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

by Karen Chester

  “You ran off the road? Did you doze off or something?”

  “No, I was just, um, distracted for a few moments.” Having already endured Owen’s skepticism, Emma had decided not to tell her father about the black pickup truck stalking her.

  On the way home she’d had plenty of time to brood. She knew what had happened to her, even if Owen didn’t believe her. A pickup truck had tailed her, rammed her, and forced her off the road. The truck might even be the same vehicle that had menaced her yesterday at the scene of Luisa Crespo’s hit-and-run accident. She wasn’t sure about that, but she was convinced that tonight someone had wanted to send her a message. A blunt and frightening message. But she would not let herself be scared off. If someone was worried about her activities, then it must mean that she was on the right path to clearing Sean’s name.

  “Where is your car now?” Andrew asked.

  “Being towed back to Sean’s repair shop. The car seems okay, but Sean will check it out.” And possibly she’d have another repair bill she couldn’t afford.

  The furrows on her dad’s forehead deepened. “Maybe you should take it to my guy instead.”

  She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “What? You want me to stay away from Sean?”

  “Well, I hate to say it, but it seems you’re getting too involved in his murder charge.”

  Emma dropped into the couch, suddenly exhausted and dispirited. “Dad, I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. Sean is losing everything, and no one believes he’s innocent except me and Madison. You’ve always been a champion of the underdog, but now you’re telling me to avoid Sean just like everyone else is. It’s not like you at all.”

  Sighing, her father took the armchair facing her. “Honey, you’re my daughter. I don’t want any harm coming to you. And Owen clearly thinks the same.”

  The mention of Owen had her back stiffening. When they’d arrived at her dad’s house, she had of necessity gone straight to the bathroom, leaving Owen with her dad. When she’d finished, Owen had already left, but the two men had obviously talked about her. “What’s Owen got to do with this?”

  “He cares about you, as do I. He doesn’t want you getting hurt either.”

  Emma made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “I don’t need Owen telling me what I can and can’t do. We aren’t even friends anymore.”

  Her father pushed forefinger and thumb under his glasses and massaged the bride of his nose. “Now that you’re back permanently, I was hoping that you and he would get on better, seeing you’re both older and wiser.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Dad.”

  And wasn’t she just the tiniest bit disappointed too? Hadn’t she secretly hoped for something from Owen? Oh, sure, she hadn’t expected them to pick up where they’d left off, but it would be nice if there was something warmer between them… She quickly cut off her chain of thought. Owen had had plenty of opportunity to throw some friendly warmth her way, and she’d got precisely nothing. She wasn’t going to go running after an ex-boyfriend who showed no signs of wanting her back.

  “Be that as it may,” her father said, straightening up in his chair. “He’s still concerned about your safety, and you should consider his advice. He is an officer of the law, if nothing else.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Andrew tugged at his collar. “You do remember I’m going to be away tomorrow night?” She nodded. Her father and some of his colleagues were attending a two-day seminar in Sacramento, a three-hour drive away. “Maybe I should ask Owen to check on you while I’m gone.”

  “Dad, no!” She flushed with dismay and humiliation. “I don’t need a baby sitter.”

  “I worry about you, honey.”

  She squeezed his arm, hating being the cause of his concern. “Please don’t worry. I can take care of myself, Dad, and I am still involved in Sean and Madison’s wedding. Plus, there’s Tony Barnet’s funeral tomorrow.”

  With a sigh Andrew put his arm around her shoulders. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful, Dad.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Good morning, Emma!” Janet Ramos was small and chirpy, with bright brown eyes and a shiny raven bob. Dangly orange earrings complemented her lemon espadrilles and mango shirt tucked neatly into a beige linen skirt. She was like a ray of sunshine in the kitchen.

  “Good morning.” Emma returned the smile. Janet had arrived to pick up Emma’s dad before they set off for the two day seminar.

  Her father drained his coffee mug and placed it in the dishwasher. He’d been late getting up this morning, and Emma hoped she hadn’t caused him a sleepless night.

  He turned to Janet. “Sorry I’ve kept you waiting.”

  “Not a problem!” The orange earrings tinkled as Janet nodded vigorously.

  The soft smile on her father’s face didn’t escape Emma’s notice. Nor did the way he adjusted his tie. He likes her, she thought. A lot.

  Just as they were about to leave, Janet turned and said to Emma, “My niece is getting married next year.”

  “Oh, ah, that’s nice,” Emma replied, not sure what to say.

  “She doesn’t have a wedding planner. Maybe I could give her one of your business cards?”

  “Oh! That’s so…” Emma rummaged through the kitchen drawer where she kept some stationery supplies and could only find one dog-eared business card. It would have to do. She handed it to Janet. “That’s very kind of you. Not that there’s any obligation, of course.”

  Janet tucked the business card into the pocket of her shirt and beamed at Emma. “Of course, but my niece is very busy, and she might appreciate having someone to take care of all the details. I’ll mention you the next time I see her.”

  “Thank you.”

  At the door, her father paused to hug her. “See you in a couple of days. If you want to throw a wild party, go right ahead.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Dad, it’s no fun when you give permission.”

  After watching the two of them drive off, she picked up her cell phone to make a call to Sean’s repair shop. With Tony’s funeral today, she had a lot to do, and if her car wasn’t safe to drive, she’d have to borrow her father’s car again. Fortunately, when Sean answered, he told her that, except for a few extra dents and scratches on the paintwork, her car was fine, and he’d drop it off at her place in an hour’s time.

  Emma spent the hour checking that all the arrangements for Tony’s funeral reception were on track. She took a shower and changed into one of her regulation outfits, a short-sleeved black chiffon blouse and black crepe de chine pants. She twisted her hair into a neat chignon and made up her face in matte neutral colors. Examining her appearance in the mirror, she reflected that she looked exactly like one of the mourners. She might not have had the most cordial relationship with Tony, but no matter how difficult he’d been, he didn’t deserve to be murdered. No one did.

  When Sean delivered her car, she was surprised to see him in a dress shirt and pressed gray pants.

  “Madison’s taking me to see my lawyer,” he explained at the front door. “She’s waiting for me.” He hooked a thumb at the Mini Cooper parked at the curb.

  Madison gave Emma a half-hearted wave. The girl looked drained, as did Sean. “I’ll see you later,” Sean said before trudging to Madison’s car, his shoulders slumped. He was losing hope, and with Freddie Earle as his lawyer, it was no wonder. This murder was taking its toll on too many people.

  After checking the contents of her bag, Emma set off for Jordan’s house. It was a beautiful day, with clear skies and the sun sparkling off the azure lake. A day for living, not death.

  When she walked into Jordan’s house and saw the bustle of preparations, she experienced a jolt of déjà vu. This was eerily similar to the day of the housewarming party, with caterers in the kitchen, bar staff setting up trays of glasses, and the scent of canapés wafting in the air. Even Tony Barnet was present, toothily smiling at her from th
e giant portraits she had ordered which were now erected in the great room.

  Emma went through to the kitchen to check on the food. The funeral cake sat on the bench, a vast sheet cake with Tony’s face laid over a background of white icing. It was an impressive centerpiece, yet it seemed vaguely disturbing to think they would soon be cutting into that face.

  When she returned to the great room, Jordan was standing in front of one of Tony’s portraits. She looked stunning in an elegant black silk dress and stiletto heels that showed off her long legs. A black pillbox hat with feathers adorned her blonde up-do. She pressed a snow white handkerchief to her lips as she stared at the oversized picture of her late partner.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she whispered.

  Emma gently squeezed her elbow. She didn’t have anything to say about Tony that wouldn’t sound insincere, but she was moved by Jordan’s obvious grief.

  A clatter of heels broke the silence. Emma turned to see a square, big-boned woman striding purposefully toward them. Dressed in a plain black skirt suit and no nonsense black pumps, she looked to be in her mid-fifties.

  “This is my mom, LouAnn Kozlowski,” Jordan made the introductions. “Mom, this is Emma Cassidy. She’s the event planner I told you about.”

  LouAnn Kozlowski gave Emma a brisk handshake, her shrewd eyes giving her a thorough once over.

  “Good to meet you, Mrs. Kozlowski,” Emma said, hiding her surprise. Jordan had never spoken about her mother, hadn’t even hinted that she’d be attending the funeral. “Are you staying long?”

  “Call me LouAnn, and no, just a day or so, I’m afraid.”

  “Mom’s a real estate broker in Toledo,” Jordan explained. “She flew in last night.”

  “Are you ready, honey?” LouAnn gave her daughter a quick once over. “The funeral home will be picking us up any minute.”

  Jordan blinked rapidly and pressed her lips together. “I just need to fetch my purse. Won’t be long.” She cast one final glance at Tony’s portrait before moving off.

  “Such a waste.” LouAnn grimaced at the picture.

  “Yes,” Emma murmured, not exactly sure what she was referring to.

  “I mean these posters.” LouAnn gesticulated at the images of Tony surrounding them.

  Well, that clarified what she meant. Clearly she hadn’t been referring to Tony’s untimely demise.

  “I do a lot of printing in my line of work,” LouAnn continued. “These must have cost a pretty penny. A big waste of money because I’m willing to bet there won’t be too many people around here losing any sleep over Tony’s death.” Folding her arms, she fixed Emma with a challenging stare.

  Emma gazed back. “Jordan misses him.” She hoped LouAnn wasn’t this blunt around her daughter.

  LouAnn pursed her lips, looking like she wished she could disagree. “She was too good for him,” she barked out, and Emma couldn’t argue with that. “He was a bully, and a selfish one, too. She’s better off without him.” Then she shrugged, and her voice softened. “But of course I don’t say any of that to her. Even if she’s made mistakes, she’s my little girl, and I’ll stand by her.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  LouAnn’s eyes narrowed. “And you? Are you taking my daughter for a ride?”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

  “I heard you were responsible for that housewarming party that turned into a shambles, and now you’re back here organizing the funeral reception. Are you trying to shake as much money as you can from my daughter when she’s in a vulnerable state?”

  Emma spluttered in shock. Eventually she managed to say, “I’m not taking advantage of anyone. Your daughter approached me about this reception. Ask her yourself.”

  A silent staring match ensued between them, and Emma refused to blink first. After a few seconds, LouAnn nodded, seemingly satisfied by the straight answer.

  “Okay, I believe you. But I had to ask you face-to-face. There’re too many sharks swimming around my daughter.”

  “Why don’t you take her back with you to Toledo for a few days?” Emma asked stiffly, still annoyed.

  “I suggested that, but she refused. Jordan was always in a hurry to leave Ohio. Couldn’t wait to come out west and make her dreams come true.” She glanced about the great room and to the lake beyond the windows. “Well, I don’t know if this was what she was dreaming about, but it seems she can’t leave it. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I’m ready, Mom,” Jordan spoke from the door of the great room. “And the car’s here. We should get going.”

  “Of course, honey.” LouAnn strode across the room and took her daughter’s arm.

  “We’ll be back in an hour,” Jordan said to Emma, her voice shaking a little.

  Thank God her mother was with her, Emma thought as she watched them leave. LouAnn might be blunt, but she was only looking out for her daughter’s interests, and that was admirable.

  ***

  It seemed Tony’s unpopularity didn’t prevent a large number of people from turning up at his funeral. Maybe some of them were genuine mourners, but Emma was willing to bet a lot of them were there either for the free food and drink, the chance to gawk at Tony’s mansion, or to show off their social credentials. Even though Tony had been snubbed by some of the elite, there were other important people he’d managed to befriend, and they were here in attendance.

  Chief Bob Putnam was there, squeezed into his official dark blue uniform. He spent a fair amount of time with Jordan and her mother, no doubt assuring them that Tony’s killer would face the full force of the law. Jordan had come back from the funeral service looking wan and red-eyed, but her mother had pushed a plate of food into her hands and stood over her while she ate a few bites. Since then, LouAnn had barely left Jordan’s side. Emma was beginning to warm to LouAnn.

  The food was disappearing at a brisk rate. It seemed attending a funeral made people hungry. Maybe it was the reminder that life could be snuffed out at any moment that sharpened the appetite.

  Emma was returning from the kitchen when she spotted two new mourners. One was a woman in a sheath dress and large dramatic hat whose brim swept low over her face, while her companion was a young man in his twenties dressed in a sharp pin-striped suit. Their entrance caused a stir as the hum of conversation lowered and heads swiveled to view the pair. The new arrivals lifted their chins as if they’d expected this reaction, and Emma instantly recognized them. Pamela Barnet and her son, Kyle.

  “Well!” someone nearby huffed. “Didn’t think she’d have the nerve to show her face here.”

  “She was at the funeral service,” someone else murmured. “I suppose she thinks she’s entitled to attend the reception.”

  ”I wonder what Jordan will do? Throw her out perhaps?”

  Pamela looked vastly different from the worn down, bitter woman Emma had met on Fisher Island. Today she appeared almost regal as she gazed over the crowd, clearly enjoying the commotion caused by her entrance. In contrast, her son appeared indifferent to the onlookers as he lounged next to his mother. Emma moved forward through the mourners, wondering where Jordan was and unsure how she would react to her pseudo rival showing up at her house.

  She was just a few feet away from Pamela and Kyle when Jordan materialized at her side. Her brief grimace to Emma revealed her strain.

  “Pamela,” Jordan called out as she glided up to Tony’s ex-wife. “Glad you could make it.”

  Tilting up the brim of her hat, Pamela swept a cold gaze over Jordan. Heavy foundation caked Pamela’s cheeks, while her deep crimson lipstick seemed inappropriate for a funeral reception.

  “Yes, well, I thought I should come,” Pamela drawled, her voice ringing out for everyone to hear. “After all, I was Tony’s one and only wife.”

  A pink flush heated Jordan’s cheeks before she quickly turned to Kyle. “Hello, Kyle. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the funeral service. Thanks for coming.”

  The young man gave her
a brief shrug. “Hey, Jordan,” he said, barely glancing at her, his attitude exuding a complete lack of interest. Then his gaze fell on Emma, and his eyebrows drew together as he recognized her. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Was that a telltale sign of guilt?

  She gave him a hard stare, wanting to convey the message that she was onto him. She knew he had scratched her car the other day at the Whites’ mansion. He scowled back at her, hostility growing in his cold eyes. Was he the one who’d terrorized her last night? Did he deliberately run her off the road because he hated her coming between him and Madison? The urge to demand answers from him was intense, but this was no time to start an interrogation. She satisfied herself by staring him down until he eventually glanced elsewhere.

  Pamela began to move further into the great room, parting the crowds as if she were a celebrity. Hands shoved into his pockets, Kyle followed in her wake.

  “So this was Tony’s house.” Pamela looked around with a proprietary air, seeming oblivious to the other guests. But Emma sensed she wasn’t oblivious. Pamela must have known the gossip she’d stir by attending the reception.

  A huge diamond winked on her hand as she stroked the back of one of the white sofas. “Rather too modern for me, but that’s just my opinion.” She strolled over to one of the oversized portraits of Tony and paused. “Well!” she murmured.

  “Jeez, whose tacky idea was this?” Kyle scowled at the poster, accentuating his resemblance to his father.

  Pamela made a show of shushing him, but not without a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

  A thin man with graying hair stepped out from the mourners and approached Pamela and Kyle. Earlier, Emma had been introduced to him; he was Gerald O’Neil, Tony’s lawyer.

  “Pamela, Kyle, my condolences,” he said.