Finders Keepers Losers Die (6 page)

"Sounds good to me." I followed her out,
closed the front door and pretended to lock it but actually left it
unlocked so Scarface could leave. He'd better thank me for getting
him out of there.

Not that I expected to see him again. Not
that I
wanted
to.

Angela seemed lonely so I was happy to
relieve her of some coffee and tell her about my loud, fun-loving,
over-the-top Irish/Italian family. She said she'd love a family
like that. Actually, so would I, they sounded pretty cool.

Half an hour later, I drove home. I assumed
Scarface had snuck out while I was telling Angela about my mean
boss.

I had a couple of hours before I was due for
dinner at Mom's so I decided to have a miraculous recovery and head
into work. Now that I'd successfully planted the transmitter, I
needed the receiver so I could listen in to Lou's
conversations.

When I arrived, Gina caught me on the
sidewalk. We air kissed each other and I told her I'd been off sick
that morning, nudge nudge, wink wink. I didn't want to go into the
whole Roberta thing, so I glossed over the reasons and Gina never
asked.

She seemed to be bursting to tell me
something. "She's here." Her head jerked towards Knight
Investigations' office.

"Who?"

"Taaarnya. And she's in diva mode."

I groaned. "I haven't seen her in a while.
How's Will taking her sudden reappearance?"

"Well," she flapped her hands and leaned in
conspiratorially. Gina loves to gossip. I think she'd wither like a
fern in the desert if she had no one to talk about. "Carl came into
the shop a few minutes ago because he said he couldn't stand the
arguing."

"Arguing?" Maybe Will had wised up to
Tanya's prima donna ways. "What about?"

"He's not giving her enough attention."

"That's because he's busy."

Gina shrugged. "That's what he told her.
Then they went into his office and Carl came here for some fresh
air."

And to pass on the information. Carl was
just as bad as Gina. Whoever said gossiping is purely a female
sport never met Carl.

A customer wandered into Gina's shop so I
left her and opened the door to Knight Investigations. Before I
stepped inside, a red Camaro pulled out from the curb a few doors
up. My heart leapt into my throat. I squinted into the sun but
couldn’t make out the plates.

I hurried inside and slammed the door shut.
I scanned the street again through the window but there was no sign
of the Camaro. I breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. Calmness
and common sense returned.

It couldn’t have been Lou. He didn't know
where I worked. I’d left The Grotto too quickly for him to have
followed me home, and even if he found out where I lived by
checking my license plates, he hadn’t followed me from there to
Mom’s or to the office. I’d have noticed a red Camaro. After the
previous evening's entertainment, I was on high alert.

Carl came out of his office and raised one
eyebrow. "Miraculous recovery?"

"It's amazing what prescription drugs can do
these days."

"Cat?" Will said from where he stood, framed
by his office doorway. "I thought I heard your voice. Aren't you
sick?"

"Feeling a lot better." I headed up the
corridor. "Actually, I feel like cleaning out the storeroom, so
I'll just be in there if anyone needs me."

He looked at me like I was nuts. I suppose
it must seem that way. Not only had I gone to work after calling in
sick but I was volunteering to do something even he hadn't asked me
to do. The storeroom was a black hole that sucked in paraphernalia
and never spat it out again.

"Glad you're feeling better," he added.

His door opened wider and Tanya appeared
next to him, hand on hip. "I'll have a coffee. Black, no
sugar."

I blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Tanya," Will cut her a warning glance, "Cat
doesn't—"

"And not that awful instant stuff," she
said. "I want the real thing from the coffee shop across the road."
She crossed her arms and tipped her head back, thrusting out her
pointy little chin.

The cow was begging for an argument. I had
no idea why, especially in front of Will, but hey, I never back
down from a bitch fight. Anyone who's ever seen me claw my way
through the crowds during a shoe sale knows that.

But Will got in first. "Tanya, Cat isn't at
your beck and call."

One to Will.

Tanya's smug smile turned to a pout.
"Darling, I'd get it myself but my feet are killing me." No
wonder—the toes of her shoes were so sharp, a little kick could put
a hole through someone's shin.

Will sighed and ran a hand through his hair,
dragging it down and around his neck. Who could blame him for being
stressed with Tanya nearby? I always felt like screaming when she
was in the office.

I felt sorry for Will—twice in two days!—so
I decided to help him out and put her in her place. "Fetching
coffee might have been your job when
you
worked here,
Tanya," I pronounced it the way she hates, "but it's not mine." I
disappeared into the storeroom and shut the door on her shocked
gasp. Her shrill complaints to Will filtered through the wall.

And I thought I had an attitude problem. She
took nagging to new heights.

Will's response was too low to hear but it
calmed Tanya down and the office fell silent for a while. I hunted
through the mess for a receiver, found it and dropped it in my
handbag. I also borrowed a lock pick and an itty bitty camcorder
because it looked so cute. Then I started cleaning up since I had
to keep my cover. I sat on the floor and sorted through the nearest
box of equipment.

A few moments later, I heard the front door
to the office open and close then Will entered the storeroom.

I looked up from untangling some wires.
"She's gone?"

He nodded. "Sorry about that. She's a bit
fragile today. Her agent dumped her."

"Does she want her old job back?" Before
Roberta came along, I might have wanted him to say yes so I had an
excuse to quit. But since then, things were different. I waited for
his answer without breathing.

"She wanted us to get back together."

Whoa, backup. "You broke up?"

"A few weeks ago. I thought you knew." He
picked up a file and studied it before putting it down again.

"I'm not psychic, Will. You have to actually
talk to me if you want me to know stuff."

There was a long silence in which he didn't
look at me. His eyes stayed downcast, hidden by his shaggy hair. I
couldn't tell if he was thinking or looking for something on the
floor.

Then he suddenly glanced up and I cringed at
the familiar hardness of his features, the cold focus of his eyes.
Back in work mode. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" From his
tone, it didn't sound like a pleasure.

"Huh?"

His eyes swept round the storeroom. "Your
fast recovery for one thing, and your sudden desire to work."

I stood, opened my mouth to defend myself
then realized I didn't have a leg to stand on. He was right to be
suspicious. I hadn't been sick and I was only working so I could
borrow the receiver. Still, I didn't like his tone and his
automatic assumption that I was lying.

"I felt a lot better once I threw up a
couple times," I said. "And daytime TV is crap, so I thought I
might as well come in here. Since I've been lying in bed all
morning, I wanted to do something more physical than sit at my
desk." There, that sounded believable.

"Maybe if you weren't out partying all
night, you wouldn't—"

"I wasn't out partying!" The Grotto was
definitely no party.

"Right. I'll leave you to it." And he left.
Just like that.

Boy, his attitude
really
ticked me
off. I might be lying about the stomach bug and the reason for
cleaning up, but I wasn't lying about being at a party.

He must think I'm some sort of party girl.
Ugh
. I can't stand those types. The ones who stumble home at
six in the morning, vodka up to their eyeballs, and falling over a
guy they met only an hour ago whose name they can't even remember.
I grew out of that phase at least two years ago. Except for the
vodka part which I indulged in most Saturday nights with Gina.

I followed him up the hallway, unable to let
it go. "I was
not
out partying or drinking or whatever you
think I was doing last night, Will, but if I was, it's none of your
damn business."

He stopped and turned, very slowly, very
deliberately. Uh-oh, firing time. But all he said was, "Fine,"
through tight lips, and kept going.

Don't walk away from me
, I wanted to
say, but refrained. He was still my boss and could fire me at any
time. I figured he didn't need any more reasons and he didn't owe
my Dad
that
much. "Didn't you want to talk to me about the
missing money?" I asked instead.

He stopped again, his hand on the door
handle. "Are you feeling up to it?"

"Yes."
Hell yes!
Although nailing
Tanya's butt to the wall wouldn't be as sweet since she and Will
broke up, but anything was better than cleaning the storeroom.

"Then you better come in." He stood aside
and I stepped past him. I dodged the stacks of files on the floor
and sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

He sat on the other side and rifled through
some papers then straightened them up, all the while shifting in
his chair like he couldn't get comfortable. Funny, the guy who
liked to chew me out over not working, didn't want to confront me
about stolen money. Go figure. I decided not to make it easy for
him. I wasn't feeling so generous after the partying comment.

"Right," he said for the third time. "Okay.
Let's see."

"For crying out loud. Spit it out,
Will."

I don't think he liked me telling him what
to do because he sat up straight and his eyes locked with mine. "I
got a call from my accountant yesterday. He said we're spending too
much money."

"On stationery and other petty cash
items?"

His mouth opened slightly then snapped shut.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and screwed up his
eyes. "Cat, I didn't want to believe it but…" The sentence dangled
like a noose.

"But we don't go through that much in a
year."

"Yeah," he said quietly, meeting my gaze.
"Cat, why?"

I threw up my hands and let them slap down
on the chair. "So you've already decided I'm guilty, is that it?" I
shook my head in disbelief and stood. "Thanks very much, Will. I
know you don't like me, but you could have at least investigated
before you accused me. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?
Investigate?"

He stood abruptly too, but said nothing. His
face closed down, an expressionless mask in place.

"I'm surprised you didn't put a camera in
reception to spy on me." Oh shit. "You didn't, did you?"

"No!"

I stormed back to the storeroom. He
followed.

"Look, Cat, I didn't investigate because,
well, really, who else could it be?"

I rounded on him. "Maybe you should ask your
ex-girlfriend."

"Tanya? Why?"

God, men are dumb sometimes. I could spot
the moment the light dawned for Will. He rushed past me, opened the
filing cabinet and rifled through it. When he couldn't find what he
wanted, he swore.

"Where the hell are the petty cash
receipts?"

I handed him a box. "I haven't got around to
filing them yet."

He sifted through the receipts, checking
each one. When he finished, he placed the box on the filing cabinet
and pressed his hands to the top drawer. His head bowed as if it
were too heavy to hold up anymore.

I didn't know what to do. Should I touch his
shoulder? Console him? Question him? In the end, I just waited.

Eventually he turned round. He looked sicker
than I was supposed to have felt that morning. "Cat, I'm really
sorry. The receipts were all from before your time and…" He sighed.
"I was an asshole to you just now and you didn't deserve it.
Forgive me?" It was a Mastercard moment. Priceless. Not only had he
admitted he was wrong but he wanted
my
forgiveness.

"Can you put the part about you being sorry
in writing first?"

A ghost of a smile flittered across his
lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

It was only a "maybe" but I let it slide.
"What are you going to do?"

He sighed. "Tanya doesn't work here anymore
and I probably won't ever see her again. I don't
want
to see
her again. But if I take action, I'll have to. What price
peace?"

I wasn't sure if that was the right attitude
but I could see where he was coming from. Not having anything to do
with Tanya again would be high on my list too.

"It's getting late," he said. "Why don't you
go home and get some rest? You can tackle the storeroom
tomorrow."

No need to tell me twice. I picked up my
bag, said goodbye to Carl, and left. I went to see Gina and updated
her on the status between Tanya and Will.

"No way!" she squealed, her eyes bugging out
of her head. Gina is only a little taller than me but her curves
put mine to shame. Her mother is African-American, her father
Italian and she's got the best of both worlds in the looks
department. A rear-end like an Olympic sprinter, a chest that porn
stars pay big money to emulate, and the bone structure of a model.
All that wrapped in mocha skin and she was a walking man magnet.
All kinds of men went for Gina—black, white, Latino, rich, poor,
smart or dumb—but she never kept any of them for long. "Still
looking for Mr. Right" she always said. I didn't have the heart to
tell her Mr. Right was an urban myth and she should settle for Mr.
Nice With A Good Job And A Mother Living Two States Away. But all
that looking kept her life full and her bed warm.