A guarded look came over the officer’s face. “We’re still working on it.”
“We think he might have been a train hopper,” Becky broke in, leaning toward him.
“Uh, that’s a possibility.” Martinez squirmed in his seat, and his knee began to bounce. Why was he suddenly edgy, Emma wondered. And then, as the officer’s eyes darted toward Becky, she saw that her friend’s tilted position gave the officer a prime view of her cleavage. This was accidental on Becky’s part, but Martinez was enjoying the situation to the point of distraction.
She was about to ask the officer a question in order to regain his attention when he suddenly yelped, “Oof!” and reached down to rub his ankle.
“Sorry, my foot slipped,” Hazel muttered, a dark look on her face.
Red-faced, the officer scrambled to his feet. “Okay, well, that’s all for now,” he said to Emma, jamming the notebook in his pocket. “Thank you.”
Emma was also on her feet. “Did you get the bottle?”
“The bottle?”
“The almost empty bottle of whiskey lying next to the tracks. It might have fingerprints on it that could help you with identification.”
“Oh, yeah. Someone got it, I’m sure.”
Emma couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but she wished Sherilee Ackerman were here instead of on vacation. Sherilee would’ve been far more on the ball than Martinez, she was sure. She’d always believed Martinez was a competent cop, but tonight he seemed a bit off, distracted by something. But maybe she was being too harsh on him. After all, he’d seen the gore at the railway tracks, too, and after she’d left he’d probably participated in the search for clues, maybe even helped retrieve the body from under the train. As stoic as he was, it must have affected him.
As soon as the policeman had left Emma announced to the other three women, “Thanks for all your comfort and concern, but I think I’ll head home now.” She waved away their offers to drive her. “I’m over the worst of it, honestly. I’ll be fine.”
After promising to drive slowly, she left the diner for the second time that day. The burst water main on the eastern end of Main Street had now been fixed, which meant she didn’t need to take any detours, not that she had any intention of going via the rail crossing, which would be out of action anyway. She wondered how long it would take before the train would be moved and the tracks cleared, and hoped that the train driver was recovering from the shock.
Her route took her past Shamrock Lake, then over a few hills and through a patch of woods. Normally the drive home gave her a chance to relax, but tonight she was anxious to reach home, and when she pulled up outside her rented house she wasn’t surprised to find her back muscles were rigid and the beginnings of a headache tapping against her skull.
Surrounded by trees, her gingerbread cottage was her refuge. Her father still didn’t like the idea of her living alone in the woods, but she didn’t feel isolated. She had a kind, if slightly kooky, neighbor about half a mile away, and Owen lived a ten-minute drive away. If only he were home tonight, she thought wistfully as she unlocked her front door.
The cottage was stone cold, but she was too exhausted to light the fire in the downstairs hearth. She would go upstairs and take a hot shower, she decided. And then she would crawl into bed with her electric blanket and hope that sleep would come quickly so that this day could be over.
She had one hand on the banister when a muffled noise made her look up to see a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs. Her ribs contracted, and her heart jumped into her throat.
“Who—who’s there?” Her voice squeaked. Terror flooded her limbs.
The intruder began to walk down the stairs toward her.
Chapter Three
Emma flopped back in the armchair and put a hand over her chest. Her heart was galloping so hard from the fright it felt like it would never recover. She scowled at the woman standing in front of her.
“You scared me half to death! What the hell were you thinking, Rowena?”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I really scared you, didn’t I?” The other woman peered at her. “Guess you never expected me to drop in on you, huh?”
That was the understatement of the year. When her business partner had abruptly disappeared, Emma had assumed she’d never see her again. Yet here she was, Rowena Bertrand, looking remarkably unchanged. She still had that Manhattan chic, with her expensive-to-maintain russet-colored bob, her fire engine red lipstick, her willowy figure clad in a stylish black coat, black trousers, and maroon boots.
When Rowena had offered Emma a job with her event planning business, Emma had leaped at the chance. This was what she’d dreamed of—a job with real prospects in the heart of New York, the most exciting city on the planet. Emma had thrown herself into the job, working long hours for little money, and when Rowena had so generously offered her a partnership, well, Emma had believed she had finally arrived and wasted little time in taking on a large bank loan. But a year later, all her dreams were rubble. Rowena had vanished, funds were missing, clients and suppliers up in arms, and Emma was left to carry the can.
“You can say that again,” Emma tartly replied, pulling herself upright in the armchair.
Rowena sank into the nearby couch, smiling faintly. “You shrieked like a banshee. Sorry about that. I thought out here in the boondocks everyone just dropped in whenever they pleased.”
“Maybe, but they don’t pop up out of the darkness.”
Rowena pulled her face into a wincing expression. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I was dying to use your bathroom. And besides, it’s so fricking cold out there.” She rubbed her arms clad in her fine woolen coat. “It’s still pretty cold in here, if you don’t mind me saying. Does that thing work?” She tilted her elegantly coiffed head at the fireplace which held a pile of ashes from last night’s fire.
Emma didn’t answer. She gazed at the woman she’d once admired and worked so hard to impress. Rowena didn’t look like she’d suffered any hardship, which made sense since she’d run off with a lot of money.
Resentment rose like bile in Emma’s throat, along with memories of those nightmare weeks after Rowena’s disappearance when she’d been besieged by angry clients, threatening creditors, and even the police. She’d felt so alone then, so helpless and bewildered. And so stupid, too. Rowena had duped her and stolen from her, not just money, but friendship, trust, and self-worth, things that were irreplaceable.
“How did you know I was living here?” Emma asked testily.
“Oh, that was easy. I remembered your father’s name and address. I got his number from directory assistance, called him, and asked him for your address.”
“What?” Emma sat up in the armchair. “And he just gave it to you?” She couldn’t believe her father would so willingly give information to someone who had wronged her. He, of all people, knew how much she had suffered.
“I disguised my voice and told him I was an old college friend of yours passing through and wanted to drop in for a visit. He was pleased about that. Your father is such a teddy bear.”
Emma swallowed, her indignation rising. “I don’t want you calling my father again.”
Rowena hastily held up her hands. “Of course I won’t, but I had to get in touch with you, and that was the quickest way.”
“I didn’t notice a car outside.” Emma said, glancing at the bulging duffel bag sitting in the middle of the room. “How did you get here?”
Rowena studied her fingernails. “I…hitchhiked.”
“From?”
Rowena rose to her feet and took a few paces about the rug in front of the fireplace. “It’s probably best I don’t tell you. You don’t need to know that.”
“I don’t need to know that?” The indignation she’d been trying to control bubbled up. “And I suppose I don’t need to know where you ran off to with all our money, or what you did with it, or why you thought you could betray me and all those clients who were relying on us? I suppose it’s
all irrelevant now, huh?”
Emma’s neck and shoulders were aching, and her head was throbbing viciously. Could Rowena’s timing be any worse? With her mind still reeling from the gruesome death she’d witnessed, she was in no shape to deal with this unwelcome blast from the past.
Much to Emma’s surprise, Rowena bowed her head, her expression chastened. “I guess I do owe you an explanation.” Moistening her lips, she glanced toward the kitchen that was set on the opposite side of the room. “Uh, if you’re not going to light the fire, do you think I could trouble you for a hot drink? I’ve had a really rough day.”
Not as rough as some, Emma thought, remembering the dead man on the railway tracks. But then she set the rancor aside for the moment and rose to her feet. It was a chilly night, and a hot milky drink would be good for her nerves, too.
She put on a saucepan of milk to heat on the stove and measured cocoa and sugar into two mugs while Rowena took a seat at the small, scrubbed pine table.
“This place is quite a change from your loft apartment in Manhattan,” Rowena remarked, looking about the compact cottage. “Very rustic and homey.”
With her slick bob and designer clothes Rowena was the exact opposite of rustic and homey.
“I like it here,” Emma said. She had no need to justify herself to this woman, but it was the truth anyway, and she didn’t mind stating it.
“Of course you do, darling.” Rowena smiled obsequiously. “Horses for courses, that’s what I always say. You obviously fit right in here with the locals.”
I am a local, Emma thought with a twinge of resentment. She poured out the warmed milk into the two mugs and slid one of them toward Rowena. “So where are you staying? At one of the bed-and-breakfast places? Or one of the motels maybe?”
Rowena, in the process of lifting her mug to her lips, paused and slowly set the mug back on the table. “Um, well, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I thought you wouldn’t mind putting me up for the night?” She pulled back her lips, looking even more ingratiating. “I hope you understand,” she continued in a hurry. “This trip was a last-minute thing, and I had no time to book ahead.”
“Oh, really?” This last-minute trip sounded mighty fishy. “You couldn’t even call ahead? You just broke into my house, and, by the way, how did you do that?”
“Your back door’s not very secure.” Rowena lowered her head. “It’s easy to jiggle open with a nail file and a credit card.”
“I see.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her unwanted visitor, making no bones about her displeasure. “Do you often break into people’s houses?”
“But I was so cold out there,” Rowena pleaded, widening her eyes. “And I didn’t know how long you were going to be. I could’ve been out there for hours.”
That still didn’t explain why she hadn’t called, but Emma already knew the answer to that. Rowena hadn’t rung in advance and asked to stay because, with good reason she’d been afraid that Emma would refuse.
“Well, it’s good to know you have a credit card,” Emma said, still gazing hard at her ex-business partner and ex-friend. “When you’ve finished your cocoa, I can call you a taxi to take you to one of the motels. They all take credit cards.”
“But—but—” Rowena spluttered, her eyes darting about. “Oh please let me stay!” she pleaded, all pretence gone. “My credit cards are maxed out, and I—I don’t have anywhere else to go. If you turn me away, I’ll have to rough it on the streets.”
Emma gave her unwanted visitor a hard stare. As much as she would have liked to throw Rowena out on her ear, she didn’t have the energy or the heart to evict someone on a cold winter’s night. As she pondered the situation, she unconsciously let out a deep sigh, which Rowena instantly took as permission.
“Thank you so much, Emma. I knew I could count on you.”
“Okay,” Emma said reluctantly. “You can stay the night, but you owe me an explanation, and it better be good because I’ve had a very bad day, and I’m in no mood for your hokum.”
“Of course. I’d be glad to, and thank you again. I really appreciate it.”
Her gushing thanks only made Emma more suspicious. She had once believed implicitly in Rowena, but trust, once lost, was difficult to regain. Whatever Rowena told her, she would take with a fistful of salt.
Emma took a sip of her cocoa and allowed its creamy sweetness to slide down her throat before speaking. “So. What do you have to tell me?”
Sighing, Rowena toyed with her mug. “Where do I start?”
“Start at the beginning. Where did you go when you ran off with our money?”
Rowena didn’t even wince at the mention of her theft. “To Costa Rica. Lonnie has property there.”
“Lonnie Perreta? Your old boyfriend? But I thought you’d broken up with him a while back?”
“I did, but then he sweet-talked his way back in, and I decided to give him a second chance.” Rowena sighed. “Lonnie can be such a charmer when he tries.”
Emma had disliked the man from the start. What her business partner saw in him was beyond her. Lonnie Perreta was all style and no substance, a shallow, vain peacock with a reputation as a ladies’ man, but not without a certain street cunning.
“He spun me this dream of paradise, a life of luxury by the Caribbean where instead of working I’d be going to parties, working on my tan, and drinking cocktails by the pool. He said he had this foolproof investment that would make us both millionaires. All he needed was a bit of cash to kickstart the whole thing.”
Emma set down her mug with a thud. “And you thought it would be okay to clear out our business accounts?”
Rowena glanced down at the table, finally looking a little shamefaced. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Guess that caused a bit of difficulty for you…”
“It caused a truckload of difficulty!” Emma felt her blood pressure rising. “A lot of that was our clients’ money. They paid deposits thinking they would get top service, and instead they were ripped off. And what about our creditors? We owed thousands of dollars to Betty Boop Cakes! They almost went under because of you.”
Rowena pursed her blood red lips. “All right, that was unfortunate, but I had every intention of paying the money back and then some,” she said defensively. “Lonnie said it would take just a few months to see a return on our investments. I was going to give you what I’d taken plus an extra thirty percent on top of that for the inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience? Is that what you call it?” For the first time in her life Emma felt an almost uncontrollable rage take hold of her. “Two couples broke up because they’d lost their deposits, one of the best bakers in the city almost went bankrupt, dozens of people lost their money. I had furious clients and creditors harassing me every day. My life and so many others became a nightmare. What you did was so much more than an inconvenience!”
Tears filled Rowena’s eyes. “Oh God! I really messed up, didn’t I? I never realized!” She wept noisily for several moments before pulling a tissue out of her pocket and blowing her nose. “If it’s any consolation, I suffered too, maybe far more. Lonnie’s investments never came through. I don’t even think they ever existed in the first place. We lived the high life in Costa Rica for a while just like he promised me, and then—poof! It was all gone. No beach house anymore, no private driver, no parties.” Looking almost wistful, Rowena wiped her nose. “So you see, I’m a victim, too.”
Emma gritted her teeth. “I’m sure you like to think you are, Rowena, but in my opinion you’re the guilty party. I lost every penny I had. I even borrowed money from my father to pay some of the more desperate creditors.”
“I’ll pay you back one day.”
“I’m not holding my breath.”
Rowena let out a melancholy sigh. “Yes, I know I left you in the lurch, but I wasn’t all bad, was I? Remember that first wedding you did when the horse bolted and destroyed the gazebo and everyone was yelling at you? I stepped in and took the flak for you.”
“Yes, that was good of you,” Emma admitted.
“We were a great team.”
“Until Lonnie came along.” Emma eyed her unwelcome guest, suspicion rising. “Why did you come here? What do you want from me? If it’s money, then you’re out of luck. I don’t have any, and even if I did I wouldn’t give a cent to you.”
“Oh gosh, of course I don’t want your money! No, I just need a place to stay for a few days, that’s all.”
“A few days? A minute ago you said you were only staying the night.”
“Well…” Rowena took a dainty sip of her cocoa. “It’s complicated.”
Emma let out a huff of exasperation. “With you, it’s always complicated.”
“I just need to lie low for a week or so—”
“Now it’s a week?”
“Believe me, I really wouldn’t have come here, but it’s a bit of an emergency.”
Emma leaned back in her chair, her uneasiness growing. “What kind of emergency?”
Rowena tapped her fingernails against her mug. All her bravado seemed to have evaporated, and worry lines puckered her face, dragging at the corners of her eyes. Together with her smudged makeup, they made her look vulnerable and forlorn, and despite herself Emma couldn’t suppress a tiny throb of concern. Whatever had brought Rowena to her doorstep must be something serious.
“I can’t tell you everything,” Rowena began, “but I can promise you that I haven’t done anything illegal. It’s just that I’m keen to avoid certain people for a few days, that’s all.”
“It’s Lonnie, isn’t it?” Emma said straight away. “Are you hiding from him? Has he threatened you?”
“Oh, God, no! Lonnie would never hurt me! He adores me!”
“But he’s in trouble, isn’t he?” Emma persisted.
Rowena pulled a face. “It’s all a big misunderstanding, but the police won’t listen to reason. They’ve arrested my poor Lonnie.”
“On what charges?”
In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 3