Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3)

by Karen Chester

  Zoe had seen him in the woods. Was that the same day as Katrina’s accident? For the first time Emma felt a glimmer of hope.

  “I thought she was dead,” Mervyn said. “She looked dead when I walked up to check, but she survived against the odds. At first I was annoyed, but it turned out to be a stroke of genius. What could be more humiliating for a former beauty queen than to be hideously scarred and stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of her life? And being able to buy this house from her parents? That was the cherry on top.” Leaning back on his hands, he glanced around the room. “Yes, I’ve managed to exorcize all the demons in this basement. I don’t have any further plans for Katrina. She’s already rewarded me more than I expected.”

  Vera clapped her hands. “Enough of this chit-chat. Mervie, you haven’t even changed. We’ll be late for the dinner.”

  Mervyn glanced down at himself, sighed, and pushed to his feet. “You’re right. I’ll go upstairs and get dressed.”

  “You’re really going to go to this dinner and pretend nothing’s wrong?” Emma burst out, incredulous.

  “But I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ve got my speech all prepared, and the novelty check is great. I should receive some good publicity.”

  “But you—you—”

  Vera approached and tugged at her son’s arm. “He’s the guest of honor,” she said to Emma as if explaining to a child. “He’s very important, and I’m his mother. Of course we’re going.”

  Emma shot to her feet, her heart thumping. “And I’m the organizer. If I’m not there, everyone will know. You can’t keep me here. You have to let me go.”

  In reply, Vera calmly produced a snub-nosed revolver from a hidden pocket in her ball gown and raised it toward Emma.

  “Ma! Where’d you get that thing?”

  “Never you mind, son. You just go upstairs and get dressed, and I’ll take care of this problem.”

  Emma felt the blood draining from her cheeks.

  Mervyn was scowling, his face thunderous. “No, I won’t allow that.”

  “But, Mervie, she’s never going to come around,” his mother said cajolingly, as if she were trying to get a kid to eat his carrots. “Can’t you see that?”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Emma’s different. Eventually she’ll realize that she and I were meant for each other. She just needs some time, that’s all. For now, we’ll lock her up somewhere while we go to the dinner.”

  “That’s risky. She could get out,” Vera said.

  “We’ll tie her up and leave her here.”

  “Why not the storage room with the other piece of garbage?”

  “No!” Emma yelped. “Please, not the storage room.” The thought of being tied up and locked inside a dark room with Georgia’s corpse was horrifying. “Please, Mervyn.”

  Her begging seemed to gratify him. He smirked with approval. “As you wish. See? I’m really very accommodating.” He walked over to a closet where he extracted something before returning to her. He held up a bag containing some lengths of plastic. “Very useful things, cable ties,” he said. “Turn around, hands behind your back, please.”

  She did as she was told, wincing as he secured her wrists with several cable ties. Then he ordered her to sit in the armchair and proceeded to shackle her ankles together as well. As he worked, he started his whistling, and the wheezing grated her nerves. When she was securely tied, he checked and locked each sliding glass door and pulled the drapes shut.

  “There,” he said to his mother. “We’ll lock the door to this room, and she’ll be quite safe until we get home.” He bent over Emma and stroked her cheek. “I’ll be home soon, dear heart, and then we can talk. Until later.”

  Somehow she managed not to flinch from his touch. The sooner he and Vera were gone, the sooner she could start trying to free herself. She nodded meekly, hoping she appeared defeated and resigned.

  “Give me that gun, Ma,” Mervyn said, and after a brief hesitation, Vera capitulated. “Okay, I won’t be more than five minutes.” He bounded out of the room, looking energized and eager.

  As soon as he was gone, Vera snarled at Emma. “Don’t get too comfy there. I’ll talk Mervie into seeing sense. We have to get rid of you. There’s no other way.”

  “Can’t you see that you’re just making things worse for Mervyn? He’s already killed two people and seriously injured another. Do you honestly think it’s in his best interests to encourage him?”

  The older woman bristled with maternal fierceness. “I always have his best interests at heart. I’m his mother.” She hurled out the word like a stone from a slingshot.

  It finally dawned on Emma that she was trying to appeal to the wrong person because Vera was the source of the sickness that had caused all this death and destruction. Vera had nurtured and protected Mervyn with the best of intentions, but somehow she’d managed to create a monster and couldn’t see him for what he had become. If it weren’t for her dire circumstances, Emma might have felt sorry for the poor deluded woman.

  “What will you do when the police come knocking on the door?” Emma challenged. “You might have gotten away with Todd’s death, but when Georgia and I go missing, the cops will come asking questions.”

  “Let them come. We’ll be ready.” Vera shrugged. “They might be suspicious, but murder is very difficult to prove when there aren’t any bodies.”

  Emma gulped. “What—what are you planning to do with the—the bodies?”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t really tell you…” Vera smiled to herself, relishing her cleverness. “But why not? You’ll never live to tell anyone. You know the new house they’re building next door? Well, the foundations are set to be poured next week. The groundwork is already prepared, and come Monday several tons of concrete will fill those trenches. You and Georgia will be lying underneath. No one will ever know two bodies are buried under all that concrete. No one will ever find you.”

  The thought of being entombed under a slab of solid concrete made Emma break out in a cold sweat. She couldn’t dwell on it, or she’d start to scream with panic and drive Vera to do something dangerous. She lowered her head and concentrated on her breathing.

  Vera seemed to take this as a sign of defeat. “That’s right, dear. There’s nothing you can do. I’ll persuade Mervie we can’t have you hanging around like a bad smell. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt much.” She patted Emma’s head, scooped up Emma’s handbag, and swished out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Emma lifted her eyes. The lock clicked into place, and it felt like the bolt was going straight through her chest.

  ***

  The cable ties held firm as she fought against them, producing only sore wrists and ankles. She had to find a tool of some sort, a pair of scissors or a knife or even a nail file. With her handbag confiscated, she had to look elsewhere. She glanced around the large entertainment area, trying to think where there might be an implement. Her gaze fixed on the bar in the far corner. Didn’t bars have corkscrews and ice picks?

  She heaved herself upright. With her feet tightly bound, she had no option but to hop. She attempted a hop, toppled over, and landed smack on the floor. With her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to break her fall, and her face slammed into the carpet. Groaning, she struggled up until she was on her knees. She began to shuffle across the carpet, her gaze grimly set on the bar that seemed miles away. Eventually, feeling like she’d hauled herself across the Sahara Desert, she reached the bar and somehow managed to get to her feet. With her hands behind her back, she had to feel through the first drawer she found. Her fingers quickly found something thin and sharp; it felt like an ice pick. Ah-ha! Her hopes rose. She’d soon get out of these cable ties. But the ice pick proved useless, as did the corkscrew she found next.

  Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away as she caught sight of a bottle opener fixed to the wall. Could it somehow be used to saw through the cable ties? After some awkward and painful maneuvering, she
managed to hook one of the cable ties around her wrists onto the bottle opener. She began to wriggle from side to side. It was hard going, and nothing seemed to be happening except that her arm muscles were screaming at her to stop. But suddenly the cable tie snapped, and she could move her wrists a little. Clumsy with hope and fear, she set to work on the second cable tie, and after a couple of minutes, it broke too, and her arms swung free.

  “Argh,” she muttered as she massaged her aching wrists. The blood flow returned along with a sharp, prickling pain. She knew the agony would fade after a while, but she had no time to waste. Rifling through the drawer, she finally found a small knife and set to work on the ties around her ankles. Two minutes later, she was free, but her ankles were hurting so much she could barely put any weight on them.

  The door was locked, and besides, she didn’t want to risk running into Mervyn and Vera. She hadn’t heard a car leaving, though the house was so large she might have missed it. Still, she wasn’t prepared to take any chances going through the house. She wanted to leave by the quickest exit, and that meant the glass doors leading out to the terrace.

  She hobbled across the room, wincing in pain, and pulled the drapes back.

  A pale, dark-haired woman stood outside, staring at her. Emma yelped and staggered back.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The ghost-like woman ran up to the window and slammed her palms against the glass. “Emma!”

  Her breath stolen by fear, Emma stared back in disbelief. That was no phantom outside, it was Zoe. Zoe, looking stricken and relieved.

  Emma lurched forward and pressed her hands against the glass where Zoe’s were. “I’m locked in here,” she gasped out. “I have to get out.”

  Zoe cast a fearful glance over her shoulder, which told Emma that the Buttericks were still in the house. They might leave without checking on her first, but she didn’t want to bank on that. She had to get out, fast.

  She jiggled the handle of the sliding door, but it held fast. Hobbling to the next one, she found it secured too, as was the third. On the other side of the glass, Zoe followed her progress, her expression becoming increasingly concerned.

  “I called the police,” Zoe said, “but I don’t know how long they’ll be.”

  Muffled sounds came from the hallway. Emma’s gaze swung to the door as her heart started pounding again. “They’re coming.”

  “Oh God, Emma!” Zoe’s eyes were as big as dinner plates, her face ashen with fear. “We’ve got to do something!”

  Spurred on, Emma cast around her, desperately looking for some sort of weapon. She snatched up a bronzed lamp stand and began to clobber it against the door handle. Zoe had disappeared, but within seconds she reappeared brandishing a garden spade, which she immediately set to use against the outside handle.

  Their banging and bashing rang out. Sounds of agitated voices filtered through the locked door, then, seconds later, the door flew open, and Mervyn and Vera tumbled into the room. Mervyn was dressed in a sky-blue tuxedo with a matching frilly shirt as if he were going to the prom, while Vera had draped a white fur coat over her ball gown. Mother and son gawked at Emma as she whacked the door handle as hard as she could, desperation lending her extra strength.

  A cracking noise came from outside. Zoe had broken the lock. She pulled the door open, grabbed Emma by the arm, and yanked her out.

  Vera howled with fury. “Come back!” she yelled.

  Not likely, Emma thought as she followed Zoe into the garden. The evening air was cool against her heated cheeks, a blessed relief after the horrors she’d seen. As they scrambled across the lawn, Emma glanced over her shoulder, and her heart sank when she spotted the small revolver in Vera’s hands.

  “This way,” Emma gasped, pulling Zoe off the lawn and into the bushes. “She’s got a gun.”

  A shot rang out, and bark flew off a tree trunk just inches from Emma’s head. Holy smokes, time to skedaddle! Holding onto Zoe’s hand, Emma led the way as she dashed through the trees, her sole purpose to get as far away as possible from the Buttericks. Only when they neared the crest of a small hill did she allow them to pause for a break. Their huffing seemed to be the only sound. Vera would find it difficult to pursue them in that fur coat and ball gown, but Emma wasn’t prepared to underestimate that woman. She’d do anything to protect her precious son, including hunting down two innocent women while dressed like Cinderella’s godmother.

  “Come on,” she said to Zoe, who was still huffing. “We can’t hang around.”

  With a nod, Zoe followed her. They plowed through some undergrowth and stumbled across an overgrown driveway.

  “We must be on the neighboring property,” Emma said. The property where Vera had earmarked final resting places for Emma and Georgia. The thought gave her a spurt of energy as they ran down the driveway, and before long they spotted the main road.

  A police cruiser flew past them, its lights flashing, followed a short while later by a sedan going just as fast. Emma caught a glimpse of a woman’s hawkish profile behind the wheel, and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure, but that driver looked like Detective Theresa Gambino. The cavalry had arrived; they were safe.

  ***

  Emma’s father popped his head into the living room where she was curled up under a blanket watching TV.

  “Zoe’s here to see you,” Andrew said. “Feeling up to it?”

  “Oh, of course.” Emma pushed off the blanket and sat up. “I’m feeling much better now.”

  “Mmm.” Her father didn’t look convinced.

  After escaping from the Buttericks with Zoe, Emma had spent a couple of days relating every last detail of her ordeal to Detective Gambino. She would have much preferred having Owen question her or at least for him to sit in at the interviews, but for some reason he had been absent.

  Following that, for the past few days she had been laid low with a nasty cold, the first she’d suffered in years. Her immune system must have been overpowered by stress, the stress of stumbling over a dead body plus the prospect of becoming one, too. At first she had huddled in bed, feeling sorry for herself and secretly missing her mom. Then Janet had brought her delicious soup, and Becky her special cherry pie, and Stacey had sent her chocolates, and Caitlyn had dropped by to give her a manicure, and of course her dad never ceased fussing over her, and she realized how lucky she was to be surrounded by these wonderful people.

  “I’ll ask her not to tire you out too much,” Andrew said as he disappeared.

  A short while later, Zoe walked into the living room and went to hug Emma.

  “Careful, or you’ll catch my bug,” Emma half-joked.

  “I’ll take my chances.” Zoe wrapped her arms around Emma and gave her a big squeeze before letting go. “I had to see you tonight; I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Five days had passed since Zoe had helped Emma escape from the Buttericks, but they had only spoken briefly a couple of times, occupied as they were with police interviews, before Emma had succumbed to the cold.

  “So soon? You can’t stay longer?” Emma asked feeling disappointed as they sat on the couch. When she’d learned the truth behind Zoe’s façade of lies, she’d wondered if she even knew her anymore, but she shouldn’t have doubted her friend. Without her, Emma could quite possibly be dead now.

  At the high school anniversary open day, Zoe had learned the date of Katrina’s accident and grown uneasy that it was the same day she’d spotted Mervyn in the woods. She had no evidence, no real reason for her suspicions; all she knew was that something didn’t feel right. She had driven out to Mervyn’s house with no particular intention in mind. When she’d spotted Emma’s car in the driveway, she had called Mervyn and asked if he’d seen Emma. His denial had set her alarm bells ringing. She’d driven off and parked down the road, where she’d called the police, before tiptoeing back to the house and spotting Emma trapped in the entertainment room.

  Zoe had saved her life, and Emma wished they could spend
more time together to talk things over and mend their friendship.

  “Sorry, no.” Zoe gave her an apologetic smile. “I need to sort out a few things in my life, starting with getting a new job. I should never have agreed to work for Bautista. This time, I’m going to find a position I’m suited to, and if the salary isn’t as high as before, well, I’ll just have to get rid of the condo and the fancy car.”

  She had a brave face on, but Emma knew it wasn’t easy turning your life around. “I’m sure you’ll do well,” she said warmly. “Once you set your mind to something, you always do. Just don’t get carried away thinking you have to win every competition. Sometimes it’s more than fine to come second, or third, or even fourth.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “And your family?” Emma asked tentatively.”Have you squared everything with them?”

  “After a fashion,” Zoe said with a quick grimace. “I’ve told them everything, the unvarnished truth. Naturally there was much teeth gnashing and crying, but I think we’re going to be okay.”

  “Don’t they know you’re a hero? Without you, I’d probably be dead!”

  “I wasn’t the one who had a dead body fall at her feet!” Zoe shuddered. “Whatever happens in the future, I’m never going to medical school. The thought of a cadaver creeps me out. And shoved into a closet? Ugh. Who would’ve thought Mervyn could be such a cold-blooded killer?”

  “He admits drowning Todd and suffocating Georgia, but he denies that he had any intention of killing me, and it’s true that he prevented Vera from shooting me on the spot.”

  “What was Mervyn thinking?” Zoe exclaimed. “Did he honestly think he could persuade you to become his girlfriend and that you’d keep quiet about what he’d done?”