Throw a Monkey Wrench (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 1) Page 7

  Emma wrote down the information, then detached the car key from her key ring and gave it to Chelsea.

  “Any idea how long it will take?”

  “I guess it shouldn’t be too long, seeing as we don’t have that many customers. I’ll get Larry to call you if there’re any problems or major expenses.”

  Emma left with crossed fingers, hoping the car would only need minor repairs. Caitlyn was nervously chewing her lower lip, and as soon as Emma slid into the passenger seat she stepped on the gas. They zoomed over to Emma’s house where Emma transferred into her dad’s car.

  “See you back at Lulu’s,” Caitlyn called before taking off.

  Emma sat quietly for a couple of moments as she reviewed what she’d learned from Chelsea. The receptionist seemed like a reliable witness, and her testimony confirmed what Larry had witnessed. The argument with Tony was pretty damning. Eight thousand dollars was a lot of money. And Sean had at least four employees he had to pay wages to. Even with a profitable business he couldn’t overlook a large debt like that. Maybe eight grand wasn’t enough motive for murder, but Sean had a reputation for being a hothead, especially in his younger days. Sure, he was more mature these days, but he might be under more pressure too, what with running a business, planning a big wedding with Madison, and wanting to gain the Whites’ approval, too. All that added up to plenty of stress. Maybe Tony’s bald refusal to pay the bill was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Maybe frustration had driven Sean to grab that wrench and go over to Tony’s place to have it out with him. Maybe, in his rage, he had lashed out and hit Tony over the head. Then dropped the wrench in a panic and dashed out.

  Emma sighed. She was supposed to be on Sean’s side, not the prosecuting attorney’s. She needed to talk to Sean as soon as possible. Since her eleven o’clock meeting had been cancelled and she didn’t need to prepare for it, there was nothing waiting for her back at the office except a pile of unpaid bills. She could drive over to the courthouse and wait for Sean to be bonded out. She needed to talk to Sean face to face, she realized. She needed to look him in the eye and ask him if he was innocent of murder.

  Chapter Seven

  A group of rowdy men spilled out of the district courthouse, a modest, almost homey, brick building in the middle of La Quinta, a bustling town on the eastern shore of Shamrock Lake. The men were followed by several security officers. Emma, sitting in her dad’s car in the parking lot, craned her neck to see what was going on. The four men, of varying ages and sizes, wore various combinations of check shirts, denim jeans, and baseball caps. They yelled and scowled at the security officers and shook fists at a TV camera crew who had followed their progress out of the courthouse.

  The McCluskey clan, Emma thought. They’d come to show their support for one of their own, and had managed to get themselves evicted. That wouldn’t help to endear Sean to Chief Putnam or the court judge.

  The McCluskeys piled into a beat up old truck and roared off, still shouting epithets at the officers. Most likely they had been told to clear off or risk arrest. Hopefully that meant that Sean’s arraignment would be over, and as soon as he made bail she’d be able to talk to him alone, without his disruptive and disreputable relatives.

  She thought about going into the courthouse, but the presence of the TV news crew deterred her. As much as she wanted to support Sean, she didn’t want to appear in any news reports herself. Pulling a granola bar from her bag, she settled down to wait.

  Half an hour later, the TV news crew left, no doubt called to a juicier story. Fifteen minutes after that, Sean appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the courthouse. With him was a burly man in a flashy maroon double-breasted suit, talking nineteen to the dozen, a gold ring glinting on a fat pinkie. Freddie Earle, Sean’s lawyer, and instantly recognizable from his loud, late night commercials. The lawyer said a final word, slapped Sean on the shoulder, and sauntered back into the courthouse, smoothing back a lock of hair.

  Sean stood blinking in the sunlight, looking strangely alone and forlorn. Emma started the car and steered it toward him, stopping when she was adjacent to the foot of the stairs.

  “Hi, Sean. Need a lift back to Greenville?”

  He bent down to peer uncertainly at her before a faint smile of relief lifted the corners of his mouth. “Emma? I didn’t expect to see you here.” He walked down the stairs, glancing about him as he went.

  “If you’re looking for your cousins,” Emma said, “they were told to leave by the security officers.”

  “I figured that. They were making a ruckus inside the court room.” Sean grimaced. “But I was hoping Madison would…I guess she’s busy.”

  “I guess she is.” Emma had no idea where Madison was. Considering how emotional she’d been the last time they’d met, it was strange that she wasn’t here to support Sean. “Hop in, unless you want to catch the bus back to Greenville.”

  He gave himself a shake as if he needed to shrug off his daze and climbed into the passenger seat. Emma pulled onto the main road. As she drove, she glanced at Sean. He seemed so deflated and beaten down, as if he had already been tried and convicted.

  “Hey, it must be good to be out of jail,” she said, trying to cheer him up.

  “Uh-huh.” He grunted and pushed his fingers through his already messy hair. His clothes, the same pants and shirt he’d been wearing since yesterday at the Whites, were rumpled and creased, and there were deep lines beneath his red-rimmed eyes.

  A thread of unease tickled along Emma’s veins. Would an innocent man look so defeated?

  “Madison came to see me last night,” she said. “She’s worried sick about you.”

  That got a reaction out of him. His head jerked up, and his eyes grew round. “She is? Poor baby, she doesn’t deserve any of this. Her parents must be giving her hell, and none of it is her fault.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I’m no good for her. I should just stay away from her.”

  Emma aimed a sharp glance at him. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be accused of something you didn’t do.”

  But she did know what it was like to be wrongfully accused. When Rowena, her business partner and so-called friend, had skipped town taking all the money that was left in the business account and leaving only debts, many of their duped clients had assumed Emma knew more than she did. They had accused her of collusion, yelled abuse at her, threatened her with legal action and worse. They didn’t believe that she knew nothing of Rowena’s intentions, that she was a victim just like them, that she had sunk her life savings into the business, only to be left with nothing, robbed of her money, reputation, and prospects. Sure, it wasn’t the same as being accused of murder, but she had experienced the sting of injustice and the loneliness of not being believed.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she said. “Why is Freddie Earle your lawyer and not someone decent?”

  “Freddie’s got me out of some tight spots in the past.” Sean tugged at his collar. “I know he’s not the best lawyer for a murder charge, but I kind of owe him and besides, he’s all I can afford at the moment.”

  “Oh? I thought your business was doing well these days.”

  “It is doing well but it’s not cheap setting up an outfit like that. There’re a lot of expenses.” He shifted uneasily in his seat. “You won’t mention this to Madison, will you? She has enough to worry about. I don’t want to give her extra trouble.”

  Hmm, what was Sean hiding? Was he deep in debt? On the brink of bankruptcy? She recalled him and Madison disagreeing over the expensive lobster appetizers, and it didn’t reassure her.

  “Of course I won’t,” she said. “By the way, this is my dad’s car I’m driving. I dropped my car off at your repair shop to have it checked out.”

  “You did? Thanks. I’ll make sure you get top priority.”

  “Larry’s looking after it for me.”

  “Larry, yeah. At least I can count on him.” Sean looked distracted
as if he was worried about his business.

  Emma shot him a brief glance as they headed into Greenville. “I know all about your argument with Tony. Larry, Chelsea, and several other witnesses heard it, including your threats. That part must be true.”

  “Okay, yeah, it’s true. And I did drive out to Tony’s place because I wanted my money, and we did argue about it.” He swallowed hard, kneading his knuckles. “But when I left, he was still alive.”

  “But what about the wrench? It is yours, isn’t it?”

  His brow clouded. “Yes, it’s mine, I don’t deny that. But I didn’t take it with me, and I’m not the only one with access to my toolbox. Anyone could have taken it.”

  “Like one of your employees or your customers or anyone who walked into that workshop.”

  Sean sighed. “Yeah.”

  And the only fingerprints on the murder weapon were Sean’s. Which meant the killer must have worn gloves. And he or she must have planned for the blame to fall on Sean.

  “Do you know what time Tony was killed?”

  “Well, Chief Putnam wanted to know what I was doing between six and eight pm on Tuesday, so I guess that’s when he died.”

  “And what did you do after you left Tony?”

  “I went straight home and stewed all night.”

  “Really? Did anyone visit you?”

  “No.” Sean frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Did you order any takeout?”

  “No, like I said, no one visited me.” The scowl on his face deepened.

  Emma sighed. “It’s not much of an alibi.”

  He whipped around in his seat and glared at her, his fists clenched. “You think I don’t know that? That I’m up shit creek without a paddle?” he hollered. Then, realizing the unpleasant impression he was making, he pressed his head back and visibly forced his hands to unclench. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just been a really long twenty-four hours.”

  She pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and jerked on the brakes before turning to Sean.

  “Now look,” she said sternly. “Madison thinks you’re innocent. She believes in you. She’s trying her best to help you, and somehow or other, I’ve been roped in too. We both want to see you walk free. But before I go another inch, I want you to look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill Tony Barnet.”

  Sean gawked at her like a stunned goldfish. “I didn’t kill Tony Barnet,” he finally got out, his voice hoarse but his eyes steady on hers. “I swear on everything I hold dear that I didn’t kill him.”

  Emma studied him with fierce concentration, wanting badly to believe him.

  “Come on, Emma,” he added. “I may have broken the law a couple of times, but have I ever lied to you?”

  No, he hadn’t. In her experience, Sean McCluskey was honest. More honest than her ex-boyfriend or her ex-business partner. She liked to think she was better at spotting a liar these days, and her gut instinct told her that Sean was telling the truth.

  “Well, okay, then.” She nodded. “I believe you.”

  He breathed out a sigh. “That means a lot to me.”

  “I’ll drop you off at home and you can catch up on your sleep,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  “What’s your address, by the way?”

  He gave her the information, and she steered the car back onto the road.

  After a few moments, he said, “Emma? I’m sorry about…that.” He waved his fingers to indicate his little burst of temper a few moments ago. “Sometimes it’s hard holding it all together.”

  “I understand.”

  In her experience Sean’s outbursts were always brief and harmless, and she’d never once felt remotely threatened by his short temper, but a character flaw like that could be exploited by a wily prosecutor and twisted to show Sean as a man who could be capable of murder.

  “So you’re going to prove I’m innocent?” Sean asked with a touch of admiration as they reached the outskirts of Greenville. “You always were the smart one. If anyone can do it, you can, Emma.”

  “You understand I can’t promise anything,” she warned. “I’m not a trained investigator, and I don’t have any authority. All I can do is ask around, but if people don’t want to talk to me, I can’t force them.”

  He nodded. “Anything I can do?”

  “Just…get some rest and try to stay calm.”

  She had hoped that Sean would be the best person to prove his innocence, but in his current state of mind, he was more of a hindrance. The most sensible thing he could do now was go home and recover his equilibrium.

  Sean’s home was a large, cream-and-green clapboard on a big block of land in a quiet street. The well maintained garden featured stands of mature trees, while tall, trimmed box hedges separated his property from his neighbors. It was a surprisingly beautiful and tranquil home that highlighted just how far Sean had come, but in this case its private setting was a disadvantage. The driveway curved around the side of the house, so once he had driven in, no one from the street would know he was home. Little wonder he didn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. If only he’d spent the night at a bar or with Madison.

  “Don’t worry,” she called after him as he trudged toward his front door, his shoulders once more slumped. “We’re going to sort this out, and you and Madison will get married.”

  He nodded and smiled, but it was a tired smile, as if he couldn’t quite believe her.

  ***

  The cell phone buzzed again like an annoying mosquito, dragging Emma from her sleep.

  “A Perfect Party,” she mumbled into the phone, reluctantly extricating herself from her dreams of a warm beach vacation. “This is Emma Cassidy speaking.”

  “H-hello?” The woman on the other end of the call sniffed. “Emma? I know it’s early to be calling, b-but I was wondering if we could meet soon.” The effort of holding back tears masked her voice, though it sounded vaguely familiar.

  “Of course we can.” Emma sleepily suppressed a yawn. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “It’s Jordan. Jordan Kozlowki.”

  Ohhhh. Jordan Kozlowski, Tony Burnet’s girlfriend. Suddenly wide awake, Emma jackknifed up in bed and cleared her throat.

  “Oh, Jordan, I’m so sorry about Tony.”

  Loud sobbing burst out, forcing Emma to lift the phone half an inch away from her ear. Jordan sounded really cut up.

  “I c-can’t believe he’s g-gone! My poor T-Tony. Who would do such a thing to him?”

  Poor Tony? Emma murmured something appropriate while Jordan sputtered on. Maybe it was cynical of her to think so, but Emma was surprised by the depth of Jordan’s sorrow. She hadn’t noticed much warmth between the two, but maybe in private they were different? And love could be so blind…

  “C-can you come over to the house?” Jordan asked when she had gotten over the worst of her sobbing. “I need your help with the reception.”

  “The reception?” Emma wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

  “Yes, the post-funeral reception. I want Tony to have the best send off, but I’m just…I’m just too upset to think straight. That’s why I need you, Emma. I know you’ll put on a great party for him.”

  Tony would be spinning in the mortuary or wherever he was at the moment if he could hear Jordan singing her praises. But clearly his girlfriend didn’t hold the debacle of the housewarming against Emma, and Emma found her heart warming toward her.

  “I’m free this morning if you’re up to it.” Apart from the Kaupers’ anniversary, her appointment calendar was sadly wide open.

  “Oh, you are? That’s excellent. Please come over as soon as you can.” Jordan’s tears had stopped, and she sounded almost excited.

  Emma clicked off the phone and hauled herself out of bed. This was a promising start to her day. Funeral receptions weren’t her usual line of business, but she was confident she could pull it off, and it would be good to have some extra cash flow. Plus, Jor
dan had just given her the perfect excuse for visiting the crime scene. She couldn’t waste this opportunity. She’d have a quick shower, grab something to eat, and get going.

  Hurrying out of the bathroom after her five-minute shower, she almost bumped into her father.

  “Oh, hi, Dad.” She stopped short, suddenly remembering his ‘non-date’ with Janet last night. Yesterday evening she had made herself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, then she’d spent the night updating her website and trying to think up new marketing ideas. At ten-thirty, she’d heard her dad return home and the murmur of voices, but shortly after there’d been silence, and she’d assumed her dad had turned in for the night.

  Now, he blinked owlishly at her as he readjusted his spectacles. “You’re up early. Going somewhere?”

  “Yes. A client appointment.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “So, did you have fun last night?”

  Andrew’s cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. “Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Do you, ah, want pancakes this morning?”

  Hint taken, Dad. She didn’t want to pry, but judging by his blush, her father had enjoyed his evening with Janet, and that heartened her. “No, thanks, Dad. I’ve got to rush out. I’ll just make myself some toast.”

  “Okay.” He hesitated again. “See you later, pumpkin.”

  ***

  Widowhood suited Jordan Kozlowski. The black silk designer dress hugged her curves, the dark color making her skin glow like alabaster, and even though her eyes were red from crying, they were rimmed in waterproof eyeliner and mascara. Her black stiletto heels click-clacked on the marble tiles as she ushered Emma into the house.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Emma repeated the standard condolences as she squeezed Jordan’s ice-cold hands. “Do you have anyone staying with you? A friend or relative, perhaps?”

  Jordan shook her cascading curtain of blonde hair and pressed a snow-white handkerchief to her nose. “No. Friends offered, but I want to be on my own, to remember my Tony. He was a good man. Oh, I know he wasn’t very nice at times, and some people were jealous of his success, but he was good to me.”