Free Partnerships Can Kill: The Third Charlie Parker Mystery by Connie Shelton Page A
Book: Partnerships Can Kill: The Third Charlie Parker Mystery by Connie Shelton Read Free Book Online
Authors: Connie Shelton
himself. I know I should have paid more attention, but I just
couldn't find the time. Charlie, you don't know what it takes to
keep a restaurant going. Getting good help is the worst part. Just
about the time you think you have a good crew, and everything is
running all right, someone quits. You can't imagine how many times
I've ended up waiting tables, or even cooking, because some little
twit decided she couldn't handle the job any more, and called at
six o'clock that morning to let me know she wouldn't be back. So
I'd do her job all day, supervise the kitchen, do the shopping,
check the inventory on staples, balance the cash drawer. By the
time I get home at night, I'm exhausted. In the beginning I'd take
the reports home and try to study them, but I don't understand that
stuff, and it made my head hurt to try and make sense of them.
Maybe I trusted David too far, but I just couldn't do it all."
She had slumped down in David's chair, and
propped her elbows on the desk, her forehead in her hands. She was
right—I couldn't imagine all that went into running a restaurant. I
felt guilty for doubting her. Awkwardly, I patted her on the
shoulder, feeling badly because I'm not one of those people who
dispenses hugs and comfort easily. I let her sit there in silence a
few minutes before bringing up the subject again. This time, I
tried to make my voice gentle.
"For your sake, Sharon, we have to find out
the state of things around here. This IRS man isn't going to give
up just because no one ever returns his calls. If you'd like, I
could call him, explain about David's death, and tell him we're
trying to put the records together. They aren't all that cold and
unfeeling. At least it will give you a little breather."
She agreed, sending a weak smile my way—the
first I'd seen in awhile.
"Okay, now review with me exactly who did
what. David showed you some reports. Did he produce those reports
himself? Were they hand written, or did he do them on the computer?
Did anyone else ever review the reports—a CPA or attorney?"
Now that we were getting to some hard facts,
she sat straighter in the chair, and calmed down.
"David did the reports himself, on the
computer. He had a CPA, Ben Murray, who did the tax returns. I
think Ben reviewed the financial reports periodically, too, but I'm
not sure. I couldn't stand Ben Murray. He's kind of, well, sleazy.
I don't know how to describe it, but I didn't like being in the
same room with him. I let David deal with him." She looked up at me
again. "I guess I shouldn't have, huh?"
"It's okay, Sharon. What's done is done. I
just need to figure out what's going on now. If David had printed
reports, they have to be somewhere. I need to see them. Any
ideas?"
"You could try going to see Ben Murray. I'll
warn you though, wear protective bullshit gear."
We laughed, the tension broken.
I looked up Murray's address in the phone
book, and discovered it wouldn't be too far out of my way to stop
at Dr. Casper's office first.
Linda Casper had been in my class in high
school. Despite being probably the smartest of the whole bunch, she
was down-to-earth. A good friend. With her head for learning and
her natural bedside manner there was never any doubt she'd make a
top-notch doctor. Now, just a couple of years out of med school,
though, it was still a struggle. She'd gone in with two older
physicians, in hopes of building her practice. It would come—just a
matter of time.
When I signed the clipboard at the reception
desk I noticed there were only two other patients listed for Dr.
Casper. Both had already come and gone. I found myself worrying
about her. Most people think becoming a doctor is an automatic
ticket to riches, but I knew better. I'd watched Linda sign those
loan papers to get through school. It would be years before she
broke even. Especially as a family practitioner, where even the
best ones sometimes barely make it.
"Charlie!" Her infectious grin warmed the
examining room. At five foot
couldn't find the time. Charlie, you don't know what it takes to
keep a restaurant going. Getting good help is the worst part. Just
about the time you think you have a good crew, and everything is
running all right, someone quits. You can't imagine how many times
I've ended up waiting tables, or even cooking, because some little
twit decided she couldn't handle the job any more, and called at
six o'clock that morning to let me know she wouldn't be back. So
I'd do her job all day, supervise the kitchen, do the shopping,
check the inventory on staples, balance the cash drawer. By the
time I get home at night, I'm exhausted. In the beginning I'd take
the reports home and try to study them, but I don't understand that
stuff, and it made my head hurt to try and make sense of them.
Maybe I trusted David too far, but I just couldn't do it all."
She had slumped down in David's chair, and
propped her elbows on the desk, her forehead in her hands. She was
right—I couldn't imagine all that went into running a restaurant. I
felt guilty for doubting her. Awkwardly, I patted her on the
shoulder, feeling badly because I'm not one of those people who
dispenses hugs and comfort easily. I let her sit there in silence a
few minutes before bringing up the subject again. This time, I
tried to make my voice gentle.
"For your sake, Sharon, we have to find out
the state of things around here. This IRS man isn't going to give
up just because no one ever returns his calls. If you'd like, I
could call him, explain about David's death, and tell him we're
trying to put the records together. They aren't all that cold and
unfeeling. At least it will give you a little breather."
She agreed, sending a weak smile my way—the
first I'd seen in awhile.
"Okay, now review with me exactly who did
what. David showed you some reports. Did he produce those reports
himself? Were they hand written, or did he do them on the computer?
Did anyone else ever review the reports—a CPA or attorney?"
Now that we were getting to some hard facts,
she sat straighter in the chair, and calmed down.
"David did the reports himself, on the
computer. He had a CPA, Ben Murray, who did the tax returns. I
think Ben reviewed the financial reports periodically, too, but I'm
not sure. I couldn't stand Ben Murray. He's kind of, well, sleazy.
I don't know how to describe it, but I didn't like being in the
same room with him. I let David deal with him." She looked up at me
again. "I guess I shouldn't have, huh?"
"It's okay, Sharon. What's done is done. I
just need to figure out what's going on now. If David had printed
reports, they have to be somewhere. I need to see them. Any
ideas?"
"You could try going to see Ben Murray. I'll
warn you though, wear protective bullshit gear."
We laughed, the tension broken.
I looked up Murray's address in the phone
book, and discovered it wouldn't be too far out of my way to stop
at Dr. Casper's office first.
Linda Casper had been in my class in high
school. Despite being probably the smartest of the whole bunch, she
was down-to-earth. A good friend. With her head for learning and
her natural bedside manner there was never any doubt she'd make a
top-notch doctor. Now, just a couple of years out of med school,
though, it was still a struggle. She'd gone in with two older
physicians, in hopes of building her practice. It would come—just a
matter of time.
When I signed the clipboard at the reception
desk I noticed there were only two other patients listed for Dr.
Casper. Both had already come and gone. I found myself worrying
about her. Most people think becoming a doctor is an automatic
ticket to riches, but I knew better. I'd watched Linda sign those
loan papers to get through school. It would be years before she
broke even. Especially as a family practitioner, where even the
best ones sometimes barely make it.
"Charlie!" Her infectious grin warmed the
examining room. At five foot