In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 18

  “Oh, well, that’s not for me to say.” Faye arranged her face into a coy expression. “All I can say is that a certain gentleman came out of her house at an early hour, and he and Becky shared a very passionate kiss. Yes, very steamy, I have to say. And Becky was only wearing a dressing gown. I hope she won’t catch a chill, but it’s quite possible since they did linger for a long time on her front porch. I was just minding my own business, you know, and I was quite embarrassed when I saw them kissing. I tried to hurry away, but my shoelaces came undone, and I had to retie them right there, you see. Can’t risk a fall at my age, can I? Well, they didn’t notice me. Too busy with their kissing, I suppose. Anyway, I thought you should know.”

  Faye sat back to catch her breath, her eyes fixed on Emma, waiting for her response.

  Finally Emma replied, “You walked from your home all the way to Cedar Avenue? That’s quite a trek, especially on a cold morning like today.”

  Faye’s color heightened. “Well, I might’ve driven part of the way.” She leaned in, resting her hands on her knees. “I know you’re close friends with Becky, so I thought you’d be the best person to warn her.”

  “Warn her about what?”

  “You can’t be too careful these days, and Becky is far too trusting sometimes. He’s young and good-looking, and I suppose she’s lost her head over him, but like I always say, handsome is as handsome does.”

  “What are you saying?” Alarm began to prickle along Emma’s nerves. “Do you know something about Nick Stavros?”

  Faye lowered her voice, but her whisper was just as loud as her normal voice. “He was arrested in LA for punching someone.”

  “Nick? That’s hard to believe.”

  “Well, it’s true.” Faye’s eyes gleamed. “He had a bad breakup, and then he got into a fight with his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. Must have a violent temper, though he does hide it well. He’s always so nice to me when I take my parrot to him, but maybe he bottles it all up inside him. Not very healthy, if you ask me. No, much better to tell people exactly how you feel, don’t you agree?”

  “I guess…” Emma murmured, preoccupied with this latest information. Faye had a habit of embroidering the truth, but surely even she wouldn’t make up a complete fabrication about Nick being arrested? There had to be a grain of truth in what she’d said, and that was what worried Emma.

  “I should be going.”

  To Emma’s surprise, Faye began to heave herself out of the armchair. She’d feared the woman would never leave, but then she realized that Faye was eager to scatter her breadcrumbs of gossip far and wide. After seeing the elderly lady to the door, Emma walked into the kitchen to find her father and Janet waiting for her at the table, which was already spread with all the fixings for chicken burritos.

  Taking a seat, Emma let out a sigh. “I suppose you heard all that.”

  “Bit hard not to.” Andrew adjusted his spectacles. “Is it something you should discuss with Becky?”

  “I’ll have to tell her, but I don’t know the full story. We all know what Faye is like.”

  “All too well,” her father said with a wry grin.

  “I was thinking of visiting Becky this afternoon anyway,” Emma said. “So I’ll let her know what the town gossip is up to.”

  “Good idea,” Janet said. “Now let’s eat.”

  They tucked into their food. As Emma relaxed, she became aware of a current of tension running back and forth between her father and Janet. They seemed nervous, their eyes darting to each other, their hands bumping as they passed things, their voices pitched higher than normal. What was going on? Had they argued just before she arrived? But they didn’t seem angry with each other; quite the opposite actually.

  Emma set down her fork and aimed a firm look at both of them. “I can’t help noticing that you’re both a little antsy today. What’s going on? Did you ask me over for a reason?”

  Andrew and Janet exchanged another glance before her father nodded and turned to her. “Yes, we did, pumpkin.” Clearing his throat, he reached across the table for Janet’s hand. “Janet and I have decided to get married.”

  Emma blinked at him.

  “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry,” Janet cried out.

  “What—No, don’t be.” Emma swallowed. “This is wonderful news! I’m so happy for you.”

  But both Andrew and Janet still looked apprehensive.

  “Are you sure?” Janet pleaded. “We won’t go ahead if you object.”

  “Oh, my goodness! Why would I object? You’re an amazing woman, Janet, and you make my dad so happy, and—and I’m over the moon that you’re getting married. I couldn’t be happier!”

  Tears sprang in Janet’s eyes, and Emma found her own eyes welling up, and when she looked at her dad, he, too, looked overcome with emotion. And then they were all on their feet, hugging each other and laughing through their tears.

  “Well, this calls for a celebration!” Andrew exclaimed, brushing his eyes.

  He produced a bottle of champagne and sloshed out three glasses, his hands shaking. They drank and cheered and drank some more. Janet and Andrew kissed, and Emma kissed both of them, feeling like her heart would burst.

  At last, some good news. It filled Emma with gladness to see how happy her father and Janet were. Not everyone got to find joy, but these two were the lucky ones.

  ***

  Emma bit her lip as Becky stared at her in shock. After celebrating her father and Janet’s engagement, she had dropped in on Becky and passed on what Faye had told her.

  “Arrested for punching someone!” Becky folded her arms, hunching her shoulders defensively. “I can’t believe Nick would do something like that. He’s the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. No, it must be a mistake.” She pushed to her feet and paced up and down her living room, playing nervously with her hair.

  “Maybe it is,” Emma said. “A person can never be too sure with Faye.”

  Becky paused in her fitful pacing. “At least I’m forewarned about the rumors Faye is spreading about me.” She shook her head. “God, by tomorrow morning everyone within a twenty mile radius will believe that Nick and I spent the night together, and it’s not even true!”

  “It’s not? You mean Faye made the whole thing up?” Furious indignation began to bubble in Emma.

  Becky waved a hand distractedly. “Oh, he slept over all right, but on the couch. After the party, Nick drove me home. He came in for a nightcap, and we ended up talking for ages. He fell asleep over there.” She pointed at the couch in front of her fireplace. “I threw a blanket over him and went to bed, alone. This morning we had breakfast—we ate some of that chocolate-eggnog pie—and then he left. I was not in my bathrobe, I was already dressed in this.” She gestured to her jeans and white woolen sweater. “And he gave me a quick peck on the cheek that lasted all of two seconds. That was all.” Her cheeks grew red with indignation. “If I had slept with Nick, I wouldn’t care if Faye talked about it, but I do care that she’s spreading false rumors. I care a lot.”

  Emma gazed at her friend in awe. An angry Becky was so rare, that even someone as thick-skinned as Faye wouldn’t be able to ignore her.

  “Do you want to call her now and set her straight?” Emma asked, already imagining the confrontation.

  Becky lifted her head. “No. I won’t go chasing after her. I’ll wait until she comes to the diner, and then I’ll tell her what I think. If she doesn’t apologize, I’ll ban her from the diner.”

  In all her years, Emma had never heard of anyone being banned from the diner. “Oh, she’ll grovel, for sure. Faye couldn’t survive without the diner.” Emma hesitated. “And what about Nick?”

  Uncertainty flickered across Becky’s face. “I—I’m not sure.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, her voice softening. “I really like him, but he’s too young for me, and now this story about an arrest…It sounds unbelievable, but what if it’s true?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do about Nick. Maybe I shoul
d just stay away from him for a while, let things cool down, and then maybe I can ask him if there’s any truth in the rumor.”

  “Yes, that sounds prudent. And maybe you should avoid being alone with Nick.”

  “Oh? I don’t think he’s actually a threat to me, is he?”

  Emma chewed on her lip. She wanted to reassure her friend, but with everything that had happened in the past week, how could she?

  “Probably not, but you can’t be too careful. Just for the time being, it’s best to be cautious.”

  “We could be over-reacting. I mean, we’re just going on Faye’s story.”

  Emma was recalling her morning with Hazel. She hadn’t meant to repeat what she’d learned to Becky, but now in the light of what Faye had said, she realized that she had to.

  “Actually, I heard something else this morning,” Emma said. She went on to relate Hazel’s account of the altercation between Nick and Wayne Goddard in the grocery store. “They clashed over you,” Emma said. “And, unlike Faye, I don’t think Hazel is the type to embellish the truth.”

  Becky had grown somber again, her arm wrapped defensively around her waist as she worried at a lock of hair. “No, she isn’t.”

  Something else occurred to Emma. “Remember that night you and I had drinks with Nick? When we told him about Wayne, we asked if he knew him, and he said no. Why did he lie?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to say anything in front of me.” Becky hesitated. “I find it hard to believe Nick is a killer, but you’re right. I’ll be extra-careful around him.”

  Emma put her arm around Becky’s shoulders. “You’re having a horrible time, but don’t worry. We’ll get through this together.”

  With a faint smile Becky rested her head against Emma’s. “My love life has always been dubious. I guess because of my father. I’m still coming to terms with him. I just wish we knew more about his death.”

  “Martinez is working on it, and so is Sherilee.”

  “Yes. I have to be patient.”

  “Speaking of fathers,” Emma said. “I have news about mine, and it’s good news.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following morning Emma guiltily arrived at the mayor’s office to finish the bookkeeping that she’d so abruptly cut off the day before. Hazel, severe as a staff sergeant, was cold and impersonal as they sat down to work at Hazel’s desk.

  “Sorry I had to rush off so quickly yesterday,” Emma apologized.

  The secretary gave her a gimlet stare and pointedly returned to the work in hand, as if to emphasize that she had no time for social chitchat. Seeing Hazel face-to-face again revived all the questions that had plagued Emma yesterday. Did Hazel know who the mysterious Jamie was, the groupie who had lured Becky’s father to Greenville? Was she, in fact, Jamie herself?

  Despite her preoccupation, it took only an hour before the accounts were done and a summary statement completed.

  “I’ll print off copies of everything,” Hazel said.

  While the secretary was busy with the printer in the far corner, Emma took the opportunity to do a quick scan of her desk, hoping to spot a clue. As expected, there were no photos and very few personal items. Her gaze fell on a notepad, the top page filled with writing. Hazel’s notes. As she squinted at the looping script, her heart began to beat faster. If she could get a sample of Hazel’s handwriting, maybe she could compare it with the letters Kieran O’Reilly had received. And if they matched…

  She glanced over her shoulder. The printer had malfunctioned, and Hazel was bending over it, muttering to herself. This was her chance. She leaned across the desk and grabbed the notepad. She flicked it to the second page. It, too, contained Hazel’s notes. She tore the page out, her ribs tightening at the sound, and quickly replaced the notepad. She had just managed to stuff the piece of paper in her bag when Hazel returned with the printouts.

  “Thanks very much,” Emma gabbled as she pushed to her feet and accepted the reports. “I’ll go now and leave you in peace.”

  Hazel frowned at her, and perspiration broke out on Emma’s back as she wondered if the other woman could read her mind. But the secretary merely gave her a curt nod.

  “I’ll leave a copy with the mayor. He’ll probably want to meet with you later this week.”

  “Of course.” Emma slung her bag over her shoulder—it seemed to feel extra heavy with her stolen paper inside—and waved goodbye before heading for the door.

  She dashed down the corridor and skidded around the corner only to bump into someone coming the other way.

  “Hey, Emma! What’s the rush?”

  She saw it was her friend Stacey from the planning department and let out a sigh. “Oh, hi, Stacey.” She took a quick look behind her. “I’m just relieved to get away from Hazel.”

  Stacey wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. “She’s actually a nice person, you know, once you get past her barriers.”

  Emma tilted her head. “Is she? I hate to say this, but I’m starting to have my doubts about her.” She hesitated as she remembered that Stacey didn’t yet know about Becky’s past or her father. She couldn’t betray Becky’s confidence, but somehow she had to tell Stacey of her misgivings. “I think Hazel’s not telling the truth about Wayne Goddard. She’s hiding something important.”

  Stacey’s expression grew worried. “Oh, Emma. Surely you don’t suspect Hazel of murder?”

  “She despised Wayne, and she knew where he hid his spare key, and she’s strong enough to carry a propane heater.”

  The corridor was silent. With many employees still on vacation, the building was half-vacant, and no one was in the vicinity.

  “Come with me.” Stacey tugged on Emma’s arm and led her to a small alcove in the deserted entrance lobby. She folded her arms and gazed at Emma. “I’m going to tell you something about Hazel, but first you have to promise me that you won’t repeat it to anyone. Anyone at all, and that includes people like Becky and Owen. Can you do that?”

  Emma nodded, feeling a little uneasy at giving such a blanket vow. Still, Stacey wouldn’t make her promise if she didn’t believe the secret was completely innocent.

  “Okay, I promise. So what’s this secret?”

  Stacey’s expression had become quite earnest. “Hazel is transgender.”

  “What?” At first the news stunned Emma, but as she thought about it certain things began to make sense. Like the hormone treatment Hazel had mentioned yesterday. The buttoned up shirts and scarves disguising her throat. The heavily applied makeup. “So she’s confided in you?”

  “Oh, goodness, no,” Stacey said. “I hope she does, but she hasn’t, and I respect that. No, I had my suspicions a while back, and then one day I saw an old driver’s license that she must have accidentally left out. It was a man’s, but you could see from the photo that it was Hazel. I didn’t say anything to her. I just try to be friendly with her, to let her know that I’m here if she ever wants to talk. I know how hard it is hiding your identity for so many years. She’s standoffish and prickly, but I think she’s happy here in Greenville.” She placed a hand on Emma’s arm. “Please don’t go digging around Hazel. It’s obvious she wants to keep her past a secret.”

  “Of course. I won’t tell a soul.” Emma paused as she recalibrated everything she knew about Hazel. “I suppose that’s why she never wants to talk about her past or what she did before coming to Greenville. And why she doesn’t seem to have any contact with her family.”

  Stacey nodded. “Yes, I believe that’s so. It’s sad to think she might have had to break from her family in order to be true to herself.”

  But maybe Hazel still had an old friend, the ‘J’ who’d sent her that Christmas card. Emma let out a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I was wrong about Hazel. I was only trying to help.”

  “Of course you were.” Stacey smiled and patted her shoulder. “You’re always trying to help someone.” She glanced at her watch. “I must run. Talk to you later.”

  As she tu
rned to leave, Emma called after her, “By the way, that driver’s license you saw. Do you remember the name on it?”

  Pausing, Stacey tapped a finger against her lips. “Hmm, I think it was Morgan something—No, wait, it was James Morgan. Yes, that’s it.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Emma turned to leave. As she left the building, she couldn’t help noting that someone called ‘James’ could easily go by the nickname ‘Jamie.’

  ***

  She was walking to her car in the parking lot when Officer Martinez hailed her from the steps of the police station, which was opposite the municipal building. As he approached, she noticed his somber expression, and her nerves tensed. What now?

  “I thought you should know,” he said. “The ME just called. There was a delay because of the holidays, but he’s finally got the toxicology report for Kieran O’Reilly.”

  “Oh. From your expression I’m guessing it’s not good news?”

  “There were high doses of benzodiazepine in his blood. It’s a drug commonly found in tranquilizers and sleeping pills.”

  Emma swallowed. “Enough to knock him out?”

  The cop nodded slowly. “Along with the whiskey, yes.”

  “Which means his death wasn’t an accident?”

  “We can’t jump to that conclusion. O’Reilly could’ve taken the drugs himself.”

  “Or someone could’ve slipped the drugs into his whiskey.”

  “Either way, we don’t have any proof a crime was committed. But it does raise suspicions.”

  Why would Kieran O’Reilly travel all the way from Santé Fe hoping to see his long-lost daughter only to commit suicide? No, that made no sense. Far more likely that the person he had met had plied him with alcohol laced with drugs, waited until he had passed out, and left him on a railway track to meet a grisly death.

  “I’ve got a recent mug shot of O’Reilly,” the cop continued. “I’ll be asking all the local bars if they saw him on the night he was killed. Might get a witness.”

  “Have you told Becky yet?”