Throw a Monkey Wrench (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 1)

by Karen Chester

  Fisher Island was a gated community that was joined to the eastern shoreline by a narrow causeway. The houses were well kept but surprisingly modest for this upmarket area. The people who lived here were the quietly wealthy who didn’t like to show off their riches.

  Rachel and Isaac Kauper had to be the easiest clients Emma had ever had. They loved all her suggestions and were grateful to her, even though they were paying her a decent rate. Once they’d decided on the menu, Rachel Kauper took her out to the garden where the party would be held.

  They were discussing the size of tent to hire when a woman appeared in the neighboring garden. When she heard their voices, she drifted over to the waist-high row of rose bushes that separated the two properties.

  “So the party’s definitely on, then?” the woman asked in a rather tired, jaded voice. At first glance she seemed to be in her late thirties, but on closer inspection the lines on her neck gave her age away as closer to fifty. Still, she was beautifully preserved, with taut skin and highlighted blonde hair. A silk kaftan in swirls of soft pink and blue flattered her figure, while her heavily made up eyes flicked restlessly between Rachel Kauper and Emma.

  “Yes, it is,” Rachel Kauper politely replied. “This is Emma Cassidy, my event planner. Emma, this is Pamela Barnet, my neighbor.”

  Just in time Emma disguised her start of surprise. Pamela Barnet, Tony’s ex-wife! What a strange coincidence. She peered at the woman with renewed curiosity. So this was the bitter ex-wife who had called Jordan a gold-digging tramp. Who believed Tony had cheated her out of masses of money in their divorce settlement. Was she angry enough to commit murder?

  “Pleased to meet you,” Emma said, offering her hand.

  Pamela barely acknowledged her before returning her attention to Rachel. “I suppose I should congratulate you and Isaac,” she said with a weary wave of her hand. “Not many couples make it to their silver anniversary.”

  Rachel fidgeted with her hands, clearly discomfited but too polite to cut the conversation short. “Thank you, Pamela. I hope you’ll come to our party.” She said it with such sincerity that Emma almost believed her.

  Pamela pursed her lips. “Twenty-five years. That’s a lifetime.” An awkward silence ensued.

  “Mrs. Barnet, I was sorry to hear about Tony Barnet’s passing,” Emma said, deciding she may as well use this opportunity to fish for any information.

  A dark frown clouded Pamela’s brow. “I don’t need any condolences. That man stole the best years of my life. And what did I get in return? I was shafted.” She muttered an invective beneath her breath. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. He got what was coming to him.”

  She seemed to remember that she wasn’t alone and glanced sharply at Rachel and Emma. She looked them over with narrowed eyes before spinning on her heel and stalking back into her house.

  Rachel shook her head. “Poor Pamela. She’s still in shock, in denial. Despite what she said, I think deep down she’s grieving for him.”

  He got what was coming to him. Those were the words of an embittered woman. And why, if Pamela loathed her ex-husband so much, did she still use his last name? Could it be, as Rachel had hinted, that she’d harbored a soft spot for him? And could she have resented him starting a new life with the much younger Jordan, so much so that she might have killed him in a fit of rage?

  “You have a good view of your neighbors,” Emma remarked to Rachel as they strolled around the garden. “I suppose you know everyone’s routine.”

  “Pretty much,” Rachel said with a laugh. “One of the consequences of living in a gated community, I suppose. Take Frank Riviera across the road, for example. He leaves for the golf club every Tuesday and Thursday at nine am. I can set my watch by him.”

  “And what about Pamela Barnet?” Emma said, trying to sound casual. “She seems quite the character. Does she have regular comings and goings?”

  “Pamela? Oh, I don’t know.” Rachel chewed on her lip, and a look of concern came across her face. They walked back to the house in silence, making Emma wonder if she’d lost some brownie points with Rachel Kauper by seeming too nosy. But just as she was taking her leave, Rachel spoke up.

  “Now that you mention it, I do recall something odd about Pamela. I was walking my dog after dinner earlier this week when she came home driving rather erratically and almost ran us over. I was quite alarmed, as you can imagine. Pamela was all flushed and agitated. I thought she might have been drinking, but I couldn’t smell any alcohol on her. It’s strange because she usually goes to her book club then, which is just a walk away at the community club house, but she hadn’t that night.”

  “And what night was that?”

  Rachel thought for a while before replying, “Tuesday night. I’m positive.”

  Tuesday night. The same night that Tony was killed.

  ***

  As Emma drove away, a call came through from the photo print shop in La Quinta letting her know the funeral booklets were ready to be collected. Since Fisher Island was only a short distance from La Quinta, the call was serendipitous. She would pick up the booklets and drive them straight over to Jordan’s place. That would be one task she could tick off her list.

  The day was lovely and warm, and instead of turning on the A/C, she wound down her window so she could breathe in the spring air as she drove along. She stopped in La Quinta for the booklets and continued to Greenville. Nearing Jordan’s house, she noticed the blossoming peach and pear trees in the orchards that spread over the hills. Greenery was beginning to replace the pink-and-white blossoms, meaning summer was on the way.

  A man loitered under one of the trees. At first she thought he was one of the orchard workers, but he was wearing a dark jacket and pants, not laboring clothes. From his vantage point he had a good view of the entrance to Jordan’s property. Was he casing out the joint?

  As she slowed down, the man seemed to become aware of her car and darted a quick glance at her over his shoulder before moving rapidly away, disappearing over a rise. She frowned after the man, convinced he hadn’t been there just to enjoy the sunshine. Those hulking big shoulders stuffed into the tight jacket were familiar, and as she steered into Jordan’s driveway, she realized where she’d seen the man before. He was the lout she and Becky had seen outside the Rainbow Casino demanding money from Madison White’s mysterious admirer. So what was he doing here outside Jordan’s house? Could he have any connection to Tony Barnet’s murder?

  Concerned, she picked up the box of booklets and walked up to the front door and knocked. Jordan answered, looking pale but composed in an elegant black wrap-around blouse and flowing black trousers. She glanced at the box of funeral booklets in Emma’s arms.

  “Thank you for bringing them,” Jordan said. “I’m busy with the funeral director at the moment. Would you mind taking that box to Tony’s study? And can you wait until I’m finished here? I won’t be too long.”

  “Of course.”

  Emma carted her load down the hall, feeling like one of Jordan’s servants. But she now had the perfect opportunity to do a little snooping around Tony’s study. Maybe she could find out a bit more about his many enemies.

  She entered the study, set down the box, and shut the door behind her. She figured she had at least ten or fifteen minutes before Jordan interrupted. She sat down in the oversized leather chair behind the desk and surveyed what had been Tony’s private domain. If he had any secrets to keep, he’d stash them here. By her own admission, this was the one place where Jordan hadn’t ventured.

  Emma opened the drawers of the desk and quickly looked through the contents. Tony had been a rather untidy man. Letters were scattered through all the drawers, seemingly in no order. There was a bottle of expensive whiskey, packets of gum, and Sports Illustrated magazines. She was slightly disappointed not to find at least a gun there.

  She picked up a pile of opened correspondence and leafed through them. One of them was a bill from Sean’s auto repair shop. Another was a bank st
atement. She glanced over it. Tony was quite the profligate spender, and this was just one bank account. A man like Tony was sure to have several credit cards and bank accounts.

  According to this bank statement, Tony had made some large cash withdrawals in the weeks leading up to his murder. She did a quick mental sum and came up with six thousand dollars. All in cash. Why did he need so much cash? To pay for something he didn’t want to leave a paper trail for? Like gambling? Drugs? Somehow she couldn’t picture Tony with those vices. But what about a secret mistress? Would Tony have cheated on Jordan?

  Emma rested her head in her hands as she conceded that she wouldn’t find it all that hard to believe. Tony was a narcissist, and he definitely hadn’t appreciated Jordan. He might very well have been seeing someone on the sly, maybe even planning to dump poor Jordan. And if Jordan suspected him of cheating, didn’t that give her a motive for murder?

  But what about that thug she’d spotted in the orchard just a few minutes ago? Maybe Tony had owed him money as well, and that’s what the six thousand was for. Maybe Tony hadn’t fully paid off his debt before his untimely death.

  The door clicked open, and Jordan walked into the study. Emma jumped to her feet, an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

  “Emma?” Jordan, clearly surprised to see her in Tony’s seat, moved forward just as the bank statement that Emma had been studying fluttered to the ground. Jordan bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, her face was a little flushed. “Why are you going through Tony’s things?”

  Emma squared her shoulders. It was time to come clean. “Because I’m not convinced Sean McCluskey is the guilty party.”

  “What? But Chief Putnam told me it was an open and shut case.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “But…but…” Jordan’s hand holding the bank statement started to shake. She sank down in the visitor’s chair next to the desk. “Oh God, I don’t need this.”

  A stab of guilt tortured Emma as she rounded the desk and stood in front of Jordan. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want me involved in the funeral, I quite understand.” Although she couldn’t afford to lose another client.

  Jordan looked up, her face drawn and tired. “Oh, I can’t lose you, too, Emma. Please, sit down, won’t you?”

  With a silent sigh of relief, Emma took the chair opposite Jordan. The bank statement was still drooping from Jordan’s fingers. Emma lifted her chin at it.

  “I couldn’t help noticing that Tony withdrew something like six thousand dollars from that account in the last couple of weeks,” she said gently. “Do you know what that was for?”

  Jordan blinked at the statement. “No. The police asked me that, too, and I couldn’t tell them either.”

  “Oh? Chief Putnam asked you?” She couldn’t believe the chief of police would be so thorough in his investigation when he’d already made up his mind it was Sean.

  “No, Officer Ackerman.”

  Sherilee. Of course.

  Jordan laid the bank statement on the desk and leaned back in her chair, looking frail and beaten. “I suppose, like Officer Ackerman, you assume Tony spent that money on a secret mistress. That he was cheating on me.”

  Emma heaved out a breath and reluctantly replied, “Well, it did cross my mind.”

  A spasm of pain contorted Jordan’s beautiful face. Suddenly she heaved herself out of the chair and hurried to the wall behind the desk. She pushed a button, and the abstract painting on the wall swung open to reveal a hidden safe. She dialed the lock, opened the safe, and pulled out a flat, rectangular box covered in black velvet. Without a word, she dropped the box into Emma’s lap.

  It appeared to be an expensive jewelry box. Opening it, Emma gasped when she spied the pearl necklace inside.

  “Oh my God, it’s gorgeous,” she couldn’t help exclaiming. The exquisite necklace comprised of two strands of lustrous, perfectly matched pearls together with an asymmetrical vine leaf decoration worked in platinum and studded with diamonds.

  Jordan’s lips twisted as she dropped back in her chair. “Yes, isn’t it? I discovered it the other day when I had the safe opened by a locksmith. But it’s not mine.”

  “How do you know? Maybe Tony was planning to surprise you.”

  “No. Tony never liked seeing me in pearls.” Pain filled Jordan’s voice. “He said they made me look like a wannabe.”

  Poor woman. Emma examined the necklace more closely. The style was classical, something an older woman would wear. As much as she hated agreeing with Tony, she had to admit that this particular necklace wouldn’t suit Jordan. But he hadn’t only objected to her wearing a necklace like this, but to all pearls. Why did he have a thing against pearls?

  “So he was always like that?” she asked. “It wasn’t just something he came up with recently?”

  “No, right from the very beginning he didn’t like me in pearls.”

  “Oh.”

  Jordan sat up straighter. “You’ve thought of something?”

  “No, I…well, it seems like this aversion to pearls started before you met Tony, so it’s quite likely that this necklace” —she held up the black velvet box— “was intended for someone before he even met you.”

  Jordan’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that before, but you must be right. Tony must have bought it for someone else more than a year ago.”

  “His ex-wife?”

  “Oh wow, no! Tony detested Pamela, and they’d already been divorced several years before I met him. It must have been someone else.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Not a clue. Tony never talked to me about his ex-girlfriends, and I’ve never heard any rumors, and believe me, if there were any, I would’ve heard them. When I moved here, everyone was only too eager to gossip about Tony.” She shook back her long sweep of blonde hair, looking much chirpier all of a sudden. “It doesn’t matter, though. It’s all in the past.”

  “Is it?” Emma stared down at the pearl necklace. If it was all in the past, why had Tony hung onto this piece of jewelry? It must have meant something to him. The woman he’d bought this for must have played an important role in his life once upon a time.

  “Yes.” The jewelry box disappeared from Emma’s hands as Jordan snatched it away and pushed it back into the safe. She locked the safe, closed the painting, and turned back to Emma. “I’m glad we had this chat. That necklace has been weighing on my mind, but now I can sleep much easier, thanks to you.”

  But Emma didn’t feel as relieved as Jordan. The pearl necklace still posed too many questions.

  “What about the money? Why did Tony need six thousand dollars in cash?”

  “Who knows? Maybe he wanted to make an anonymous donation.”

  An anonymous donation? Tony Barnet? And pigs might fly, too. But Jordan wasn’t worried about the cash now that Emma had helped her conclude that Tony hadn’t been cheating on her. Emma couldn’t blame her either. Tony had kept a lot from her, and six thousand dollars in cash was just another of those secrets that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

  Perching on a corner of the desk, Jordan folded her arms and tilted her head to one side. “So if Sean didn’t murder my Tony, who do you think did?”

  Emma chewed her bottom lip, reluctant to reveal all her half-baked theories. The truth was, she didn’t have a clear suspect in mind, and she didn’t want to appear befuddled.

  “I’m not sure, but I think you should be vigilant about the security in this house.”

  Jordan’s eyebrows lifted. “You think I’m in danger?” Her voice squeaked.

  The last thing she wanted was to make the poor woman unnecessarily scared. “No, of course not,” she quickly replied. “But you’re on your own here, and there aren’t any neighbors close by, and, well, when I arrived here I noticed a suspicious-looking character in the orchards opposite your house.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Big, heavily built, short dark hair, dressed in a navy blue jacket and black pant
s. He slunk away as soon as he spotted me.”

  “Hmm.” Jordan frowned as she took in Emma’s words. “Well, I guess what you’re saying is common sense. A woman living on her own can’t be too careful, and I have had a few things go missing.” Her gaze went to the display case housing Tony’s Lego collection. “I’ll make sure to set the alarm system at night and whenever I go out. And if I notice anything suspicious, I’ll call the cops straight away.”

  Emma nodded. Jordan was a survivor, and she wouldn’t take any unnecessary chances.

  “I’m not the nervous type.” Jordan lifted her chin, looking defiant. “Tony’s dead, but I’m not going without a fight.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On the way back, Emma checked her cell phone and found a text message from Scott, the liquor store owner, asking her to call him. Since she had to pass his store on the way into Greenville anyway, she decided to stop and talk to him in person.

  Scott’s liquor store was situated on the edge of the town center between a Laundromat and a karate studio with a parking lot out the front. As she pulled into a spot, a large pickup truck roared into the lot and headed straight for the liquor store, looking like it would smash right into it. At the last second, the driver slammed on the brakes, and tires squealed as the vehicle skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the glass windows of the store. A couple of college students tumbled out, guffawing and slapping each other.

  Emma gingerly climbed out of her car, thankful that she’d parked a few spots away from the store. The smell of burnt rubber hit her, and she saw that the truck had mounted the sidewalk.

  Scott came running out of the store, his face red with fury. The college boys wanted to buy some beer, but Scott chased them off, vowing to call the police if they didn’t leave. Sulkily chastened, the students climbed back into their behemoth and rolled away, this time a lot more sedately.

  “Lunatics!” Scott was still fuming as Emma came up to him. “Did you see that? Those idiots almost went right through my store front. I just had it fixed a couple of months ago.”