***
Later on, when Emma really did visit the bathroom, she spotted another familiar couple, only they were in the restaurant section of the Shore Thing. It was her father, Andrew, and his girlfriend, Janet Ramos. They were sitting at a small table at the back of the restaurant, her father in a gray sports jacket, Janet in a maroon dress with her trademark dangly earrings.
Emma was about to go over and say hello when she paused. There was an intimacy about them, the way they gazed at each other, the way their bodies angled towards each other, that made her hesitate. A funny lump formed in her throat, and a curious bittersweet feeling came over her. Her father was clearly head-over-heels in love. Janet would never replace Emma’s mother, but she was a kind, sweet, sparkly woman, and she made Emma’s dad happy, which was all that mattered.
At that moment, her dad looked up and saw her. Beaming, he waved her over, and she exchanged hugs and kisses with both him and Janet.
“I don’t want to interrupt,” she said to them. “I’m with Becky, and I should get back to her.”
“Drop in for a visit some time,” her father urged.
“I’ll try. See you later.”
Back at the table, Becky was drooping in her chair.
“Time to go,” she mumbled, searching for her purse. “I’ve had too much to drink.”
“I’ll drive you home,” Nick eagerly offered, jumping to his feet.
“That’s okay. I’ll take her,” Emma said, picking up Becky’s purse and helping her to stand. Even if Abigail and Oscar hadn’t made her uneasy about Nick, Becky was too vulnerable tonight to be left with anyone else.
“Bye, Nick.” Becky gave him a brilliant, if somewhat glassy, smile, and then stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheek.
The vet’s eyebrows shot up, and he remained looking stunned as Emma and Becky walked out of the bar.
“Oh, no,” Becky groaned when they were halfway to her house. “Did I really kiss Nick?”
“It was barely a kiss. More like a peck,” Emma assured her.
Becky mulled this over for a while. “He is nice, though,” she said in a muffled voice.
Emma shot a glance at her. “Oh, yeah? Are you interested in Nick?”
“Why do you say it like that? This afternoon you were egging me on. Now it sounds like you’ve changed your mind. Why?”
What should she say? It seemed farfetched to her that Nick would purposely kill a cat just because he had a beef with its owner. But why would Nick accuse Oscar of spitting in his sandwich? She just couldn’t picture the mild-mannered cook doing something like that. It was all too confusing, so she should just keep quiet about it.
“Uh, no, I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
Becky rubbed her temples. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be thinking about men when I’ve got other things to worry about.” She toyed with her scarf. “I’ve been thinking. About my father. I want to find out more about him.”
“You do? What do you want to know?”
“Anything, I guess. How did he cope behind bars, what kind of prisoner was he, what did he do when he got out of prison, when did he get out? The thing is, I’m unsure how to get this information. Do I hire a private investigator, or do I go to New Mexico myself? I don’t want to travel there—quite apart from having to run the diner, I really don’t want to return to Santé Fe and have to question people. So, the other solution is to get a PI, but I hate the thought of explaining my story to a complete stranger.” She cast an imploring look at Emma. “You’re good at this sort of thing. Any ideas?”
Emma drove a couple more blocks, thinking, and then said, “Well, I don’t know how you feel about this, but there is someone we know already in Santé Fe who might be able to do some digging around for us. Provided you don’t mind telling them your story.”
Becky sat up. “Oh, yeah? Who?”
Chapter Nine
“You want me to what?” Sherilee’s voice sharpened with disapproval.
Even though several hundred miles separated them, Emma could easily picture Officer Sherilee Ackerman frowning and tapping her fingers against her hip. She and Sherilee had grown up just a few blocks away from each other. They had gone to the same schools, hung out at the same places, known the same people, but somehow they had never gotten along. It didn’t help that Sherilee had harbored a crush on Owen, and, a few months back, the two had even gone out on a handful of dates before Owen, much to his dismay, had publicly demonstrated he still had feelings for Emma and hurt Sherilee in the process.
That was all water under the bridge now, and sometimes Emma even found herself liking her former nemesis, but clearly they were a long way from being besties.
“I thought if you had some spare time, and seeing as you’re already there in Santé Fe, and you do have all those wonderful law enforcement credentials…” Emma trailed off.
On the other side of the dining table, Becky listened anxiously, her fingers pleating and unpleating the tablecloth. After giving Emma permission to tell Becky’s story to Sherilee, they had driven to Becky’s home, where Emma had called the police officer and put her on speakerphone. Sherilee had been deeply suspicious when she found out who was calling, and her skepticism had increased as Emma outlined the situation.
Now, she said with heavy sarcasm. “Oh, I see. You just thought I had nothing better to do on my vacation than go on a wild goose chase for you. Well—”
“No, not for me,” Emma interrupted. “For Becky.”
“I’d bet dollars to donuts this is your idea.”
“Okay, yes, you’re right, I did come up with it, but Becky thinks it’s a good idea—” At that, Becky began to shake her head. “Okay,” Emma amended, “she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but she thinks it can’t hurt.”
“But you’re not even sure if the man who was killed at the rail crossing is this Kieran O’Reilly. Why don’t you wait until Martinez confirms the identity of the body?”
“That could take weeks.”
Emma watched as Becky rubbed her temples again before pushing to her feet and walking into the adjacent kitchen, as if unable to sit still any longer.
Emma lowered her voice. “Listen, this is awful for Becky. She thought she’d escaped from her father. She’s spent years building a new life for herself, and now this happens out of the blue. Her father was coming for her. Why, we don’t know, but it’s brought up all these terrible memories. She hasn’t told me much, but she doesn’t need to.”
Sherilee was silent for a while, and when she spoke she sounded more sympathetic. “Yes, I can only imagine how traumatic it must have been. It’s no wonder she’s so anxious.”
“It’s stressful for her just to talk about him, which is why I’m calling you.”
“And what exactly do you, or rather Becky, want to know about this Kieran O’Reilly?”
“Anything, I suppose. What kind of man was he? How did he find prison? Did he have any friends? Why did he track down Becky? That must have taken some effort, because she went to a lot of trouble to hide her identity, so there must have been a reason why he wanted to see her.”
“Maybe he wanted to make amends for what he’d done,” Sherilee suggested.
“Can you ever make amends for killing your daughter’s mother?”
“That’s a curly one. You’d think the best way to make amends is to stay away from her and let her live in peace.”
“Well, he didn’t.” Resentment against this man rose in Emma. Craning her neck, she glimpsed Becky standing at the sink, a glass of water forgotten in her hand as she stared out at the darkness beyond her kitchen window. “Right now, she is anything but in peace.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” Sherilee clicked back into crisp cop mode. “First, I’m going to call Martinez and offer my assistance in establishing the dead man’s identity. He’ll probably get the man’s medical and dental records from the prison authorities, but I can collect DNA samples from the man’s house.”
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“Oh, good, and while you’re in his house, you can—”
“Yut-tut-tut, I don’t need any advice,” Sherilee admonished. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not promising you anything.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate your help, and so does Becky.” Growing up, Emma had never thought she’d ever feel grateful toward Sherilee, but in the past year there had been moments, and this was one of them. “And I’m sorry for interrupting your vacation.”
“To be honest, I’d quite enjoy an excuse to get away from the relatives for a while. My cousins are all mad keen on quilting and jam-making and scrapbooking. There’s only so much I can take.”
“So you’re glad I called, then,” Emma couldn’t help a little teasing.
“Don’t push your luck. Give me the details from the man’s driver’s license, and I’ll take it from there.”
Emma gave her the information, and Sherilee said she would call back in a couple of days.
When Becky heard the news, she set down the untouched glass of water and pressed her hands together. If anything, she looked even more anxious. “I don’t know what to say. Now you’ve set the wheels in motion, I’m not sure I’m ready to find out what my father was up to.”
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Emma quickly responded. “Sherilee can talk to me, and then, if and when you’re ready, I’ll tell you.”
Letting out a deep, exhausted sigh, Becky wrapped her arms around Emma. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Emma patted her back. “Come on. You look like you’re ready to collapse into bed.”
Later, as Emma headed home, she found herself hoping passionately that she was doing the right thing.
***
The following morning, as Emma was clearing the kitchen, Rowena dragged herself up off the couch and plopped into a chair at the table.
“Hey,” she croaked. “Got any coffee going?”
“No.” Emma turned on the faucets. Next to the sink was a stack of grimy pots and plates. “I’m too busy cleaning up this mess you left behind last night. Would it have killed you to wash a few dishes?”
“Oh, gosh, leave those alone.” Rowena struggled to her feet and limped over to the sink, where she nudged Emma out of the way. “I’ll do them later, but you know I can’t do anything without a coffee first.”
Annoyed, Emma relinquished the scrubbing brush and started the coffee maker. Rowena’s messiness had never bothered her in New York, but here in Greenville it was really starting to irk her. Unable to contain herself, she grabbed an empty tin and tossed it in the recycling bin.
Rowena scratched her bird’s nest hair. “I’m beginning to sense a little hostility here. I don’t understand. We used to be such pals.”
Had they really been good friends? Emma thought back on their New York days as she pulled two clean mugs from the dresser. She had to admit that she’d learned a lot from Rowena. They had worked hard together and shared both triumphs and losses. But those years seemed like a long time ago; so much had happened since then, and they were different people now.
“We were,” Emma admitted, “but we’ve both changed. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
Rowena pinched her lips together. “Yeah, well, you’ve changed too. I never realized you could be such a goody two shoes.”
Emma glared back. “Goody two shoes? Because I’m not eager to shield you from doing the right thing?”
“See? Right there, you’re judging me.”
“I happen to believe that your boyfriend deserves to be behind bars. He stole money from innocent victims, and by refusing to testify against him, you’re complicit.”
“Hey, Lonnie’s innocent until proven guilty,” Rowena protested. “And I haven’t done anything illegal.” She waved a hand impatiently. “Anyway, I didn’t wake up early to talk about that. I want to know what you did with the wallet. Did you hand it in to the police?”
The coffee was ready, thank God. Maybe a fresh cup would improve her mood, Emma thought. She needed to set aside her irritation and think about how to help Becky. She poured out two mugs and pushed one toward Rowena.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the owner of that wallet. What was he like? Did you talk to him? Was there anything…unusual about him?”
Rowena grabbed the mug with both hands and took a deep draught. “I don’t know,” she said eventually, setting down the mug. “He was an old man, more than seventy, I’d say, and he was wearing an old, cheap coat and scarf. He looked down on his luck, I’d say. He sat in the row in front of me, so I had a clear view of him. He seemed a bit edgy, I suppose.”
“Edgy?”
“Yeah, anxious, nervy. He stared out the windows a lot, like he was trying to get his bearings, and he kept tugging at his scarf and shifting about. The man sitting on the opposite side of the aisle tried to talk to him. Asked him where he was headed, that kind of thing. The guy kinda hunched his shoulders and muttered something.”
At this bit of information Emma stood up straighter. “Did you hear what he said?”
“Um, something about visiting his daughter? I’m not sure. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to two old geezers.”
“So they started talking, these two men?”
“Nope. Just the one exchange, and then the O’Reilly guy turned his head away and ended the conversation. The other guy got off soon after anyway.”
“Anyone else speak to O’Reilly?”
Rowena shook her head. “It was just him and me on the last leg to Greenville.”
“Was there anyone at the bus stop to meet him?”
“I didn’t notice anyone.”
Emma took a sip of coffee, disappointed. For a moment there she’d thought Rowena might have some vital information about Kieran O’Reilly, but she didn’t.
“What’s with all the questions?” Rowena asked, frowning suspiciously. Her voice rose. “Did you tell the police about me?”
“Not specifically.” Glancing at her watch, Emma saw it was time she left for work.
“So why the interrogation?”
Emma took a final gulp of coffee before emptying her mug in the sink. “Remember I told you about the man who was run over and killed by a train on the night you turned up? He hasn’t been identified yet, but it looks like he’s Kieran O’Reilly, the man whose wallet you found.”
Rowena’s mouth fell open. “But that’s got nothing to do with me! I didn’t do anything. I just picked up his wallet. That’s all. I never saw him after that! I’m innocent!”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to find out all I can about this Kieran O’Reilly.” Emma patted her hands dry on a clean cloth.
“Why? What’s it to you?”
Emma let out a sigh. “I told you this already. I was there at the rail crossing when the man died. I tried to save him, but it was too late.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Now I remember. Horrible for you.” Rowena pulled a face and gave a quick shudder. “But I don’t know anything about trains or rail crossings. I saw him on the bus; that’s all.”
“Yes, yes.” Emma picked up her coat from the back of a chair and pulled it on. “I have to get going.”
“So soon?”
“There’s still a lot to do before New Year’s.”
“Oh yeah, your little business.” Rowena gestured lazily at one of Emma’s business cards pinned up on the refrigerator. “Hey, ever thought about you and me going into partnership again? Might be fun, don’t you think?”
A choking sound bubbled out of Emma. She grabbed her scarf, keys, and bag. “No thanks,” she muttered, heading straight for the door.
Not in a million years.
***
Emma parked her car outside the town council building and hopped out. A biting wind was howling over the mountains, and the sky was scoured an intense blue. A few hardy pedestrians braved the weather, hunching their shoulders and bending their heads into the icy gust. Hurrying into the building, Emma sto
pped by to say hello to her friend Stacey, who worked as an assistant in the planning department.
“Greg and I are looking forward to the party,” Stacey said, her eyes shining behind her spectacles. “I bought a new dress. I hope he’ll like it.”
“He will.” It wouldn’t matter if Stacey showed up in rags; Greg would still think her adorable.
“What about you? What will you be wearing?”
“My usual working uniform, something black, and shoes I can walk in.”
“It doesn’t seem fair that you’ll have to work that night.”
“That’s what I’m getting paid for.” Emma laughed. “But don’t worry. I’ll have enough time to chat with people.”
“What about Owen? Will he be there?”
Emma shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s trailing someone somewhere. He never knows when he’ll get a break.”
Stacey put on a sad face. “That’s too bad.”
“We’re going away for a few days in the middle of January. Las Vegas, he tells me.”
“Ooh, exciting!”
Emma glanced at her watch. “I need to go soon. I’m seeing Hazel in a few minutes. We’re transporting donations to the WAC.” The Willa Arthur Center, better known as the WAC, was the hall where the New Year’s Eve fundraiser was to be held.
“I bet Hazel has everything labeled and in order already,” Stacey said with a smile. “She’s very efficient.”
Emma, recalling Stacey and Hazel together at the diner, asked with more than a touch of curiosity, “You two are close friends, then?”
“I wouldn’t say close, no. Hazel doesn’t let others get too close to her.” Stacey pulled a wry face. “But then I was like that not too long ago, so who am I to judge?”
“What do you know about her?”
“Not that much. She’s been the mayor’s secretary for about four years. She moved here from somewhere in the mid-west, I believe. She’s single, and she likes to keep to herself.” Stacey tilted her head. “Why the sudden interest?”
In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 10