So About the Money by Cathy Perkins Read Free Book Online

Who’d have thought the ornament would one day help identify her body?
    “May I?” JC extended his hand and she surrendered the picture. He studied Marcy’s image. “The necklace.”
    “Marcy started wearing it a couple of months ago. That party was on Labor Day, so I guess she got it around then. She wore it all the time.”
    “Do you know where she got it? Who gave it to her?”
    “She never said.”
    He continued to stare at the picture. “I wasn’t aware you were so tight with that group. I see Alejandro Montoya was at the party, too.”
    Why did he insist on using Alex’s full, Hispanic name? “Tim’s a client. As you pointed out, Alex is his business partner.”
    “Do you hang out with all your clients in a bathing suit?”  
    She stiffened. “What business is that of yours?”
    Their past history was still complicating this...whatever it was—meeting, interview, interrogation.  
    JC placed the photo where she could see Marcy’s smile.  
    Holly glanced from the picture to the detective. She didn’t need his less than subtle reminder about his reason for being there. Except this wasn’t about Marcy anymore.  
    She pushed back from the table and rose. She crossed the empty living room—a walk rather than a stomp—and pulled his coat from the closet.
    He remained seated at the table, watching her.
    “When you decide to actually investigate Marcy’s death, we’ll talk. For now, you’re leaving. We’re done.”
    He shook his head. “We’re just getting started.”
    “Then I better start my own investigation, because this isn’t getting anywhere.”

Chapter Five

    Sunday, late afternoon

    Holly cruised Howard Amon Park’s small parking lot. She scanned the rows for her best friend’s car, hoping she was in the right place. Laurie Gordon’s Prius was tiny, but distinctive.  
    The park ran for miles along the west bank of the Columbia River, from somewhere below the Blue Bridge in Kennewick all the way to the Hanford Nuclear Site. It widened periodically into named areas, but she always had trouble remembering what the different segments were called. She should’ve just told Laurie to meet her at the Fingernail. The bandshell’s pale blue top poked through the trees like the index finger it resembled.  
    She parked, climbed from the car, and tugged the zipper on her jacket higher. She’d changed into jeans and a fleece top, but the wind off the river carried a bite. Rather than pace, she leaned against her Beemer’s fender and watched other people enjoy the autumn sunshine. Teenagers, families. Ordinary people living ordinary lives.
    The sun felt good on her face. Eyes closed, she tilted her head. Children’s voices, the teenagers’ music, and an occasional car rumbling through the parking lot receded into a background drone. White noise for relaxation.  
    “Holly?”
    The male voice jolted her to attention. Heart thumping, she pivoted toward the sound.
    Never let your guard down. Especially not in public.That was one lesson she’d learned from Frank.
    “Sorry,” the middle-aged man said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  
    Hand pressed to her chest, she managed a weak smile when she recognized him as a client.  
    “I wanted to introduce my wife.” He gestured to a brunette who held a leash connected to something small, fluffy, and cute.
    They chatted and petted the dog, while Holly told her overactive imagination to get a grip. A few minutes later, the couple headed for the wide, riverside path.  
    A Prius purred into the lot and parked. The sun caught the bright blue streaks in Laurie’s dark hair as she emerged. Before Holly could wonder how the hospital administration reacted to the hair enhancement, Laurie closed the gap between them, wrapped arms around her, and squeezed.
    “I can’t believe Marcy’s dead.” Holly leaned against her friend, worn out by too many emotional slams. For a while, they hugged in shared grief. Finally, she sniffed and dabbed a