Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3)

by Karen Chester

  “I’m sorry, did you say Katrina Heston?” Emma asked, sitting up at her desk.

  “Yes, that’s right. As I was saying,” Caitlyn said without a hint of impatience, “I don’t often do house calls, but Mrs. Heston asked if I could make an exception and go over and do Katrina’s nails on Friday afternoon. Katrina’s going to the anniversary dinner, you see, and she wants to make herself look pretty. I said I’d do it, and I wouldn’t charge any extra for going to their house. I know they’re doing it tough, what with Katrina’s medical bills and all.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Caitlyn,” Emma said.

  Caitlyn shrugged, looking pleased. “The salon is booked solid Friday and Saturday. I didn’t realize this dinner was such a big deal.”

  “Some people really enjoy reunions.”

  “Yeah? Guess I’m still young enough not to miss the old school days,” Caitlyn said with the confidence of a twenty-three-year-old.

  At that moment Emma’s cell phone began to chime, and Caitlyn got to her feet, announcing that she’d see Emma later.

  Alone, Emma took the call. Mervyn’s voice, breathy and uneven, rushed into her ear.

  “Emma, can you come over right now?”

  “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  “Uh, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  “Oh, dear.” Emma gripped the phone tighter. “Can’t you tell me what it is right now?”

  Mervyn hesitated. “I—it’s difficult, and I’d rather tell you in person. When can you get to my place?”

  “Is it that urgent?” She was getting a little tired of Mervyn thinking she was at his beck and call.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a pest. Whenever suits you will be fine.”

  His instant humbleness made her feel bad about her testiness. She rose to her feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll come over straight away.”

  She drove to Mervyn’s house with hands clamped around the steering wheel, frowning at the road ahead, a hundred speculations swirling through her head. Scarlet and golden leaves scattered across the long drive leading to Mervyn’s house, but she could barely appreciate them as she pulled up at the house and scrambled out of her car.

  She ran up to the front door and jabbed at the doorbell. The bell chimed and echoed inside. She shifted from one foot to the other, impatient to get inside. After twenty or so seconds, she rang the doorbell again. Where was Mervyn? Had something happened to him?

  A faint sound from above caught her attention. What was that? She took a few steps back and peered up. The front porch of the house supported a balcony accessed by the second story, and the noise seemed to have come from up there. Sunlight dazzled her as she squinted upward, forcing her to shade her eyes with a hand.

  “Mervyn?” she called out with increasing concern. “Is that you?”

  The front door opened. She lowered her gaze as Mervyn walked out. “Hi, Emma—”

  A scraping vibration reached her ears. She glanced up again just in time to catch a glimpse of something falling toward her. She ducked instinctively, but it was too late. A hard, heavy object struck the side of her head before thudding into her shoulder. Pain exploded in her, white and blinding, and then she felt herself falling, and falling, into darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Images swam and wavered in front of Emma like reflections on a dazzling sea. First, there was Mervyn, white-faced and agitated, calling out her name, sounding helpless with fear. Then, there was a calm, craggy faced paramedic who shone a light into her eyes and asked her questions. She tried to answer him as best she could, but her voice seemed to come from a long way off, as if she were stuck down a tunnel. She was put into an ambulance, and she drifted off during the ride, feeling surreally detached while the pain flashed around her like a strobe light.

  At the hospital, she was roused awake as the paramedics wheeled her into the emergency department. There, a doctor examined and questioned her and nurses cleaned up her wounds and administered blessed pain relief. Eventually they left her in peace. She was just dozing off when the curtains of her bay parted again, but this time instead of a medic, it was Owen.

  “Emma?”

  As he strode up to her bed, he seemed oddly different. His face was gray and scored with deep lines, and his eyes were dark and fraught. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her facial muscles felt too stiff to move.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’ve been better.” Thank heaven for painkillers, though her head still felt like a giant tomato about to burst, and her right shoulder felt like it had been wrenched out of its socket. “What fell on me?”

  “A flowerpot.”

  “Yeah?” she wrinkled her nose, trying to recall the exact details, but the effort made her feel queasy.

  “Take it easy,” Owen said quickly. “You’re in good hands now. They’re going to do more scans. Check you out from head to toe. I’ve called your father. He’s on his way now.”

  “What about Mervyn? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Extremely worried, but unharmed. He’ll, uh, come and see you as soon as he can.”

  Despite her wooziness, she couldn’t help noticing how he glanced away as he spoke. He wasn’t telling her the complete truth, she sensed, but she was in no shape to protest. Her body was traumatized, and she couldn’t concentrate on any one thought.

  She closed her eyes. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  The next time she woke up, a nurse was flashing a light in her eyes, and her father was sitting in the chair beside her. He smiled encouragingly, but his eyes were damp, and when he squeezed her hand, his was shaking and cold.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” she forced herself to say. “Really, I am.”

  “We’re taking you upstairs for your CT scan,” the nurse said as an orderly arrived with a wheelchair.

  “I’ll be here waiting for you, pumpkin,” her father called out as she was whisked away.

  Several hours later, the scans had revealed no major damage, and she was transferred to a private room. Her father was helping her settle in when Mervyn arrived, bearing an enormous bouquet of roses, lilies, and orchids together with a half dozen helium balloons.

  “Oh, Mervyn, this is…” Emma didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

  “I feel so terrible,” Mervyn burst out, his gaze darting between Emma and her father. “Mr. Cassidy, I’m so sorry about what’s happened to Emma.”

  Andrew waved his apology aside. “It was an accident. You’re not to blame.” He gestured to a side table. “You can put those flowers and balloons over there, if you like.”

  “Oh, yeah, thanks.” Mervyn clumsily deposited the lavish bouquet before darting a furtive look at Emma. It was clear that he was bursting to tell her something but couldn’t because of her father’s presence.

  “Uh, Mr. Cassidy, you look a little tired,” Mervyn said. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get a coffee or something.”

  When her father hesitated, Emma chimed in. “Yes, Dad. It’s been very stressful for you, and you should have a break.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…” Andrew picked up his jacket, kissed Emma on the cheek, and exited the room.

  The instant he was gone, Mervyn drew up a chair next to Emma’s bed. “Now, have I got news for you!” He was practically rubbing his hands with anticipation. “That flowerpot falling off the balcony was no accident. Someone tried to kill both of us!”

  He paused for dramatic effect. Emma blinked at him. “And you know this how?”

  “When the flowerpot hit you, I naturally ran to check on you. I heard a noise just above, and I looked up to see someone turning away. It was just a glimpse, and I was squinting into the sun, but I definitely saw someone up there. I ran up to the balcony above the porch, but whoever it was had already fled.” Mervyn held up a long forefinger. “But they were careless. He or she had toppled some of the other flowerpots, and there was soil scattered about, and in that dirt
were a couple of clear footprints. I called the police and the ambulance straight away. Owen Fletcher arrived right after the paramedics. I told him about the footprints, and he called Detective Gambino, and the forensics guys were out there in a flash.”

  Emma gingerly touched her throbbing shoulder. “Why would anyone want to kill us?”

  “Don’t you see? Because we’re investigating Todd’s murder and we’re getting too close. It could be Archer, Conrad, or Otto Wiseman.”

  “Otto Wiseman? But he didn’t even see us when we visited his house.”

  “Who says he didn’t? With all those fences and the vicious dog, I wouldn’t be surprised if his property had a security camera or two. He could’ve seen us sniffing around his house and decided we were getting too close for comfort.”

  She didn’t like to admit it, but Mervyn’s words held a ring of truth. “Oh, God, Mervyn. This is getting serious. We have to tell the police what we know.”

  At that, Mervyn’s excitement halted. “Do we? Can’t we just help the police to catch the killer without them being aware? The forensics team has gone over every inch of the balcony. They’ve got the footprints; that could lead them straight to the killer.”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, beset by doubts.

  He drew closer and cautiously put his hand over hers. “Emma, I’m gutted that you’ve been injured, and I’m determined to catch the culprit. But if you tell the police what we’ve been up to, I’d be in a lot of trouble, and that would only hinder my efforts, because I am determined to hunt down the bastard who did this to you. You have my word on that, Emma. I won’t let you down.”

  His earnestness made her feel awkward. “You don’t need to take a solemn vow,” she said with an attempt at a laugh. “I know it’s not your fault I got conked on the head.”

  “But it is my fault.” His face wrinkled up in distress as he squeezed her fingers. “We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  Mervyn was too wound up to see sense, she thought. He was feeling guilty, and if the police learned what they’d been up to, they would come down on him like a ton of bricks and pile even more guilt onto him. Better if she waited until he had calmed down—and she was feeling stronger—before she tried to talk sense into him.

  “Sure, Mervyn,” she said. “We’re a team.”

  He nodded, slightly mollified. “And we won’t tell the police just yet?”

  “Not yet,” she agreed, hoping she wouldn’t regret this later.

  Her father returned to her room, cutting short any further conversation on the topic, and a short time later Mervyn departed.

  Andrew frowned after him. “He isn’t getting you mixed up in anything nefarious, is he?”

  “Nefarious? Dad, it’s Mervyn Butterick.”

  “Yes, well, his house seems like a dangerous place. First, a man drowns there, and now you get hit by a falling flowerpot.”

  “Dad…” She didn’t know what to say. “I don’t understand. You always try to see the good in people.”

  With a heavy sigh, he sank into the visitor’s chair next to her. “Oh, don’t mind me. I guess I’m just cranky because it’s you. I hate seeing you hurt, and I don’t want Mervyn leading you into any danger.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad.” She patted his hand. “I’m not going to get hurt again.”

  ***

  Several hours later, Emma woke up with peculiar pangs in her stomach. It took her a while to realize she was hungry. Some time earlier, a lunch tray had been deposited in her room, but she’d been in no mood to eat, and the food had been cleared away. She had sent her father away, reasoning with him that there was no sense in him wasting a whole day here at the hospital while she was under observation, and he had reluctantly left.

  Now, she was hungry. She didn’t want to disturb the nurses or go down to the cafeteria, so the best option would be one of the vending machines that were plentiful in the hospital. Pushing back the covers, she carefully got to her feet, testing her stability. She experienced no dizziness, and her bare feet felt firm on the ground. She pulled a few bills from her purse and stepped into the corridor. Spotting a vending machine at the end of the corridor, she set off, holding onto the rail that ran the length of the hallway.

  She made it to the vending machine, bought a packet of chicken-flavored chips, and shuffled back toward her room. She was almost there when a wheelchair rolled up beside her, and she saw Katrina Heston.

  “Oh, hello,” Emma said uncertainly.

  Katrina’s mouth moved laboriously as she spoke. “Hi. Why you in here?”

  “I had a slight accident. A flowerpot fell on my head.” Best to stick to the basics, Emma decided.

  “I’m sorry. Hope you get better.”

  “Thanks. What are you in for?”

  Katrina’s lips twisted wryly. “UTI from my catheter.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Happens.” Katrina tilted her head toward the door to Emma’s room. “You in here?”

  “Yes. Want to come in?” Emma asked after a moment’s hesitation. She and Katrina had never been friends, but she sensed Katrina wanted company.

  “Uh-huh.” Nodding eagerly, Katrina followed Emma into the room. “I want to tell you something.”

  “Oh, right.” Emma sat on her bed. “I think you were trying to tell me something the other day just before your mom arrived.”

  A look of frustration crossed Katrina’s face. “Mom thinks I’m crazy. She won’t listen to me anymore, just changes the subject. It’s so annoying.”

  “Well, I guess your mom’s really busy these days,” Emma felt compelled to point out.

  “Yeah, it’s not easy taking care of me, huh?” Katrina grimaced. “I was in a coma for two months. The doctors thought I wouldn’t make it. They told my parents not to hope too much, but I pulled through, somehow.” Her hands opened and clenched, as if she were clutching onto life. She let out a long sigh. “Sometimes I think it might’ve been better if I hadn’t.”

  Emma gasped. “Surely not.”

  “My parents had to sell their house. They have no savings. My dad works two jobs. My mom gave up her job to take care of me.”

  Emma shook her head in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Accidents can be so devastating.”

  “Yes, except…” Katrina’s gaze traveled past Emma. “Who gave you the flowers and balloons?”

  Emma turned and looked at the huge bouquet that took up most of the side table. “Oh, that was Mervyn.” She couldn’t help smiling. “He’s very extravagant.”

  “Are you dating him or something?”

  “No!” Emma turned back to Katrina and was surprised by the woman’s suspicious expression. “Mervyn and I are just friends, nothing more. My accident with the flower pot happened at his house.”

  “Uh-huh.” Katrina’s eyes had become cold and wary. “His house, huh?”

  Belatedly, Emma remembered who the previous owners of Mervyn’s house were, and pulled a face. “Sorry, I forgot that was your house once.”

  Katrina looked away, seeming to have lost all interest in conversation.

  “You were saying?” Emma prompted after several seconds passed.

  “Huh?” Katrina pressed a lever on her control box, causing her wheelchair to spin around. “I just remembered. My mom’s picking me up soon. I have to go or I’ll be late.”

  “But I thought you wanted to tell me something—”

  “Another time maybe.” Katrina was already scooting for the door. She battled to open it, until Emma hurried over to help her. Katrina rolled away without a word of thanks or farewell.

  How strange, Emma mused as she gazed after her visitor. The mention of Mervyn’s house had upset Katrina in some way. Was it just the memory of good times past, or did she know something about Todd’s drowning and perhaps even the attack on Emma and Mervyn this morning? It was possible. After all, she’d been married to Conrad Dupree; she might know secrets about him he didn’t want spread around. And her mother might
not want her gossiping and causing trouble with Conrad, especially when the Hestons had more than enough woes to contend with.

  Katrina might know something that was more important than she realized, but she didn’t trust Emma enough to tell her what it was.

  ***

  The door to Emma’s room flew open, and Zoe rushed in. “Oh, my God! I just heard. Are you all right?” She stopped when she saw Emma perched on the bed, fully clothed. “Why aren’t you resting in bed?”

  “The doctors have run all their rests and done their observations, and apparently I haven’t suffered any major injuries,” Emma said. “So I can go home as soon as I get my discharge papers. I was just about to call my dad.”

  “Oh, but I can drive you home. Please, it’s the least I can do.” Drawing closer, Zoe gripped Emma’s arm, her eyes wide with apprehension. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. My head’s a bit sore, and my shoulder is going to stiffen up by tomorrow, but I’ve got some nice meds to take the edge off the pain.”

  “I—I was so worried about you.” Tears welled up in Zoe’s black eyes.

  Emma patted her hand, surprised her friend was so upset. She didn’t ask how Zoe had learned she was in hospital; the Greenville gossip network was clearly functioning just fine.

  “So—so I heard it happened at Mervyn’s place,” Zoe continued, her voice halting. “Some kind of accident?”

  “Yes, that’s right. A flowerpot fell on me.” She decided not to tell Zoe that the ‘accident’ seemed suspicious.. No need to alarm anyone until the police completed their investigations.

  Zoe swallowed convulsively. “That’s awful. You could’ve been killed!”

  “But I wasn’t.” Emma brushed the possibility aside before it had a chance to chill her. She had not been the target, she reminded herself. The killer wanted Mervyn dead, not her. She had just been unfortunate enough to get in the way.

  “Yeah. Thank God the pot fell where it did. Another inch or so, and it could have been a lot worse.”

  Another inch or so… Hmm, when she thought about it, dropping a flowerpot seemed a haphazard way of bumping off someone. Hiding on that balcony for heaven knows how long, waiting for Mervyn to step out, and then pushing the flowerpot over the ledge; it all seemed a bit clumsy and disorganized.