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

by Karen Chester

  “God, what a pair!” Gerald O’Neil smoothed a hand over his gray thatch of hair, his cheeks still mottled with indignation.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” Jordan finally spoke, her shoulders hunched, hands twisted together, a picture of abject misery.

  “Oh, I’ve had worse. Remember, I was there when Tony divorced Pamela. I know what she’s like. But don’t worry. She can send all the attorneys she likes, she won’t get anything more for her brat of a son.” He patted her arm. “Now, I think I deserve a good stiff drink after that.”

  The lawyer walked back into the house, but Jordan didn’t follow him. Instead, she made a rueful moue at Emma before sinking into a bench on the porch.

  “You missed the climax of the funeral reception,” she said wearily, gesturing to Emma to join her on the bench.

  Emma sat beside her. “The reading of the will?”

  “There wasn’t supposed to be a reading of the will, but Kyle and Pamela cornered poor Gerald and demanded to know what Kyle was inheriting. So I told Gerald we should all go into the study and he could tell us together. I didn’t want to know about the will until Tony was properly sent off, you see. Well, as soon as Gerald read the will, those two started shouting accusations at Gerald and me. And then they stormed out of the study still yelling, and of course everyone heard them.” She bit her lip, and Emma’s heart went out to her as she imagined Jordan being labeled a gold-digger in front of the whole crowd.

  “I can’t believe Tony left me two thirds of everything he owned.” Jordan’s eyes widened. “To be honest, I thought I’d be lucky just to get the house. I never thought Tony would leave me so much…” She inhaled a quivering breath. “Gerald explained that Tony had been supporting Kyle for years, paying his college fees, buying him a car, and taking care of his debts time and time again. Plus, a third of the estate is still a lot of money. At least, it is to someone like me.”

  “I’m sure Gerald has drafted a watertight will,” Emma said.

  Jordan didn’t appear to hear her as she worried her teeth against her lower lip. “I don’t know what to do now. If Pamela sets her lawyers on me, I might be fighting this in court for years. What’s that going to cost me? Especially if I lose. Maybe it’s better to come up with a compromise. Maybe if I offer Kyle more of the estate, that will make them back off.”

  “Maybe,” Emma replied, though she felt less than confident. This wasn’t just about money. Embittered and resentful, Pamela was after her pound of flesh, and Kyle didn’t strike her as a reasonable person. Jordan was too easy a target. “But you shouldn’t do anything hasty. Talk to Gerald and your mom before you decide anything.” LouAnn was tough and sensible. She’d be a good adviser to Jordan.

  But Jordan shrugged. “Mom just wants me back in Toledo.” She pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. I like it here, even if some people love to gossip about me.” She glanced down at Emma. “Thanks for all your help today. It was a good funeral. Tony would’ve enjoyed it. He’d even have a laugh at Pamela and Kyle causing such a ruckus, too. But I think it’s time I got rid of all the gawkers. I want my house to myself.” Her mouth twisted. “While it’s still my house, of course.”

  Head held high, she walked back into the house. Alone, Emma rose to her feet, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. A blur of movement on the road caught her attention. She looked up in time to see a black pickup truck zoom past the entrance gates. It was the truck she’d inspected earlier. And since Pamela and Kyle were the only people who had left in the past few minutes, they had to be in that truck. Question was: who had been behind the wheel yesterday, and why were they trying to scare her?

  Chapter Sixteen

  After Emma had helped Jordan shoo the last mourners out the door, she hurried through the clean up, anxious to be on her way. Jordan was swaying on her feet with tiredness and didn’t put up much of a fight when her mom insisted she go upstairs for a sleep.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” LouAnn informed Emma when all the hired help had left. “I wish I could stay longer, but if I don’t sell houses I don’t eat. And besides, Jordan gets restless if I stay for more than a few days.”

  “Hopefully she’ll visit you later when she’s feeling better.”

  “Huh. I doubt she’ll be feeling better in a hurry when she has that she-devil and her no-good son hounding her.” LouAnn propped her hands on her hips, looking quite formidable. “When those two started slinging insults at Jordan, I gave them what for, but I don’t think Jordan appreciated it.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think she’s a mite embarrassed about her Midwestern roots.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Emma prevaricated. “It’s probably just a mom-daughter thing. I didn’t always get along with my mom, but now she’s gone I miss the heck out of her.”

  LouAnn’s smile softened her features. “I like you, girl, which is more than I can say about some of the folks I’ve met around here.” She picked up her purse and fished inside it. “Do me a favor when I’m back in Toledo, will you? If you think Jordan needs my help, give me a call.” She pressed a business card into Emma’s hand. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have a lie down myself. You will make sure all the doors are locked before you leave, won’t you?” Waving goodbye, LouAnn headed for the stairs.

  The huge house, which had been crowded just an hour ago, was now still and silent. Kneading the back of her neck, Emma gazed out at the lake, its waters now gold and violet from the sinking sun. But the vague throb nagging at the base of her skull prevented her from fully appreciating the beauty of the lake.

  She glanced about the great room to check that everything was in order. All the dirty plates and glasses had disappeared, the buffet tables had gone, the oversized portraits of Tony had been packed away. Even the crumbs on the floors had been swept up. Only the air held a lingering whiff of perfume and canapés. She’d done a good job here, but no one would remember that. Instead, everyone would be chattering about Kyle and Pamela and the names they’d called Jordan. There was nothing she could do about that. Hopefully in a few weeks’ time there’d be a juicier bit of gossip for people to chatter about.

  As she hooked the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she caught the sound of a muffled thud. Was someone still in the kitchen cleaning up? But she had seen off all the caterers herself. Puzzled, she walked down the corridor to the kitchen, but the spacious room was empty, as was the adjoining pantry and utility room.

  She retraced her steps to the great room. Everything was deathly quiet. Like a tomb, her over-active imagination added. Stop that. She was tired, and she wanted to go home for a well-earned rest. She strode toward the hall that led to the front door.

  The faint sound came again, this time closer. It had come from the study, she was sure of it. Jordan and LouAnn were upstairs napping. So who was in the study? Probably just a mourner who’d fallen asleep. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  From a nearby console table she lifted a heavy brass candlestick and tiptoed to the door of the study. If there was an intruder in there, she was confident her screams would bring LouAnn running downstairs. Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door.

  The man on the other side of the study jumped about a mile in the air and dropped something which fell with a dull thunk on the thick carpet.

  “Mateo!” Emma exclaimed.

  The gardener stared at her, his usually surly expression now replaced by one of stunned shock. She glanced at the wooden box he’d dropped, and her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Cigars?” Her gaze darted to the built in shelves where Tony had kept his set of humidors. Sure enough, there was a telling gap among them. Cigars, of course. Jordan had noticed a few Lego minifigures were missing, but she’d never thought to check on Tony’s cigars, and even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell if some were missing from a box. Emma inhaled another breath. “Are you stealing them?”

  A dull maroon color flushed the craggy fo
lds of Mateo’s face. He wore his usual thick pants and faded navy T-shirt, his arms hanging at his sides, sinewy and corded with lean muscle. Emma involuntarily tightened her grip on the brass candlestick. If he wanted to, Mateo would make a formidable opponent.

  He bent to retrieve the humidor, a handsome, lacquered rosewood box with ebony edging. Staring at it, he opened the box and straightened the fat, richly hued cigars resting inside.

  “My son, Daniel,” he suddenly spoke, his voice gruff. “You know about him.”

  “Yes. What does this have to do with him?”

  “Your father, the school counselor, he wants Daniel to finish high school and go to college, yes?”

  Emma nodded. She knew what was coming next.

  He held up one of the cigars. “You know how much one of these cost? Sixty or seventy dollars. Just for one. And look how many there are in this room.” He gestured to the shelf where two more humidors sat. “These cigars, there are so many. I only take them to look after my wife. If she gets better, then my son can finish school.”

  Yes, but it’s still stealing. She thought the words but couldn’t say them. What was right and what was wrong? She couldn’t tell anymore. Was it right that Mateo’s family had to suffer? Was it wrong that he was doing everything in his power to provide for them?

  “But if you’re arrested for theft, how will you look after your family?”

  He didn’t answer, just stood there and glowered at her like a goaded bull, almost challenging her to do her worst. The staring match continued, and she was the first to blink.

  “Put the cigars back on the shelf,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

  His chin jutted up, and for a few anxious moments she thought he was going to defy her, but then he shut the lid of the humidor with a sharp snap and plunked the box back in its place on the shelf.

  “Are you going to report me to Ms. Kozlowski?” he asked.

  No pleading for mercy, no wheedling or bargaining. Mateo was a proud man, and no doubt he felt it beneath him to grovel to someone like her, a young woman who, by comparison, had never had to struggle for anything.

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she conceded, irritated with her indecision and lack of power. He shrugged, and that little gesture made her feel even more impotent. “If anything else goes missing, I’ll go straight to the police.”

  Her warning had little effect on the ornery gardener. He marched toward her, looking so fierce she found herself stumbling back, her heartbeat revving. And then, just as she feared she might have to use the candlestick grasped in her hands, he stomped past her and, moments later, slammed out of the front door.

  Feeling queasy, she returned the candlestick to the console table in the hall and slumped into a nearby chair. When the strength returned to her legs, she pulled herself to her feet and went through the house, checking that all the doors were locked and the house secure. Finally she exited through the front door. By now more than ten minutes had passed, and Mateo was surely long gone. There was no sign of him as she scampered to her car and piled in. Seconds later, she was laying rubber as she sped away from Jordan’s house.

  Now what was she going to do? Should she tell Jordan about Mateo’s thefts and risk him going to jail? That would be a catastrophe for his family, and she’d feel so guilty about it. But then another thought struck her. How long had Mateo been pilfering cigars from the house? Had Tony found out and confronted him, and had Mateo, driven by his urge to protect his wife and son, killed him?

  Her stomach did a bilious somersault. Mateo had given evidence that he’d witnessed the argument between Sean and Tony. It didn’t take much imagination to see him creeping back into the garage after Sean had left and offing Tony. Her theory made a lot of sense, more sense than Sean killing Tony because of some unpaid bills.

  But then a smidgeon of doubt clouded her mind. If Mateo had killed Tony to keep him quiet about the thefts, then why hadn’t he done the same thing to her? She wasn’t much of a physical threat, despite the candlestick, while Mateo was all wiry muscle from his gardening labors. And desperation would give him added strength. It wouldn’t have taken much from him to grab the candlestick from her and conk her over the head. Once you committed one murder, killing a second time would be easier.

  So maybe Mateo wasn’t the killer.

  ***

  When she reached home, the house was empty. Her father and Janet would be in Sacramento by now, enjoying their seminar together. Relieved to have the house to herself, she took a quick shower, hoping it would revive her, and changed into comfortable jeans and an old college sweater. She needed some time to think over the events of the past few days and plan what to do next. She lay down on her bed, intending to sort out her confused thoughts, but within a few seconds her eyelids were drooping as she slid unresisting into a deep sleep.

  Sometime later, she started awake. The light was fading outside. A sunset breeze lifted the curtains at her bedroom window. Wait. She couldn’t remember opening her window. Tension coiled in her stomach.

  A sudden pounding at the front door had her leaping from her bed. Oh my God! Who was that? Heart thumping, she padded on bare feet to the front door and peeked through the spy hole. Her heart beat did not slow down. On the other side of the door stood Owen, looking handsome in his sheriff’s deputy uniform. What was he doing here?

  She poked at her ratty hair, then scolded herself for caring about what Owen thought of her appearance, and yanked open the door.

  “Owen, what a surprise.”

  “Just dropped by to see how you were.”

  He looked her over, and his clear brown eyes seemed to take in every detail, from her mussed up bed hair to her baggy college sweater to her bare feet. She shifted uneasily, aware of something different in his scrutiny. Then it dawned on her that he wasn’t frowning at her. In fact, he looked almost pleased to see her.

  “Oh, I—I’m doing okay,” she stammered out, inexplicably flustered. “Um, do you want to come in?”

  “Sure.” He followed her inside, and she was hyper-conscious of his tall figure right behind her.

  She led him into the living room and they sat, him in an armchair, her on the couch.

  “How did the funeral reception go?” Owen asked.

  “You haven’t heard the gossip yet?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “Tony’s ex-wife, Pamela, arrived with her son Kyle. Of course Jordan didn’t turn her away. Then Kyle found out from Tony’s lawyer that he’s inheriting only a third of the estate, when he was expecting all of it, while Jordan gets two thirds. He and Pamela caused a scene and stormed out, threatening all kinds of legal action on Jordan.”

  With a soft whistle, Owen leaned forward. “That’s nasty.”

  “Yes. Jordan’s thinking of offering Kyle a bigger share to stop him from suing. She doesn’t want this dragging on for years.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Well, I don’t know of many people in her situation who’d be so magnanimous.”

  “I agree, but there’s more to Jordan than meets the eye,” she said. “I like her a lot. I hope she’ll stay on in Greenville.”

  Owen nodded. “And you? Are you staying on in Greenville?”

  She searched his expression for hidden meaning, but all she found was friendly interest. Well, that was more than she’d come to expect from Owen. “I think I am,” she said with a faint smile as she settled deeper into the couch. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the place is starting to grow on me.”

  “Better late than never. It’s only taken thirty years.”

  “Hey, I’m not thirty yet. Still got a few more months before I hit that milestone.”

  “Take it from me, it’s not that bad being on the other side of thirty.”

  Emma found herself chuckling. It had been so long since she and Owen were on the same page, and she realized how much she missed this easy camaraderie between them.

  “I can’t believe we’re getting so ol
d. It seems like only yesterday when you were talking about being a cop. All those episodes of Law and Order you used to make me watch.” She smiled at the memories. “It’s good to know you achieved your dreams.”

  “You speak as if you didn’t.”

  There was a question in his eyes, and suddenly she found them too penetrating. She glanced down at her hands.

  “I guess the dream wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.” There, she had admitted it. “I thought I had it all. A growing business, a slick boyfriend, an exciting life in a city that never sleeps. But it was all a mirage. I couldn’t see through the lies.” Now that she’d started, it felt strangely cathartic to reveal her flaws to him, the boy she’d ditched in order to pursue her mirage. “You were right, Owen. I never should have left.”

  But he didn’t seem too pleased by her answer, a slight V appearing between his eyebrows as he leaned forward in the armchair.

  “No, you were right to leave when you did,” he said gently. “If you had stayed and gone with me to State, you wouldn’t have been happy. You would have constantly wondered what you’d given up. I could never have compensated for that. Hell, I barely survived my first semester in college.”

  A dull knot formed in her stomach. So Owen never believed they had much of a future together. That hurt more than it should have.

  “You’re right. No point in dwelling in what ifs.” She flicked her hair back, determined not to let on how much he could still hurt her. “Well, it was nice of you to visit…”

  “Actually, I did come to tell you something.”

  “Oh?” She was guessing whatever it was had nothing to do with their past.

  “This afternoon my mom called me over to talk to her neighbor. The woman said she wanted to report a possible accident she might have caused.” He waited for Emma’s look of puzzlement before continuing. “It seems two days ago on Sunday she was driving along Lakeshore Drive in her husband’s vehicle when she lost control going around a bend and veered onto the shoulder of the road. She thought she might have clipped someone hiding in the bushes there. She was so panicked at the time that she kept on driving. By the time she reached home, realized what she’d done, and returned to the spot, there was no sign of anyone. But it’s been worrying her ever since, and she didn’t know what to do, so she confided in my mom, who called me.”