Free So About the Money by Cathy Perkins Page B

His expression and tone approached snarl.
    She took a surprised step backward. Where’d this temper come from?  
    “Ah, shit.” He sagged against the desk. “Sorry.”  
    Sorry he snapped? Sorry he told her what he really thought about her? Or sorry he tipped his hand that he might not be blameless in Marcy’s death?  
    Holly eased behind the visitor’s chair. If he made a move to hit or hug her, she wanted a sturdy object between them.  
    Tim’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t stand coming here and not seeing her.” He stared at the floor as if it were purgatory. “She was too young to die.”
    Then again, maybe he was just drunk and upset.  
    “She’s alive as long as we remember her,” Holly said gently.  
    Okay, that was lame.  
    “Well,” she said, edging toward the door. “I’ll let Brea know you want to be alone.”  
    Her gaze slid from the nearly empty bottle on Tim’s desk to the console behind the conference table, where she knew he kept liquor. Should she confiscate everything inside it?
    Tim didn’t answer and she wondered if he’d even heard her.  
    “I’ll be okay.” His voice was flat, drained of the earlier emotion. “Life goes on. So they say.”  
    Before she could think of a response, her cell phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and checked the display. Mother . Thank God. She hit the connect button. “I’m leaving in a minute. Can you meet me at Tri-Ag?”
    “Well ‘hello’ to you, too, darling.” Her mother’s voice was warm with concern and a touch of amusement.
    “Hello, Mother. It’s taken me months to get a foot in the door out there. We cannot be late.”
    “That’s why I called. The Chamber meeting is still going.”  
    Holly glanced at her watch. That meeting should’ve finished an hour ago. “Why?”
    “They’re arguing about the Point property. Some people would rather hold onto their private parking lot than see it developed productively.”
    “Are you going to make the Tri-Ag meeting?”
    “I may be a few minutes late, but I’m more concerned about you. I tried to call earlier this morning, as soon as I heard the news. Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine. A little tired, but fine.” Guilt over not calling the previous evening poked her.  
    A thud sounded behind her. She whirled. Tim had vanished.
    What the…? “Gotta go.” She dropped the cell phone into her pocket.
    “Tim?”
    A rumbly belch broke the silence. She followed the sound and peered around the desk. Tim lay sprawled on the floor, passed out cold.  
    Well, that went well.  
    She might need to refine her interrogation technique.  
    Now what?
    Brea rushed into the room. “Holly. Thank God. That cop’s here again, wanting to talk to Tim.”
    “The cops?” She glanced from the receptionist to the slumbering suspect. Talk about bad timing.
    “This detective—God, he’s gorgeous—seemed a little PO’d when I said Tim wasn’t here. I mean, Tim’s Mercedes is right there in the parking lot. Where is he, anyway?”
    Holly ignored the “gorgeous” comment— have at it, honey —and pointed behind the desk.  
    Brea took one look, then her face crinkled, fighting laughter. “What did you do to him?”
    “Excuse me?”
    Brea waved away the comment. “I knew he was hammered. He lurched in, mumbling, ‘Don’t tell Nicole I’m here.’ ”
    “That would explain why she was in our office looking for him.”
    “What was she doing there? I told her to check upstairs, with the money people. As soon as she left, I tried to find one of the property guys to help.” The receptionist propped her hands on her ample hips and nodded at Tim’s inert form. “This is getting to be a habit.”  
    “Really?”
    “He was at Crazy Horse Casino Friday night, completely trashed.”  
      “Are you sure it was Tim?” Surprise colored her voice.
    “Oh, yeah. I see him down there all the time.”
    “I didn’t know he gambled.” Holly gave Tim another dubious inspection. “I