In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 4

  “Fraud and embezzlement, but it’s a trumped up charge. It was a good investment. The people who bought into it would’ve doubled their money, if they’d bothered to wait.”

  “In other words your boyfriend defrauded them. Stole their money. Basically, he’s a thief.”

  Rowena winced. “Really, he just has bad luck at times. The thing is, some of these investors aren’t very nice people. In fact, you could call them dangerous. With Lonnie in jail, I decided it was best to skip town and hide out where no one would look for me. Which is why I ended up here.”

  Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Just minutes ago you were telling me how you’d suffered, but you’re still making excuses for him.”

  “I know, I’m enslaved. It’s terrible!” But even though Rowena lowered her chin in shame, the glint in her eyes indicated she was happy to be swept up in her boyfriend’s lies. Perhaps the dreams he spun her were worth the grim reality. “What can I say? Lonnie and I are cut from the same cloth. We’re both passionate people. We go where no one else goes. We live life on the edge. We aim high.”

  Emma bit back a snarky retort. “So how long will you have to hide from these dangerous thugs?”

  “A few days, a week at the most. Once Lonnie makes bail, he’ll sort things out with these guys, and I’ll be able to return.”

  Mistrust continued to nag at Emma. There was something ‘off’ about Rowena’s story. She wasn’t telling the whole truth, Emma was sure, but she was too tired to tackle her right now. The warm cocoa had unknotted the tension in her shoulders, and dulled the ache in her skull. She just wanted to go to bed and tune out the dangerous world outside.

  “You know what, I’ve had enough for one night.” Draining her mug, she stood up. “You can stay the night. We’ll discuss whether you can remain in the morning.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk in the morning.” Rowena picked up her mug and, copying Emma, moved to the sink to fill it with water.

  As Emma picked up the empty saucepan, she noticed her hand was still a little wobbly.

  Apparently Rowena noticed this too. “Hey, are you okay? I didn’t give you that much of a fright, did I?”

  “No.” Leaving the saucepan to soak in the sink, Emma debated how much to tell Rowena. Once upon a time, Rowena had been more than a business partner. They’d been friends, bonding over long hours of work, commiserating over disasters, celebrating success with champagne. “Actually, something terrible happened earlier today.” She paused, wanting to summarize the events as succinctly as possible. “A man was killed near the rail crossing. He was passed out and lying across the tracks. There was a train coming. I tried to drag him to safety, but I was too late.”

  Rowena covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, that’s horrible! Who was he? Some old drunk who lost his footing and knocked himself out?”

  “We don’t know yet. The police are still trying to identify him.”

  “It’s very sad. Well, if he was unconscious, he wouldn’t have suffered much, so there’s that.”

  Rowena’s attempts at sympathy grated on Emma, but she knew she was still overly sensitized to what had happened.

  “No wonder you jumped like a scared cat when you saw me,” Rowena continued. “I’m really sorry about that. I thought about staying outside, but I was going numb with cold, and I wanted to see if this was your place. I knew it was when I saw that.” She pointed to the stone mantelpiece that held a cherished photo of Emma with her dad and her late mother.

  “I’ll get you some bedding,” Emma said, leading the way upstairs to the second level that held her bedroom, a bathroom, and a tiny spare room.

  “I couldn’t help noticing the photo of the hunk on your nightstand,” Rowena said as she followed in Emma’s footsteps.

  Emma frowned as she wondered if Rowena had snooped in her bedroom.

  As if reading her mind, Rowena added, “I saw the photo from the landing after I’d used the bathroom.”

  Even so, Emma felt a deep reluctance to talk about Owen to Rowena. Rowena was part of her painful past from which she’d learned so many lessons; Owen was part of her future to which she looked forward to. Ignoring all mention of the photo, she said, “You can use the bathroom while I get the sheets and bedding.”

  Shrugging, Rowena disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged minutes later, Emma was waiting for her with a couple of clean sheets, a spare pillow, and a down comforter that was thick enough for this time of year.

  “Goodnight,” Emma said as she loaded the pile in Rowena’s arms. “I’ll see you in the morning. I usually wake at seven.”

  Rowena nodded but made no move to descend the stairs. “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me who the hunk is?” Rowena lifted her eyebrows, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

  “I don’t think so. You’ll be long gone before he gets back.”

  As Rowena’s eyes widened, Emma realized she’d made a mistake. By trying to shield Owen’s identity, she’d only succeeded in arousing Rowena’s curiosity.

  “He must be really special, then. So what happened to Stevie?”

  It took Emma several seconds before realizing that she was referring to Emma’s ex-boyfriend in New York.

  She answered succinctly, “We broke up.”

  No need to mention that Steven had proven to have feet of clay and that when her world was crumbling around her and she’d turned to him for support, he had broken up with her, afraid that her business problems would adversely affect his career in finance. At the time Emma had been crushed, but it had been a lucky escape for her. Ironically, she had Rowena to thank for that.

  Rowena was still gazing at Owen’s photo. “I’m glad you’re with someone special. You can understand how I feel about my Lonnie.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. Goodnight.”

  When Rowena had gone downstairs, Emma shut the door and collapsed onto her bed with a groan. Grabbing a pillow, she pummeled her head with it. Why on earth had she let Rowena stay?

  It was just one night, she told herself. In the morning she would send Rowena on her way and be done with her.

  She closed her eyes, wishing this entire night had never happened. But as soon as she did so, images of the dead man rubbed like sand against her eyelids. Those leather boots, cracked and worn and dusty, as if they had carried their owner across so many miles. Would she ever forget those boots? Or the lifeless weight of the man as she tugged at his feet?

  Tears, absent until now, gathered in her eyes, and she let them roll down the sides of her cheeks until they dried up and she fell into sleep, dreaming of train whistles and lights and tramping boots.

  Chapter Four

  By morning, Emma had still not come to a decision about letting Rowena stay for longer than the night. Her indecision mounted when she came downstairs to find Rowena had made her pancakes for breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Come sit down and tuck in!” Rowena sang out as she ushered Emma to the table and pushed a stack of pancakes decorated with sliced strawberries and a smattering of icing sugar toward her.

  “Thanks,” Emma warily replied, taking a sip of the coffee next to the pancakes.

  “Just trying to be useful. I hope you don’t mind me making myself at home in your kitchen?” Rowena tilted her head to one side, her expression imploring.

  The sugary scent of the pancakes was irresistible. Emma dug hungrily into her stack, even though she suspected Rowena hadn’t made them purely out of the goodness of her heart. Still, they were good pancakes.

  “Thank you. This is delicious,” Emma said between mouthfuls. “Aren’t you having any?”

  “I’m not much of a breakfast person myself. Coffee will do me for now.” Examining her fingernails, Rowena added casually, “So, have you given any thought about letting me stay?”

  Emma popped the last bit of pancake into her mouth and chewed slowly. She still held some lingering anger a
bout Rowena’s betrayal, but when she thought about it objectively, her life was a hundred times better now. If Rowena hadn’t run off, then in all likelihood Emma would still be living in New York, and that held little appeal to her now. She had enjoyed the frenetic pace of the big city, but she was older now, and she appreciated the small town atmosphere of Greenville. She also enjoyed being closer to her father. Plus, if she’d remained in New York, she would most likely still be dating Steven, unaware of his real nature. And that was a truly horrifying idea, especially now that she had Owen in her life again.

  Rowena didn’t deserve her help, but she was clearly desperate, otherwise she would never have turned up here. It wouldn’t hurt to show her some charity.

  “I guess you can stay for—”

  Before she could complete the sentence, Rowena jumped up, rounded the table, and flung her arms around Emma’s neck.

  “Oh, thank you! You’re a star! I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

  Taken aback, Emma disentangled herself from Rowena’s arms. “You only need a few days, right?”

  “Of course! I’ll be gone in the new year. I won’t overstay my welcome.” Rowena’s Cheshire cat grin gave Emma a momentary regret, but it was too late to withdraw the offer. Rowena skipped about the table and sat down, her face beaming. “Thanks, darling, you won’t regret it. It’s all going to work out.”

  “If you want to remain undetected, you’ll have to stay inside,” Emma warned her. “You can’t go for walks in the woods.”

  “I doubt I’d want to go wandering out in that.” Rowena glanced at the trees outside and gave an exaggerated shudder. “No offence, but those woods must be filled with spiders and creepy crawlies. Ugh. Plus it’s ridiculously cold out there.”

  Emma thought some more about the situation. Isadora, her herbalist neighbor, was spending the holidays with a friend in town, and had taken her two cats with her. The property next door was about to be developed into an exclusive retirement community, but building had not commenced yet, and the surrounding woods would be quiet and uninhabited for some months to come.

  “My neighbor has gone away for a few days,” Emma said. “So you won’t have to worry about her dropping in.”

  “You have neighbors who drop in unannounced?” Rowena pulled a face. “Must be hard on you, all that prying and snooping?”

  You dropped in unannounced, Emma wanted to point out but didn’t. “Anyway, it’s pretty quiet around here, especially at this time of year. Just keep the curtains closed downstairs and try not to make too much noise, I guess.”

  Rowena sighed. “Yes, I’ll have to practice being a church mouse, I suppose.”

  Emma eyed her for a few moments. “Is he worth it? All this running away and lying low because he can’t do an honest day’s work. Wouldn’t it be better to break up with him?”

  A horrified expression came over Rowena. “I could never desert my Lonnie! He’s everything to me. Yes, I know he’s let me down in the past, but you don’t throw someone aside just because of a few mistakes, do you? Everyone deserves a second chance. If Lonnie could just get over this little setback, then I’m sure we can make it.”

  Once more Emma’s instincts warned her that Rowena wasn’t being straight with her. Was it a mistake to let her stay? Probably, but for the moment she’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t agree, but I can see I won’t change your mind, and I have to go to work. Thanks for breakfast.”

  She cleared the table of her empty plate and mug before heading for the stairs to fetch her coat and bag. When she returned, Rowena was lying on the couch, her feet up, a pensive look on her face.

  “I’ll see you this evening,” Emma said.

  “See you.” Rowena waved a limp hand. Now that she had got what she’d wanted, she seemed to be sinking into apathy.

  As Emma set off for work, she reflected that keeping Rowena hidden might be more difficult than she’d anticipated. Not only would she have to stay silent about Rowena in front of her friends and family, but what about Owen? What should she tell him? If she told him that Rowena was hiding from some nasty thugs, he might feel obliged to take matters into his own hands, but that was the last thing she wanted, especially when she still had that nagging feeling that Rowena was not being completely truthful. No, until she knew the full story, it was probably best not to say anything about Rowena. Owen was away in Libretto for at least the next week, and with any luck by the time he returned, Rowena would be gone.

  ***

  Monica Benson, the mayor’s wife, was a woman difficult to ignore. She was tall, and her height was emphasized by her bouffant hairstyle, a puffed up blob of blonde hair that resembled a stiff, shiny lollipop. Together with her forceful enunciation of every syllable in a word and her eagle-eyed demeanor, it was little wonder so many people were terrified of her. And it didn’t help that she had taken an instant dislike to Emma from the moment Emma had set up A Perfect Party in Greenville. Emma was never sure why Monica Benson disapproved of her, but it made for some tricky situations, especially with the New Year’s Eve fundraiser, because Monica had virtually taken over from her husband on all deciding matters.

  Now, Monica Benson sat across the table from Emma, tapping her sharply pointed fingernails on the polished oak as she eyed Emma with incredulous distaste. “A laser show? What a tacky idea. This isn’t Las Vegas, you know.”

  “It might be quite fun.” Emma appealed to Henry Benson sitting next to his wife. As mayors went Henry wasn’t too bad—a bit of a wheeling-dealing politician but generally above board—but when it came to social matters, like this fundraiser, he was all too happy to defer to his wife. “And it wouldn’t cost us anything. Wayne has offered to do it for free.”

  “Wayne Goddard?” The mayor stroked his sleek, well-fed chin. He was like a seal, wide in the hips, smooth and slippery. “I don’t know the man. Does he play golf?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s a light and sound engineer. He’s just recently moved here to Greenville, and he thought the laser show would be a nice thing to do for the community.”

  “Oh, so he’s just doing this to tout for business,” Monica scoffed.

  Trying to ignore her, Emma focused on the mayor, who seemed indecisive. “We don’t have to make a decision straight away. Wayne’s offered to give me a demonstration of his show. I thought tomorrow morning would be a suitable time. Why don’t you come and see it with me, and then we can decide.”

  “Why waste our time?” Monica demanded. “We already know it won’t be suitable.” She turned to her husband. “Don’t we, Henry?”

  Henry squirmed unhappily. They were seated at an oval meeting table in Henry’s mayoral office. Another councilor who’d been assisting with the fundraiser, had been forced to pull out because of illness, and so it was just the three of them, plus Hazel Destefano, the mayor’s secretary, sitting a few seats away from them, discreetly taking minutes of the meeting.

  Emma could sense the mayor’s conundrum. On the one hand, he hated going against his wife—most likely because it made his home life hell—but on the other hand he loved getting something for nothing, especially when it showed him up in a good light.

  “You can go to this demonstration on your own.” He waved a hand at Emma. “And then, if you think it’s any good, you can have the laser show. But make it a short one,” he added hastily as his wife began to give him the stink eye. “No more than five or so minutes, and remember it has to be tasteful.”

  So Henry did want the laser show, but he also wanted Emma primed as a convenient scapegoat if anything went wrong. She had to admire his tactical maneuvering, even if she might fall foul of Monica Benson.

  Henry was already trying to soothe his irate wife. “It’s for charity, after all,” he said to her. “And some people like a bit of razzamatazz.”

  Looking like she’d sucked on a lemon, Monica tilted her helmet hair toward her husband’s secretary. “Hazel,” she barked out. “Do yo
u know this Wayne Goddard person?”

  Hazel, quiet throughout the meeting, looked up from her notebook, startled. “Yes,” she murmured cautiously. “He…he’s always hanging around the diner.”

  “The diner?” Monica’s forehead wrinkled. “What diner?”

  “Becky’s Diner.” Hazel seemed nonplussed that someone who’d lived in Greenville as long as Monica had didn’t know what “the diner” referred to.

  “Oh, that place. So, what do you make of him?”

  Hazel hunched her shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the mayor’s wife’s questions. “Well, I don’t know. Sometimes he’s a bit boastful, a bit too…” She twirled her fingers. “Too flashy, I suppose.”

  “Boastful and flashy, hmm? Doesn’t sound like the kind of person who could put on a tasteful show.” A superior-looking Monica folded her arms. In her pink-and-black Chanel suit with chunky gold accessories and pink-and-black designer heels, she looked like the wife of a presidential nominee, and far too over-dressed for the low key meeting.

  “We’ll wait until Emma’s seen the man’s demonstration,” Henry hastily said before turning to Emma. “That’s all we needed to discuss today, right? Well, then I’ll let you get on with it.” Having dismissed her, he returned his attention to his wife. “Darling, where would you like to go for an early lunch? How about we take a drive out to the country club? We’re bound to bump into some of our friends there.”

  Slightly mollified, Monica allowed her husband to drape her fur coat over her shoulders before the couple sauntered out of the office.

  Emma watched them leave before she turned back to Hazel, ready to give a sympathetic smile for having to put up with the mayor’s wife, but the secretary was busy pushing the chairs into place and tidying the table.

  “Do you really think Wayne is boastful and flashy?” Emma couldn’t help asking.

  Hazel straightened her already neat clothes. Today she wore a gray pencil skirt and a lavender shirt fastened with a cameo brooch high under her chin. Her brown hair was neatly layered to her shoulders. A thick layer of foundation and powder covered her face, while peach-colored lipstick made the most of her thin lips. In her late thirties or early forties, she was neat, trim, and self-possessed, always moving about in a restrained, almost studied, manner.