In the Dead of Winter
(an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5)
by
Karen Chester
It’s the holiday season, and Emma Cassidy is looking forward to the New Year’s Eve fundraiser. Until a man is killed in front of her on the railway tracks, a man with no identity. Who was the mysterious stranger, and what was he doing in town?
Before long, death strikes again. Was it an accident, suicide, or murder? As Emma investigates, her list of suspects grows, and so does her fear that a dear friend could be in danger.
Emma has her own demons from the past to deal with. Can she solve the mystery and keep her friend safe before the past catches up with them?
The Emma Cassidy Mystery series:
Book 1: Throw a Monkey Wrench
Book 2: Pushed to the Limit
Book 3: Murder Most Likely
Book 4: Witch Way to Murder
Book 5: In the Dead of Winter
Book 6: A Case of Cold Feet (coming 2017)
Copyright © 2016 by Karen Chester
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design © 2016 Simon Mann
Cover photo © sharpner / Bigstock.com
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter One
Emma Cassidy groaned as the slice of blueberry pie topped with a dollop of whipped cream appeared in front of her.
“What are you trying to do to me?” she moaned at Becky, owner of Becky’s Diner, long-time friend, and fiendishly good baker. “Christmas was just yesterday. I’m still digesting all that ham and sweet potato pie, and now you want to tempt me with your irresistible blueberry pie? I’ve already put on five extra pounds this month.”
With her curvaceous screen siren figure, Becky was the type of woman who never had to watch her weight. Her lush lips tilted into a smile. “I thought you could do with a treat, seeing as you had to work today.”
Sighing in defeat, Emma dug her fork into the crisp, flaky pastry, the scent of warm blueberries tickling her nostrils. “Mm,” she mumbled, her mouth filled with deliciousness. “Well, you had to open the diner, too,” she pointed out.
Her friend lifted her shoulders. “I like being here. It’s not work to me.”
Emma pursed her lips. Yesterday, Becky had joined Emma, her father, and Janet, her father’s girlfriend, for Christmas lunch. It had taken some persuading on Emma’s part to get her friend there, and though Becky had seemed to enjoy their company, she had left sooner than Emma had expected. Thinking back on their long friendship, it was only now that Emma realized that Becky never made a fuss about Christmas, or Thanksgiving, for that matter. Perhaps it was because Becky had no family or, at least, none she ever spoke of. Holidays could be hard on people in that situation, even for someone like Becky, who was so well-known and popular in town.
“Everything okay?” Emma asked tentatively.
“Oh, sure.” Becky briskly wiped the already pristine counter before switching the conversation. “How are your preparations for the big party going?”
“I had a crisis meeting with Alvin today. He can’t get enough scampi by Sunday, so we need to substitute something else.”
“And he can’t figure it out himself? He’s been doing catering for years.”
Emma lifted her shoulders. “He likes to talk things through with me. And ultimately I’m the one responsible.”
Emma was an event planner and sole proprietor of A Perfect Party, the business she had set up almost a year ago when she had returned to her hometown of Greenville, California, on the shores of Shamrock Lake, after a dozen years studying and working on the opposite side of the country. Her event planning career in New York City had come to a screeching halt when her business partner had disappeared with all the funds from their bank account, leaving Emma to face furious clients, unpaid bills, and a fraud investigation. To make matters worse, her boyfriend at the time had swiftly broken up with her, afraid her failure would taint his own career prospects. Emma had had little option but to return home and start from scratch.
But every cloud had its silver lining. Despite a rocky start, her small business was slowly gaining a good reputation, culminating in her being hired to organize the mayor’s New Year’s Eve fundraising party, despite the objections of the mayor’s wife who was convinced that Emma was a walking disaster.
“Have you bought a ticket yet?” Emma asked as she spooned up a plump blueberry oozing with caramelized dark purple juice.
“I haven’t, no.” Becky made a small moue. “Guess I’m not exactly in the party mood at the moment.”
“If you don’t show up, you’ll disappoint a dozen men at least.”
Like many timeless beauties, Becky never revealed her age to anyone, but Emma calculated her friend was around forty, about ten years older than herself. Emma had known her since she was twelve, and in that time many men had fallen for the diner owner and wooed her assiduously, but none had succeeded in capturing her heart.
“I can live with that,” Becky said lightly. Once more she turned the conversation away from herself. “How are you coping without your man around?”
A goofy feeling filled Emma at the mention of ‘her man’, which she welcomed. “He only had a few hours off yesterday. He had Christmas lunch with his mom and sister, and then he came by my place for an hour before he had to leave.”
Only one hour, but she and Owen had made it count.
Smiling, Becky leaned her elbows on the counter. “Sounds like things are getting serious between you two.”
Emma glanced around her, checking for any eavesdroppers. Becky’s Diner was the Grand Central Station of local gossip, but this late in the afternoon, a day after Christmas, there were only a handful of patrons minding their own business.
She turned back to Becky, a smile spreading across her lips. “It’s going great. I’m so grateful we’ve found each other again.”
Owen Fletcher was the platinum lining in the gray cloud that had sent Emma scurrying back to Greenville with her tail between her legs. Her history with Owen was checkered, to put it mildly. They had fallen for each other back in high school and been inseparable throughout senior year. But their visions for their futures had wildly diverged. Emma had dreamed of making it big in New York, while Owen wanted nothing to do with big city living. Youthful stubbornness and melodrama had torn them apart until, years later, Emma was forced to return to Greenville to find Owen Fletcher, now a law enforcement officer with the Marion County Sheriff’s Department, just as attractive
and even more dangerous to her heart.
The rekindling of their relationship had been rocky, to put it mildly, but had turned a corner since just after Halloween, and they were both in a very happy place. Though not immune to reality—Owen had recently joined the investigative team of the sheriff’s department and was currently immersed in an urgent and complex case that required him to be in Libretto, a town some fifty miles away and beyond an easy commute from his home here in Greenville. In the past few weeks she had only seen him occasionally. Crime, it seemed, didn’t take a break over the holidays.
“I always knew you two would end up together,” Becky said, her eyes lifting beyond Emma’s shoulder as the front door jingled, heralding a new arrival.
An eddy of cold air swirled into the diner along with a tall man rugged up in black jeans, heavy boots, and a thick duffle coat.
“Brrr!” Rubbing his hands, he approached the counter. “Man, it’s freezing out there! Does it usually get this cold in winter here?”
“Hi, Wayne,” Becky greeted him with her customary smile. “This is normal for this time of year. It’ll probably get colder in the next month.”
“Yeah? Guess it’ll take a while for me to get used to the weather around here.” Wayne Goddard pulled off his knitted beanie and ruffled his shaggy, sandy-colored hair. A recent arrival in their town, he was single, and his mild good looks and open manner had attracted some female attention. He winked at Emma. “Hey, there, Emma. Whatcha eating there?”
Emma scooped up the last remains of her pie and held the fork up. “Becky’s home-style blueberry pie, and it’s delicious as always.”
“Well, I better get me a slice of that, then.” He beamed at Becky. “And a cup of coffee, please.”
While Becky set about getting his pie and coffee, Wayne took the seat next to Emma. “Hey, I wanted to run something by you. You’re in charge of the mayor’s New Year’s Eve party, right?” He waited until she nodded before continuing, “Well, how would you like a laser show as part of the entertainment?”
“A laser show?” Emma lifted her eyebrows. “I never considered that.” She had already booked the Morrisons, a cover band, to provide the music.
“I’m a licensed laser operator. I can put on a laser beam show and later on have the lasers going when everyone’s on the dance floor. It’s great for atmosphere.”
“Well, I’m not sure. Laser shows are expensive, and this is a fundraiser for charity.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t charge you, of course! I just thought it’d be something nice to do for the community, since I’ve only recently arrived.”
“But don’t laser shows cost hundreds of dollars?” Emma said. “Are you sure about this?”
“I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t sure.” Wayne leaned eagerly toward her. “Tell you what, why don’t you stop by my place sometime and I’ll give you a demonstration.”
The man was a bit too close to her for comfort, Emma thought. And she didn’t know him that well. Was he trying to flirt with her, or was he simply a little brash?
“Um, tell you what,” she murmured, discreetly shifting a few inches away from him. “Why don’t I run it by the mayor first and call you back?”
Wayne flashed his brilliant white teeth at her. “Cool. Want my number?”
She pulled out her cell phone and entered his contact details. “So, is that your job?” she asked when she was done. “Putting on laser shows?”
“That was my full-time job back in San Diego, until I got tired of the unsociable hours and wanted a slower pace of life. Now I do it part-time, along with guitar lessons.”
“I see. So what made you pick Greenville?”
“My parents used to bring me here every summer when I was a kid. I had great memories of this place, so I decided to move here, and I couldn’t be happier.” His face brightened as Becky returned with his blueberry pie and coffee. “And coming in here every day to this vision of loveliness makes me even happier!”
Over the years Emma had witnessed Becky receiving so many fulsome compliments that she wondered if Becky even noticed them, but this time two pink spots appeared in Becky’s cheeks, and she appeared a little flustered.
“Oh, stop that,” she said, flicking a dishcloth at Wayne. “Enough of that nonsense and eat your pie.”
Her embarrassment only seemed to encourage Wayne. “It’s not nonsense, it’s the honest truth. You are a goddess, Becky Lundy, and I defy anyone to say otherwise.” He glanced about the diner, daring anyone to object, but no one was paying any attention.
“You and your smooth patter. I’ve heard it all before,” Becky admonished him as she nudged the cup in front of him. “Your coffee’s growing cold.”
Ignoring his coffee, Wayne pointed at the baubles and tinsel suspended from the ceiling. “I’ve been meaning to say I love your Christmas decorations, Becky.”
Becky shrugged. “I didn’t put them up. That was Abigail and Oscar’s doing.”
Abigail, one of Becky’s waitresses, was refilling sauce bottles at the other end of the counter. From the pass-through window behind Becky, a blond head popped up. Oscar, Becky’s cook, was pale and quiet and generally unsmiling, but today he looked even more glum than usual.
“What’s wrong with him?” Wayne murmured. “He looks like someone killed his cat.”
Becky shushed him. “Leave Oscar alone. He had to visit the dentist earlier for an emergency filling.”
At the mention of dental emergencies, Emma winced, reminded of her own appointment with the dentist tomorrow. Definitely not something she was looking forward to.
“I told him to take the rest of the day off,” Becky continued. “It’s not busy, and I can manage fine on my own, but he insisted on coming in. Abigail, too.” Her expression softened. “I’m glad I put them on full-time. I was in a bind when both my long-time cook and server quit a month ago, but Oscar and Abigail are doing great.”
Pointing upward, Wayne waggled his eyebrows at Becky. “Is that a piece of mistletoe I spy right above you?” He leaned forward suggestively. “And you know what that means…”
A flicker of impatience showed in Becky’s eyes as she moved adroitly away. “Christmas is over, Wayne,” she declared. She swept up Emma’s empty plate and disappeared into the kitchen, her shoulders stiff.
Wayne’s face fell. “I came on too strong, didn’t I?” he said mournfully to Emma.
Despite his pestering ways, Emma felt a twinge of sympathy for him.
“Don’t feel too bad. You’re not the first to try and fail to impress her.” In fact, the queue of men who’d tried and failed would stretch all the way down Main Street.
Wayne dunked sugar into his coffee and stirred vigorously, his expression pensive. “I’m single, healthy, and sane. I’m not as rich as I used to be, but I’m financially independent, and I run my own business. I might drink a bit occasionally, but I don’t smoke or gamble, and I’m told I’m not bad-looking for my age. What do I have to do to impress her?”
“I don’t know, Wayne.” Emma pulled her wallet out of her bag. It was getting dark outside, and she didn’t feel like leaving the warm, snug diner with its comforting smells of coffee and food, but she had to get home sometime.
“Does she have someone in her life? Please tell me that, at least.” With his humor gone, Wayne seemed almost desperate.
Emma hesitated, not knowing how to respond. As far as she knew, Becky had no clandestine lover, but, however enduring their friendship, Becky was older than her, and in many ways secretive.
“I’m sure you’ve asked her that already,” she replied.
“I did.” Wayne sighed. “And she said she never responded to those kinds of questions.”
“Well, then, I think you have your answer.” Emma began to walk toward the cash register.
“Wait,” Wayne called out after her. “That doesn’t give me an answer at all.”
By now his persistence was beginning to chafe. How did Becky handle all the unwanted ma
le attention she received? To someone with a large ego it was probably enjoyable, but to a woman like Becky it had to get annoying at times.
“Sorry, but I can’t tell you anymore.” She tucked a ten-dollar bill under the porcelain cat by the register and hitched her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Hey, if you’re planning to go east on Main Street, there’s a burst water main down that end. The crew was still working on it when I drove past, so you might want to take a detour if you don’t want to be held up.”
“Thanks for the tip.” She smiled, thinking better of him. “Goodnight, Wayne.”
He wiggled his fingers near his ear, making the ‘call me’ signal. “I’ll wait for your call.”
Stepping out of the diner, Emma paused to breathe in the winter air. Even though the temperature was plummeting, she took a while to enjoy the scenery of her home town. Darkness was falling, and up and down Main Street, street lights had popped on, illuminating stores festive with their holiday decorations. The traffic was light, and only a few people hurried along the sidewalk.
Across the street from Becky’s Diner stood a restored Victorian house. Its first floor was taken up by Lulu’s Salon, while the second floor housed Emma’s office, the modest but cheerful headquarters for A Perfect Party. Through the lit up windows of Lulu’s Salon she could see a young woman with brilliant mauve hair painting a client’s fingernails. Caitlyn, the manicurist, also filled in as Emma’s part-time receptionist.
A shroud of freezing air pushed its icy fingers under Emma’s coat collar and down her neck, making her shiver as she hurried toward her car. It hadn’t snowed yet this winter, but each season they usually received at least a few inches.
By the time she made it into her car, her nose was tingling with cold and her fingers were numb. Starting the engine and flicking on the heater didn’t make things much better, her aging Toyota hatchback only managing to produce a thin trickle of lukewarm heat. When she got back to her rented cottage in the woods, she would build a roaring fire and put on her fleecy pajamas, she promised herself. She might even get a call from Owen.
In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 1