So About the Money (22 page)

She replaced the receiver and slumped in her chair. Great. Not only was JC messing with
her
, he was messing with her
business
. Pointing him at Lee Alders wasn’t good enough. She was going to have to find more evidence. Otherwise, at this rate she wouldn’t have an accounting firm to sell.
 

Her life was not supposed to be this complicated. Things had been simple when she arrived in Richland. Do the job. Make the deal. Sell Desert Accounting. Get back to Seattle.
 

Her life in Seattle was busy, interesting. The city held life’s good things—theater, restaurants, and real work. The people she worked with there respected her. If it got a little lonely, well, everything had a price.
 

Still, Richland was getting to her. Threatening to suck her in. People recognized her at the grocery store, the dry cleaners. Clients introduced her to their families when she bumped into them at Costco. Even her house had captured a piece of her.

She straightened her shoulders.
 

Forget all that
.
 

Bottom line, she’d put her life on hold for her parents. It was the right thing to do.
 

But she was
not
getting stuck in Richland.

She returned Crystal’s marketing materials to its file in the drawer and stowed her disappointment. Why did the losses hurt more than the successes lifted? One “ah-shit” certainly wiped out a dozen “atta-girls.”

Crystal might get over the gossip and reconsider. If she didn’t, there were other opportunities. Holly resolutely opened another drawer and pulled out Fred Zhang’s folder. She was still studying the Zhangs’ financial statement when one of the staff knocked on her door an hour later. “Do you have time for a couple of questions?” Sammy asked.

“As long as it doesn’t involve a pig.”

He hesitated, flight written all over his posture.

Learn not to scare the staff
.
 

She’d have to frame that rule and hang it on the wall. “Just kidding. What’s up?”

Sammy edged into the office and eased a folder onto her desk. “Rick told me to handle the Stevens Ventures paperwork. I transferred most of it to bookkeeping, but there are a couple of companies I don’t know what to do with.”
 

Holly opened the folder. The uppermost paper was a property tax notice. “Walla Walla County? I didn’t know Tim owned land there.”
 

Sammy pointed at the owner block. “There’s nothing in our system on TNM Ventures, either.”

“I’ve told Tim to let me know when he starts a new company.” She managed to keep irritation out of her voice. “He’s probably already behind on filing something. I’ll ask him about it.” She made a note of the company name and frowned. “A Wyoming address?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure it’s even one of theirs.”
 

“Tim must’ve gotten an incentive to incorporate there.” It happened, especially if it potentially meant jobs for the state. She rifled the remaining papers and pulled one. “Creekside is part of the Yakima retrofit.”

Sammy took it, nodding. “Okay. I saw a folder for Creekside Manor.”

In all, there were four companies she’d never heard of. All four shared the same Yakima post office box mailing address. “Leave these with me. Do what you can with the rest.”

“Will do.” He reached for the folder.

Holly leaned back and crossed her arms. “Is your sister still with the sheriff’s department?”

Sammy nodded.
 

“What’d she say about the pig?”

For a second, he froze, then gave a lopsided smile. “She cracked up. I know it was a pain—the smell and mess. But the group really needs money. I figured Rick could raise it.”

Holly waved a hand, dismissing the pig and Sammy’s apology. “I thought it was rather…innovative. Just tell me one thing.”

Sammy’s tightly curled fingers betrayed his tension. “Yes?”

“These farmer friends of yours. Do they raise llamas?”

“Um… I’m sure they don’t send them to people’s offices.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Too bad. I hear they spit.” She was still thinking about that payback.

Looking a little confused, Sammy vanished in the direction of his cubicle.
 

She eyed the four new Stevens folders.
 

Damn, she needed to get a life.
 

She’d barely gotten her head back into the Zhang financial statements when the devil himself appeared at her office door. That’s what she got for thinking about JC. She’d gone and summoned him.
 

Before he could open his mouth, she raised her hand in a palm-out, “stop” sign. “No. No more questions.” She gave him her best evil-squint.
 

He smiled, a long, lazy invitation.
 

Her stomach did a slow flip-flop. “I’ve told you everything I know about Marcy. Twice. I would do anything to help find her killer, but I. Don’t. Know. Anything.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

She cocked her head, letting surprise and more than a little suspicion cover her other reactions. “That I don’t know anything? You know I meant about Marcy.”

“That you’d help. Come on.” He waved a hand and gestured her to her feet.

“Why? Where? This isn’t about the pig, is it?”

His dimples appeared and her pulse kicked into a higher gear. She really had to get a handle on those dimples.

“Translating.”

Damn, hung with her own words. She
had
opened her mouth and offered to help.
 

She reluctantly reached for her jacket. “Surely you have someone on the force who speaks Spanish.”

“You won’t need your coat.”

Huh? She followed him out the door. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, so she couldn’t help but notice his nice tight butt. “How’s the investigation coming? Find out anything about Lee Alders?”

“Does your lobby usually smell like a pine forest?”

“Is that your normal negotiating style? Ignore anything that doesn’t fit your script?”

His head turned and his dimples reappeared. “Did you say something?”

She rolled her eyes and trailed him into the lobby. The pig cage was gone, the shavings vacuumed. The place smelled overwhelmingly piney, but it beat swine stench any day of the week.
 

Tracey gave them an approving smile. “Enjoy your lunch.”

It wasn’t worth trying to explain.
 

JC opened the outer door and gave every indication he was enjoying himself.
 

“You know, this is exactly what irritates me about you,” she said. “Does it even cross your mind I have my own work to do?”

He just smiled and stepped across the atrium to Stevens Ventures’ door.
 

The kind of interpreting JC needed suddenly occurred to her.
 

She halted abruptly. “No. I can’t.”

Chapter Twenty-one

JC’s hand at the small of Holly’s back propelled her into the Stevens Ventures’ lobby. Except for JC and her, the place was vacant—the receptionist desk empty, the phone lines blinking.
 

She dug her heels into the plush carpet. “I won’t be part of an interrogation. These people had nothing to do with Marcy’s death.”

JC finally looked at her. “Lillian isn’t being interrogated.”

So, she was right about the kind of interpreting he needed.

“We need to ask her about Marcy. Lillian worked with the vic— the woman. She might know who Marcy was seeing.”

Holly turned away. This wasn’t like translating at the wake. That was spontaneous, defusing a crisis. This was…insulting. “You’re using me.”

“Holly.” JC pulled her in front of him. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important. She’s your friend. She’ll be more comfortable with you.” He slid his hands to her shoulders in a gentle caress.
 

Refocusing her or reassuring her, Holly wasn’t sure what he was doing. For one long moment, she wanted to put her arms around his waist and lean into his shoulder.
Make all this go away.
 

“Lillian’s upset. I’m not using you to get to her.” His tone managed to sound intimate and reasonable at the same time. “If you can talk to her. Well, sign. Help her calm down. That’s all I’m asking.”

“That’s not all you’re asking, and you know it.” She broke free of his hold and moved to the receptionist’s desk. He was making nice to get what he wanted, in this case an interpreter, not because he cared about either her or Lillian.
 

More manipulation, an area he excelled at.

“Please. I need your help.”
 

“You need me when it’s convenient.” She scanned the foyer, refusing to look at him. “What happened to ‘stay out of my investigation’? That’s always been your problem. You bend the rules, but only when it helps you.”
 

JC didn’t say anything. Reluctantly, she glanced up. He was watching her, a curious expression in his eyes. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Yes. No. Yes.” She wasn’t ready to have this conversation. She certainly didn’t want to have it where anyone could walk into the middle of it. “But you’ve always done it—made up the rules. For everybody else,” she blurted.
 

It left her feeling she couldn’t depend on him.

“Always?” His lips thinned.
 

She really,
really
didn’t want to have this conversation.
 

Apparently he didn’t either, because he moved in front of her and studied her. He didn’t try to touch her again, but he stood between her and the exit.
 

 
“The guy who works back there, Fu…” JC hooked a thumb toward the back office area.
 

“Phoua. He’s a property manager.”

“Yeah, him.” JC took a breath and plowed straight ahead. “Look. Pho said he’d seen you do that ‘hand stuff’ with Lillian. And I remembered you used to do it in high school, so—”

“That ‘hand stuff’?”

“His words, not mine.” The color on JC’s cheeks darkened. “Sign. For deaf people.”

“I believe the politically correct term is ‘hearing-impaired.’ And it’s called American Sign Language.”
 

“Right. We called the college looking for someone who, uh, speaks it. They’re contacting a teacher, but it might take a while. Lillian’s upset, so I took a chance you might be in your office.” He trailed off with a beseeching expression.

Holly folded her arms and gave him an exasperated expression in return. He wasn’t all smug because he knew she was going to cave and do what he wanted—bring Lillian down off the ledge. They both knew she was doing that for Lillian. “You are a master manipulator,” she gritted out.

He didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I have a client meeting in an hour. Marcy’s funeral is after that, so I can’t run late. Unless you plan to provide me with a police escort, I’m out of here in thirty minutes. Let’s get this over with.”

She crossed the lobby and passed Tim’s office, well aware that once again JC had gotten his way. In the back of her mind, she was surprised he’d let Lillian’s interview get away from him.

She strode past the smaller offices the property and project managers used. She’d planned to catch Lillian after the funeral anyway, and find out what had been bothering her on Monday. If it was related to Marcy’s death, it would undoubtedly come out during this session.
 

Another thought occurred to her and she stumbled.

“You okay?” JC caught her arm.

She waved him off. Surely, Lillian’s unease on Monday wasn’t
guilt
.

A rumble of male voices spilled from the office Lillian had shared with Marcy. Holly took in Lillian’s anxious expression, and grabbed hold of her temper. Had JC done something incredibly stupid like accusing Lillian of killing Marcy?