Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3)

by Karen Chester

  “Mervyn’s house seems like a death trap!” Zoe uttered a nervous laugh. “Why did he buy a house here, anyway? It’s not like he’s moved back to Greenville. His headquarters are still in Silicon Valley. That’s where all his staff are.”

  “He said he likes getting away from his office. He’s working on some secret new project, and apparently he gets more work done here.”

  Zoe picked at the zipper of her big leather purse. “Nice for some people,” she muttered, sounding almost envious.

  Why would Zoe be jealous of Mervyn? Sure, she wasn’t an instant millionaire like Mervyn, but she was still very successful. That leather purse of hers, for example; it was the kind of designer bag that cost thousands of dollars. And Zoe’s shiny high heels, smart woolen trousers, and silk top were equally expensive. Zoe exuded confidence and achievement. She always had; it was in her nature to win. Maybe it was that competitive trait of hers that made her want to keep up with Mervyn.

  Emma’s cell phone started to buzz. It was Mervyn again, sounding even more excited than before.

  “I’ve got some news,” he burbled. “The footprint. It was made with a Van Janssen sneaker, size twelve.”

  “What? How do you know this?” Emma asked, conscious of Zoe standing not far away.

  “I hacked into the forensics lab system again. The cops must’ve put a rush on this job. Van Janssen shoes aren’t that common. Hopefully the police will be able to track down the killer.”

  “Yes, I hope so. Thanks for telling me, Mervyn. Zoe’s here at the hospital. She’s going to drive me home when I get my discharge papers.”

  “Going home so soon? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Yes, I’ve been given the all clear, and I’ll be able to rest better at home.”

  “Okay. Well, then, I’ll drop by in the morning and see how you’re doing.” Mervyn still sounded doubtful.

  The doctor who’d been treating Emma bustled into the room with a sheaf of papers that looked like the promised discharge papers.

  “Gotta go,” Emma said to Mervyn.

  She terminated the call and turned to the doctor. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After a long night’s sleep, Emma woke up and was surprised to find her father still at home.

  “It’s after nine,” she said when she shuffled into the kitchen to find Andrew typing on his laptop at the table. “Why aren’t you at school already?”

  “I’m staying home to keep an eye on you,” he said very firmly.

  “Dad, I’m fine, honestly. My headache has gone—” Well, it was just a dull ache now “—and my shoulder isn’t that bad.” As long as she didn’t try to move it too much. “I don’t need a babysitter, and I’m sure you’re needed at school.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here on your own.” Andrew pushed up his glasses. “It shook me up, seeing you in hospital…”

  Because it had revived memories of Emma’s mom and her ever-increasing visits to the same hospital. Poor Dad. Emma touched his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry. I’m going to put my feet up and take it easy this morning. That way, I’ll be good to go to the photo shoot this afternoon, and maybe even the football game.”

  Andrew’s brow instantly wrinkled up. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  “I’d like to be in the photo. It’s not every day the school turns seventy-five.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure plenty of alumni will turn up. We’ll have enough to form the numbers. And the game doesn’t kick off until seven. Won’t that be too cold for you?”

  The concern in her father’s eyes almost made her change her mind. But she felt almost back to normal, and she hated being wrapped in cotton wool. Besides, if her dad thought she was still unwell, he wouldn’t leave her side, and that would spoil the school anniversary for him. And for Janet, too.

  “I won’t go out unless I’m feeling okay, and I’ll make sure I’m rugged up for the football game. Promise, Dad. Now, you should go.” She made shooing motions with her hand. “I’m sure people are missing you.”

  “Well…” Andrew glanced uncertainly at the clock. “I do have a couple of meetings I’d prefer not to miss.”

  “And you don’t have to miss them.”

  “All right. You’ve twisted my arm.” He shut his laptop and rose to his feet. “But I’ll be checking in on you, young lady,” he admonished her with a wagging finger as he put on his jacket. “And if you do make it to the football game, you’re sitting with me and Janet.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Still looking doubtful, he eventually left. Emma fixed herself a bowl of muesli, a quick and easy breakfast since her shoulder wasn’t up to her wielding a skillet.

  While she was eating, she received a call from her friend Stacey, who’d heard the news even though she was several thousand miles away in Pennsylvania.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Stacey asked for the umpteenth time after Emma had filled her in. “I know you aren’t one to fuss. Oh dear. I wish I wasn’t so far away.”

  “Please, stop worrying. I’m fine. How’s your trip? Is it good seeing your family again?”

  “It’s wonderful,” Stacey said. “But you know what? I’m looking forward to coming back to Greenville. It’s my home now, and of course I want to check for myself that you’re okay.”

  Emma assured her friend once more that she was fine, and after a few more minutes of chat, they hung up.

  As Emma finished her muesli, she pondered what to do for the rest of her day. She wasn’t used to lying idle around the house, especially with the anniversary dinner on tomorrow night. She decided to have a nice warm shower, and then she would make some coffee and sit in the living room with her laptop and see what she could accomplish from home.

  She was moving toward the bathroom when there was a light rap on the front door. Oh, drat, she was still in her bathrobe.

  “Who is it?” she called out.

  “It’s Owen. Can I come in?”

  Emma hugged her bathrobe closer to her, horribly aware of her bed hair, her unwashed face, and her bare feet. “Uh, hold on a minute. I just need to change into something…” She hurried into her bedroom where she flung off her bathrobe and pajamas and pulled on a pair of jeans and an old college sweater. Tugging at the zipper of the jeans, she returned to the front door.

  Owen blinked at her for a few seconds. “You shouldn’t have rushed to get changed.” He stepped into the house. “You should be taking it easy, and besides, I’ve seen you without your…” He paused and cleared his throat. “Uh, how are you feeling today?”

  “Not too bad, actually.” Her cheeks felt as warm as his looked. She gestured to the kitchen. “Want some coffee? I was just about to make a fresh pot.”

  “Yes, thanks, but I can make the coffee.” In the kitchen, he waved her to a seat before busying himself with the coffee-maker. He knew his way around the kitchen, since he’d spent plenty of time here and everything was still as it used to be.

  Emma surreptitiously wiped her face with a dish cloth while Owen bustled about the kitchen. He had seen her looking worse than this, but she may as well scrub up a bit. A few minutes later, he brought two mugs of coffee to the table and sat opposite her.

  “So you’re staying home today?” he said in a tone which was less a question and more a command.

  “For the morning, yes. I’ll see how I feel this afternoon. I want to do the anniversary photo, and there’s the football game, too.”

  He set down his mug. “Are you sure—”

  She cut him off before he could get into full stride. “Yes, Owen. I’m feeling a lot better, and if I rest up now, I don’t see any reason to stay cooped up at home all day. I won’t be reckless, promise.”

  He heaved a sigh. “You never did take orders very well.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Then you’re finally getting to know me.”

  His lips quirked as he acknowledged
the statement. “By the way, I’ve got that information about the house for rent. Still interested?”

  “Definitely.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and gave her the details. “Frieda Sorensen’s the owner. She’s about eighty years old but still going strong. She’d be happy to show you the property when it’s convenient.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.”

  His expression sobered as he put away his phone. “I did come here on official business, too. I want you to know that we’re following every lead to find out who did this to you.”

  “Oh. Does that mean you’ve identified the type of shoe from the footprint?”

  Owen sat back a little. “Mervyn told you about the footprint?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, as a matter of fact the forensics guys have identified the shoe, but I can’t tell you anymore than that.”

  He didn’t need to, since Mervyn had already given her the information. As soon as she was alone, she was going to look up these Van Janssen sneakers on the internet and find out what they looked like. Who knew, maybe she would spot them being worn by the killer? Stranger things had happened.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Do you remember anything more about what happened, now that you’ve had time to recover?”

  She focused her brain on those brief moments before and after the flower pot had struck her. Had she seen anything at all that might be relevant?

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head, regretful. “I can’t tell you anything more. I know Mervyn caught a glimpse of the perpetrator, but, other than the pot falling, I didn’t see a thing.”

  He nodded, and she could see he was trying to hide his disappointment.

  “You don’t remember seeing anyone suspicious around the property? Not just yesterday, but any other time?”

  The issue of Otto Wiseman had been weighing heavily on her mind. She couldn’t help suspecting he might somehow be involved. Mervyn had implored her not to tell the police what they’d done, but surely the situation was different now that an actual attempt on his life had been made and she’d been caught in the crossfire?

  “Emma?” Owen’s brows drew together into a sharp vee. “I can tell you’re holding something back.”

  She wrapped her hands around the mug, seeking its warmth. “You’re not going to like it.”

  His mouth twisted into a wry moue. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you told me something I didn’t like.”

  “Promise me you won’t get mad until I’ve told you everything.”

  He pushed his mug away and rested his forearms on the table. “Fire away.”

  So she told him about Otto Wiseman, the contractor who was working on the property next door to Mervyn’s, and his connection to Ralph Bautista, the CEO of the rival company to Mervyn’s. That was the easy part. Then, she told him what she and Mervyn had got up to two days ago on Wednesday morning. To his credit, Owen didn’t interrupt, but the white ring around his mouth told of a temper fraying rapidly. When she finished her story, he didn’t respond at once, just sat there, breathing heavily, his nostrils flared like he wanted to breathe fire on her.

  “So you and Mervyn, like a pair of bumbling PIs, decided it’d be a good idea to trespass on someone’s property. And what exactly were you planning to do? Break into Wiseman’s house? Search through it? Steal some of his things?” Owen leaned back in his chair and raked his fingers through his close-cropped hair. “You were damn lucky that dog chased you off before you could do something even dumber!”

  Emma hung her head in shame. “I wouldn’t have let Mervyn break into the house,” she said in faint protest. Although, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped him. Mervyn had been in such a strange mood that day, so hyper-excited he had bordered on hysterical.

  “You wouldn’t have let him? Are you saying this was all Mervyn’s idea?”

  “Um, well…” She squirmed with indecision, unwilling to throw Mervyn under the bus. The truth was, if she’d known what Mervyn had intended, she never would’ve got into that car with him. But it was too late for that regret. The damage had been done. “I thought I was helping him,” she said lamely.

  Muttering under his breath, Owen stared out the window, his blunt fingers drumming on the table. “You know I’ll have to tell Gambino,” he said, eventually aiming his gaze at her. “I’ll have to tell her so that I can follow up on this Otto Wiseman.”

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured, chastened. But it was all for a good cause, she told herself. If Wiseman was the killer, then she had done the right thing telling Owen. Even if his opinion of her had nose-dived.

  “Anything else you want to tell me?” Owen said, his expression wary, as if he didn’t want to hear her answer.

  “Um, well, there is something else I’ve remembered. Something about the night Todd died.”

  Owen sat up straighter. “Yes?”

  “I was outside looking for one of the servers when I disturbed someone in the bushes near the house. I called out, but whoever it was ran away. I never got a proper look at the person, and at the time I thought it was the server hiding from me, but it could have been this Otto Wiseman. He might’ve been casing out the joint, so to speak.”

  “You couldn’t even guess if it was a man or a woman?”

  “Sorry, no. I saw him—or her—before Mervyn shot the mirror ball, so maybe this was the person Mervyn heard running away from his office. You remember, when Mervyn thought someone was trying to break in and steal his software. This Otto Wiseman may have been the culprit. And when he learned that Mervyn and I had come looking for him at his home, he might have panicked and decided to try and do away with Mervyn.” She sat forward and waved her hands as she warmed to her topic. “I mean, if he couldn’t steal the software, then killing Mervyn would give him the same result. He hid on the balcony above the porch and dropped that flower pot when Mervyn came out, only he missed and got me instead.” She paused, conscious that she had been rambling a bit.

  Owen looked taken aback. “That’s quite a theory.”

  “Just thinking out loud.”

  He nodded and pushed to his feet. “Thanks for the coffee. I should be on my way.”

  She got up from the table as well. “Are you going to…Are Mervyn and I in trouble?”

  “I don’t know yet.” His jaw muscles flexed. “I’m going to speak with Gambino as soon as I can. In the meantime…”

  “Yes?”

  “In the meantime, please promise me you won’t go chasing after Wiseman.”

  “Of course I won’t.” She pointed a finger at the bandage on her head. “He’s a dangerous guy. I won’t approach him, and I’ll try to make sure Mervyn doesn’t either, though he doesn’t always listen to advice.”

  “I’ll have a talk with Mervyn,” Owen said grimly. “He has no business dragging you into this.”

  “You know how Mervyn can be. He’s just…over-enthusiastic sometimes.”

  He gazed steadily at her. “Okay, I understand why you’re making excuses for him, and that’s sweet of you, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s exposed you to a criminal lunatic. Can you just try to stay safe?”

  “Sure, Owen,” she murmured, still digesting the fact that Owen had called her ‘sweet.’

  “Right. I better get going.”

  She followed him out of the kitchen. They were passing the living room when he stopped and stared at the massive bouquet she had brought home from hospital and set on the coffee table.

  “What the hell is that?” Owen asked, sounding testy.

  “It’s a bunch of flowers, as you can see. Mervyn gave them to me yesterday.” Luckily, she had given the helium balloons to some of the kids at the hospital.

  Owen frowned at the flowers. He looked like he was about to say something, but it seemed he changed his mind, because he stalked out of the house without another word.

  ***

  Janet Ramos waved her clipboard in the air, trying to get the at
tention of the throng milling about on the playing field.

  “Honestly,” she murmured to Emma. “It’s like herding cats.”

  Emma lifted the megaphone which the principal had handed to her in passing earlier. “Why don’t you try this?”

  “Excellent idea!” Janet beamed at her before her brow creased. “Are you sure you’re up to this? Not too much for you out here?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Emma felt like she’d repeated the phrase a hundred times already, but it was good to have so many people concerned about her welfare. Her father had called her several times during the day, as had Zoe, Mervyn, Becky, and Caitlyn. She had spent the morning as planned, working from home. She had also called Frieda Sorensen and made an appointment to inspect the farmhouse. Then, remembering the information Mervyn had given her, she used the internet to find out more about Van Janssen shoes. They were an expensive brand, with a distinctive logo made up of the letters V and J. After lunch, she had taken a nap which had refreshed her and made her eager to get out for some fresh air. She was more than ready for the anniversary photo shoot and the football game afterward.

  “I should have delegated this photo shoot,” Janet murmured.”I’m behind on putting up decorations in the WAC for tomorrow’s dinner.”

  “I’ll help you tomorrow,” Emma immediately said. “I’ll come in as early as I can.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that! You’ve got enough work with the dinner.”

  Looking closer, Emma could see the faint lines of stress under Janet’s eyes, and that made up her mind. “Most of my work is just checking up on other people. I’m helping with the decorations, Janet. I insist.”

  Janet smiled, looking a little relieved. “Thank you, honey. You’re a star.” Then she raised the megaphone to her lips. “Attention, please, everyone. Can you please divide yourself into two groups, one for the seven, and one for the five.”

  There was a general hubbub as the alumni milled about. Approximately a hundred people of all ages had turned up for the photo shoot. It seemed many of them had gathered together beforehand at a bar, or perhaps being back at school brought out their adolescent dislike of rules, because there was a lot of horse play and giggling.