So About the Money (10 page)

She watched the payroll clerk walk away, shrugged, and entered Tim’s office. Drawn blinds left the room shadowed. The conversation area and conference table were vacant, but a man leaned against the massive desk. Clothes disheveled, hair wild, he turned when she flicked on the lights.
 

“Ugh.” He closed his eyes in a tight squint, stumbling to remain upright.
 

“Tim?”
What the hell?
 

His hands rose and pushed through his already spiky hair.
 

A dozen possible business disasters cycled through her head. “What’s wrong?”
 

“Holly? What…?” His voice trailed off in a confusion of whiskey fumes. He splayed a hand on the desk and peered around the room, checking its contents. “Is this…your office?”

“It’s yours, Tim.” She dumped her briefcase on the closest chair. “Did something happen with Southridge?”

He collapsed against the desk, rattling a whiskey bottle against the wooden surface. He tilted so badly the furniture barely held him upright. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

“Marcy?” Holly studied his ravaged face. He looked worse than she felt, and she’d seen the body. “I know you worked together, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”
 

An unwanted thought intruded.
How close were they?
More than friends?
 

No way. Tim gave every indication he was happily married. Even if Nicole played the bitch-in-helpless-waif-clothing routine, Tim doted on her. Still, his reaction seemed out of proportion for someone who was only an employee.
 

“She was a friend—a good friend.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “She listened. Nobody does that. She deserved more than the crap Alders put her through. More than…”

“Who’s Alders? What crap?”

“God, I hate that guy.” Tim jerked upright. His hands closed into fists.
 

He stopped as abruptly as he’d moved. Wavering on unsteady feet, his lower lip trembled and his jaw worked.
 

Still trying to catch up, Holly watched his emotional crumbling. Good grief. When was the last time she’d seen a guy cry? Besides over a stupid football game?
 

“She’s dead.” He lunged forward and enveloped Holly is a sweaty hug. Booze seeped through his pores, mingled with stale perspiration.
 

Yuck
.
 

Wracking sobs shook his body. She didn’t know whether to be concerned, horrified, or embarrassed. Instinct took over and she patted his shoulder as if he were a child. “It’ll be okay.”
 

He clenched her tighter and blubbered loudly against her neck.
 

Oh, jeez.

She turned her head, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and glanced at the door. Where was Brea when she needed her? “Shhh…”

Renewed sobs answered her.
 

Confused snippets of their conversation rotated through her mind, but she kept coming back to, W
hy is he drunk? Why is he so upset?
 

Finally, his tears subsided to shuddering breaths, and she wondered what to say that wouldn’t embarrass both of them. She eased him away from her chest. “Nicole’s in my office. Why don’t you let her take you home?”

A look close to panic slid across his face. “Hell, no. She flips out if I have a drink.”

A drink? She eyed the bottle on his desk. How about the whole friggin’ bottle?
 

“Okay. What if I ask Brea to get some coffee?” She couldn’t leave him like this, but she had to get moving or she really would be late for her meeting.
 

Maybe she should take him with her.
 

She resisted the urge to glance at her watch. “C’mon. Caffeine. How about a quick run to the Bikini Barista?”

“I can’t.” He wiped his nose against his sleeve. “Southridge financing closes next week. Gotta do stuff.”

His tone reminded Holly of a petulant teenager.
Who are you and what have you done with my charming, confident client?
 

She didn’t want to set the guy off again, but maybe she could offer loan staff—from somewhere—to help him. “I guess Marcy…not being here…leaves you short-handed.”
 

“I can handle it.” A look that said
oh shit
slid across his face, but he slouched against his desk. He took a deep breath and seemed to pull himself together. “What’s up?”
 

Okay, here goes.
Tim had been drinking, but it wasn’t like she was looking for courtroom evidence. “I’m trying to understand what was going on in Marcy’s life. She worked for you and—”

Tim reared back and lost his balance. A sweaty smear trailed his hand across the polished wood. “You think
I
did something to her?”

“No.” She backpedaled hard. “I just thought, I mean, she did spend most of her time here, and—”

He pushed himself erect. “Her working here didn’t have anything to do with anything.”
 

“I just thought, since she’s a friend as well as an employee, you might know if something was bothering her lately.”

“You’re an accountant. Keep your interest on business.” His expression and tone approached
snarl.

She took a surprised step backward. Where’d this temper come from?
 

“Ah, shit.” He sagged against the desk. “Sorry.”
 

Sorry he snapped? Sorry he told her what he really thought about her? Or sorry he tipped his hand that he might not be blameless in Marcy’s death?
 

Holly eased behind the visitor’s chair. If he made a move to hit or hug her, she wanted a sturdy object between them.
 

Tim’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t stand coming here and not seeing her.” He stared at the floor as if it were purgatory. “She was too young to die.”

Then again, maybe he was just drunk and upset.
 

“She’s alive as long as we remember her,” Holly said gently.
 

Okay, that was lame.
 

“Well,” she said, edging toward the door. “I’ll let Brea know you want to be alone.”
 

Her gaze slid from the nearly empty bottle on Tim’s desk to the console behind the conference table, where she knew he kept liquor. Should she confiscate everything inside it?

Tim didn’t answer and she wondered if he’d even heard her.
 

“I’ll be okay.” His voice was flat, drained of the earlier emotion. “Life goes on. So they say.”
 

Before she could think of a response, her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and checked the display.
Mother
. Thank God. She hit the connect button. “I’m leaving in a minute. Can you meet me at Tri-Ag?”

“Well ‘hello’ to you, too, darling.” Her mother’s voice was warm with concern and a touch of amusement.

“Hello, Mother. It’s taken me months to get a foot in the door out there. We cannot be late.”

“That’s why I called. The Chamber meeting is still going.”
 

Holly glanced at her watch. That meeting should’ve finished an hour ago. “Why?”

“They’re arguing about the Point property. Some people would rather hold onto their private parking lot than see it developed productively.”

“Are you going to make the Tri-Ag meeting?”

“I may be a few minutes late, but I’m more concerned about you. I tried to call earlier this morning, as soon as I heard the news. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. A little tired, but fine.” Guilt over not calling the previous evening poked her.
 

A thud sounded behind her. She whirled. Tim had vanished.

What the…?
“Gotta go.” She dropped the cell phone into her pocket.

“Tim?”

A rumbly belch broke the silence. She followed the sound and peered around the desk. Tim lay sprawled on the floor, passed out cold.
 

Well, that went well.
 

She might need to refine her interrogation technique.
 

Now what?

Brea rushed into the room. “Holly. Thank God. That cop’s here again, wanting to talk to Tim.”

“The cops?” She glanced from the receptionist to the slumbering suspect. Talk about bad timing.

“This detective—God, he’s gorgeous—seemed a little PO’d when I said Tim wasn’t here. I mean, Tim’s Mercedes is right there in the parking lot. Where is he, anyway?”

Holly ignored the “gorgeous” comment—
have at it, honey
—and pointed behind the desk.
 

Brea took one look, then her face crinkled, fighting laughter. “What did you do to him?”

“Excuse me?”

Brea waved away the comment. “I knew he was hammered. He lurched in, mumbling, ‘Don’t tell Nicole I’m here.’ ”

“That would explain why she was in
our
office looking for him.”

“What was she doing there? I told her to check upstairs, with the money people. As soon as she left, I tried to find one of the property guys to help.” The receptionist propped her hands on her ample hips and nodded at Tim’s inert form. “This is getting to be a habit.”
 

“Really?”

“He was at Crazy Horse Casino Friday night, completely trashed.”
 

 
“Are you sure it was Tim?” Surprise colored her voice.

“Oh, yeah. I see him down there all the time.”

“I didn’t know he gambled.” Holly gave Tim another dubious inspection. “I hate to leave him on the floor, but I need to get moving.”

Brea gauged the distance to the sofa. “Think we can haul him over there?”

“Worth a try.” Holly kicked off her high heels.
 

Brea grabbed Tim’s arms and tugged.
 

“Gee, thanks.” Holly hooked her fingers under his ankles. “Give me the dirty end.”

“Hey, you’re farther away if he hurls.”

They maneuvered the man around the desk.
 

“At least Nicole doesn’t have to worry about him driving drunk.” Holly adjusted her grip. “I’ve seen him have a beer or two, but I’ve never seen him drunk.”

“That’s because you only see him when Nicole’s around. He doesn’t drink much in front of her.”

Interesting.
“Why not?”

“Her parents. I’m not sure about her dad, he ran out on them, but her mom was an alcoholic.” Brea’s hand slipped and Tim’s arm flopped to the carpet. “Damn. Gotta rest.”

They stopped halfway across the office, Tim’s body sprawled between them.
   

Wow.
“To look at her, you’d think Nicole grew up a pampered princess.” Holly flexed her hands, then re-gripped Tim’s ankles.
 

“She married well,” Brea said. “Ready?”

They lifted his body and shuffled forward a few steps.
 

“I thought today—his being drunk—might’ve been about Marcy,” Holly ventured, probing.

“Maybe.” Brea shrugged. “Her being dead totally sucks.”

“Do you have any ideas about what happened to her?”

“No…which is too bad, since I wouldn’t mind talking to that detective again.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want to hook up with him.”

The other woman grinned. “Speak for yourself.”
 

They tugged Tim closer to the sofa.
 

“Did Marcy ever talk to you about some guy named Alders?”
 

“Never heard of him.” Brea nudged the coffee table away from the sofa. “You know, now that I think about it, Marcy was a lot of fun but she didn’t talk much about herself.”