Page 3 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

That suited me much better.

For the next half hour, we worked instead of interviewing each other.

Rex opened cabinets and showed me how the Whispering Pines office functioned. He explained which receipts had to be matched to specific recoveries, which property expenses belonged to this location, what Annette handled from Boise, and which paperwork he tended to postpone until someone reminded him that tomorrow had become last week.

The pattern became obvious quickly. Rex knew where almost everything was, often retrieving a particular document from beneath three unrelated ones without searching. His current field material stayed organized because he needed it to do his job. The records other people needed afterward received considerably less affection.

I wrote for several minutes before looking up from the legal pad.

“You aren’t actually disorganized.”

Rex paused beside the file cabinet with a mileage log in his hand. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved.”

“You’re personally organized,” I said as he came back toward the desk. “The problem is that your system depends on being Rex McCord.”

He placed the mileage sheet beside my notes. “Annette has used different language to make the same point. She gets quieter when she’s seriously annoyed.”

I smiled as I matched the mileage log with a receipt. “That sounds worse than yelling.”

“It is.”

The phone rang before I could ask anything else. Rex checked the screen.

“Speaking of Annette.”

He answered, told her I was sitting with him, and asked whether she minded being put on speaker. After a brief pause, her voice filled the room.

“Why is Georgia Dean sitting with you?”

“Because I’m considering hiring her to clean up the Whispering Pines operation.”

I looked toward the second desk, which seemed to be making a persuasive argument on my behalf.

Annette’s answer came without hesitation. “Has she seen the expense desk?”

“I’m looking at it right now.”

“Then I assume she understands the severity of the situation.”

Rex leaned back in his chair, one hand resting loosely on the desk. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I’ve earned this. I asked you yesterday for the October building-maintenance invoice, and I still don’t have it.”

I had noticed three envelopes from the same vendor while Rex was showing me the printer area. Rather than interrupt the call, I stood and crossed the room. The second envelope held the correct date and property notation.

I pulled out the invoice and held it up where Rex could see.

His gaze shifted from the paper to me.

“Found it,” I said.

Silence came through the speaker for a moment before Annette spoke again.

“Georgia, I don’t know what he offered you, but make him finish the conversation.”

Rex rubbed one hand over his beard, and I had to suppress a smile.

“You’re still on speaker,” he reminded her.