“Sherilee? You’re sure you want to prank a police officer?”
His lips curled into a sneer. “Sherilee’s a nitpicker and a killjoy. She’s the perfect target.”
Sherilee didn’t deserve this, but Emma was in no position to argue. Right now, all she wanted was to get away from Conrad.
“Okay, sure. Why don’t you go over there?” She waved to the far side of the parking lot. “And I’ll start here.”
Conrad smirked at her. “You’re not so bad, Emma. I knew we’d get along if you just gave us a chance.” He smacked her on the backside before strolling across the tarmac.
Emma glared after him. How dare he! But she couldn’t lose focus now. She edged toward a battered old pickup truck and stuck a blank piece of paper under the wiper, before looking over her shoulder to check on Conrad’s whereabouts. He was next to a souped up car, grinning rather malevolently as he tucked a note on the windshield. He glanced up, caught her eye, and gave her a thumbs up. Then he turned away, intent on his task. There were at least a hundred yards between them. Surely that was enough of a head start? Plus, Conrad wasn’t paying attention; it might take him a while to figure out why she’d vanished.
She waited until he’d disappeared behind a huge four-wheel drive. Then, taking a deep breath, she scampered off, trying to make as little noise as possible. She was so busy checking Conrad over her shoulder that she didn’t notice the burly figure walking toward her until she ran into him.
“Oof!” She bounced off the man. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of a bald head with a tattoo.
“Watch it,” the man growled. Then, his voice changed. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
Oh God, it was Bulldog, the bartender from JT’s, the other dive bar where she’d gone with Archer Janick. She hesitated, wondering if she should ask for his protection, but she didn’t know him at all, and running seemed the better option.
“No, don’t think so,” she muttered, jerking away from him.
She didn’t look back as she flew down the block, arms and legs pumping as if she were being chased by a tiger.
By the time she reached her car, her lungs were screaming and the blood was pounding in her ears. She jumped in and locked all the doors. Luckily the engine started on the first attempt, and she roared off, not once looking back. She aimed the car the quickest way out of town, and only when she was safely on the outskirts did she slow down and force herself to take several deep, calming breaths.
As the adrenalin slowly ebbed away, she became aware of the physical toll the night had exacted on her body. Her head was beginning to ache again, and her injured shoulder felt tight and sore. She desperately wanted to go home and crawl into bed, but there were too many urgent worries plaguing her.
For a start, she needed to see Mervyn and talk to him, not only about Conrad, but about Zoe, too. She so wanted to believe in her friend; maybe Mervyn could give her more information.
She needed to do something about those prank apology notes, too. If she drove back to the Pied Piper later tonight, after Conrad had left, she could collect all the notes before Sherilee started getting calls from irate car owners.
Sighing with weariness, Emma turned her car around and drove more sedately to Mervyn’s house. All appeared peaceful when she arrived. A few lights shone from the house, while strains of soft music drifted in the night.
With no more than a cursory glance at the balcony above the porch, she walked up and rang the front door bell. Seconds later came the sound of hasty footsteps, before the door flew open.
“Oh! It’s you.” Georgia drooped against the doorframe, looking disappointed to find Emma.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I…” Georgia twisted her hands together. Dressed in a floaty blue-and-green chiffon dress with a matching scarf around her white throat and her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, she looked like a mermaid—a lovely but distressed mermaid. “You’d better come in.”
Nerves prickling with foreboding, Emma followed her into the formal living room where a few lamps cast a soft glow on the plush furnishings. “Is Mervyn home?”
“No, he’s still out somewhere. Celebrating the football with his friends, I think…” She trailed off, nervously picking at her cuticles.
“Georgia, you seem upset about something. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Georgia’s troubled cornflower blue eyes studied Emma. “I was hoping Mervyn would come home soon. I need to tell him something… Something dreadful.”
“What?” Emma found herself holding her breath as she waited for the other woman to speak.
Georgia hesitated, biting her scarlet lips. Then, she burst out in a quivering voice, “I know who killed Todd. It was Ivan. He did it!”
Chapter Sixteen
“Ivan killed Todd?” Emma tugged at her earlobe, wondering if her hearing was faulty. Ivan? She hadn’t thought about Mervyn’s chief financial officer in days; he’d dropped off her radar because Mervyn had said he’d look into it, even though he didn’t suspect Ivan much. “Why?” she asked.
“Because he’s been defrauding the company,” Georgia said, rubbing her upper arms, her eyes darting around the room. “Hundreds of thousands of dollars.” Her voice lowered to a horrified whisper. “I had my suspicions, so I’ve been going through the books carefully. I just found out tonight.”
“And Mervyn doesn’t know?”
“No, and I don’t know how to tell him!” Georgia’s lower lip trembled. She paced back and forth in front of a marble and granite fireplace. A gas fire had been lit, but Georgia didn’t seem to feel any heat, hugging herself as if she were frozen. “Oh, God, this is terrible!”
“Where is Ivan now?”
“Back in San Jose, I’d imagine.” Georgia wearily rubbed her forehead. “He left yesterday morning. Mervyn had asked me to sit with Ivan and go through some accounts, but Ivan kept blowing me off, so I gave up. But once he left, I went back and looked at the accounts. Ivan has been making false payments. I went through all the invoices for several months, and found some of them were for services the company never used. They’re fake invoices, and Ivan’s been pocketing the money for at least six months, possibly more.”
As though the truth was too much to bear, she slumped into the nearest armchair and buried her face in her hands. “I had an inkling that Todd knew something wasn’t right with Ivan. I asked Todd what was going on, but he wouldn’t say.”
“Could Todd have been in on the scam with Ivan?” Emma asked. “Maybe they were arguing over the division of the money.”
Georgia sat bolt upright, her face rigid with indignation. “Todd would never stoop that low! Never!”
“Okay, it was only a random thought.” Emma held up her hands in defense. “What you’ve said fits with what I saw the night Todd died. Remember, I overhead him talking with Ivan. He was trying to persuade Ivan to do the right thing, and Ivan blew him off. They must have been arguing over Ivan ripping off the company.”
Tears began to roll down Georgia’s pale cheeks. “Yes, that sounds typical of Todd. He always tried to see the best in people, even when they did something bad. That’s why he was so cut up when we—” She broke off, her complexion growing even chalkier.
“Yes?” Emma prompted.
“N-nothing.” Dipping her head, she stared down at her sea-green stilettos.
Emma waited. Some instinct told her that Georgia had been about to impart something crucial, but the woman wouldn’t meet Emma’s eyes.
“Why were you trying to buy a gun the other day?” Emma asked.
“Oh!” Georgia glanced up, a hunted look in her eyes. “I told you, I wasn’t thinking straight at the time, and as it turns out I was right. Ivan killed Todd.”
Why did she put the emphasis on Ivan’s name like that? As if she had suspected someone else of murdering Todd, and that was why she had contemplated buying a gun?
“And now I’m having conniptions at the thought of telling Mer
vyn,” Georgia continued as she nervously fiddled with her scarf. “This news will devastate him. Not just because of the money—although that’s awful enough—but because Ivan is—was—his friend.” She darted a look at Emma. “I wonder… Could you do it for me? Can you break the news to Mervyn?”
“Me?” Emma drew back in astonishment. “You want me to tell him?”
“You get on so well with Mervyn, and he’s always saying how nice you are. Please, Emma. I—I’ve had such a stressful week, and I don’t know how much more I can take…” Silver bangles jingled on Georgia’s wrists as she coiled her ever restless hands.
She looked so fragile, as if a gentle breeze would shatter her, Emma thought with growing alarm. Could Georgia be on the verge of a breakdown?
“Yes, sure, I can tell Mervyn,” she found herself saying. “But you’ll have to back me up with the financial details.”
Georgia nodded, slightly relieved. “I can do that.”
Emma pulled out her cell phone before remembering that the battery was flat.
“Here, use mine.” Georgia offered her a top of the line, wafer-thin cell phone.
Accepting it, Emma put the call through to Mervyn.
“I’m just turning into my driveway,” he responded when she asked his whereabouts.
“Oh, that’s good. I’m here at your place with Georgia. I have something important to tell you.”
Minutes later, he sauntered into the living room, insouciant in his orange leather jacket, and Emma regretted that she’d have to prick his jaunty air. His face lit up as he went up to Georgia and slung an arm around her shoulders, seemingly unaware of her tension.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked Emma.
Emma took in a quick breath. “We think we know who killed Todd.” She glanced at Georgia’s pale face before continuing, “It’s Ivan. He’s been scamming your company for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Georgia just found out tonight. We believe Todd knew or at least had a suspicion of what Ivan was up to, and that’s why Ivan drowned him.”
Mervyn went rigid, his face blanking out. He slowly unwound his arm from Georgia and looked at her. “Is this true?”
She nodded, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mervyn!”
“But, sweetie, it’s not your fault. Aw, I hate seeing you cry.” He gathered her into his arms, and this seemed to make Georgia cry even harder, though her sobs might have been relief that the bad news had been delivered.
Emma wasn’t sure why Georgia had felt so nervous about telling Mervyn, but she was glad to have helped. After a few minutes of petting and cooing, Mervyn walked his girlfriend to the hallway and told her to go upstairs, saying he would be with her shortly. Returning to the living room, he shrugged off his leather jacket, a deep frown creasing his brow.
“Poor pet!” he exclaimed. “I’m really worried about her.”
“Yes, she does seem to be under a huge strain. Todd’s death shook her up, and now there’s this horrible evidence she’s discovered about Ivan.”
“Mmm.” Mervyn walked over to a fully stocked liquor cabinet and lifted a bottle of single malt Scotch whisky. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
Mervyn poured some whiskey into a crystal tumbler. He walked back to her, taking a deep sip, then closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Ah, yes. That takes the edge off.” His eyes opened and fixed on her. “I suppose it was Georgia’s idea that you break the news to me about Ivan?”
She ignored his question, too preoccupied with her own. “Mervyn, you said you were going to investigate Ivan. That’s why you asked him to stay on. But then it seems he just left.”
“Yes, I couldn’t get anything out of him, and he was chafing to get back to San Jose, so I let him go. Besides, I thought we had far better suspects than him.”
“He must be good at covering his tracks. I’m so sorry, Mervyn. I know you didn’t suspect Ivan, but he had motive, means, and opportunity to kill Todd. It all makes sense.” Mervyn studied his glass of whisky, not saying anything. She reasoned he was still coming to terms with the shocking news. “I hope his fraud won’t leave lasting damage to your company. After all your hard work, it’s outrageous.”
He looked up at her, his face warm with gratitude. “Thank you, Emma. You’re always such a sympathetic audience.”
She made a half-embarrassed gesture with her hand. “I guess you’ll be calling Detective Gambino now. It’s not too late; she should still be up.”
His mouth pulled down at the corners. “The call can wait until later.”
“But this is urgent! Ivan is out there, somewhere.”
“I want to go through the evidence myself. Georgia is… well, you’ve seen yourself how nervy she is. What if I rushed to tell the police, and then it turns out Georgia’s made a mistake? I’d look like a real idiot, and what about Ivan?” He shook his head. “No, I can’t risk it. I can’t go blundering about without checking the finances myself.”
She couldn’t understand Mervyn. He’d pushed her into that hare-brained scheme to investigate Otto Wiseman, yet now he was holding back when Georgia had offered meaningful proof. True, not damning proof, but at the very least it pointed to undermining of his work and a motive for murder. Well, it wasn’t her place to push him.
“I guess you have to be sure first.”
Mervyn polished off the rest of his whiskey. “Tomorrow morning I’ll sit with Georgia, and we’ll go through everything together. I don’t always understand the financial mumbo-jumbo, so she can explain it to me. Then, if I think she’s right, I’ll call Gambino, and she can go after Ivan.”
“All right. As long as you and Georgia are safe here.” She glanced around the spacious room. The house was enormous, and the grounds outside sprawling. The neighbors were out of sight, and there was no one at the construction site next door. It suddenly seemed like a rather vulnerable location.
“Ivan is back in San Jose,” Mervyn said. “We’ll be fine.”
“I should be on my way.” She had meant to tell him about her escapade with Conrad and her upsetting confrontation with Zoe, but the news about Ivan had trumped everything. Mervyn had more urgent matters to deal with; she would fill him in later.
Mervyn walked her to her car and saw her safely in. “See you tomorrow.”
She chewed on her worries all the way home. Was Ivan really back in San Jose, or could he have returned to Greenville? Ivan was big and muscled and had already displayed a violent temper. He’d make a formidable enemy, and if he was desperate enough, who knew what he might do?
Emma flicked on the car heater, but nothing could dispel the ominous chill gathering around her. Something sinister was afoot, and try as she might she couldn’t shake the somber mood.
***
The next morning, Emma rolled out of bed with a groan. The pangs in her leg muscles and the dull twinge in her head told her that she ought to lie in and recuperate, but there was no prospect of rest, not when the problem with Zoe still nagged at her. And besides, today was open day at the high school, and she’d promised to help with the decorations, and then there was the anniversary dinner tonight, her sole responsibility. She couldn’t afford to loll around in bed when there was so much to do.
She unplugged her phone from its charger and quickly dialed Zoe’s number. The ringtone burbled on for some time, and eventually rang out. Was Zoe still trying to avoid her? She sent a brief text message: Please, can we talk? If she didn’t get a response soon, then she’d have to drive over to Zoe’s parents.
She took a shower, where she gingerly shampooed her hair, careful about the lump on the back of her skull. Her shoulder was still a little swollen, and it would take days or even weeks before the bruises healed. As she combed out her wet hair, her thoughts returned to Conrad, and her lips tightened.
Thanks to him, after she had left Mervyn’s house last night longing for the comfort of her bed, she had been forced to drive back to the Pied Piper. There,
she had warily scanned the area for any sign of Conrad before running through the parking lot and snatching all the prank notes from the windshields. She had ended up with an armful of almost twenty notes. Imagine if all those cranky owners had called Sherilee!
What should she do about Conrad? With Ivan now the likely suspect in Todd’s death, Conrad might only be guilty of dropping the flowerpot, which seemed like his kind of ill-conceived prank. Maybe she could talk to Owen about the problem. Mervyn might get into hot water for illegally obtaining the forensics reports, but she had to talk to someone.
She had the kitchen to herself as her father had risen earlier and had already left for the high school. Relieved not to be under his scrutiny, she tried to relax over her breakfast. She went through her mental to-do list as she ate. Because she’d lost a day in hospital, there was a backlog of items to be completed for tonight’s dinner. She had just finished her cup of coffee when her phone rang, and Zoe’s name popped up on the screen.
Zoe didn’t bother with the niceties. “If you want to talk, meet me at the shorefront park in half an hour,” she said tersely as soon as Emma answered.
“I’ll be there, and thanks.”
But Zoe had already hung up. Not wanting to be late, Emma sprang into action, hastily clearing the kitchen before getting dressed. The crisp blue skies and tumbling leaves outside her window made her pull on denim jeans, a soft lavender sweater, and her favorite boots. She added a woolen jacket, grabbed her bag and keys, and headed out the house.
The drive to the meeting place took less than fifteen minutes. The shorefront park was close to the center of Greenville and just a short distance from Emma’s office. With its small sandy beach and views across the lake, it was a popular place, and when she arrived there was already a group of people doing tai chi near the rose gardens. Scanning the grounds, she spotted Zoe sitting on a bench, her black hair shining in the morning sunlight. Emma walked toward her old friend, feeling oddly nervous.
Zoe stood up, her face clearly strained, and held up two takeaway coffees. “Want one?”
Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3) Page 18