Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) Read online

  Pushed to the Limit

  (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2)

  by

  Karen Chester

  Faye Seymour has long reigned as Greenville’s gossip queen, but recently she’s been at her worst, spreading rumors like wild fire and putting a lot of noses out of joint. Event planner Emma Cassidy has already lost an important client to Faye’s loose tongue, and she can ill afford to lose any business. When Emma discovers Faye lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs, the feisty old lady declares she was pushed—and that Emma is the culprit!—before passing out.

  As Faye recovers, Emma reluctantly delves into the busybody’s life of meddling and scuttlebutt. She has to clear her name before Faye falsely accuses her again, and besides, there’s a capricious parrot relying on her now.

  What scandalous secrets has Faye unearthed? How many lives has she ruined or threatened to ruin? Plenty of people have a reason to hate her, but one in particular is driven to commit a brutal murder. Can Emma follow the clues to unmask the killer, or will she fall victim herself?

  The Emma Cassidy Mystery series:

  Book 1: Throw a Monkey Wrench (available on Amazon)

  Book 2: Pushed to the Limit

  Book 3: Murder Most Likely (coming in 2016)

  Copyright © 2016 by Karen Chester

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover design © 2016 Karen Chester

  Cover photo © katerinamk / Bigstock.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Throw a Monkey Wrench (preview)

  Chapter One

  “So, this is it. Thirty years, and now it’s almost over.” Stacey Shulman uttered a sigh and shook her head. “A retirement party, a silver watch, and some handshakes, and then it’s adieu.”

  Emma Cassidy, sole proprietor of A Perfect Party and organizer of tonight’s gathering, lifted her eyebrows. Stacey sounded like she was retiring, and not Richard Wylie, the town planner who, until tonight, had been in Greenville council’s employ for thirty years. As secretary of the municipal engineering department, Stacey had assisted Emma with the retirement party, an assignment she’d approached with great enthusiasm.

  Emma smiled sympathetically. “It must be sad for you to see him go.”

  Nodding, Stacey pressed her lips together. “I’ll miss him,” she murmured, gazing at her almost-former co-worker who was being greeted by well-wishers entering Tucker’s Bistro, the restaurant where the party was taking place.

  If it had been anyone else, Emma might have wondered if, despite the age gap, there was something going on between the town planner and the secretary, but not in this case. Stacey was just about the last person she’d cast as a femme fatale. In her early-thirties, Stacey was short, trim, and self-effacing, her bobbed hair mousy-brown, her soft eyes—her best features in Emma’s opinion—hidden behind glasses. Usually favoring muted colors, tonight she wore a demure navy dress, her only concession a pair of dangly crystal earrings. She was one of the nicest persons Emma had met in a while, eager for Richard to have a great send off, yet at the same time not the least bit bossy or demanding. A welcome trait in a client.

  Emma’s event planning business was only six months old, and she’d had a rocky start, what with a poisoning and a groom-to-be charged with murder, but she’d overcome those obstacles—just like she’d survived her New York City career imploding and her boyfriend at the time dumping her when she’d needed him the most. Although she’d never envisioned resettling in her sleepy hometown, it had seemed the most sensible solution, and she was determined to make the most of it. On the whole, she was glad to be back in Greenville, California, on the shores of Shamrock Lake, even if she was still living at home with her dad.

  Richard Wylie, tall and silver-haired, walked over to them with a broad smile. “Stacey, Emma. I must thank you for all your hard work putting on this shindig.”

  Stacey lifted her shoulders. “Mostly Emma’s hard work. I only made a few suggestions.”

  “She’s way too modest,” Emma replied, determined that Stacey get her fair share of acknowledgement. “Stacey’s worked really hard.”

  “I know she has,” Richard said. “Stacey is an unsung heroine.”

  Stacey turned pink, her hands twitching as she appeared to be overcome by bashfulness. A server approached them with a tray of drinks. Richard tried to offer them flutes of champagne, but Stacey chose an orange juice, and Emma followed suit. The party was just starting, and she needed a clear head in order to deal with any potential crises.

  She glanced around the crowded restaurant once again. Some important people were here tonight, including the mayor and several councilors. All the people from the engineering department of course, and others from the Rotary Club that Richard belonged to. Richard’s wife, Helen, was there too. She walked up to him, a slight frown pleating her forehead.

  “Darling, you know Stacey, of course,” Richard said to his wife before gesturing to Emma. “Have you met Emma Cassidy?”

  “Yes, Emma and I discussed tonight’s menu.” Helen gave Emma and Stacey a faint smile. “Thank you both. I knew you’d put on a good party for Richard.” She lifted her glass of wine. “This pinot noir is excellent.” Her smile faded as she turned back to her husband. “But I do wish she hadn’t been invited.” She jerked her head in the direction of the crowd.

  Following her gesture, Emma thought she was referring to Faye Seymour, Greenville’s reigning queen of gossip. Nothing happened in Greenville—or indeed Shamrock Lake—without Faye knowing about it. Emma had been surprised to see her and her sister Lorraine on the guest list, until Stacey explained that Faye and Lorraine were Richard’s cousins and his closest relatives in Greenville.

  Emma’s checkered history in New York had made her prime grist for the gossip mill that Faye so enthusiastically hand-cranked. Tonight the sixty-something-year-old, dressed in a bright pink-and-blue dress with matching pink earrings, was in her element as she swam through the crowd, fishing for the tastiest morsels of news.

  Richard hunched his shoulders, a cornered look coming over him. “Well, I wanted Lorraine to be here, and I couldn’t invite her without including Faye, now could I?”

  “I doubt Lorraine would’ve been heartbroken if you’d left Faye off the list,” Helen said tartly.

  Lorraine, an accomplished artist, had taught Emma art in high school. She and Faye were complete opposites. Where Faye
was garrulous and prying, Lorraine was private and retiring. The only thing they had in common was their short, rotund stature.

  “Come, now,” Richard said placatingly to his wife, casting an apologetic half-smile at Emma and Stacey. “It’s my retirement party. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

  “No, I can’t because it isn’t a bygone yet.” Helen’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her glass. Her dark stare focused on Faye across the room. “That woman has ruined our son’s future.”

  “Isn’t that a bit dramatic? Jason’s still young; he’ll bounce back.”

  Helen plunked her wineglass on a nearby table and jammed her hands on her hips. “Are you defending that viper of a cousin of yours?”

  “Of course not, but…” Richard darted a desperate look at the crowd. “Oh, look, there’s Councilman Bischoff. I’d better go say hello to him.” He patted his wife’s arm before hurrying away.

  Helen heaved out a sigh before giving Emma and Stacey a wry shrug. “I guess it’s no secret that Faye’s not my favorite cousin-in-law.”

  Emma smiled politely while Stacey twiddled her fingers, but Helen didn’t seem fazed at losing her cool. Tall and well-groomed, tonight she wore a blue silk dress that looked like it had cost plenty. She should have been enjoying her husband’s retirement party, but her brow was furrowed, and her eyes were filled with bitter resentment as she glowered at Faye across the room.

  “Faye is like a lobster,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Feeding off dirt, getting fat on filth. Well, she’d better watch out. One of these days she’ll find herself in a pot of boiling water, and I, for one, won’t be fishing her out.”

  ***

  Clearly there were family tensions, but the exact reasons why Helen Wylie loathed her cousin-in-law remained a mystery to Emma as she was caught up in running the party. After allowing half an hour for drinks and chatting, she announced that dinner was ready, and guests surged toward the long buffet tables which groaned under the weight of a surfeit of food. Once the service was underway, Emma headed past the swing doors that led to the kitchen. There, in the sweltering heart of Tucker’s Bistro, Alvin Tucker, owner of the restaurant and a caterer Emma had used several times before, was busy directing his small team of workers.

  “Hey, Emma.” He nodded to her as he put the final touches on a platter of shrimp. “How’s it going out there?”

  “It looks like your spare ribs are a big hit. Hope you’ve got a good supply of them.”

  “I sure do. The spare ribs always go down well, especially with the men.”

  He passed the shrimp platter to a waiting server who whisked it away. The crustaceans reminded Emma of Helen’s parting remark about Faye. It seemed there was always someone annoyed with Faye Seymour. Emma grimaced as she recalled her most recent run-in with the gossip queen. It had cost her a potential client, and that still rankled.

  Emma was almost thirty. When she’d finished high school, she’d envisioned that within a decade she’d be established in a successful career. She’d started off well, graduating from a reputable college back east and landing an exciting job as an event planner in New York, the city she’d always dreamed of moving to. She’d worked hard to become a partner in the small but up-and-coming business; she’d gained an eligible boyfriend who worked in finance; she’d signed a lease on a gorgeous loft apartment. Everything was going well. But then her business partner had cleared out their bank accounts and skipped town, leaving Emma with scores of disgruntled clients threatening to sue and a heap of unpaid bills. Suddenly she couldn’t afford her loft apartment anymore, could barely put food in her mouth. When she’d turned to her boyfriend—a man she’d thought she would one day marry—he’d turned out to be a fair-weather beau incapable of genuine support. That was when she’d decided to cut her losses and move back to Greenville.

  Debbie Scheel had been considering hiring Emma as her daughter’s wedding planner, until Faye had got in her ear, embroidering Emma’s past failed business until she made Emma sound like a Ponzi scheme operator. Debbie had abruptly gone elsewhere, leaving Emma fuming helplessly. She knew she was good at her job, knew that people would come to trust her. But her turnover was barely covering the bills, and she couldn’t afford to lose one client to Faye’s scuttlebutt.

  Alvin glanced about the bustling kitchen before leaning toward Emma. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”

  Emma blinked at him in surprise. When it came to cooking, Alvin was a perfectionist and liked to oversee every plate before it left the kitchen. So why did he want to take time out in the middle of a busy service to talk to her?

  “Sure.” She nodded before following him to his office. The small, cluttered room had a narrow window looking out onto the kitchen so Alvin could keep an eye on his staff.

  The caterer shut the door and rocked on his toes. “I was wondering how soon I could get the check for tonight’s party,” he said without preamble.

  Emma felt her mouth sagging open. When she’d booked Alvin’s services, the town council had put down a ten percent deposit, with the balance due to be paid within thirty days of the event, as per the agreement. It was standard practice, but this time around something clearly wasn’t standard.

  “Well, I can talk to the council and ask them to prioritize your bill,” she said uncertainly. Stacey Shulman would know who to contact, she thought, still wondering why Alvin needed the money so urgently.

  “Thanks, I’d really appreciate that.” Alvin ran his fingers through his thinning hair, and for the first time she noticed the bags under his eyes and the lines etched into his forehead. A sturdy, thickset man in his mid-forties, he had always been energetic and industrious, but he suddenly seemed to have aged ten years.

  Perplexed, Emma couldn’t help touching his arm. “Alvin? Is something the matter?” For the past twenty years Alvin had been a fixture in Greenville. She’d visited his restaurant countless times, and now, as an event planner, he was quickly becoming her caterer of choice. She trusted him. She liked him. And she hated seeing him in distress. “Are you…in financial difficulties?”

  He looked at her with heavy eyes for a few moments before pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could say that. I might have to fork out fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars!” Emma gasped. “You’re joking.”

  “I wish I was.”

  “What happened?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Faye Seymour is what happened. About four months ago she tripped and fell outside the restaurant. She says she hurt her shoulder and it’s never been the same. Last week she told me she was thinking of suing me.”

  Emma frowned. She’d seen Faye regularly over the past few months, and she’d never noticed anything wrong with her shoulder. But it could be one of those injuries that came and went.

  “Wouldn’t your insurance cover that?” she asked. Alvin didn’t say anything, and disquiet wiggled in Emma’s stomach. “You do have insurance, don’t you?”

  “Um, I do, but…” Alvin rubbed his jaw. “A while back the restaurant was going through a bad patch, and, well, I could only afford the compulsory insurance for my workers, not the business insurance. So I let the policy lapse. I renewed it as soon as I could, but that was after Faye’s accident.” His chin wobbled. “You won’t tell my wife, will you? Bettina was really worried when we had our downturn, and now that we’re on the way up I don’t want to burden her with more bad news.”

  “I’m so sorry, Alvin.” Helpless frustration beat in Emma’s chest. “I’ll try my best to get your money as soon as possible.” Though that would barely make a dent into fifty thousand dollars. “Have you tried talking to Faye?”

  Alvin’s jowls quivered as he clamped his jaw tight. “I did,” he said stiffly. “And she told me I should count myself lucky she only wanted fifty thousand dollars.” A maroon hue rose in his cheeks. “You know what the worst thing is? She injured herself when she was snooping around the back of my restaurant and taking photos
of some renovation work I had going then. She told me I was violating council regulations, and I should be glad she wasn’t reporting me to the authorities. Can you believe it? That—that interfering old biddy!” Alvin’s voice shook. Clearly he was struggling not to use stronger language. “I’m a peaceful man, Emma, but everyone has their limits, and by God she’s pushed me beyond mine. She’s walked over me for the last time!”

  Chapter Two

  Back in the dining room, the party was in full swing. Scores of people crowded the buffet, piling up their plates before heading to the tables dotted around the room. Richard and Helen were sitting with the mayor and his wife and another couple whom Emma didn’t recognize. Richard beckoned to Emma, so she walked over to his table, where he introduced her to the others. Mayor Henry Benson gave her a bland, politician’s smile—lots of teeth and not much else—while his wife, Monica, examined her closely.

  “Weren’t you the one who did the Whites’ daughter’s wedding?” she asked, her tone indicating it was nothing to boast about.

  “Yes, Madison White and Sean McCluskey’s wedding,” Emma replied, smiling politely.

  Monica Benson looked her up and down one more time. “Hmm, yes, the same McCluskey who was arrested for that awful murder.”

  A pause fell over the table. Emma felt everyone looking at her, re-appraising her.

  “Yes, the same McCluskey who was innocent and released as soon as the real killer was apprehended,” Emma couldn’t help replying as a flush rose in her cheeks. She could have added that she had unmasked the murderer herself, but didn’t. She had enough notoriety to live down without adding to it. The murder and her involvement in it had happened three months ago, and she’d hoped the hoopla would’ve died down by now, but this was Greenville, and people could chew over an old bone for years.

  “You seem to live adventurously,” the third man at the table drawled. He had been introduced to her as Councilman Kenneth Bischoff. Tall and tanned with ebony hair worn slicked back, he had the dissolute air of a matinee idol, one who was slightly past his prime. His suit was expensive, his lips moist from the whiskey he was drinking, and his glittering black gaze travelled over Emma in a way that felt over-familiar and inappropriate.