So About the Money (43 page)

Holly reloaded the roller and decided she didn’t care why he was stealing. Her question was whether Tim suspected that she suspected him of fraud.

And what would he do if he did?

Would he try to kill her? All he had to do was fire her and it would cut off her access to his records. He’d never struck her as having enough intestinal fortitude to kill someone. It took a certain amount of grit to deliberately run over somebody. And since he’d skipped their meeting, he wouldn’t know about her concerns in the first place.
 

Would he?

She adjusted her grip on the roller handle and tried to focus on painting, but her mind kept churning. For a long time she painted and thought about Alex. He had a temper and liked to yell, but as far as she knew, he was all talk. He seemed to enjoy challenging her up front and personally. If he thought she was getting too close to facts he wanted covered, he’d get in her face about it.
 

Unless his mama told him not to.

She poured more paint into the pan and tackled the final wall section.

Okay, she really wanted the villain to be Lee Alders. The bastard beat both his wife and the court system in the Nyland lawsuit. She wanted him to pay for something.
 

She didn’t know what Lee would do if he thought she was a threat, but the sneak attack today sounded like something he’d orchestrate. She might’ve registered on the man’s radar since she’d stirred up Yessica over the divorce and the will. But wasn’t he still missing, with how many policemen looking for him?

Frank was the wild card. She remembered his verbal threats when she’d tried to break up with him. JC had warned her that Frank might come after her about losing his job in Seattle. His call and the flowers made it seem like he thought he was still in love with her though. Frank didn’t know about Alex or JC, so he wouldn’t have lashed out in a jealous rage. Although he’d mentioned seeing her with Tim in the parking lot…
 

If he was following her, would he have seen Thursday’s session with JC? Or Alex’s showdown on Friday morning?
 

Frank wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing her with either man.
 

And what was up with that weird conversation after the wreck? He’d scared the crap out of her, but he seemed to think he was looking out for her. That had been his excuse in Seattle for following her around. Damn, why did he have to show up in Richland? Was it a coincidence or had he followed her from Seattle? And why had he run away instead of telling the police what he saw?
 

She stopped, roller frozen in place. What if the assorted vehicle incidents were completely unrelated to Marcy’s death? Had she pissed off another client?
 

No. Desert Accounting’s clients—other than maybe Tim—were happy.
 

She moved ahead, swinging the roller in a long W. Everything—all the weirdness of the week—was tangled together. If she could pull the right thread, maybe the mess would unravel and she could see it clearly.
 

Names and motives churned as she painted her way across the wall, but she didn’t have any clearer idea who’d attacked her than she did when she’d started. She made the last pass with the roller, then turned and surveyed the room. Creamy white walls reflected the sunlight streaming through the oversized windows and lit the interior, making the space look bigger.
 

Not bad.

Her phone chirped. She fished it from her pocket and checked the screen. Blocked number.

No way
.

She stuffed it back into her jeans and reached for the roller. Cleanup sucked, but it was part of the process.
 

The phone chirped again. The screen again announced, “Blocked number.”

Wrong number? Reporter? Sales pitch? Frank Phalen?
 

Irritated—and determined to be strong—she opened the connection. “Who is this?”

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer before?” JC’s rapid questions didn’t disguise his concerned tone.
 

“The number was blocked.”
 

A pause. “Good point. Sorry. I forgot to override it.”

Part of her was still pissed he’d tried to give her an order that morning, but she actually liked that he was worried, which was rather disturbing. And damn, had he really said the word “sorry”?

“How’s your head?”

Her fingers touched her nose and the bandage from Thursday’s gash. Today’s close encounter with the air bag hadn’t helped either one. She channeled her best airhead. “There are these voices…”
 

“That’s a relief. Now you have somebody else to call up and pester.”

“Don’t you have somewhere you’re supposed to be?” she said dryly. “Like, I don’t know, catching criminals?”
 

“I needed to check on you.”

Needed to? “Check on, or check
up
on? Admit it, you wanted to make sure I was at home.”

“C’mon, Holly. Be reasonable. I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you.”

“So, is half the police force in two counties listening to this conversation?”

She felt JC’s silent count to ten. “I tried your cell, but no one answered. Using the radio was the fastest way to get in touch with you. Nunez is a friend. He patched the call through.”

Damn. Her cell
had
been in the car after the EMT moved her to the ambulance. “Having helpful friends is nice, but why would a highway patrol officer know to contact you in the first place, when I had a wreck? I didn’t ask him to.”

“Ah…yeah. About that. I put a code in your file.”
 

“I have a file? As in, the police have a file on me?”

“More like a flag.”

She ground her teeth. “A flag.”

“On your license.”

“Let me get this straight. You coded my driver’s license with your contact information?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious. “When did you plan to share that little detail?”

“Now sounds like a great time.” From his tone, if he were standing in front of her, both of his dimples would be on display.
 

She laughed in spite of herself. “Uh-huh.”

“The state patrol turned your latest incident over to us. We’ll consolidate the cases.”

That took her aback. “You really think they’re related?" She could almost see JC trying not to make a smartass remark and said, “I’m not that dense. I realize they’re probably related, but the cars were different. I seem to be the common element.”

“I wish today’s incident was a coincidence, rather than because you disobeyed my direct order to stay out of my investigation.”

“Excuse me? Direct order? I don’t think so. And for the last time, I am
not
running around asking people where they were the day Marcy was killed.”
 

Someone spoke in the background and JC muffled the phone. “I have to go. I’ll come by and check on you later. If that’s okay with you,” he added in a tone that could be polite or smartass, depending on the way she interpreted it.

“Yeah. About that. I have plans for this evening.”

“Cancel them.”
 

“I’ll be with friends. Being with them is better than being here alone if that asshole comes after me.”

“Holly.” Exasperation morphed into cop mode. “Which asshole are you referring to?”

“Frank Phalen.”

There was a beat of silence. “And?”

“You did tell me to let you know if Frank contacted me. I told you he was at the wreck, but he sent flowers too.”

“When? Where?”

“To the office yesterday, but I didn’t figure it out until today.”

“Trust me, I intend to interview him.”

From JC’s grim tone, she almost wished she could be there to see the confrontation. There was no question who’d win that battle.

“Phalen might’ve sent the flowers to the office because he doesn’t know where you live. You’re not listed in the phone directory.”

And JC knew that how? She let that one pass.

“If he’s out there looking to make trouble, I want you to stay home.”
 

“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m going to Bookwalter with my friends. I’ll be safer there with people around me.”

“How are you getting there? Your car’s totaled.” JC clearly realized he wasn’t going to win this battle.
 

“They have this amazing invention called a rental car. They even bring it to you. Of course, my insurance company would only spring for an econobox.”

“At least it isn’t as distinctive as your BMW. It’ll be harder for the next maniac to spot.”

“Especially since it’ll be sitting in my driveway. Gwen and Laurie are picking me up.”

“If you insist on going, wait for me at the winery. I’ll meet you there as soon as we finish here and give you a ride home.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is. You’re necessary.”

Before she could respond to
that
cryptic remark, he said, “We need to finish the conversation we started Friday night.”

Her heart stopped beating and she stood there with her mouth hanging open. A guy who actually wanted to talk?
 

Wow. Hell really
could
freeze over.
 

Chapter Forty-two

Saturday night

Holly watched the flickering flames in Bookwalter’s fire pit. Propane heaters hissed discreetly from the terrace edges. Vines climbed the latticed windbreak. The remaining leaves shifted in the faint breeze, a soft rustling counterpart to the patter of conversations and light jazz piped through the outside speakers.
 

The size of their group ebbed and flowed as friends stopped to chat and then moved on. Someone on the other side of the fire pit called, “Holly, I heard you had a wreck today. What happened?”

She remembered not to shake her head. “Ugh, let’s talk about something else.”

Laurie elbowed her in the ribs.

“What?” Holly would’ve poked her back if Laurie’s foot weren’t propped on a bench, making her look especially vulnerable. Her friend’s crutches leaned against the windbreak and a heavy cast encased her elevated ankle. “There’s a difference between bottling everything up and not talking about something because it was terrifying and you’d rather not re-experience it.”

“Ooh. An unsolicited admission of feelings. I feel like Yoda, or was it the old guy in
The
Karate Kid
? ‘My work here is done.’ ” She leaned closer and whispered, “One more thing. Quit feeling guilty. It’s working for me.” Looking like a blue-haired elfin sprite, Laurie smiled at a cute blond guy who handed her a glass of white wine and pulled a chair close beside her.

Conversation moved to the upcoming Wine Harvest celebration, the artists’ open gallery tour, and whether the area could support the proposed water park and how to pay for it. Holly let the voices move past her, punctuated by pops from the fire and bursts of music when the wine-bar door opened.
 

“Since you’re giving all this up, you must really miss it,” Laurie remarked quietly.

Holly turned to her best friend. “Miss what?”

Laurie gave her a
Well, duh?
expression. “Ever since you got here, you’ve been saying you couldn’t wait to get back to Seattle.”

“I do miss the restaurants and shopping.”

“I meant to your job. It always sounded so impressive. Megadollar wheeling and dealing. Hanging out with the movers and shakers.”

Holly shrugged. “I really don’t miss the pressure or the hours.”
 

“What about the challenge? I mean, a local practice has to be a step down by comparison.”

“Maybe what I do here isn’t glamorous, but I like getting to know the clients, helping them with their business. I’m having fun working on my house. And I have time for stuff like the book club. When people don’t try to run over us.” There were good things here. World-class vineyards. Live jazz. Friends who weren’t ready to cut her throat on the next deal.