Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (20 page)

Henderson stuck one cigarette between his lips and shoved the others back in the pack. “Maybe.” He began walking again, toward the sandy parking lot.

“And you were paid to keep your mouth shut.”

“I wasn't paid a dime.” He cupped his cigarette against the wind and clicked his lighter to the tip.

“Then how're you surviving?”

“Disability.”

“What?”

“And my pension. You should've stayed on with the company a few more years. Great benefits.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Henderson took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Look, Drake, I don't know why you think I'll say something more than you don't already know, but I won't. You know everything I do, so why don't you just bug off?” With that he stalked across the lot to a dusty red pickup and threw his fishing gear behind the seat back.

Adam was right on his heels. “There's more that you're not telling me.”

Henderson tossed his cigarette into the gravel where the butt burned slowly, a curling thread of smoke spiraling into the clear air. “I don't
know
anything. I just have hunches.”

“What are they?”

“Nothing that I can prove.” He started to climb into the cab of the pickup, but Adam grabbed his arm and spun him around, slamming him up against the back fender.

“I'll do the proving,” he said, shoving his face next to Henderson's and seeing a drip of perspiration as it slid from beneath the smaller man's hatband. “Who agreed to pay your disability?”

Henderson gulped. “The old man himself.”

“Montgomery?”

“Yeah.”

Adam didn't let go of Henderson's lapels. “And who told you that you'd be paid?”

“My boss. Fred.”

“Fred Ainger?”

“Right.”

Adam's hard gaze pinned Henderson to the fender. Henderson was shaking by this time, sweat running down his neck in tiny streams. “You think he was involved?”

“I told you, man, I
don't
know.” Henderson's gaze slid away, and he smoothed the front of his jacket. “Fred has money problems—I don't know how serious.”

“What kind of money problems?”

Chewing on a corner of his lip, Henderson said, “Fred's still paying off Hannah for their divorce—she took half of everything they owned and even got part of his pension, I think. Good old community property.” Gerald lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “And now he's got Bernice for a wife. She's the daughter of some bigwig
doctor back east. Used to expensive things. Fred tries to get them for her. And she's hell-on-wheels with a credit card. Seems to think credit means free money.”

Bernice Ainger was thirty years younger than Fred. He'd met her at a convention, become obsessed with her and divorced Hannah to marry the younger woman. He'd been in his early fifties at the time and he'd been paying for that mistake ever since. So how did Fred connect with Simms?

“Funny,” Adam drawled, though he wasn't the least in the mood for humor, “but every time I'm around Simms, he seems nervous—like he knows more than he's telling. The thing is, I don't believe that he'd intentionally get caught up in anything that might ruin his career.”

“Sometimes people do things on impulse.”

“No, this was planned for a long time. Otherwise the money would've been recovered.”

Gerald's gaze shifted again, and Adam got the feeling he was wrestling with his conscience. For that, Adam respected him. Ratting on his friends didn't come easy to Henderson. Or else he was just trying to save his own neck.

“I heard something once,” Henderson admitted, as the scent of dead fish wafted across the parking lot.

“What?”

“It was Simms, I'm sure it was, though he didn't know that I was on the other side of the partition in the accounting room. I'd been in the vault, and when I came out I didn't say anything. Simms was on the other side of that partition that separated Fred's office from mine…you know the one I mean.”

Adam nodded, his heartbeat accelerating slightly. Now, finally, he was getting somewhere.

“Well, anyway, Simms was angry, really angry, telling someone off, but I didn't see who it was. They were walking out the door.”

Adam could hardly believe his good luck. For the first time he was learning something new, that Simms
was
directly involved, but that he had an accomplice. Adam had to force himself not to shake every detail out of Henderson.

“Who was in Fred's office when you went into the vault?”

“No one.”

“Not Fred?”

“Nope, he'd gone home for the day. Saw him leave myself.”

“And Kent?”

Henderson shook his head slowly. “He wasn't there either, but I was in the vault for a good five or ten minutes. And when I came out, Simms and whoever he was talking to were on their way out.”

“And you don't think Fred came back? Couldn't he have returned to the office for something he'd forgotten, his keys or wallet or something?”

Henderson took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. A ring of sweat curled his thin sandy hair. “I don't think so. But I don't know.”

“So you think Kent, with or without Fred's help, took some of the Puget West funds?”

“I can't say. I don't know much about Simms. He's kind of a pretty boy, and I doubt he'd do anything to jeopardize his job. After all, he's engaged to the boss man's daughter.”

“
Was
engaged,” Adam said quickly, irritated that anyone, even Gerald Henderson, who probably had been out of touch with the gossip at Montgomery Inns for a while, would think that Marnie and Kent were still an item. “Past tense.”

Henderson stuck out his lower lip and shrugged. “Well, then, who knows. He might have got himself into a heap of debt somehow. That's what happened to Fred. He's hurtin'
for cash.” He hesitated a second, but then, like so many men when they can finally get something off their chest, Henderson added, “This might sound strange, but…well, I got the feeling that Simms was talking to a woman—not by what he said, but by the scent in the room. You know, like some kind of expensive perfume.”

Adam's heart nearly stopped. “Would you recognize it again?”

“I…” Henderson shrugged, then shook his head. “Probably not.”

“But who do you
think
it was?” Henderson's intuition might naturally come up with the right suspect.

“I said I don't know. There's got to be seventy-five women working in that building. Simms was probably on a first name basis with half of 'em. I couldn't begin to guess.”

“Linda Kirk works in accounting,” Adam ventured, turning his thoughts away from a dark possibility.

“But she was home sick that day. In fact she was gone for over a week with the flu.”

Marnie. She'd been going out with Simms at the time…
But she had no reason to embezzle funds. Just because Marnie was involved with Simms wasn't any reason to think that she would steal from her own father…no, that line of thinking was preposterous.

Henderson was obviously thinking he'd said too much. His face was flushed; his eyes showed a hint of panic. “Look, Drake, that's all I know. Really.”

This time Adam believed him and stepped away from the truck.

Climbing quickly into the cab, Henderson flicked on the ignition. The engine sparked, died, then caught with a roar and a plume of foul-smelling exhaust. Above the rumble of the engine Henderson said, “Fred's not such a
bad guy, you know. Just got himself into a little trouble. And Simms—hell, what can you say about that guy?”

“And the woman?”

“
If
there was one. I'm not sure…” He rammed the truck into first, pulled the door closed and took off, spraying gravel and dust behind him.

Adam didn't know if Henderson's information had helped him or not. All along he'd thought Kent Simms was responsible for framing him and that he'd done it alone. Had he been wrong? Was Ainger or a mystery woman involved? Or was Henderson just blowing smoke? Trying to save his own tail?

Adam didn't think so. The man was terrified that he'd slipped up by spilling his guts. So now, he had to try to locate a woman…a woman involved with Kent. But
not
Marnie!

Angrily Adam stomped out Henderson's still-smoldering cigarette and watched as Gerald's pickup wound down the dusty road. Without any answers, he walked across the gritty parking lot and slid into the interior of his rig. Spinning the steering wheel, he headed north to Seattle.

Next stop: Marnie's place. She'd been avoiding him for too long. She'd had enough time to think things through. Besides, he needed her to help him get to the bottom of this.

And you want her.
Scowling, he twisted on the radio, hoping to drown out the voice in his head. A jazzy rendition of an old Temptations song came on the air. Yes, he wanted Marnie. Damn it to hell, he'd wanted her from the second he'd seen her trying to helm that boat in the middle of the storm. And wanting her was all right. Making love to her was okay. But falling in love with her could never happen.

Falling in love?
Now, why the hell did he think of that?

A
S SHE WALKED OUT
of the boardroom, Marnie couldn't believe her good luck! After all his blustering and blowing about company loyalty, Victor had actually signed a contract with her. Of course he'd tried to talk her into coming back to the company and she'd declined. And of course Kent had tried to maneuver her into a quiet corner to convince her that they should get back together.

Now Kent tagged after her. As if their last encounter hadn't been violent and revolting. “Let's just take a boat ride Saturday,” Kent suggested with that same all-American smile Marnie had once been dazzled by. “We can try and work things out while we're sailing the
Marnie Lee
together. Come on, Marnie, what d'ya say?”

The man didn't understand the word “no.” She didn't bother answering, just continued down the hallway from the boardroom toward her father's office.

“You're still mad at me, aren't you?” Kent insisted, touching her lightly on the arm.

“Mad doesn't begin to describe how I feel,” she said furiously, jerking away from him, her shoulder banging against the wall.

“You know, the boat's half mine.”

“I'll send you a check.”

“But the
Marnie Lee
was a gift. You can't just buy me out. I won't sell.”

“I don't think you'll have much of a choice, unless you want to buy my half.”

“I don't have that kind of money!”

“Then you'll have to borrow it, or we're at an impasse.” She started down the hall again.

Kent swore under his breath as he raced to catch up with her.

“This has gone far enough, Marnie. You've had your chance at being independent. Hell, you've even had your little fling with Drake. But now I'm tired of playing your little games and—”

“How many times do I have to say it?” she declared vehemently. “It's over!”

“Why? You seeing someone else?”

“None of your business.”

“Drake?”

“Leave me alone.” But he grabbed her arm, spinning her around. She braced herself for the same kind of assault as in the elevator. “Touch me and I'll scream or worse,” she warned, and he must've believed her for he dropped his hand to his side and didn't blow up as she'd expected. Instead he became deadly calm, his mouth tightening into a thin line of fury, his hazel eyes frigid as he stared at her. A chill slid down her spine.

“There you are!” Victor, who had been delayed by one of the architects, flagged her down. Ignoring Kent, he strode to Marnie and patted her on the back. “Nice presentation,” he said, finally noticing his executive vice president. “Went well, didn't you think, Kent? Now, Marnie, if this doesn't work out, you can always have your old job back.”

“If this doesn't work out, we're both in real trouble,” she joked back.

Kent didn't crack a smile.

“Come on, drinks are on me,” her father insisted. “We'll celebrate our new partnership.”

Marnie's stomach did a peculiar flip at the mention
of partnership, but she indulged her father. They sipped champagne and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres at a French restaurant with a view of Elliott Bay, and Victor wasn't satisfied until the three of them had toasted their new alliance.

The fact that Kent had come along as well made Marnie uncomfortable, but she suffered through it because of Victor. She loved her father, and finally he'd really tried to give her the freedom she so desperately needed.

Two hours later, Victor drove her back to the parking lot where she'd left her car.

“It was like old home week with you here today,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

“Dad, I've only been gone a little while.”

“Seems like forever. Oh, well, we'll just look to the future, right?”

“Right.”

He opened the door of her Ford and chuckled. “This isn't your BMW, but I guess it's better than the twenty-year-old Volkswagen I thought you'd purchase.”

“It'll have to do. Looks like I'll have to buy out Kent's half of the
Marnie Lee.
”

“Don't be too hasty, Marnie.”

“Or else he has to buy me out,” she said, lacing her fingers through her father's. “I think Kent finally understands that I don't love him, probably never did, and that I'll never marry him. Now, if I could just convince you…”

“Ahh, Marnie,” her father said, smiling sadly. “I was only thinking of you, you know.” As she slid into the driver's seat, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It's good to have you as part of the team.”