In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 19

  The cop nodded, lines bracketing his mouth as he compressed his lips. “I went to the diner this morning and told her.” He rubbed his upper lip. “She didn’t say much, but…” His silence said it all.

  Emma’s stomach knotted. “I’ll go and see her right away.”

  “Yeah, you do that. Tell her…tell her I’m gonna do everything I can to get to the bottom of this. If it was murder, then I’ll find who did it.” His face darkened with resolve.

  Thanking him, Emma turned and hurried to her car.

  Five minutes later, she arrived at the diner. Mercifully, there were only a couple of customers seated in a corner. Becky was sitting at a table near the kitchen door, gazing out the window—an unusual sight since normally she would be bustling about the diner. Abigail and Oscar hovered in the background. Clearly they sensed something wasn’t right, but were hesitant to intrude.

  Emma walked up to Becky’s table and took a seat opposite her.

  “Martinez told me,” she said in a quiet voice, mindful of the others in the diner. “I came straight away.”

  Becky gave her a weak smile. “I’m okay, really I am.”

  Abigail and Oscar shuffled closer.

  “Maybe you should go home,” Oscar said, his earnest blue eyes pinned on his boss. “Abigail and I can manage the diner on our own.”

  “Oh, Oscar, that’s so sweet of you. But I’m fine.”

  “I don’t know what that cop told you, but he was clumsy about it.” Oscar jutted out his jaw, looking surprisingly forceful. “He didn’t have any respect for your feelings.”

  “Yeah,” Abigail chimed in. “What a numbskull he is.”

  “Eric seems competent to me,” Emma protested.

  But was he? In her few dealings with Martinez he had seemed professional enough, but was he the best person for the investigation, given his unrequited crush on Becky? Did it matter that his personal feelings were involved? The Greenville Police Department wasn’t large, and in a small town like theirs it was inevitable that some of the crimes they investigated involved people they knew.

  “He waved that mug shot in front of me while I was making pancakes,” the cook protested.

  So Eric had already started trying to track down witnesses. “Have you seen the man in the photo before?” Emma asked, curious.

  “Nope. I’m in the kitchen most of the time. It’s Abigail who deals with the customers.”

  “Well, I’d never seen the guy before,” Abigail declared. “I wonder what he was in prison for. The cop wouldn’t tell me. I could help him, you know. I’m something of an expert on criminal psychology.”

  Across the table, Becky’s face became paler. “Perhaps you should concentrate on washing dishes rather than analyzing criminals,” she said with unusual sharpness.

  The waitress opened her mouth as if to protest, but then appeared to change her mind. “Fine. Guess I’m not appreciated around here.” She flounced off to the kitchen.

  “Don’t mind her.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck. “She thinks this is like one of those stories in her true crime magazines. I keep telling her to stop reading that rubbish, but she won’t listen. She’s obsessed with them. You should see her bedroom. The walls are covered with these stories she cut out.” The cook shook his head, disapproving. “I mean, why treat these criminals like celebrities? I don’t understand it, but then I’m not a young girl.” He walked off, still shaking his head.

  Emma stared at Becky. “Could Abigail be the one?” Emma whispered. “The mysterious Jamie?”

  Her friend made a choking sound. “No! I refuse to believe it could be her.”

  Leaning forward, Emma murmured, “But she ticks so many boxes. She’s young, female, and impressionable. She’s fascinated by crime and possibly infatuated with the perpetrators. She’s only lived in Greenville a few years, and she’s attached to you, dare I say it, almost infatuated with you.”

  Becky clenched her fist on the table. “It’s too ridiculous!”

  “Well, where was she the night that Kieran O’Reilly died? Kieran got off the bus at around two-fifteen, and I found him on the tracks just after six. Where was Abigail during that time?”

  “She was here at the diner.”

  “The whole time?”

  Becky hesitated, and her face clouded over. “No. She usually has a few hours free after the lunch rush. If I remember correctly, she was gone from about two to four-thirty.”

  “So she was gone for two and a half hours?” Emma sucked in a breath. Two and a half hours was enough time to liquor up an anxious man and knock him out with drugs.

  “But she’s a pixie of a thing. I doubt she weighs a hundred pounds. There’s no way she could’ve lifted a fully grown man’s body onto the tracks.”

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe she lured him to the tracks while he was still able to walk.”

  “No.” Becky shook her head. “This is ridiculous. I spend so much time with Abigail. Yes, she might be a little naïve and over-dramatic, but I refuse to believe she could be hiding such a sinister nature.”

  Becky was trembling, and her complexion had grown ashen. Guilt stabbed at Emma. Becky was in no shape to contemplate possible murderers among her nearest and dearest. That was Emma’s job. Just like it was her job to shield Becky from the worst of her speculations. And her suspicions about Abigail were just that—speculations. Until she unearthed more proof.

  “Okay, I won’t say anything more about Abigail.”

  Becky took several deep breaths, and gradually the tense lines on her face relaxed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, honey.”

  “Heavens, there’s no need to apologize. You’ve helped me so much in the past, I owe you.”

  Becky nodded, pushing her fingers through her hair. “I received flowers this morning.”

  Emma lifted her eyebrows. “From Nick?”

  “Who else? He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

  “But you’ll be careful, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Becky looked down at her hands. “But they were beautiful pink roses.”

  “Roses come with thorns, remember?”

  “I know.” At that moment a few new customers entered the diner, and Becky got up, straightening her clothes. “I’ll talk to you later, honey. Did you want something to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you. I need to get back to the office.”

  With a troubled heart she watched Becky put on a smile as she went to serve her customers. In the coming days and weeks Becky would need plenty of support. The sooner the police got to the bottom of Kieran O’Reilly’s death the better, but with resources stretched that might take a while. And Becky would have to arrange the funeral, a fraught experience in itself. How did you say goodbye to a father you had feared and hidden from for so long?

  ***

  A few hours later, Emma was working on a proposal when her part-time receptionist appeared at the door.

  “Okay, I’m here,” Caitlyn trilled, her platinum blonde bob shining. “Ready to go?”

  Emma looked up with a blank expression. “Go where?”

  Tut-tutting, Caitlyn approached the desk. “No pretending. You know you’ve got an appointment with Dr. Lipperman in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh. For my filling.” Emma pulled a face. “Is it today?”

  The younger woman walked around the desk, and with surprising force pulled Emma to her feet. “Yes, it’s today, and you’re going.” She grabbed Emma’s bag and coat from the nearby chair and thrust them at Emma. “Come on. You’re not going to be late if I have anything to do with it.”

  Emma reluctantly allowed herself to be hustled downstairs. Subconsciously or not, she had forgotten about her dentist appointment, and now she felt slightly ashamed at her cowardice. At the entrance to Lulu’s Salon, she paused and turned to Caitlyn.

  “Thank you for reminding me, but you don’t need to march me all the way to Frank Lipperman’s door. I’ll drive myself there.”

  The girl narrowed her
eyes at her. “You promise you won’t chicken out?”

  “Scouts’ honor. You can even call that dragon lady receptionist and check on me.”

  Caitlyn grinned. “I might just do that. Okay, I’ll let you go on your own. I think I trust you.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  In her car, she anxiously probed her tooth with her tongue as she drove across town. Her nervousness only grew when she sidled into the dental suite and spied the sharp-eyed receptionist.

  “Um, I haven’t had any trouble with my tooth. Maybe I don’t need a filling after all…” She trailed off as the woman’s eyes bored into her, telling her exactly what she thought of that weak excuse. “Okay, I’ll wait for Frank.”

  “That’s Doctor Lipperman,” the woman snapped as Emma slunk away to one of the chairs in the waiting area.

  A few minutes later she was summoned into the examination room, where Frank Lipperman and a dental assistant waited for her. Emma’s heart rate ramped up, and her palms were damp as she settled herself in the reclining chair.

  “I’m, uh, a bit nervous,” she confessed, blinking in the glare of the bright overhead light.

  “So many people get nervous around dentists,” Frank said, looking sorrowful. “I don’t know why when I have so many excellent sedatives. Nitrous oxide, Novocain, or intravenous sedation. If you’re really anxious, we can even put you under general anesthesia, but you would have to go to a hospital for that.”

  A nervous giggle escaped from Emma’s lips. “So you must know all about drugs, then?”

  “Oh, yes.” He smiled down at her. “I’m fully qualified to render you unconscious.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “That—that’s a joke, right?”

  Frank laughed, revealing his sharp, white incisors. “Of course it’s a joke. Now, I suggest you go with the nitrous oxide. It won’t put you under. You’ll just feel happy and relaxed, like you don’t have a care in the world.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  She had barely assented when Frank picked up a gas mask and strapped it around her head, covering her nose. Her anxiety spiked.

  “Breathe normally,” Frank said. “It’ll all be good.”

  She could do this, she told herself. She had faced down murderers and abductors; she should be able to handle a visit to the dentist. And then, after a few seconds, a miraculous sense of calm rolled over her, and she could almost hear the muscles in her neck and shoulders sighing as they relaxed. Why had she been so worked up about a little tooth filling? It was nothing, a piece of cake.

  She gazed up at Frank. He looked so friendly and approachable. Who could argue with him? But someone had. Who was it again? Oh, yes, Wayne Goddard. Wayne had complained about Frank overcharging him. Wayne had been so angry…

  It seemed only a matter of moments before the mask was removed from her nose and she was sitting up in the chair while Frank stripped off his latex gloves and the assistant cleaned up the equipment.

  “There you are,” Frank said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No, you were right.” She hesitated, thinking back on the past fifteen minutes. Had she said anything about Wayne and Frank? “Uh, I think I babbled a bit about Wayne…”

  “Did you? I didn’t notice,” the dentist said smoothly.

  What if he was lying? What if she’d blabbed something else? Like…suspecting him of murdering Wayne? Oh, dear. “A-am I okay to drive myself home?”

  “Of course. The nitrous oxide is eliminated from your body within three to five minutes of the gas being stopped.”

  “Okay. Um, thanks.”

  The assistant had disappeared, and they were alone in the examination room. Frank tilted his head, his eyes black and glistening like marbles and disconcerting in their intensity.

  “How are your knees?” he asked abruptly.

  “My knees?” Her mind raced before she realized he was referring to her injuries. “Oh, they’re fine.”

  “No more close encounters with white vans, I hope?”

  She found herself squirming, his dark, laser-like gaze discomfiting her. “No.” She scrambled out of the chair, feeling clumsy, and tried to give a light laugh that ended up sounding nervous. “No more white vans.”

  “I’ve been hearing a few stories about you, Emma. You seem to lead a rather adventurous life, I have to say.” His tone was conversational, but to her heightened senses there seemed to be an undertone of something else, something less than friendly. “You should take more care.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah,” she mumbled, feeling jumpy and at the same time foolish for being nervous.

  She edged away from him. Her heel caught on the wheel of a chair, and she would have tumbled backward if he didn’t grab her arm.

  “Dear, dear! And just when I was telling you to take more care!”

  Blushing furiously, Emma made to snatch her bag from the counter but only succeeded in knocking it and a stack of magazines onto the floor, the bag spilling half its contents. Oh jeez, could she get any clumsier?

  “I’ve got it!” she muttered, hastily grabbing things and stuffing them into her bag. She piled the magazines back on the counter and hitched the tote bag over her shoulder. Frank Lipperman sat and watched her, a smirk on his lips as if he was enjoying her clownish antics. It must be like watching a cat video, she thought as she waved goodbye and rushed out of the room, her cheeks throbbing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Later that day as she drove home, Emma gingerly prodded at her cheek and winced at the dull ache. After the dentist, she had returned to her office, planning to do more work, but with the effects of the nitrous oxide gone, her jaw had begun to throb, and in the end she’d decided to go home early, figuring she could just as easily work on her proposal from the comfort of her cottage. She had popped into the diner to check on Becky, and was relieved to see her friend calmly seeing to her customers.

  “You go on home, honey,” Becky had said. “I know how terrified you are of dentists. You must be feeling drained after your ordeal.”

  Once more Emma had felt a guilty shame about her trivial phobia when Becky was going through so much. Still, it was good to leave her troubles behind and go home. The woods were quiet and lovely, and there was a stark beauty about the bare-branched trees that surrounded her cottage. Climbing out of her car, she paused to take in several deep breaths of the crisp air. This stillness wouldn’t last long, according to the weather report she’d heard on her car radio. A cold front was sweeping down from the north, bringing howling winds and possible snowstorms. She had better make sure she had a working flashlight and plenty of candles so she’d be prepared for any power cuts. But first she needed a strong cup of coffee and a couple of painkillers.

  She walked into her cottage. With the winter sun lowering and the curtains closed, the interior was dim. As she shut the door, she caught sight of a shadowy figure sitting in the armchair, and fear enveloped her. Yelping, she lunged for the light switch just as the figure rose to its feet and—

  “Rowena!” Emma cried, clutching a hand to her chest where her heart clanged like a runaway steam train. “What—what the hell!” In all the commotion of the past few days, she’d almost forgotten about her ex-business partner, but here she was again, looking less than her usual chic self.

  Pale and devoid of makeup, Rowena wrinkled her brow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

  Trying to calm her racing heart, Emma set down her tote bag and laptop on the kitchen table. “You could have called, you know, instead of breaking into my house.” Again. She really had to do something about the locks in this place; clearly they weren’t doing their job of keeping out uninvited guests.

  Rowena dipped her chin and looked contrite. “I would’ve, but my phone battery died.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry for barging in on you again, but—but I didn’t know where else to go…” She trailed off, twisting her fingers through her hair.

  The shiny, preci
sion-cut bob that Rowena had always been so proud of was now a rumpled, greasy mess, clagged with bits of dirt. Without makeup she looked tired and washed out, and her grubby clothes looked like she’d slept in them for several days.

  “Where have you been?” Emma asked, trying to suppress the tiny spark of sympathy.

  “Hiding in someone’s garage.”

  “Whose garage?”

  “Some guy in town. Luckily, he had a double garage, so he didn’t notice me.”

  Emma did a quick calculation. It was now Tuesday, and Rowena had disappeared on Saturday, which meant she’d spent three nights in someone’s garage. Three nights in the dead of winter.

  “You must have been freezing,” Emma couldn’t help saying.

  “There was some camping equipment in the garage. I borrowed the blow up mattress and the sleeping bag.” Rowena put on a brave face. “But, yeah, it was pretty chilly.”

  Emma let out a sigh. “I’ll light the fire and put on some coffee.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to be too much trouble.”

  Too late for that. But Emma kept the snarky comment to herself. Time for that later. For now, she was cold, too, and she really needed those painkillers. She busied herself getting the fire going, and soon the room began to grow warm. She swallowed a couple of painkillers and made a pot of coffee. With her tender gum, she wasn’t in the mood for food, but she remembered that Rowena had been hiding out in a garage for three days.

  “Want something to eat?” she asked when Rowena had come down from visiting the bathroom.

  Rowena, her hair combed and face washed, looked a lot better. She’d even put on a trace of lipstick. She nodded eagerly at the question. “Yes, please. I’ve been existing on granola bars and tinned salmon. It’s weird what some people store in their garages.”

  “There’s a fresh loaf of bread if you want to make yourself a sandwich.”

  “What about you?”

  Emma shook her head. “Went to the dentist earlier. I’ll wait a while before I eat.”

  As Rowena made her sandwich, she glanced speculatively at Emma. “So, have you told anyone about me yet?”