Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3) Page 20

  “Can we talk?” he said, still sounding friendly.

  Clearly Sherilee hadn’t told him about Conrad’s prank and Emma’s share in it. Was she waiting for the right moment to cause maximum embarrassment? But no, Sherilee was too straightforward for that.

  Emma carefully descended with the basket. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Otto Wiseman yesterday.”

  Otto Wiseman? It took Emma a few seconds to recall why Owen would be interested in him. It seemed like weeks had passed since she and Mervyn had taken that wild goose chase through Wiseman’s cluttered yard.

  “Oh, yes. What did you find out?”

  “That he left on a hunting trip Wednesday morning and only returned yesterday. He went with a couple of friends, and they verified his story. So Wiseman couldn’t have dropped that flowerpot on you Thursday morning.”

  “I see.” She nodded mechanically.

  The news wasn’t a big surprise to her because she had already decided that Conrad—wearing those Van Janssen sneakers—was responsible for the flowerpot, while Ivan was guilty of killing poor Todd.

  “Emma?” Owen’s voice broke into her milling thoughts. “You don’t seem too disappointed.”

  “Oh, well, I guess it was a long shot.” She toyed with one of the pompoms, absentmindedly pulling at the crepe paper. “But thanks for following that up.”

  “Wiseman did admit to using Mervyn’s neighbor’s private jetty for fishing, though. He was there on Saturday night, but he claims he left when someone spotted him—presumably you—and didn’t see anything unusual. He’s a shady character, but I think he’s telling the truth in this case.”

  “So it’s another dead end.” She looked up at him. “Do you or Detective Gambino have any other suspects?”

  “We haven’t finished our enquiries yet, but Gambino is leaning toward accidental death by drowning.”

  She looked more closely at Owen. “But you don’t agree with her?”

  Owen shifted his stance, hooking his thumbs in his belt. “She’s in charge of this case,” he said neutrally.

  Of course Emma didn’t expect Owen to criticize a superior officer, especially not in front of a civilian like her, but she could sense that he held a different opinion on Todd’s death. Could she tell him what Georgia had found out about Ivan? Did she have that right? Maybe it would be better to wait until Mervyn had verified Georgia’s claims, and if they were true, then Mervyn should contact the police, not Emma. All she had were unsubstantiated claims from a stressed out, mildly hysterical woman. No, better to be prudent and wait.

  But what about Conrad and his incriminating Van Janssen shoes? Should she tell Owen about them? But then he’d want to know how she knew of the brand, and that would get Mervyn in trouble, and besides, she was loath to bring up Conrad’s name, especially with Sherilee potentially about to haul him in for questioning. Emma cringed at the prospect of Owen finding out about the prank and her involvement with Conrad. Would he understand how nervous she had been? That she had only pretended to play along?

  “Emma, you’re pulling that flower to shreds,” Owen said gently.

  Glancing down, she found bits of blue crepe paper clinging to and staining her fingertips. She brushed them off against her jeans.

  “Normally I would ask what’s wrong,” Owen said, “but I sense you’re not going to tell me right now.”

  Although she couldn’t meet his eyes, she felt his kindness like a balm. If only she could open up and blurt out everything that troubled her. If only she’d learned to appreciate his qualities sooner before she’d tossed him aside in favor of adventure. Emotions welled up in her, so strong she felt her eyes prickling with moisture. Oh no. Not tears, not in front of Owen.

  Blinking furiously, she stared down at her basket. Owen’s hand cupped her shoulder.

  “If you want to talk,” he said, “you know where I am.” He squeezed her shoulder for a brief second, and then he stepped back and quietly walked away.

  His words were exactly what she’d wanted him to say for weeks. Maybe, after everything they’d been through, they were finally ready to resume their friendship.

  A sigh escaped her, and as she gazed after Owen, she became aware of Vera giving her a sour look. What was her problem? Did she think Emma was wasting valuable time? Glancing at the clock above the stage, she realized that time was ticking away fast and clambered up the stepladder again.

  ***

  Half an hour later, Mervyn arrived at the hall and was instantly set upon by his mom, who insisted on introducing him to all the helpers present. Emma, still perched up on her stepladder, continued attaching pompoms to the walls, listening with half an ear as Mervyn spoke a few words with everyone. He appeared somewhat down, she thought. Not surprising, given the events of the past and Georgia’s bombshell last night.

  Eventually he came over to her and said, “Hey, Emma. You’ve been working hard. This place looks great.”

  Her back was beginning to ache, so she climbed down, glad of the excuse to rest. Leaning closer, she murmured, “So did you and Georgia go over your financials? What did you find out?”

  Mervyn glanced around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard before edging nearer. “Don’t repeat this to anyone, but Georgia wasn’t herself last night. It would be best all round if you just forgot what she said.”

  “Forgot what she said? But—but what do you mean? Was she wrong about—” she cast a surreptitious look over her shoulder. Everyone appeared engrossed in their tasks. “About Ivan?”

  “Oh, he might have taken the odd dollar here and there, but nothing like the magnitude she was gibbering about. I pointed out her mistakes, and she…she took it rather badly.” He sighed and shook his head. “We had an argument. She’s not coming to the dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Georgia looks all soft and sweet, but she can be very single-minded when she wants to be. Once she takes against a person, there’s no swaying her opinion. Take Archer, for example. She despised him right from the start. And she never warmed to Ivan. She thought I was siding with him against her. She—she called me some names, and then she locked herself in the guest bedroom and refused to come out.” His shoulders slumped, and a look of misery passed over his face.

  “How awful.” Emma touched Mervyn’s arm in sympathy. Aware of the bustle around them, she shifted him slightly so that no one else in the hall could see his pained expression.

  “That’s not all.” His head drooped even lower. “She told me we should take a break from each other, and everyone knows what that means.” He gulped. “She’s dumping me.”

  “Oh, Mervyn. I am sorry.” In a rush of compassion, she stepped closer and put her arms around him, not caring if anyone in the hall saw.

  He inhaled audibly, and for a second he stiffened, but then he relaxed and reached up to hold her hands. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, Georgia’s such a beautiful girl, and I’m…well, I might have improved, but I’m still not good enough for her.” His mouth sagged at the corners, and his eyes grew mournful like a puppy’s.

  He sounded so melancholy she was moved to squeeze his hands. At times she had wondered about the relationship between him and Georgia. To her, it seemed the adoration had flowed in only one direction—from Mervyn—and such an imbalance could never last in the long run.

  “That’s not true, Mervyn. You’re plenty good enough for her. For anyone.” She wasn’t sure if she was saying the right thing, but Mervyn looked so sorrowful she had to say something.

  “Thanks.” He sighed. “I suppose it’s for the best, isn’t that what people say?”

  “Absolutely. I know you’re hurting now, but believe me things will get better. You’re a great guy, Mervyn, and I’m sure you’ll find someone who truly values you.”

  He squinted at her from beneath his floppy red hair. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “Well, sure.”

  He kne
aded her hands gently. “Emma, you always were the sweetest girl in school,” he murmured, his eyes downcast, his face pink. “In fact, I had a secret crush on you.”

  “Oh.” Heat pumped in her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say or where to look. Instead, she gave a flustered laugh. “Um, well, I’ll take that as a, uh, compliment.”

  “You were going out with Owen then, so I never said anything.”

  “I see.” She wiggled her hands a little, but Mervyn didn’t let go.

  “But you’re not going out with him now.” He slanted her a shy look. “Do you think, if things were different, there might be a chance for the two of us?”

  Astounded, she could only stare at him. “Um, er, that’s…that’s really too soon to say, given that you’ve barely broken up with Georgia.” She knew her answer anyway. She could never think of Mervyn as more than a friend, not because there was anything wrong with him, but because her heart belonged to someone else.

  He dropped her hands and pushed his in his pockets. “You’re right. I’m such an idiot.”

  “No, no, of course you’re not.”

  “I’m not?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Then…” Again he shot her a bashful look. “Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  “Dinner? Tomorrow night?” Oh dear. Was Mervyn asking her out on a date? She’d have to turn him down, and she’d feel like a heel for doing so.

  “Yeah.” He shuffled his feet. “Not a date, of course, just a dinner between friends.”

  “Oh, right…” She smiled weakly. He waited for an answer, and she couldn’t find it in her to refuse him. He’d had a tough week. His mentor had died, his employee had stolen from him, and his girlfriend had dumped him. It was only natural he needed a friend’s support. “Yeah, sure. Why don’t we meet at Becky’s diner? The food is still awesome there.”

  “Okay. Becky’s diner. It’s a date.” He flushed. “Except it’s not one,” he hastily added.

  An awkward silence ensued. “Um, did you remember to bring the novelty check with you?” Emma asked, eager to turn the conversation to more mundane topics.

  “The novelty check?” Mervyn blinked in confusion.

  “Yes, for tonight’s dinner. You’re going to hand it to the school board president after your speech, remember?”

  “Oh, ah, yeah, it’s sitting in my house somewhere, but it completely slipped my mind, what with Georgia and everything. Sorry about that.”

  “Never mind. Just bring it with you when you arrive tonight.”

  Mervyn pulled a face. “But won’t that lessen the impact if I come to the dinner lugging a big piece of cardboard with me? That’s just not right.” He waved a hand at the stage where the pots of flowers had been set up. “When I’m up there I want a beautiful woman to come out with the check and hand it to me, and then the school president and I can pose for photos with the check between us. That’s what I envisaged all along.”

  “Fine. When I’m finished in here, I’ll come by your house and pick up the check.” Emma didn’t want to argue; after all, Mervyn was donating one hundred thousand dollars. And it was good to see he hadn’t lost all his spirit in this breakup with Georgia, even if it did create more work for herself.

  “I’ll see you later, then.” With a brief wave, he moved away, his gait a little stiff.

  She watched as he left the hall with his head down and shoulders slumped. Georgia had clearly done a number of him, poor guy.

  As she went to retrieve another box of pompoms, she suddenly became aware of Vera standing just a short distance away, close enough for her to have overheard the entire conversation. Vera glared at her, hands on hips, her short, dumpy figure radiating maternal indignation. Her stony eyes bored into Emma like weapons-grade laser beams, making Emma hot with self-consciousness.

  Emma opened her mouth, trying to think of something innocuous to say, but Vera didn’t wait. She stomped away, her head held high. Emma shook her head in bemusement. What had she done to offend Vera Butterick so deeply?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma hurried across the road from the WAC to South Lake High. She slipped into the main administration building through a side entrance and quickly mounted the stairs. The school was filled with alumni enjoying the various presentations put together for the anniversary, and Emma wasn’t keen on getting waylaid. Janet had asked her to collect a forgotten box of decorations, and she needed to get back to the WAC because the setting up was taking longer than anticipated.

  When she entered the old teachers’ lounge where the decorations had been assembled, she saw she wasn’t the only one there. Katrina Heston sat in her wheelchair at one of the tables, idly playing with bits of leftover crepe paper. She glanced up at Emma’s arrival.

  “Hi,” she said, her mouth stretching into a crooked smile.

  Emma smiled back. “Hi, Katrina. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

  “Hiding from my mom.” Katrina gave a dry chuckle. “She’s downstairs with her old friends. I snuck away.”

  The box of decorations Emma needed was right by the door, but it didn’t feel right just grabbing it and walking out. “Reunions can be a bit much at times,” Emma said sympathetically.

  “My neck gets stiff.” Katrina pointed at her throat. “I have to look up at everyone.”

  “Oh, I never thought about that. I guess it must.” Emma took a seat at Katrina’s table so that their eyes were level.

  “Everything’s different in this thing.” Katrina thumped her hand on the armrest of her wheelchair. “I’m different.” She shifted her upper body laboriously so she could lean toward Emma. “Listen, I need to tell you something.”

  Finally, it seemed Katrina was ready to confide in Emma. “Go on, I’m listening.”

  “You know what put me in this wheelchair?”

  “Yes. You had a terrible car accident.”

  “What if I told you it wasn’t an accident?” Katrina watched her closely.

  Emma frowned. That was the last question she had expected. “You mean, someone forced you off the road or rammed into you?”

  “No. Something happened to my car, and I lost all control. I couldn’t steer it, and nothing happened when I stamped on the brakes.” Katrina’s eyes were wide and intense.

  “Um, right…”

  “I swear it happened!” Katrina struggled to get the words out. “I didn’t have an accident. Someone wanted me dead and sabotaged the car!”

  “But why would anyone want to kill you?”

  “Because I know too much, obviously!”

  The wild look in Katrina’s eyes made the back of Emma’s neck prickle. Katrina was not well. She’d been badly injured, perhaps seriously enough to impair her cognitive abilities.

  “So, um, have you told anyone else about this? Like the police?”

  Katrina’s face puckered with frustration. “Yeah, but no one believes me.” Lunging forward, she gripped Emma’s arm. “But you do, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Surely the police would’ve investigated?”

  Katrina let out a bitter cry. “You’re just like everyone else! You sicken me.”

  The sudden aggression startled Emma. “I’m sorry—”

  But Katrina wasn’t listening. “You smug little bitch. Think you’re so smart!” Her fingers dug into Emma’s hand like claws.

  Alarmed, Emma tried to stand up, but Katrina clung onto her hand, colorful curses streaming from her mouth.

  “Katrina!” a new voice cried from the doorway. “Oh my goodness! What are you doing?”

  A man and a woman entered the room—Katrina’s mother, and presumably her father. Marjorie Heston rushed up and pried Katrina’s fingers free of Emma’s hand. Stunned but relieved, Emma limped backward, rubbing the painful scratches on her hand.

  “So, so sorry,” Mrs. Heston muttered to Emma before turning and grabbing the wheelchair. “Come on, Katrina. We’re going home.”

  “No!” Katri
na screamed, banging her fists on the armrests. “I’m sick of you telling me what to do!”

  “But that nice girl is coming over to do your nails, remember? You want to look good for the dinner tonight, don’t you?”

  “Stupid dinner! I don’t want to go.”

  “We’ll talk about it when we get home.” Red-faced and grim, Katrina’s mother pushed the wheelchair out of the room.

  “We’re deeply sorry about that.” Katrina’s father offered Emma a hand. “I’m Neville Heston, Katrina’s dad, by the way.” His hair was ash-gray, and his face prematurely aged.

  “Emma Cassidy.” Emma attempted a reassuring smile as they shook hands. “I’ve seen Katrina a couple of times this week. She seemed quite…” Sane, was what she was going to say, but that would imply that Katrina was now insane.

  Mr. Heston sighed. “She has her good days and her bad. It’s all the medication she’s on, plays havoc with her mind, she says. Sometimes, she doesn’t take everything she’s supposed to. She hides the pills so we don’t know until…” He waved a hand. “Until she loses control. She never was the most patient person, but now she’s incapacitated, it’s even worse. She gets very frustrated sometimes.”

  Emma’s sympathies went out to Katrina’s parents. “It can’t be easy for you or your wife.”

  He gave a tired smile of acknowledgement. “Marjorie’s the fulltime carer. I help out where I can, but I got to keep working to pay the medical bills. Anyway, I should get out there and help Marjorie.”

  “Mr. Heston, before Katrina started yelling, she told me something quite extraordinary.”

  He paused in mid-stride, and his shoulders sagged. “Okay. What did she tell you? Did she say her crash wasn’t an accident?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right. Could there be any truth in that?”

  “Forensics went over what was left of the car and found no evidence of tampering.”

  Emma kneaded her scratched hand. “She said someone wanted her dead.”