Free So About the Money by Cathy Perkins Page A

rattling a whiskey bottle against the wooden surface. He tilted so badly the furniture barely held him upright. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
    “Marcy?” Holly studied his ravaged face. He looked worse than she felt, and she’d seen the body. “I know you worked together, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”  
    An unwanted thought intruded. How close were they? More than friends?  
    No way. Tim gave every indication he was happily married. Even if Nicole played the bitch-in-helpless-waif-clothing routine, Tim doted on her. Still, his reaction seemed out of proportion for someone who was only an employee.  
    “She was a friend—a good friend.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “She listened. Nobody does that. She deserved more than the crap Alders put her through. More than…”
    “Who’s Alders? What crap?”
    “God, I hate that guy.” Tim jerked upright. His hands closed into fists.  
    He stopped as abruptly as he’d moved. Wavering on unsteady feet, his lower lip trembled and his jaw worked.  
    Still trying to catch up, Holly watched his emotional crumbling. Good grief. When was the last time she’d seen a guy cry? Besides over a stupid football game?  
    “She’s dead.” He lunged forward and enveloped Holly is a sweaty hug. Booze seeped through his pores, mingled with stale perspiration.  
    Yuck .  
    Wracking sobs shook his body. She didn’t know whether to be concerned, horrified, or embarrassed. Instinct took over and she patted his shoulder as if he were a child. “It’ll be okay.”  
    He clenched her tighter and blubbered loudly against her neck.  
    Oh, jeez.
    She turned her head, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and glanced at the door. Where was Brea when she needed her? “Shhh…”
    Renewed sobs answered her.  
    Confused snippets of their conversation rotated through her mind, but she kept coming back to, W hy is he drunk? Why is he so upset?  
    Finally, his tears subsided to shuddering breaths, and she wondered what to say that wouldn’t embarrass both of them. She eased him away from her chest. “Nicole’s in my office. Why don’t you let her take you home?”
    A look close to panic slid across his face. “Hell, no. She flips out if I have a drink.”
    A drink? She eyed the bottle on his desk. How about the whole friggin’ bottle?  
    “Okay. What if I ask Brea to get some coffee?” She couldn’t leave him like this, but she had to get moving or she really would be late for her meeting.  
    Maybe she should take him with her.  
    She resisted the urge to glance at her watch. “C’mon. Caffeine. How about a quick run to the Bikini Barista?”
    “I can’t.” He wiped his nose against his sleeve. “Southridge financing closes next week. Gotta do stuff.”
    His tone reminded Holly of a petulant teenager. Who are you and what have you done with my charming, confident client?  
    She didn’t want to set the guy off again, but maybe she could offer loan staff—from somewhere—to help him. “I guess Marcy…not being here…leaves you short-handed.”  
    “I can handle it.” A look that said oh shit slid across his face, but he slouched against his desk. He took a deep breath and seemed to pull himself together. “What’s up?”  
    Okay, here goes. Tim had been drinking, but it wasn’t like she was looking for courtroom evidence. “I’m trying to understand what was going on in Marcy’s life. She worked for you and—”
    Tim reared back and lost his balance. A sweaty smear trailed his hand across the polished wood. “You think I did something to her?”
    “No.” She backpedaled hard. “I just thought, I mean, she did spend most of her time here, and—”
    He pushed himself erect. “Her working here didn’t have anything to do with anything.”  
    “I just thought, since she’s a friend as well as an employee, you might know if something was bothering her lately.”
    “You’re an accountant. Keep your interest on business.”