laurie tucked her hands in her pockets and scuffed through the fallen leaves. “You didn’t have to drive over here. I could’ve come by your house.”

Holly threaded an arm through Laurie’s. “You had to work and I needed to get out of the house. Being alone with my thoughts was driving me nuts.”

“Some cops in the ER were talking about Marcy. I swear, the news ran through the hospital faster than the flu.” Laurie worked on the hospital’s administrative side and heard every rumor swirling around the medical center.

“Big surprise the cops were gossiping,” Holly muttered.

Within minutes, they left Howard Amon Park. Movement gave Holly’s restless, mixed-up emotions an outlet. Slowly, her shoulders loosened and her stomach unclenched.

The path followed the riverbank to another unnamed pocket park where a couple played with a toddler in the heaps of leaves. Holly smiled at the innocent happiness.

Laurie broke the silence. “I can’t believe it. Marcy, dead. It doesn’t make sense.”

And the day’s disasters crashed back over Holly.

“Having to answer nine thousand questions about Marcy and my alleged involvement made it way too real.”

“What?” Shock mingled with outrage in Laurie’s tone.

“Yeah, I’m a Person of Interest.”

Laurie sputtered, but Holly said, “All those cops out at the game management area, most of them were just doing their job. I get that. I mean, it did piss me off they obviously suspected Alex and me, but mostly they were polite. Professional. But I swear, they all asked the same questions. I seriously wanted to ask, don’t you people
talk
to each other?”

“Maybe you should’ve busted out and used sign language.” Laurie waved her hands in a lousy imitation of the
hello
gesture.

“Maybe if I’d used sign language in the first place, they’d have let me go home sooner,” Holly said. “The question that keeps running through my head is
why?
Marcy was so nice, and in so many ways, she’s just like us. She had a job, a family. She paid her bills. Went to church on Sunday.”

“I can’t imagine her mixed up in anything that could turn around and get her murdered.”

“Do you think maybe she stumbled into something? I saw this Aryan Nation guy out there who scared the crap out of me. The skinheads and the Mexican bandits grow dope around here. Maybe Marcy wandered into one of their ‘grows’ and they shot her.”

“Did you see any plants or signs someone was camping out?”

“There was a lot of trash—food wrappers and stuff.”

Laurie shook her head. “You probably found where people were fishing and too lazy to pack their trash out. And you know as well as I do that Marcy wouldn’t have been poking around out there.”

“I’m running out of possibilities. Could it have been someone else who screwed up? Someone she was involved with?”

Instead of brushing off the comment, Laurie pursed her lips, clearly thinking about it. “Marcy never talked about guys—anybody she was dating or guys in general. That’s not normal. Women talk about their men.”

Holly sidestepped the piles of poop the park geese had left on the paved path. The geese had ignored them when they didn’t offer food. “That bothered me, too. Friends talk about their love lives. Or lack of one.”

“I hate saying anything bad about Marcy, but it always felt like she was hiding something.”

Holly gave Laurie an incredulous look. “We all have things we don’t want to talk about. It doesn’t mean Marcy was doing anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just, at times, I wondered if she was seeing a married man.”

Her mouth fell open and she sputtered, “Really? Why’d you think that?”

Laurie shrugged. “Sometimes I got that happy, I-have-a-secret vibe from her.”

“A married man?”

“Sorry, it’s just a feeling. I guess that’s a sore subject for you, your dad and all.”

“Let’s don’t add my father to today’s disasters.” Holly waved a hand, dismissing the topic and the apology. “Did Marcy ever tell you where she got that diamond necklace?”

“I wondered if it was a gift. I don’t know how much Tim’s paying her, but it looked more expensive than any jewelry I can afford.”

A pair of seagulls swooped off the river. They hovered overhead, coarse voices screeching. Holly recoiled. Her hands flew out and covered her head. “Get away from me!”

Memory reran the scene from the clearing. The gulls. The body. The ravished face.

Holly’s whole body tightened. Adrenaline—and fear—spiked through her system. She yanked off her hat and swatted at the birds. “Go away.”

With a final cry of defiance, the gulls tilted their wings and headed upriver.

“Come on. They’re gone.” Laurie grabbed her arm and pulled.

Eyes averted from the river and the birds, Holly stumbled after her. They retreated to a bench where the trees protected them from the wind. “Sorry.”

“The hat dance was a riot, but what was that about?” Laurie pushed back Holly’s hair and lifted her chin. “Jeez, you’re shaking.”

Warmth crept up her cheeks. She swallowed the enormous lump in her throat. “I forgot there’d be seagulls here. Seeing Marcy’s body…those horrible birds. I’ll never be able to look at seagulls the same way.”

A shudder crawled across her shoulders and down her spine. She told Laurie about finding the body, ending with a quick description of Marcy’s face. “They
ate
her.”

“Oh my God. That’s horrible.” Laurie gave her a sympathetic hug. “I’d have totally freaked if I found her.”

“I pretty much did.” She looked at the concern in her friend’s eyes and again felt tears well.

Blinking back the tears, she concentrated on the residual foliage of the closest tree. The leaves danced in the breeze, shifting bands of color. By the time the first leaf floated away from the branch, she was fairly certain her voice would be level. “I keep hoping it’s a bad dream. That Marcy will show up, shouting, ‘Surprise!’”

“People our age are not supposed to die.” Laurie rubbed her chin. “It’s so weird that you and Alex found her. I mean, it’s spooky how connected you are. You and Alex knew Marcy. She worked for Tim. Tim’s your client.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “You sound like JC.”

“JC? You mean JC Dimitrak? I haven’t heard that name in a long time. What’s he got to do with anything?”

Holly rose and headed for the path. “On top of everything else in my screwed-up life, guess who’s the detective on the case?”

Laurie knew her too well. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh. My. God. I know he’s a cop. But he was there? What did you do?”

“ ‘Awkward’ didn’t begin to describe it. I was already in shock. We found this horrible body and it was
Marcy
. Alex and I were being questioned by all these cops, and then JC showed up.”

She wanted to bang her head against the nearest tree. “All that crap from six years ago was like it happened six minutes ago. First words out of his mouth were a huge personal hit. Of course, Alex noticed. After that, he and JC did everything but pee on the ground, marking their territory.”

“Hmm.” Laurie lips curved in a three-pointed smile. “So is it pheromones or do you two still have things to resolve?”

Holly made a rude noise.

“What are you going to do about it?”

She jammed her hands in her pockets and blew out a frustrated breath. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“What would be the point? I’m going back to Seattle. Living there was never in the Life Rules According To JC Dimitrak.” She flashed a wry smile at her friend. “No offense. I know you like it here.”

Laurie was quiet for so long, Holly turned to stare at her. “What?”

“Is that really fair? You don’t know what JC’s like now.”

“Excuse me? We’re supposed to be talking about Marcy. Besides, whose side are you on?”

“Why does there have to be sides? Look, I know what JC did was despicable—”

“Ya think?”

Laurie ignored the sarcasm. “Did you ever consider maybe it wasn’t completely black and white?”

Holly gave a fallen limb a savage kick. “I was there. There were no shades of gray.”

“I’ve changed since college. You’ve changed. Why do you think he hasn’t? It sounds to me like you’re still attracted to each other. Why not see where it goes?”

They’d almost reached the parking lot before Holly heaved a long sigh and said, “JC and I want different things. Fundamentally different. He never accepted that I want a career, much less that my career is as important as what he does. I don’t see that changing.”

“He’s taken his lumps like the rest of us. Did you know he’s divorced?”

Part of her wanted to snark,
Oh, the little woman at home, ironing his shirts and minding the babies didn’t work out?
But the rest of her didn’t want to be immature. Laurie had a point. JC had lived his own life while she was gone. Holly didn’t know anything about him except he still made her knees weak and other parts melt. She shook her head, rejecting those thoughts.

“The marriage didn’t last long.”

Laurie had apparently interpreted her headshake as an answer to her question about JC’s divorce. Holly wasn’t interested in talking about JC and she sure wasn’t interested in discussing the woman he’d married mere months after they broke up. From the corner of her eye, she saw her friend studying her and wondered what was behind all the comments. “Now what?”

Laurie turned away. “Well, if JC’s out of the picture, want to run across the river to Alex’s and let him feed us?”

“Not just no, but hell, no.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“His family will be there and after the day I’ve had, I don’t want to put up with his mother.”

“Too bad,” Laurie said. ”The boy can cook.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen with Alex. I thought we were just having fun, but can you believe he tried to use Marcy’s death as an excuse to jump into bed? Talk about bad timing.”

Laurie burst out laughing. “Gotta give him points for trying.”

“It did
not
earn him any points. It just made him pissier when JC showed up at my house to ask another million questions.”

“JC came by your house? I thought you meant he was at the game refuge, place, thing.”

“That wasn’t enough for him. He had to come take a few digs at my house.”

“That seems weird. Maybe he thought he was doing you a favor by not making you go to the police station.”

“If we’d gone to the station, it would’ve been more professional. Or official. Instead, there were some seriously strange vibes. He’d make a personal remark and then slam me with,
Did you kill Marcy?
It felt like…” Holly hesitated, wondering if she should say this, even to Laurie.

“Like what?”

“Revenge. That he’s treating me like a suspect so he can harass me. Coming by my house—he can’t actually believe I’d hurt Marcy.”

“JC’s playing it by the book, questioning anyone who was there. The cops can’t really think you were involved.”

“You should’ve heard the questions they asked. Seen the way they looked at Alex and me.”

“Huh.” A twitch of concern flitted across Laurie’s face.

“Seriously. With them looking at me as a suspect, I guess I better figure out what’s really going on.”