Identity Crisis (Sam McRae Mystery #1)

Chapter 18

I dropped the paper as if it were contaminated and scurried rabbit-like back to the chair. The door opened. Skip was saying something about a delivery.

"That should be here soon," Rhonda said. "They usually come early." She dropped back into her chair and crossed her legs at the knee.

"How about the glassware?" Skip asked.

"Later tonight, probably after we close."

"Great." He looked relieved. "Thanks for taking care of that." He closed the door.

She looked at me and smiled. "Sorry again. Where were we?"

I tore my thoughts from what I thought I'd seen. "Bruce's personal problems since Tom's death. You said he might lose his job?"

"Right, that was it. I think the shock of finding Tom dead in his place did a number on him, 'cause he hasn't been the same since. Always snappin' at people."

"Like at the gym that night with me?"

"Yeah," Rhonda said. "It's been getting worse, too. Last time I saw him, I think he was drunk. We were supposed to have our usual meeting to catch up on things, and he was late. When we did meet, he didn't seem to give a damn about anything. He seems to be less and less involved these days." She sighed. "Someone's gotta run this place."

Both Garvey and Schaeffer seemed to have drinking problems. Was Schaeffer upset because Garvey was dead? Did he kill Garvey? Or was there something else that upset them both?

"I was wondering," I said. "You said the books were screwed up. Would it be possible for me to, you know, take a peek at them?"

She looked guarded. "I don't know ... why would you need to see that?"

"My client has also been accused of identity theft. If it was actually Tom's doing, maybe there's something in those papers," I said, gesturing toward her desk, "something that could help defend her."

"Identity theft?" Rhonda's eyes narrowed. I realized this might be a sensitive subject. She scanned the statements, looking as if she were seeing them for the first time. "Well ... these are business records. I'm not sure Mr. Ash would approve." She opened a desk drawer, seemingly at random, and stowed the papers as if to protect them from my probing gaze.

"It's OK," I said. I had to try, but I couldn't blame Rhonda for trying to protect her boss. "By the way, who was that girl at the gym? The one who yelled at Bruce."

Rhonda's eyes widened, as if the question had knocked her off-balance. "Oh, her? A friend. Knew Tom and Bruce, I guess."

"She also seemed very upset about Tom's death."

"Yeah, she was. I wasn't paying attention, but yeah, she was definitely upset."

"You don't remember anything they said? It seemed like quite a loud conversation."

"I don't know. I think she was just blowing off steam. I think maybe they might have been close at one time. Her and Tom, that is."

"Guess you wouldn't know her name?"

Rhonda shook her head.

I couldn't think of anything else to ask. Maybe about that list of social security numbers, but I didn't want Rhonda to know I'd been through the stuff on her desk. Of course, based on her note, she didn't know anything about it either.

As I got up, my gaze drifted toward the boxes on the other side of the room. "You guys still keeping a paper copy of everything?"

Rhonda glanced over. "Some stuff, yeah, though I couldn't tell you half of what's in there. I think there's a lot of junk that didn't make it into the computer."