“That sounds like fun,” Georgia said, her tone slightly too upbeat. She glanced up at Mervyn. “Want to try one, babe?”
But Mervyn looked distracted. “Uh, maybe later. I’ve just got to…” He waved a finger vaguely, then squeezed her arm. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Georgia watched him walk away, a slight frown marring her pretty face. Todd was hovering nearby. “I’ll have a flaming Dr. Pepper with you,” he said to Georgia, but her frown deepened, and she turned away without answering. Shrugging his shoulders, Todd ambled away.
As several guests moved toward the bar, and the party regained its light-hearted atmosphere, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed so many parties she’d organized recently were rife with tension. It would be nice to have a commotion-free event for once, but perhaps that was her specialty—dealing with the unexpected and the unwanted.
With the flaming cocktails entertaining the crowd, she took the opportunity to check on the caterers in the kitchen.
“The food is going down a treat, but we don’t have enough potato skins or spicy chicken wings coming out,” she said to Liz, the hardworking owner of the catering company.
Liz grimaced as she picked up a pair of oven mitts. “I know; I’m sorry. We’re a bit behind. Two of my servers are ill, and I had to pull in some replacements.” She scanned the kitchen, pulling a face. “I’m betting Julie’s outside checking her Facebook messages or something.”
“I’ll go and see where she is,” Emma offered, seeing the caterer was busy hauling trays out of the oven.
Emma slipped out the back door and stood for a moment on the rear porch, enjoying the chance to breathe in some fresh air. Summer was fading, and autumn had brought a pleasant chill to the evening air. A full moon bathed the lake in silver, the waters glistening nearby through the dark trees. What a beautiful view, she thought. The house was quite private, being situated at the end of a long drive, with dense woodland screening it from its neighbors.
There was no sign of the lackadaisical Julie nearby, so Emma began to walk around the side of the house, following a narrow path. She paused as a slight rustling caught her attention. Was that Julie in the trees over there, hiding from her duties? She sighed. Honestly, how did she expect to keep her job? She marched toward the trees.
“Julie, is that you? Why—”
A dark, indistinct figure burst from the trees and hightailed it away from her. She barely caught a glimpse before the person crashed through a clump of bushes and disappeared. She pressed a hand to her chest where her heart was still pattering with alarm.
It must have been Julie. She’d run away to avoid being caught and lectured.
Sighing, Emma turned back. She’d barely taken two steps when she heard voices muttering from the other side of a tall hedge. Through the leaves, she could make out the trim figure of Todd and the much bulkier one of Ivan. They seemed to be disagreeing over something.
“You’re better than this,” Todd said. His voice was slightly slurred, but determined “You did the wrong thing, and you know it.”
Ivan bristled at the criticism. “Don’t lecture me about doing the wrong thing, you hypocrite.”
Todd sighed. “Yes, I lapsed, and I’m ashamed of myself, and I’m still working to make amends. But we’re talking about you, Ivan.”
The other man snorted. “You’re not gonna try your coaching BS on me, are you? Because it’s not going to work. I’m not gullible like some others.”
“Like…Mervyn, you mean?” Todd hiccupped. “Ash-er-madder-of-fact, I would like you to talk to him. You’re his COF, I mean, CFO—”
“You’re drunk, man. You’re shooting your mouth off.”
“I might be a little drunk, but what I’m saying still h-holds.”
“Listen, just stay away from me, okay?” Ivan’s voice began to deepen with anger. “I’m warning you. Quit sticking your nose in my business. If you try anything—anything—I’ll make sure you regret it.” He stomped off, his heavy footsteps grinding on the gravel.
A sigh came from Todd, followed by the swilling sound of liquid as if he were polishing off a glass of something.
Holding her breath, Emma quickly stole away before she could be discovered. From what she’d witnessed, Ivan was not a pleasant guy, and she’d rather not bump into Todd if he was drunk.
As she made her way back to the house, a cloud scudded across the moon, momentarily plunging the garden in darkness. Pausing, she looked up and through a window on the second story of the house caught a glimpse of two people—Mervyn and Georgia. They were standing close together, but Georgia’s frown indicated a disagreement between them. Mervyn pushed his fingers through his hair, wiped his mouth, and waved his arms, seeming agitated about something. His girlfriend said something sharp, lines puckering around her lipsticked mouth, before stalking off with a dismissive flick of her long, dark hair. Mervyn stared after her, his expression tortured, before he too turned and disappeared in the opposite direction.
Emma sighed. The party hadn’t regained its happy, festive air since Archer had gate-crashed. Perhaps he’d got his revenge after all. She returned to the kitchen, where she found the errant waitress had returned from her unscheduled break and the food service was going more smoothly. She helped Liz find extra napkins and toothpicks, then headed back to the entertainment room.
The party had become more raucous. Music thumped out of multiple speakers, and the disco ball was spinning crazily, while dancers heaved under the lights. The bar was packed with people downing Flaming Dr. Peppers and asking for more.
Oh, dear, Emma thought. Was the bartender still doing flaming cocktails? Had he forgotten his responsible beverage service training? She pushed through the boisterous crowd toward the bar, intent on pulling in the reins of the party before something went wrong.
She’d just reached the bar when she saw Mervyn come running into the room from the hallway. This entrance was raised above the main entertainment floor, with several wide steps leading down. Mervyn stopped at the head of the stairs, his expression alarmed, and yelled something, but whatever he said was drowned out by the music. He ran over and flicked a switch in the wall which cut the music cold. Everyone looked about in surprise.
Mervyn flapped his hands. “Okay, which one of you did it? I know you thought it was a joke, but it’s not very funny.”
Blank faces stared up at him, the swirling lights still flickering over them.
“What are you talking about, Merv?” someone asked.
“One of you went into my office upstairs,” Mervyn said. “My secure office. Who was it?”
Once more, he was met by puzzled looks.
“Come on, ’fess up.” Sweat gleamed on Mervyn’s forehead. His eyes darted about as he scanned the crowd. “I know it was one of you.”
The silence grew uneasy. Then, someone let out a laugh. “Oh, Mervyn. You’re pulling our leg, aren’t you? This is all some big joke, right?”
People looked at each other and a few began to smirk and titter.
“Come on, Mervyn. Don’t spoil the party now.” This came from Ivan, who was looking a bit worse for wear, his shirt adrift from his pants, his face flushed from too much alcohol.
Everyone could do with some ice cold water, Emma thought as she edged toward Mervyn. She needed to calm him down before this party went from bad to worse.
“Mervyn,” she said as she mounted the stairs. “Why don’t you and I discuss this problem somewhere quiet?”
He turned on her, his expression contorted, his breathing uneven. “You all think I’m a joke?” He spat out the last word before whirling about and running from the room.
Emma halted in surprise. She heard Mervyn rummaging in a closet just outside. Seconds later, he reappeared. His chest was heaving, his eyes shone with a maniacal gleam, and in his hands was a rifle.
“Now do you think I’m joking?”
Raising the weapon, he fired it.
Chapter Two
The disco ba
ll fell and shattered on the floor. Everyone ducked and screamed. Pandemonium broke out as people scrambled for the exits.
For a few seconds, Emma stood frozen with shock. Disoriented by the absence of the spinning lights, she slowly realized that Mervyn was still standing a short distance from her, staring at the mayhem he had caused. It also came to her attention that the weapon he had used was an air rifle.
She sucked in a deep breath. “Mervyn,” she called out in a firm voice. “Put down the gun.”
He turned toward her, looking dazed, and she instinctively tensed. Pellet guns were not the most dangerous weapons, but she had no idea how powerful this one was, and had no desire to end up like the mirror ball. Mervyn slowly lowered the rifle just as Ivan came barreling up and snatched it from his grip.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Ivan was beet-red and sweating profusely. “You want to kill us all?”
Mervyn stuck out his jaw. “None of you were taking me seriously. I guess I got your attention now.”
“Huh, you got that right.”
Todd limped up to them. At the start of the party he’d looked so suave, but now his designer sweater was stained and his previously groomed hair sat askew. “Look, let’s all calm down and sort this out.”
Ivan scowled at him. “Doubt you’d be much help; you’re tanked.”
Flushing, Todd ignored him and focused on Mervyn. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, haven’t you?”
In reply Mervyn scrunched his fingers into his hair, his expression frustrated. “Why isn’t anyone listening to me? I told you; someone broke into my office upstairs. I’ve been working on my new software. They could have made a copy.” He gesticulated wildly at the people milling about outside the entertainment room. Most of the party-goers had run out the glass sliding doors that led onto the terrace, and were now huddled outside, wondering what to do, their faces curious as they peered inside.
Mervyn’s cheeks grew ruddy. “Someone out there has stolen my software!” Shaking with anger, he glanced at his rifle, but Ivan had it in his grasp.
“Are you sure?” Todd asked hesitantly.
Mervyn muttered an oath as he headed for the deck.
What was he going to do, Emma wondered anxiously. She, with the others behind her, made to follow Mervyn, but they’d barely reached the sliding doors when flashing lights pierced the darkness and two cars swooped down the driveway. The white cars were emblazoned with the black signage of the Marion County Sheriff’s Department. Someone had called the cops.
***
Emma’s past history with Deputy Owen Fletcher was, to put it mildly, eventful. In their senior year in high school, they had been inseparable, but their youthful love hadn’t been able to withstand their competing ambitions. Emma, desperate to escape small town life, dreamed of attending college thousands of miles away on the eastern seaboard and eventually tasting life in a big city, whereas Owen wanted to stay close to his family and loathed big city life. After much argument, angst, and heartache, they had gone their separate ways. Emma had gone to school in upstate New York, then landed an event-planning job in New York City. She’d thought she had everything, until the dream had turned sour.
Her business partner had absconded with every last dollar from their bank account, leaving Emma to cope with unpaid bills and angry clients. With no money and her apartment lease given up, she’d turned to her boyfriend at the time for support, only to find him seriously lacking, and the relationship had dissolved. The only solution was to return to Greenville, where her widowed father had welcomed her with open arms.
Despite the years that had passed, she discovered, rather to her dismay, that she still carried a torch for Owen Fletcher. But despite the undeniable spark between them, Owen had kept his distance. He’d even begun to date her nemesis, until a month or so ago when, after a tense crisis, he’d kissed her in front of the town’s biggest gossip. Rather than spurring him on, since then, he’d been avoiding her like she had Ebola.
Tonight, he couldn’t avoid her. He and two other deputies had responded to the call out. When he’d spotted her among the crowd, surprise and concern had flickered in his eyes, but his professional mask had rapidly returned, especially when he ascertained that no one had been injured.
“I don’t know who called the cops, but there was no need for that!” Mervyn was still agitated. He had discarded his red jacket, and damp patches showed under his arms. “You know me, Owen,” he pleaded. “I’m not a violent guy.”
They were standing in the entertainment room, which now held a seedy air with its abandoned drinks and congealed plates of food. A pink stiletto shoe lay on the carpet next to a suspiciously sticky stain. Owen had ordered Mervyn, Emma, Todd, and Ivan to remain here, while one of his colleagues questioned the other partygoers outside on the deck. The remaining deputy stood behind Owen, holding the air rifle in question.
“Besides the air rifle, do you have any other weapons?” Owen asked, his expression inscrutable.
Mervyn shook his head, looking miserable. “No.”
“Do you mind if we search the house?”
“What…? Mervyn’s mouth gaped. “Of course I mind! I don’t want some clumsy, ham-fisted cop going through my things. I keep very sensitive information here. Haven’t you been listening to me?”
If Mervyn had any sense, Emma thought, he’d adjust his attitude. But Mervyn had never been good at reading people. He continued to glare at Owen, huffing with indignation.
Only the slightest flicker in Owen’s jaw indicated any annoyance at Mervyn’s belligerence. “Right. Your software that you claim someone here tonight has stolen. What makes you think that?”
“Because when I went up to my office earlier, I noticed that the door wasn’t properly shut. I always keep my office secure, so I was immediately suspicious. I heard a noise down the corridor; it sounded like someone tiptoeing away, so I went after them, but whoever it was ran downstairs. I followed, but the person must have slipped in here. I told everyone what had happened.” Mervyn’s fists clenched. “No one took me seriously. They thought it was all a joke, so I had to do something. I—I only shot the disco ball to get their attention. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Owen was listening intently to Mervyn. “So you don’t have any proof that anything was actually stolen. You just saw the door was ajar, heard a noise, and assumed it was a burglar.”
Mervyn’s cheeks mottled with red. “The door has an electronic lock. I have an access code I change every week. Everyone knows my office is out of bounds. Everyone. So whoever managed to get in must only be there for dishonest reasons.” He jabbed a finger at the people outside on the deck. “It’s one of them. I demand you search every last one of them. All they’d need is one USB memory stick to download all my code. Go on, Owen. You have to do it.” He waggled his hand, fresh sweat beading on his upper lip. “The USB stick could be disguised as a paperclip or a lipstick or—or anything! You have to strip search every last one of them.”
Owen regarded him impassively. “No, I’m not going to strip search your guests on your say so.”
“Don’t you understand what’s at stake, you knucklehead?” Mervyn yelled. “This code is potentially worth millions. Millions! Jeez, what’s wrong with you? I never took you for a dimwit.”
As Owen’s jaw tightened ominously again, Emma deemed it might be worthwhile to intervene even if she got her head bitten off by one or both of them.
“Mervyn, I think what Owen means is that you might want to check your facts first. Those people out there aren’t going anywhere. Is there some way you can verify that someone has actually copied your code?”
Mervyn blinked at her before wiping a shaky hand over his face. “Yeah, uh, yeah. I have logs. I can check when my files were last accessed.”
She gave him an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you do that right now?”
Mervyn glanced at Owen, who merely gave him a tight nod—no doubt Owen was still chewing on being called a
“dimwit” and a “knucklehead”—and turned back to Emma. “Can you come with me?”
Surprised, Emma looked at Owen for permission before answering, “Sure.”
“Wait up. I’ll go with you,” Owen said, signaling to the deputy who was holding the air rifle. The two cops briefly conferred before Owen motioned Emma and Mervyn toward the hallway. “After you.”
The three of them trooped out to the hallway and up the grand, sweeping staircase. This was the first time Emma had been to the second story, and it appeared to comprise of a number of spacious bedrooms and luxuriously appointed bathrooms. Mervyn led them down a side corridor to a solid, reinforced door secured by an access keypad mounted on the wall. He shuffled about in front of the keypad, using his body to block it from view, and it took Emma a few seconds to realize that he didn’t trust anyone not to peek over his shoulder. Eventually he typed in the code and was about to open the door when Owen stopped him.
“Might be fingerprints.” He pointed at the door handle before producing a disposable latex glove.
He used it to push open the door, and they stepped into a large room, lit by multiple downlights, and chilled by a stream of air-conditioning. The window was protected by a sold security grille. Emma had half-expected to see a bank of servers with lights flashing everywhere, but instead there was just one desktop computer and two big monitors.
“We might need to dust this keyboard, too,” Owen said, walking up to the desk. “Got another one you can plug in?”
“Good thinking.” Mervyn appeared to have forgotten calling Owen a ‘dimwit.’ He produced another keyboard, a wireless one, and parked himself on a stool. Soon some logfiles appeared on the screen. He scrolled through them, pursing his lips and issuing a faint hissing noise. Emma recalled the same faint whistling from the biology classes she’d had with Mervyn and the annoyed harrumphs from classmates for him to shut up. He’d always looked surprised because he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“Well?” Owen asked after a few minutes.
Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3) Page 2