Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3) Read online

  “Not me,” the oldest brother mumbled. He looked about seventeen and embarrassed to be seen with his family.

  “Want to come along?” Zoe asked Emma.

  “Some other time, maybe.” Emma edged closer to her friend. “Uh, I need to talk to you.” She tried to convey with her eyes that this was urgent.

  Mrs. Chan ushered the boys away, saying over her shoulder, “Sammie, we’ll be waiting in the car, okay?”

  As soon as her family was out of earshot, Zoe said, “Is something wrong?”

  Emma glanced about at the people strolling past them. This was hardly the spot for a serious conversation, but her mind was in turmoil, and she needed some answers.

  She leaned in to murmur, “Only you can tell me that. I’ve just heard something about you, something that stunned me, and I’m just hoping that it isn’t true.”

  Zoe’s brow puckered up. “What did you hear?”

  “That—that you were recently fired from your job, and that you’re secretly working for Ralph Bautista, the CEO of eSolutions, Mervyn’s main rival company.” She gazed earnestly at her friend. “Please tell me it’s all a terrible lie.”

  Zoe went quite still. “Who told you this?”

  “It doesn’t matter who told me. Just say it’s a horrible, malicious rumor without any foundation.”

  Averting her head, Zoe wrapped her arms around herself as if she were suddenly cold. “I—I can’t talk now,” she muttered.

  Dread began to well up in the pit of Emma’s stomach. “You don’t mean…”

  In the nearby parking lot the Chan family was piling into a minivan. Mrs. Chan glanced in Zoe’s direction and gestured to her.

  “I’ve got to go.” Zoe was already sidling away, still avoiding Emma’s eyes.

  “But, wait. You can’t— I mean, shouldn’t we talk about this?”

  Zoe turned around and hissed, “Not in front of my family!” She shrugged impatiently. “If you really want to talk, meet me later tonight.” She began to stalk away.

  “When? Where?” Emma called after her with increasing desperation.

  “Ten o’clock. Back here,” Zoe threw over her shoulder as she hurried to her family.

  Emma watched as the Chans minivan zoomed off. She shivered, disturbed and anxious. What was Zoe hiding? What had happened to the woman she’d thought of as a close friend? Had they drifted apart that much and without her realizing it?

  Left on her own, she pondered what to do next. She had a couple of hours to kill before meeting Zoe again. She could go and sit in a bar with her other classmates, but she wasn’t in the right mood for socializing. In the end, she drove herself home and tried to relax with a cup of coffee and some cookies. Her mind churned, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything as the clock slowly counted off the minutes.

  At a quarter before ten, she put on her coat once more, and drove back to the high school. By now all the ground lights were off, and the football field was plunged in darkness. Just a few lonely streetlights lit up the deserted parking lot. Emma pulled up into a slot next to the entrance and turned off her engine. There were no other cars in the parking lot or on the street. She waited impatiently. Five minutes dragged by, then ten, and still there was no sign of Zoe.

  Her patience wearing thin, Emma tried calling Zoe, but her call went straight to voicemail. She sent a text message and waited, but no reply came. Several attempted calls later, she tossed the phone aside and let out a growl of frustration. Clearly Zoe did not want to talk to her tonight, and short of driving to her parents’ house and causing a ruckus, there was nothing she could do about it. She would have to tackle Zoe tomorrow.

  She turned on the ignition. The engine choked and spluttered but refused to start. Oh no, not now! Not here in this dark and empty parking lot. The trees on the side of the road swayed, scattering dead leaves across the windshield. Gritting her teeth, she tried the ignition again, silently praying to the motor gods to take pity on her. The engine wheezed into life, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heaven she wasn’t stuck in this dark and spooky place.

  She flicked on the heater as she steered out of the parking lot. Disappointed and chilled by Zoe’s no-show, she couldn’t wait to get home. As she drove down the main street of Greenville, she noticed several groups of post-game football fans, either gathering at diners or bars, or wandering through the streets. They were rowdy and cheerful, and she wished she could borrow some of their mood.

  The traffic light up ahead turned red. She drew the car to a halt and waited as several vehicles crossed. Without warning, the passenger door of her car was wrenched open and a big, brawny man shoved himself inside.

  “Hey, Emma!” Conrad Dupree leered at her, reeking of beer and devilry. “How about that drink, huh?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emma, her nerves already on edge, let out a yelp. “Conrad! What on earth?”

  He tittered, his beefy shoulders shaking. “Ha-ha, wish you coulda seen your face!” He slapped his thigh and guffawed even louder.

  “You—you—” She struggled to find the appropriate words. “You idiot. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Aw, come on, it’s only the Big D.” He nudged her with his elbow, jabbing her painfully in the side. “You’re not scared of little ol’ me, are ya?”

  She never used to be, but since this afternoon she wasn’t so sure. She squinted at his legs, trying to make out his shoes, but he was far too large for her compact car, and with his knees jammed up against the dashboard, his feet were completely hidden.

  A car honked from behind, and she realized the light had turned to green but she hadn’t moved. Before she could decide what to do, Conrad smacked his palm on her hooter and stuck his right hand out the window, gesticulating rudely at the other vehicle.

  “Get lost!” he hollered as the car pulled out and roared past her. When the car had disappeared, he turned to her, his teeth shining in the darkness. “Well? Where are you taking me for that drink?”

  A drink? Was he crazy? “I’m going home,” she said firmly. “I don’t want a drink.”

  “Wha-at?” His voice screeched with indignation. “Come on, just one drink. One eeny weeny little drink.”

  “No, thank you.” His huge shoulders rubbed against hers, his boozy breath filled the car, and she was starting to feel suffocated. “Please get out of my car, Conrad.”

  “Please get out of my car, Conrad,” he mimicked her in a sing-song voice.

  She felt the blood rising in her neck. For whatever reason, she had never been bullied in school, but now she had an inkling of what Conrad’s victims had gone through. The helplessness, the futile anger, and the uneasiness. But she wasn’t going to let Conrad wind her up, and neither was she going to plead with him; that would only feed his massive ego.

  “Look, I’m sure there are plenty of people happy to drink with you,” she said, striving to sound casual and unthreatened. “What about all your old football buddies? Surely they were at the game tonight?”

  “Oh, them. What a bunch of wimps, all of them! Can’t stay out because the wife wants them home. Or, if they can, they just want to sit around talking about boring crap like their kids and their jobs. Give me a break! They’re all brain-dead sheep.”

  Or maybe they had just outgrown Conrad. They were husbands and fathers with responsibilities, now, whereas Conrad had remained an overgrown teenager still stuck in his glory days as the star quarterback. Yes, she could see it now. He might have looks and money, but he had lost his friends’ respect. Once, he had been the ringleader, but now he was the odd man out, merely tolerated, maybe even pitied. For a few moments she almost felt sorry for his situation, especially since he seemed blind to it.

  “You could make some new friends,” she said.

  “Like you?” he instantly leered, making her regret her suggestion.

  “Um…”

  He went to squeeze her knee, and she acted instinctively, whacking his hand away.

  “H
ey,” he growled. “I’m just trying to be friendly, like you suggested.”

  “I’m not interested in that!” Her voice quivered; she was having trouble staying on top of the situation. “Are you getting out of my car or not?”

  He jutted his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest with a loud huff. “No, I don’t think I am.”

  “Fine.” Clamping her lips, she steered the car to the curb and killed the engine. “Guess that leaves me with no choice, then.” She grabbed her bag, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door. Without another glance at Conrad, she began to march down the sidewalk, scrabbling in her bag for her cell phone. She had no choice but to call her dad and ask him to pick her up.

  Her heart sank as heavy footsteps sounded behind her.

  “So where are we going?” Conrad fell into step beside her. “Know some place nice, do you?”

  She knew where she wanted to put him, that was for sure. She lifted her phone, and her heart sank even further when she saw the red light blinking. Out of battery. Damn. Why hadn’t she noticed it when she was trying to contact Zoe?

  Her gaze fell on Conrad’s feet, and a fresh chill ran down her spine. Those were Van Janssen shoes, she was sure of it. Which made Conrad a suspect. And here she was stuck on a cold, dark night with him.

  She glanced up and down the street. Normally, this was a fairly busy street during the day, but there were no bars or restaurants here, and no houses or apartments either. All the stores had closed up hours ago, and the street was deserted.

  She looked at her car, wondering if she could dash to it, hop in, and drive off before Conrad caught up with her. She doubted it. He was fit, despite being drunk, and he was closer to the car than she. No, she would have to talk her way out of this.

  “Uh, how about The Shore Thing?” she said, gesturing in the direction where she knew people and safety would be.

  Conrad shook his head. “Nah, not that boring place.” He hooked his arm around hers and tugged her toward him. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.” He began pulling her up the road, away from The Shore Thing, away from safety.

  He was burly and foul and tipsy, and she didn’t think she had the physical strength to resist him, so she fell into step beside him, figuring she might still get a chance to escape, and trying to quell the wisps of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

  “So—so what did you have in mind?”

  He smirked at her. “What about pulling a little prank?”

  “A—a prank? What sort of prank?”

  “I dunno. Something fun. I haven’t pulled a good prank in years.”

  “Yes,” Emma murmured. “I heard you were pretty good at them back in high school.”

  “Aw, those were the best pranks ever!” His face lit up with the memories. “I was the king of pranks. Still cracks me up when I think of them.”

  Emma was sure his victims didn’t share his fond memories. Had Todd been an unintended casualty of one of his pranks gone wrong? Maybe she could draw him out, lull him into a false sense of security.

  “Tell me more,” she said. “What were your best pranks?”

  Her pretend interest made him puff up with self-importance. “Oh, where do I start? There was one time when I snuck into a party and spiked the punch with some syrup of ipecac I stole from my grandma. Everyone started getting sick and throwing up. One of the girls vomited onto someone’s dog! Can you believe it? Katrina was in on it, and she filmed the whole thing for me. Ah, that was a classic prank!” He sniggered at the memories.

  Marvelous, Emma thought.

  As if sensing her disapproval, he shook her arm. “Hey, they deserved it, those scumbags. They didn’t invite me to their party, and they made sure I knew about it, so I had to pay them back. Lucky they invited Katrina.”

  “So you and Katrina did these pranks together?”

  “Yup. We had some good times. She was great until she turned our marriage into a nag-athon.” He shuddered. “Thank God I got out of that soon enough.”

  A critical retort rose to Emma’s lips, but she bit it back. Now was not the time to antagonize Conrad. But she couldn’t help saying, “Don’t you think some people might not have found your pranks so amusing?”

  He squinted at her as if she’d spouted gibberish. “Then that’s on them if they can’t see the funny side.”

  “But how would you like it if someone pulled a prank on you?”

  “Hey, someone pranked me just yesterday, and it didn’t bother me!”

  She glanced at him curiously. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

  “I got a message from this girl telling me to meet her at a quiet spot for a bit of… you know, horizontal mambo. But when I got there, she didn’t show up, even though I waited for ages. I never met her in the flesh before, you see. Just chatted to her on this dating site. I’m guessing one of my buddies put up a fake profile to lure me out.” He grinned and shook his head. “I made a fool of myself all right. Some of the things I wrote to her…Whoo-whee!”

  Emma stopped in her tracks, and he paused too, still holding onto her arm. “So this happened yesterday?” she asked. “What time? And where did you go meet this girl?”

  His eyes grew suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I—I’m just curious.”

  “I was at Pratten Point for about half an hour,” Conrad said slowly, still watching Emma closely. “At around ten yesterday morning. You know anything about this?”

  Pratten Point was an isolated pocket of woodland not far from Mervyn’s house. If Conrad had been there at ten yesterday, then he could easily have hiked along the lake shoreline to Mervyn’s house, crept up to the balcony above the porch, and heaved that flowerpot over the parapet. So this story about being stood up by a girl he’d met on a dating site—was this an attempt at a false alibi? Did Conrad think she suspected him?

  Emma’s heartbeat echoed deeply in her ears. She couldn’t quite meet Conrad’s eyes for fear of giving herself away. Keep calm, she told herself. Don’t show him how nervous you are.

  “No, no, nothing,” she assured him. “It—it sounds like a harmless enough prank.”

  “Yeah, well, it wasted a lot of my time, and when I looked on the dating app again, her profile was gone. It’s like she never existed.”

  Or, he was making the whole thing up.

  He pulled her to a halt. “Hey, I just thought of a good prank. Why don’t we break into a store, trash it, and make it look like one of my buddies did it?”

  “What? No, that’s too risky,” she protested, alarmed.

  Conrad glowered at her. “Jeez, you’re about as much fun as my ex-wife. You know she squeezed me dry when we got divorced? Had to sell my apartment, and I had to give her a car as part of the settlement. She came to my dad’s lot and picked the most expensive car. A fifty-thousand-dollar car! It had the two liter turbo engine, 272 horse power, limited slip rear differential, magnesium paddle shifters, magnetic ride control, do 60mph in 5 seconds. Plus it had chrome wheels, all leather trim, Wi-Fi hotspot, all the latest computery stuff with sat-nav and voice recognition—”

  “I’m sure she didn’t crash it on purpose,” Emma interrupted as the rote sales talk began to make her head spin.

  Conrad barely skipped a beat. “—and head-up display and six sensors, not to mention eight airbags and a steel safety cage, which probably saved her life” He finally paused to huff in irritation. “So? What do you have in mind? It better be good, because I’m dying of boredom here.”

  Emma wracked her brain. She had to come up with something before Conrad dragged her into a felony charge.

  “Um, okay, how about this? We write a car apology note, something like ‘I’m so sorry, but I drove into your car tonight and damaged it. I’m happy to make this up to you. Please ring me at…’ We use someone’s name and number, and then we leave the note on a windshield.”

  “And dent the car with a rock or something?”

  “No, no, of course not. We don’t damage th
e car at all. The owner will ring up, and the person we’re pranking will have a bit of a fright but that’s all.”

  Conrad pulled a face. “It’d be better with the dent but okay. Let’s go over to the Pied Piper. Should be plenty of cars there on a Friday night.”

  The Pied Piper was a dive bar just a few blocks away in a less popular part of town which Emma had never visited before. Without waiting for her approval, Conrad hustled her along. They turned a corner and walked several blocks, the lights of the Pied Piper soon coming into view. Music and loud conversation spilled out of the bar. The parking lot behind the bar was more than half full, with many of the vehicles looking the worse for wear. Any of these owners would’ve have a problem believing their car or truck had been damaged, but they’d be very surprised to see an apology note.

  “You gotta notepad or something?” Conrad asked.

  “I should have one in my bag.” Emma hunted through her trusty tote bag, bitterly regretting that she had finally retired her little can of Mace. She had bought it while living in New York, but had never used it, and a few weeks ago, when she was re-organizing her handbag, she had set the can aside. If only she’d known that Conrad Dupree would force his company on her tonight; she would gladly have used it on him.

  “We’ll both write a few notes and go around sticking them on cars,” Conrad said.

  “Isn’t one note enough?”

  “Naw, the more the merrier,” he insisted.

  Emma made no further protest. As she handed him a few blank pages from a small notebook, it dawned on her that this was her best chance of escaping now that he thought she was his ally and his guard was down.

  “Fine,” she said. “Why don’t I take this half of the parking lot, and you take the other half?”

  As soon as there was sufficient distance between them, she planned to race back to her car as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Conrad didn’t suspect a thing. “Sure.” He nodded, busily scribbling his notes. “And let’s put down Sherilee Ackerman’s name and the number of the police station. I got it right here.” He consulted his cell phone.