In A Heartbeat (12 page)

She walked back to the conference room in a quandary. She had nothing tangible to base any suspicions on, and if she was to bring this job in on budget, she couldn’t afford to spend another day investigating a mere suspicion.

She found Max hunched over his laptop computer. “Hi, Angie. Got your note.”

“Did you find anything?”

Max frowned. “You’d think nowadays, everyone would have a web presence, but I can’t find anything on Timone Industries.”

“Well, maybe they have a phone number.” She clicked a few keys on the computer to call up the internet. “It’s not here.”

“What?”

“Timone Industries. You’d expect any legitimate business to have a website.”

“So you think Timone isn’t legitimate?”

“I’m not sure, but this whole direct ship thing just doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to accuse anyone of wrongdoing without some solid evidence, though.”

“Wrongdoing?” He perked up in his seat. “That sounds serious. What are we going to do?”

Angie looked at Max, and noticed a little bit of chocolate frosting clinging to the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a little bit of something…” She fingered the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, thanks.” He wiped the sugar away. “Someone made a cake in our honor. I brought you back a piece.” He pointed to a plump square of chocolate cake on a colorful napkin.

“
Our
honor?” she teased. “I guess it’s just coincidence that it’s your favorite, chocolate on chocolate.” She used the plastic fork next to the napkin to cut out a piece. The rich taste seemed sweeter after the morning’s disappointments.

Max grinned. “There’s plenty more. I’m sure if you swung by Accounts Receivable, the girls would cut you another piece.”

Inspiration struck. She pushed the paper napkin with the unfinished cake aside.

“Max, I have a mission for you. I want to know how much has been spent with Timone Industries for this year and last, if possible, but I don’t want you to talk to Tom Wilson or Pete Burroughs.”

“And how—?”

“Accounts Payable must keep track of how much money they pay to each of their vendors so they can issue tax forms at the end of the year. Can you talk to the girls there and see if you can get a copy of the report? If you can’t get the information from Accounts Payable, try Purchasing. Pete Burroughs says they track the total dollars spent on rebate vendors, but I bet they do it on all their vendors, maybe they just don’t print it on a report. Anyway, see what you can find out from the girls.”

Max gave her a mock salute. “No problem.”

“Just don’t let Wilson or Burroughs catch you snooping around.” That caught him up short. His irrepressible smile lifted at one corner and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Are you on to something?”

“I don’t know, but steer clear of them for now.”

“The name is Bond…Maxwell Bond,” he said in his best Scottish imitation. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in about an hour, Miss Moneypenny.”

“Max.” He hesitated at the door. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to caution him but the words just slipped out. “Be careful.”

Chapter Ten

MAX HADN’T RETURNED by eleven-thirty, and Angie’s rumbling stomach reminded her of the consequences of skipping breakfast in favor of keeping Stephen’s kitchen clean. As much as she wanted to move out of her mother’s house, it would feel good to be back on home turf and not feel obligated to follow another’s house rules. Besides, with her mother still in Florida, home was almost like having her own place.

The payable clerks probably hijacked Max for lunch. She smiled, knowing Max wouldn’t discourage their attention. Just as well. She needed to retrieve her car, preferably without an audience. She grabbed her handbag with its valuable stash of medications and attempted to negotiate the maze of hallways to the shipping dock.

She found the door that separated the office from the unheated warehouse. A blast of fresh air chilled her the moment she opened it. Darn. She grimaced. Her coat was still probably draped over the back of a chair in the conference room. She rubbed the outside of her arms briskly. A respiratory infection that might be merely a discomfort to most people could be a potential death sentence to her. Before she drove to lunch, she’d better retrieve her coat.

She spotted her car parked along a back fence in the area described by Renard. Unlocking the car door, she even welcomed the tiny wisps of dog hair clinging to the upholstered seats. This car represented home as much as any place on earth, and she took a moment to savor it before starting the engine and driving it around to the front of the building.

She’d just parked and was walking to the front entrance when a scowling Tom Wilson headed directly toward her.

“I heard you’ve been pestering Pete Burroughs about that direct ship nonsense.”

“Excuse me?”

Wilson sneered at her. “I told you before you’re making a big stink over nothing and I won’t have it. Do you hear me?”

“I just asked Pete for—”

“I know what you asked for, and if you don’t keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you, you’re going to get it.”

A chill tripped down her back, whether from the October wind or Wilson’s threat, she wasn’t sure. She shivered and hugged her arms to her chest.

“Is there a problem here?” Renard’s voice called from a car idling nearby. Both of them turned in his direction.
Great, just what I need
, Angela thought. Why did he always show up when her lack of negotiation skills were on full display?

“No, no problem,” she said. “Just a slight disagreement.”
Drive on
, she mentally urged,
just drive on
. Wilson continued to glare, all semblance of a congenial Southern gentleman gone.

“Tom?” Renard asked through his lowered window. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. We were just talking.” Wilson frowned. Angie struggled to keep her smile glued in place. Obviously, her reassurance hadn’t been good enough. He had to ask Wilson as well.

“In that case, why don’t the both of you join me for lunch? I’m just going to Timothy’s. Some company would be nice.”

“I can’t.” Tom turned away. “Maybe some other time. I’ve made plans.” Tom headed toward his car. Angela watched, wondering why her meeting with Pete Burroughs had generated his obvious anger.

“Angie?”

She watched Tom for a few moments until he had closed his car door and started the ignition. Half of her wanted to accept Hank’s invitation, the half that remembered the feel of his arms and the comforting warmth of his breath; but the other half, the wise and sane half that knew about Elizabeth and her connection to his position, urged her to turn him down. She took a few steps toward Hank’s car, looking both ways before she lowered her voice. “I don’t think it’s wise.”

“What’s wrong with lunch? We’re two business people going out for a business lunch. Surely, Falstaff can’t object to that.”

A brief flare of indignation fired through her. “I wasn’t even thinking about Falstaff.”

“Good. Then there’s no reason not to join me.” He nodded his head toward the passenger side of his car. “Come on. It’s your last day here. Let me take you out to lunch.”

She glanced at her Civic. Maybe lunch wouldn’t be so bad. With everything else, she hadn’t broached the subject of additional services, the one hurdle Falstaff had placed between herself and a promotion. “Can you wait while I grab my coat?”

Hank nodded and she dashed back to the conference room. Moments later, she crossed in front of his car then slipped into the front seat. She was so careful to keep plenty of distance between them that it was a wonder she didn’t smash her right side black and blue when she closed the car door.

“I won’t bite, you know,” he said after a quick glance in her direction. “Mind telling me what that disagreement was about?”

“Tom was just giving me his opinion of what I should or should not be doing in regard to my audit tests,” Angie answered. “He seems to think we’re asking too many questions.”

“Well, maybe you are. Had you considered that? Maybe if you stepped back and considered the whole picture, certain elements would fall into place. If you think of the concept of…”

She didn’t pay attention to the rest of the lecture. At least that’s what it felt like. Hank could easily have been one of her doctors reciting complex medical procedures or her brother reading a litany of things she shouldn’t, couldn’t do. Indignation welled from her gut until the tips of her ears burned. She shifted in the front seat, pretending to look out the passenger window. If he thought so little of her interpersonal skills, she would never be able to sell him on the idea of additional services. She saw her promotion slipping away like the rapidly passing landscape. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Did she ever really have a chance?

“Did you tell Tom that today would be your last day of field work?”

“I guess that’s not soon enough for some people.” She sunk deeper into the confines of her coat. “You included.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Angie looked at him, then sighed. It was her own fault. She had allowed herself to imagine that just because she felt so right nestled in his arms last Saturday, he might have changed his views on her professionalism. But was it professional to pout this way? Probably not.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve been on edge. I just assumed…”

“Assumed what?” he asked.

“I seem to be causing problems between you and your girlfriend. And you haven’t been overjoyed with my work, and— “

“Wait a minute. What do you mean I haven’t been overjoyed with your work? Why would you say something like that?” She saw his scowl when he glanced in the rear view mirror. Heck, she couldn’t even grovel without getting him upset.

“You’ve criticized everything I’ve done since day one. You’ve doubted my word. You’ve questioned my ability. I’ve been both a professional and personal nuisance.”

There, she had said it. Although how the words had escaped past the constriction of her throat, she had no idea. She searched in vain for a tissue in her purse, sending pill bottles rattling from one side to the other. No luck. Instead she pressed her forehead against the side window, hoping the cool glass might calm the burning in her cheeks.

She squeezed her eyes shut to stem threatening tears, but one leaked out the corner and down her cheek. Once established, the wet track encouraged more. She discreetly tried to blot them away with the cuff of her coat. That’s when she noticed the crowded parking lot of Timothy’s. As if it wasn’t enough that she was crying in front of this arrogant, controlling
man
, now her humiliation would be on show for everyone inside the popular lunch spot.

She tried to sniff back the rapidly descending nasal drip, but her sniff emerged as a loud snort, followed by a barrage of tears.

The traffic light changed and the car moved forward, past the entrance to the restaurant. He didn’t say anything and she didn’t ask. She closed her eyes and fought to bring her emotions under control.
It’s the pills
, she tried to tell herself. Sometimes the combinations and massive quantities played havoc with her emotional stability, but she suspected that she couldn’t blame this debacle entirely on medication.

Eventually, her tears subsided and she felt more in control. A tap on her knee pulled her face away from the window. Hank held out a precisely folded, pristine handkerchief.

She tried to smile in response but a few more tears escaped, ruining the effect. She swabbed her cheeks, blotted her eyes, then emptied her nose in the soft cotton that smelled so much like him; fresh, crisp and manly.

“Angie,” he said, his tone as gentle as the cloth in her hand. “Your work has been fine. I’m the one who’s been the problem.”

He waited a few moments, probably expecting her to disagree, but she didn’t. She couldn’t trust her voice just yet.

“It’s important that I succeed in this job for reasons I can’t go into right now,” he said. “The timing of your interim audit work provided a means for me to learn about the operations of the company in a way that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. But your goals in performing compliance testing are different from mine. If I’ve seemed overly critical, it wasn’t because of your work. It was because I needed to accomplish something else. I was frustrated. In hindsight, it was probably unfair to watch over your shoulder the way I did.”

She faced forward and squeezed his handkerchief into a tight little ball. She knew he’d looked at her expectantly, but she didn’t respond. She could control either her words or her tears, but not both. So she stayed silent and squeezed the cloth tighter. After an uncomfortable period of quiet, she heard him sigh.

“You know, Angie, I don’t know anyone in this town. What I could really use is a friend.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t think Falstaff— “

“Don’t tell me we can’t even be friends. Surely, they don’t want us to be enemies, do they?” She shook her head. “Okay then. Friends.” This time his sigh had a dramatic quality. “I feel better all ready.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I suppose it’s all right. The partners play golf with clients and some invite them to parties and such.”

“Do you play golf?” She heard such eagerness in his voice, she hated to disappoint him, again.

“No. Golf was one of those activities my mother forbid. I’m not sure which was considered worse, the fresh air or the exercise.”

He seemed surprised. “I thought exercise would be a good thing.”

“It is, as long as it’s not too strenuous,” she said. “Which when you think about it, isn’t exercise at all.”

He laughed at the irony which in turn lifted some of her embarrassment.

She relaxed a bit. “I guess we can be friends, as long as we’re not too close.”

“Not too close,” he agreed with a nod. His eyes never left the road. “So listen, as one friend to another, do you have any idea where we are?”

Her jaw dropped before she noticed the herd of cows in the pasture to her right. Hayden was situated on the urban border between industrial Columbus and the surrounding rural community. It didn’t require extensive travel to reach open pastures and dilapidated, picturesque barns, but it still came as a shock. “I remember passing Timothy’s parking lot, but I guess I just didn’t pay attention after that.”