So About the Money (32 page)

Holly fiddled with the stack of brochures. “It’s insidious. At the beginning, Frank was charming. Attractive. Charismatic.” Devon’s comment smacked her.
In the boardroom, Alders was pure charisma
.
 

Damn. She raked a hand through her hair. “Bottom line? I got away, but it’s made me more sensitive to women trapped in a bad relationship. In Marcy’s case, I think the police are asking the wrong questions. That they’re going about this the wrong way.”

Yessica’s lips thinned. After a long moment, she said, “Maricella was very angry after Lee came to see her. He had no right to come to her office. She had the paper to make him stay away.”

Yeah, yeah.
He walked right through that restraining order and put her in intensive care
. The line from the old song rolled through Holly’s head and she nearly gagged. No.
No country music
. She had to get back to Seattle, home of Nirvana and grunge music. “Did she mention other papers? Lillian said Lee gave your sister an envelope. Whatever was in it upset Marcy.”

“Lee made a divorce settlement offer. It was an insult.”

Gee, what a surprise. Lee tried to stiff Marcy at the end of their marriage. “You didn’t mention the settlement offer the other day.”

Yessica’s hands lifted and fell. “What was there to say? It was another example of what a
cabrón
he is. Lee wasn’t just a bastard, he was a cheap bastard. Maricella didn’t sign the divorce papers. Are they important?”

“They might be. One last question. Did Marcy sign a prenup?”

“A what?”
 

“A prenuptial agreement. Papers signed before they got married that said what would happen if they divorced.”

Yessica shook her head in baffled silence. “Maricella never mentioned anything like that.”

Holly wrestled for a nanosecond over who should tell JC. He might not listen if she tried to explain it. His brusque “Stay out of it” carried the day. “You should tell Detective Dimitrak about the separation agreement.”

“Why?”

“Money’s a huge motive for murder.”
 

And Lee Alders had at least twenty million reasons to kill his estranged wife.
 

Chapter Thirty-one

Thursday night

Along with a few book club members, Holly and Laurie waited outside the library’s community room while the leader cleared the room. Stragglers from the meeting filtered through the lobby and headed to their cars. Finally, Gwen turned off the light and closed the door. With her messy bun and horn-rimmed glasses, the woman looked more like a stereotypical librarian than the women who worked in the library.
 

The book club meeting had been the usual mix of analyzing the novel while dishing on kids, husbands, and friends. Marcy had been mentioned, but the club members weren’t personally involved. They’d already moved on, relegating Marcy’s murder to the past.
 

Holly couldn’t let the investigation go. In addition to the unhealthy relationship issue—pick the bastard du jour: Lee Alders, Frank Phalen, Creepy Security Guy, or anyone else screwing up a woman’s life—Tim was tangled up in something and Marcy seemed to have been right there with him.
 

Maybe Laurie could help unravel a few threads. “Want to grab a cup of coffee?”

“Holly, don’t forget to send out the reading selections for next quarter.” Gwen tucked her novel into her tote bag.
 

“Don’t pick any more of these dreary ones off the Book Club List,” Brittney, the perpetual class clown, said. “If I want to be depressed, I’ll call my mother.”
 

“Well, I don’t want any of those vampire ones you like.” Gwen locked and tested the door.

“What about something just for fun,” Laurie suggested. “Like romantic suspense. We could compare love scenes and decide if it’s anatomically possible.”

All four of them laughed.
 

“Guess you single women actually get to have a love life.” Brittney lifted a significant eyebrow. “Do share.”

“What are you complaining about?” Holly asked. “You obviously have one. You’ve got two kids.”

“And your point is? Trust me, those critters put a serious crimp in your love life. So." Brittney turned back to Laurie. “Inquiring minds want to know. Creative love scenes? Details, please.”

“Herman and I have made a serious commitment,” Laurie replied, straight-faced. “He’ll love me as long as his battery lasts.”

“You named your vibrator ‘Herman’?”
 

“Herman is not a vibrator.” Laurie folded her hands in an imitation of a prim schoolteacher, an image totally at odds with her blue-streaked, spiked hair. “He’s an anatomically correct, inflatable companion.”
 

Brittney burst out laughing. “They make male blowup dolls?”

Laurie feigned a moue. “Don’t hurt his feelings. He was a special order.”

“Oh, bullshit. I’ve known you for fifteen years. There is no way—”

Gwen’s face flamed a brilliant red. “You two are embarrassing me.”
 

Holly figured that was probably their intention.
 

Gwen slid her tote bag over her shoulder. “I think we should read something significant.”
 

“Everybody send me a suggestion and I’ll route it to the group,” Holly offered. “We’ll read whatever gets the most votes.”

Laurie cut off Gwen’s protest. “It’s the democratic approach.”

Laurie and Holly waved to the two women and strolled toward their cars. The narrow parking lot beside the library stayed full, the building crowded with after-work browsers and teenagers who spent more time flirting than doing homework.
 

“You’re not serious about the blowup doll, are you?” Holly asked.

“Of course, I am. Herman’s always willing to indulge any fantasy and he doesn’t hog the covers or snore.”

Gwen’s ancient brown Toyota passed and they waved again.
 

“Don’t try to convince me you don’t have a ‘friend’,” Laurie said. “Anybody who watched
Sex and the City
learned the joys of a Rabbit.”

“I’d rather have the real deal. Can Herman keep you warm on a long, winter night?”

“The optional, auxiliary battery pack powers a mini-heater.”

Holly stepped off the sidewalk, snickering. “Okay, stop. I surrender.”
 

“Does that ‘real deal’ comment mean you decided to go out with JC?”

“Oh, please.”

An engine cranked in the parking lot across the street. Holly glanced at the darkened building. Someone must’ve worked late. She was glad for once it wasn’t her.
 

“Why are you being so defensive? JC’s single, employed, sexy, and he’s into you.”

“You can’t be serious. He’s cocky, arrogant, manipulative, and, and…”

“He pushed your buttons, didn’t he?”

Holly laughed as the ridiculousness of the situation hit her. “All the wrong ones. You know how I feel about egomaniacs.”

“Now there’s a leap. Arrogant to egomaniac. Me thinks she doth protest too much.”

Why was she putting up such a battle? She didn’t need a man to make her life complete, but she wanted one eventually. Wanted a family, a life partner. She didn’t see Alex in that role, but JC had already had his shot and blown it. “Maybe I attract the wrong kind of guy.”
 

Laurie hitched her tote bag and resettled the load. “Well, if JC doesn’t turn your crank—which I totally don’t believe—there’s a guy in radiology.”

She groaned. “Not another one.” The endless stream of incompatible men her friends pushed at her was probably why she’d started dating Alex in the first place.

“Ron’s cute and he broke up with his girlfriend a month ago. That’s long enough he’s ready to go out without doing the ex-bashing thing. How about I ask him to go to Bookwalter’s with us on Saturday?”

Holly cleared her throat. “I’d rather talk about Nicole.” She’d already told Laurie about the scene at lunch. “Do you think Tim’s really going to dump her?”

“Based on what I saw Tuesday night, it would surprise me.”
 

“Women like her make me feel inadequate,” Holly admitted. “Like I was absent the day they handed out the secret to female wiles and how to twist men around your little finger.”

“She wasn’t always like that.” Laurie considered. “Or maybe she was. But anyway, she completely reinvented herself.”
 

“What do you mean?”

The truck across the street reversed with a clash of gears, then idled, its engine thumping.
 

“Find it, don’t grind it,” Laurie called, rolling her eyes at the truck. “Don’t you remember middle school?”
 

“I was in California then.”

“Oh, yeah. Anyway, Nicole transferred in as this stringy-haired blonde kid. I think her dad worked construction and came to Richland looking for work. He took off and left them here. Her mom stayed drunk and they lived on welfare.”
 

Holly stared at Laurie. “Brea said Nicole’s mother was an alcoholic. But that and destitute… How’d Nicole pull off the transformation?”
 

“Forget that dumb as a doornail routine. She’s smart as they come.”
 

“I remember now. She acted like an airhead in high school but got straight A’s.”
 

Laurie made a face. “Of course, she was screwing a couple of teachers and had most of the jocks buying her clothes and jewelry.”
 

“I guess Tim’s enough older he didn’t know about all that.”

Headlights illuminated the parking lot as the truck eased toward the cross street. Holly squinted at the sudden brightness. “Why isn’t she working? She’d be perfect in management at more companies than I can name.”
 

“I think she likes being Tim’s wife and doing the charity organizing.”
 

“She sure likes spending his money, but it seems like a waste of talent. If Walt was serious about Tim divorcing her, she might need to rethink that.”
 

The truck bumped across the road and entered the library’s parking lot, accelerating as it cleared the entrance.
 

“What an asshole,” Laurie said, watching it. “Don’t you hate people who cut the corner at red lights?”

“Seriously.” The women edged closer to a parked Chevy SUV, giving the older truck room to pass.
 

“That truck’s going too fast.” Laurie glared at the oncoming driver.
 

And coming straight for them.
Holy
—

“Look out!”
 

Chapter Thirty-two

Something warm trickled into Holly’s eyes. A wide band of pain settled around her temples and tightened, throbbing into a headache. It pounded in time with the shriek of a car alarm.
 

Laurie huddled against the bulk of the SUV. “My ankle,” she moaned.
 

Holly rose on her hands and knees, and winced at the chorus of pain. She crawled gingerly across the narrow gap between the cars and peered at her friend’s foot.
 

Oh, no
.

Two women appeared at the rear of the vehicles. “Are you okay?” one asked anxiously.
 

“Call 911,” Holly said, her attention fixed on Laurie’s ankle. The Chevy’s rear tire had her foot pinned.
 

Damn, what should she do now? Her first-aid course hadn’t covered anything this serious. “We can try to shift the car and get your foot out, but maybe we should wait for the ambulance.”

Holly glanced at the older of the two women. Clad in elastic-waist jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked like somebody’s mom. Cell phone pressed to her ear, the woman was focused on whatever the 911 operator was saying.
 

“Tell them to hurry,” Holly said.

“They said don’t try to move the car.” The woman lowered her phone. “You’re bleeding, by the way.”