So About the Money (19 page)

A few minutes later, Yessica wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Thanks.”

Holly stepped back. “Did you talk to the police? Have you told them about Lee Alders?”

The color on Yessica’s cheeks deepened. Her gaze drifted over the remaining crowd. “My mother wouldn’t like it.”

“It could be important.”

“You don’t understand. Mama and Papa don’t want to make Maricella look bad. She was a good girl.” Yessica shredded the tissue. “I can’t prove Lee killed her, so why bring him up?”

Holly gestured toward the front door, where there were now sounds of a scuffle. “It’s going to come out. If nobody tells him anything, that reporter will print whatever he wants.”

Yessica raised her eyes and stared at the doorway. She turned and glared at Holly. “How did that reporter know about Lee? Did you tell him? You said you’d keep it quiet.”
 

She jammed the mangled tissue in her pocket and took an angry step toward the inner room.
 

“Wait.” Holly grasped her arm. “I understand you want some privacy—believe me, I
really
understand. I didn’t say anything. The restraining order is a public record. So is her marriage. That’s how the reporter found out.”

“We don’t want to discuss it. We don’t want to ruin her reputation. It’s all she has left.”

“Then get on top of it. Spin it in your favor.”

Yessica hesitated. Uncertainty joined the anger in her eyes.
 

“Make people see Marcy as the victim. Tell your version of the story.” Holly scanned the throng for JC.
 

In seconds, she found him—watching her. Their gaze met and lingered. Stifling the other messages she sensed in his eyes, she tilted her head toward Yessica and mouthed, “I need you.”

Chapter Seventeen

“What’s up?” JC gave the men still clustered near the funeral home’s entrance a quick inspection before shifting his attention to Holly.
 

“Detective Dimitrak, you’ve met Yessica Herrera, haven’t you? She’s Marcy’s sister.”

JC didn’t so much as twitch at the sudden formality—had she ever called him Detective rather than JC?—but Yessica recoiled. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I told you, my mother won’t like it.”

“If you tell Detective Dimitrak about Lee, about what he did, the police will know to look harder at him.”

“You mean, tell them
everything
that man did?”

At Yessica’s stricken expression, Holly said, “It’s the only way we can help Marcy.”
 

With their backs to the crowd, the three of them created a bubble of privacy while Yessica repeated her story. After her initial hesitation, she spoke more freely than she had at the boutique. When she finished, Holly asked, “Do you think Lee had something to do with…what happened?”
 

How big a step was it between beating someone and killing them? Had Lee realized he couldn’t control Marcy any longer and lashed out in a rage?
 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Yessica’s shoulders slumped. “He hit her, but he always seemed to know when to quit. Maricella would lie and cover for him. I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure until I stopped to see her on my way to Bellingham. She looked awful.”
 

Yessica’s fingers fluttered to her ribs, as if touching her sister’s battered body.
 

Holly murmured a soothing phrase and laid her hand on the grieving woman’s arm. As Yessica leaned toward her, JC subtly shifted positions and covered them. Holly glanced at him. Had she overstepped some boundary?
 

He dipped his head, a nod she interpreted as encouragement.
 

“I convinced her to leave with me. We went to the hospital.” Yessica’s lips trembled. She grasped Holly’s hand, as if she needed the anchor of a human connection.

Holly suspected Yessica was reliving that day, seeing it instead of the crowded reception hall.
 

“Lee broke her ribs—it hurt her so much to breathe.
Ay, Dios mio
, the bruises on her body. Maricella was so ashamed, like it was her fault. That hurt me the most. He broke her spirit.”
 

Yessica’s hand dropped to her side. “We got the protection order, but I couldn’t leave Maricella in Seattle. I brought her home with me.”

“Did it help? Did Lee stay away after that?” she asked.

“At first, he called. When he came to see her, Maricella was very angry.”

Holly could imagine what Marcy felt when her husband hunted her down. Fear. Fury. A sense of inevitability.

“Other than that,” Yessica continued, “she never mentioned his name. Did she say anything to you?”

Holly shook her head. “Not specifically. She started seeing someone this fall, but she wouldn’t tell anyone who.”

“
Mierda
,” Yessica cursed.

Mierda
indeed
.
Holly knew the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the constant tension, the hyper-alertness that came with wondering when a man—a sick, twisted person—was going to appear next. The constant looking over her shoulder, worrying about what Frank would do, was nothing compared to what Marcy had faced. Had Lee re-entered Marcy’s life? Refused to be forced out?
 

“I have a few questions.” JC quietly took control, drawing out details of the protection order Holly hadn’t known to ask about.
 

Yessica leaned into his concerned attention.
 

Holly watched the exchange, a silent observer. JC had been a good listener when they were in college. Police work—or maturity—had refined his skill. Was that all it was? A skill? A tool to get what he wanted? Or was he genuinely concerned?

While JC led Yessica through Marcy’s ordeal, taking notes this time, Lee Alders’ name cycled through Holly’s head. She might not have the databases JC could access, but she knew people in Seattle. People who could find out about the bastard.
 

“Holly.” Yessica’s voice drew her back to the visitation hall. She moved close and pressed a cheek to Holly’s. “Thank you. For everything.”

And then Marcy’s sister was gone, which left Holly alone again with JC.
 

While he scribbled in a small notebook, she edged away. She should find Laurie and leave. Helping with the investigation intrigued her. It was being alone with JC that was the problem.
 

“Hold on.” JC caught her eye. He stuffed the notebook in his pocket. “That was nice.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t make fun of me.”
 

“Who, me?”
 

His dimples erupted and Holly caught her breath. She needed to learn to deal with those silly little indentations again.
 

“Really.” His face returned to serious mode. “Ms. Herrera needed to talk and you listened.”

“How much of that did you already know?”
 

One side of JC’s mouth quirked, as if he were making a decision. “Some of it. I found the protection order Sunday night when I ran Ms. Ramirez’s name.”

“Not before then?” JC must’ve run her name at the same time. Dammit, she’d have told him about Frank if she thought he needed to know.
 

She tamped down the anger. Part of her sympathized with Yessica’s desire to shield Marcy, but Lee’s violent behavior could drive the murder investigation in a new direction.

“Ms. Ramirez never notified us or filed a complaint.” JC rocked back on his heels. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Ms. Herrera mentioned Alders when we interviewed the family and Mama Ramirez shut her down hard. Now that Ms. Herrera’s opened up, if she remembers anything else, odds are she’ll call me.”

Holly gave JC a considering look. He was talking but he hadn’t told her anything about the investigation. When they were together before, she’d known how to get him to talk. What was he like now? Was he a negotiator, willing to make a deal and trade information, or did he like to hold all the cards?
 

“I need to push the phone company to turn over their phone records,” he said, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “See how often Alders contacted her.”

Most likely JC wouldn’t share those phone records with her.
 

Holly thought about Tim’s angry rant on Monday morning. He knew about Lee Alders, so Marcy had talked to Tim, but not the local police. Why would Marcy do that? And why hadn’t Tim mentioned it to the police?
 

Tim’s knowing about the guy could be completely innocent. “Marcy might’ve talked to her husband on the office phone.”
 

“I oughtta ask for those records too. If Stevens would quit canceling our interview, I could ask him about contact at the office.” JC opened his cell and mashed a speed dial.

Not that JC was paying any attention, but she shrugged. She eased one foot from her shoe and flexed her squashed toes. She’d love to go home and put her feet up. More people—in addition to Tim, Nicole, Alex, and his mother—had left while they were talking with Yessica, so it wasn’t as if she was being rude and bailing out early.
 

Contacting Tim was JC’s problem, but she kept seeing the devastated expression on Tim’s face and hearing the anger in his voice when he mentioned Marcy’s husband. Most good guys couldn’t stand the idea of a man hitting a woman. Abusers were down there with pond scum—perverts and child molesters. But was Tim’s reaction too much? If Tim and Marcy were that close, why had he canceled his meeting with JC, and why didn’t he tell the detective about Lee?
 

Holly pursed her lips and shifted her weight to her other hip, grimacing at the protest from her sore feet. Alex had jumped all over her after his interview with the cops. Why was Tim ducking the police?
 

And why had Alex hedged his remarks to them?

Or…was JC lying to her about what he knew and when he knew it?
 

There was also the too convenient to be coincidental fact JC had been directly behind her—without announcing his presence—when she’d tried to talk with Mrs. Ramirez.

She gave a disgusted snort. All this paranoia was giving her a headache.
 

“If I wasn’t afraid you’d tell me, I’d ask what you were thinking about.”

“What?” She looked into JC’s amused eyes.
 

“Don’t ever play poker. You can’t hide a thing.”

“You don’t think I can do the expressionless face thing?”

He leaned closer, trailed a finger down her cheek, and slowly slid it across her lower lip. Instantly, her heart rate picked up and her nipples stood at attention.
 

A satisfied gleam lit his eyes. “I rest my case.” His voice was husky, bedroom soft.
 

A blush warmed her cheeks. She took a step backward and crossed her arms over her traitorous chest. “Were you born a jerk or did you take special classes at cop school?”

He laughed.
 

The sound was so unexpected, so out of place at a wake, heads turned, and once again they were the focus of too many pairs of eyes.
 

“You seem to like being part of my investigation. You’ve got the toughness to be an officer. And the curiosity. Let’s see how you do with tenacity.” He winked and sauntered away.

Holly gritted her teeth.
 

Payback would come. Somehow, she’d get him back for that.
 

And payback would come before JC Dimitrak did.

Chapter Eighteen

Holly pushed through the funeral parlor’s front door. She’d spent the last twenty minutes wandering through the rapidly dwindling crowd, looking for Laurie. The odds were slim Laurie had decided to wait by the car, but she was running out of places to look.
 

Her cell phone chirped its “new message” tone. She fished the phone from her jacket pocket and Laurie’s voice came from the speaker. “My cell’s about to die, so I’ll make this quick. My neighbor is here. You look like you’re,
ahem
, busy, so she’s giving me a ride home. I’ll—”