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

by Karen Chester

  “It was Larry,” Emma mumbled, her lips feeling numb. “He killed Tony and tried to frame Sean for it.”

  “Yes. I heard all of it.”

  Sirens wailed outside, and seconds later the workshop exploded with lights and noise as police officers rushed in.

  Emma turned to Sherilee. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

  Sherilee beamed at her. “Hey, it’s a pleasure.”

  And then Emma did the only thing possible. Resting her head against Officer Ackerman’s shoulder, she burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  On the night of Luisa Crespo’s accident, Tony Barnet had had another argument with his son over Kyle’s unpaid debts. Furious, Tony had sped home, barely paying attention to the road, which was why he’d taken a corner too fast, skidded toward the verge, and knocked poor Luisa clean off her bicycle. A reckless driving charge and the negative publicity would have killed off any hope of him winning the next council election, so instead of helping his injured housekeeper, he had driven off and concocted a plan to conceal his crime.

  He’d waited until the small hours of the morning and then driven to the liquor store, where he knew there was a security camera. But he couldn’t risk the camera picking up the existing damage to the front right of his SUV, so he’d approached the store from the opposite angle. He’d crashed his car, then had it taken to Sean’s for repairs. The police didn’t seem to find anything suspicious about his accident. Everything appeared to be going to plan.

  But Larry had found something strange in Tony’s car. Wedged under the mangled bumper bar, was a cracked bicycle rear light with the initials DC scratched into the back. Seeing nothing suspicious about it, Larry had put the light aside and might even have thrown it away if not for his innate laziness. He hadn’t thought anymore about it until he heard about the hit-and-run and realized the implications of that broken bicycle light. Larry had squeezed six thousand dollars out of Tony before his victim, belligerent as ever, had refused to pay any more. And that was when Larry decided to go for the man he’d secretly hated for years, his resentment building with each of Sean’s achievements.

  ***

  There was no place for resentment or hatred today, the day Emma had once thought would never arrive, Sean and Madison’s wedding day. It was a small, casual affair, quite unlike the extravaganza that Emma had originally planned with Madison. About twenty guests gathered in the gardens of the Whites’ mansion overlooking Shamrock Lake. There were no doves, no ice sculptures, no string quartet, but frills weren’t needed because Emma doubted that the bride and groom had eyes for anything else besides each other.

  Sweet and beautiful in white satin, Madison radiated with happiness as she exchanged vows with Sean, the proud and handsome groom in a dove-gray morning suit. As the newly wedded couple kissed each other to great applause, Emma was surprised to find tears welling up in her own eyes. After organizing so many weddings, who would’ve thought she’d still tear up? Maybe she wasn’t as jaded about marriage after all.

  Owen drifted into her thoughts, though why was a mystery. He’d turned up at the auto shop after Larry had been arrested and showed his alarm at her close shave with a killer. After her brief interview at the police station, he had insisted on driving her home. His concern had touched her, until he began lamenting her meddling.

  “If you’d told the local cops or me about your suspicions, you wouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

  She hadn’t been in the mood for another argument, so she’d told him to leave, and unfortunately he had.

  Across the lake, Jordan’s house gleamed in the sunshine. Someone was mowing the lawn near the water’s edge. Though he was too far away to make out, she knew it was Mateo. The surly gardener had confessed his theft of Tony’s cigars to Jordan. After learning about Tony’s involvement in Luisa’s accident, Jordan had quickly moved to make amends. Luisa was now receiving top quality rehabilitation care, her medical bills were settled, and Jordan had offered to pay for Daniel’s tuition if he made it to college.

  For Emma, the worst part about unmasking Tony’s killer was Jordan finding out about her dead lover’s attempts to cover up a hit-and-run accident. It can’t have been easy for her, but to her credit she hadn’t fled from Greenville. She was still here, trying to do the right thing. At least she wouldn’t have to fight to keep her inheritance, Kyle being too preoccupied with his court trial to contest his father’s will, and even Howard White had dropped his plans to sue Tony’s estate over the failed business deal.

  Madison rushed up to Emma and threw her arms around her. “We’re so happy!” she murmured with a passionate hug. “Thank you for everything!”

  Laughing, Emma patted her and swiped the moisture from her eyes.

  “Yes, thank you for all you’ve done,” Sean said, right behind his brand-new wife. “You never gave up on me. I won’t forget that.”

  Emma smiled. “I’m glad everything’s worked out.”

  Sean nodded as he put his arm around Madison and drew her to his side. He looked different, Emma mused. More mature and determined, more sure of himself. The stress of the past few weeks had marked him, but he’d emerged stronger, and she had no doubt that he’d go from strength to strength. Madison, too, had been tested and found her own strength of character.

  Leaving the happy couple to mingle with their guests, Emma made her usual rounds, checking on the supply of finger food and drink. She hardly needed to bother seeing the party was so small, but she did it anyway. Madison had insisted on hiring her and had paid her an extra bonus, and Emma had accepted, since her bank balance was perilously low.

  “Ah, Emma, just the person I wanted to see.” Cynthia White glided over the lawn, resplendent in lavender chiffon that floated over her reed-thin figure.

  “Yes, Mrs. White?” Emma braced herself for some nitpicking complaint.

  But Cynthia surprised her. “I’m hosting a charity lunch here next month, and I want you to organize it.”

  “You…you do?”

  “Yes. Can you come by on Monday morning to discuss it?”

  “Uh, yes, of course,” Emma scrambled to get her mouth to work.

  “Good.” Cocking her head, Cynthia gave her a small smile. “You seem surprised.”

  “Well, I assumed…under the circumstances…I got the impression that you haven’t always approved of me.”

  The cool, elegant woman appraised her silently for a few moments. “I might not always approve of you, Emma, but I admire your loyalty to my daughter.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Plus, your business must be struggling, so I know you’ll work extra hard for me without complaining. Be here at ten on Monday morning.”

  Cynthia sauntered off, leaving behind an expensive cloud of Chanel No. 5. Emma wondered what Howard White would say when he learned of his wife’s plans. Oh well, Cynthia was more than capable of handling her husband. Emma wouldn’t let him bother her. She needed every job offered to her. And if she did well, other offers would roll in. She could do this. After all, she’d cleared Sean’s name and unmasked a killer; Cynthia’s charity lunch would be a doddle.

  Lifting her head, she breathed in the warm, summer air and counted her blessings.

  ~ THE END ~

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading Throw a Monkey Wrench. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review. I’d really appreciate it.

  For a preview of the second book in the Emma Cassidy Mystery series, Pushed to the Limit, please turn to the next page.

  The third book in the series, Murder Most Likely, will be available later in 2016.

  If you would like to receive notifications of new releases, please sign up for my newsletter at my website www.karenchester.wordpress.com.

  Thank you!

  Karen Chester

  Pushed to the Limit (preview)

  “So, this is it. Thirty years, and now it’s almost over.” Stacey Shulman uttered a sigh and shook her head. “A
retirement party, a silver watch, and some handshakes, and then it’s adieu.”

  Emma Cassidy, sole proprietor of A Perfect Party and organizer of tonight’s gathering, lifted her eyebrows. Stacey sounded like she was retiring, and not Richard Wylie, the town planner who, until tonight, had been in Greenville council’s employ for thirty years. As secretary of the municipal engineering department, Stacey had assisted Emma with the retirement party, an assignment she’d approached with great enthusiasm.

  Emma smiled sympathetically. “It must be sad for you to see him go.”

  Nodding, Stacey pressed her lips together. “I’ll miss him,” she murmured, gazing at her almost-former co-worker who was being greeted by well-wishers entering Tucker’s Bistro, the restaurant where the party was taking place.

  If it had been anyone else, Emma might have wondered if, despite the age gap, there was something going on between the town planner and the secretary, but not in this case. Stacey was just about the last person she’d cast as a femme fatale. In her mid-thirties, Stacey was short, trim, and self-effacing, her bobbed hair mousy-brown, her soft eyes—her best features in Emma’s opinion—hidden behind glasses. Usually favoring muted colors, tonight she wore a demure navy dress, her only concession a pair of dangly crystal earrings. She was one of the nicest persons Emma had met in a while, eager for Richard to have a great send off, yet at the same time not the least bit bossy or demanding. A welcome trait in a client.

  Emma’s event planning business was only six months old, and she’d had a rocky start, what with a poisoning and a groom-to-be charged with murder, but she’d overcome those obstacles—just like she’d survived her New York City career imploding and her boyfriend at the time dumping her when she’d needed him the most. Although she’d never envisioned resettling in her sleepy hometown, it had seemed the most sensible solution, and she was determined to make the most of it. On the whole, she was glad to be back in Greenville, California, on the shores of Shamrock Lake, even if she was still living at home with her dad.

  Richard Wylie, tall and silver-haired, walked over to them with a broad smile. “Stacey, Emma. I must thank you for all your hard work putting on this shindig.”

  Stacey lifted her shoulders. “Mostly Emma’s hard work. I only made a few suggestions.”

  “She’s way too modest,” Emma replied, determined that Stacey get her fair share of acknowledgement. “Stacey’s worked really hard.”

  “I know she has,” Richard said. “Stacey is an unsung heroine.”

  Stacey turned pink, her hands twitching as she appeared to be overcome by bashfulness. A server approached them with a tray of drinks. Richard tried to offer them flutes of champagne, but Stacey chose an orange juice, and Emma followed suit. The party was just starting, and she needed a clear head in order to deal with any potential crises.

  She glanced around the crowded restaurant once again. Some important people were here tonight, including the mayor and several councilors. All the people from the engineering department of course, and others from the Rotary Club that Richard belonged to. Richard’s wife, Helen, was there too. She walked up to him, a slight frown pleating her forehead.

  “Darling, you know Stacey, of course,” Richard said to his wife before gesturing to Emma. “Have you met Emma Cassidy?”

  “Yes, Emma and I discussed tonight’s menu.” Helen gave Emma and Stacey a faint smile. “Thank you both. I knew you’d put on a good party for Richard.” She lifted her glass of wine. “This pinot noir is excellent.” Her smile faded as she turned back to her husband. “But I do wish she hadn’t been invited.” She jerked her head in the direction of the crowd.

  Following her gesture, Emma thought she was referring to Faye Seymour, Greenville’s reigning queen of gossip. Nothing happened in Greenville—or indeed Shamrock Lake—without Faye knowing about it. Emma had been surprised to see her and her sister Lorraine on the guest list, until Stacey explained that Faye and Lorraine were Richard’s cousins and his closest relatives in Greenville.

  Emma’s checkered history in New York had made her prime grist for the gossip mill that Faye so enthusiastically hand-cranked. Tonight the sixty-something-year-old, dressed in a bright pink-and-blue dress with matching pink earrings, was in her element as she swam through the crowd, fishing for the tastiest morsels of news.

  Richard hunched his shoulders, a cornered look coming over him. “Well, I wanted Lorraine to be here, and I couldn’t invite her without including Faye, now could I?”

  “I doubt Lorraine would’ve been heartbroken if you’d left Faye off the list,” Helen said tartly.

  Lorraine, an accomplished artist, had taught Emma art in high school. She and Faye were complete opposites. Where Faye was garrulous and prying, Lorraine was private and retiring. The only thing they had in common was their short, rotund stature.

  “Come, now,” Richard said placatingly to his wife, casting an apologetic half-smile at Emma and Stacey. “It’s my retirement party. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

  “No, I can’t because it isn’t a bygone yet.” Helen’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her glass. Her dark stare focused on Faye across the room. “That woman has ruined our son’s future.”

  “Isn’t that a bit dramatic? Jason’s still young; he’ll bounce back.”

  Helen plunked her wineglass on a nearby table and jammed her hands on her hips. “Are you defending that viper of a cousin of yours?”

  “Of course not, but…” Richard darted a desperate look at the crowd. “Oh, look, there’s Councilman Bischoff. I’d better go say hello to him.” He patted his wife’s arm before hurrying away.

  Helen heaved out a sigh before giving Emma and Stacey a wry shrug. “I guess it’s no secret that Faye’s not my favorite cousin-in-law.”

  Emma smiled politely while Stacey twiddled her fingers, but Helen didn’t seem fazed at losing her cool. Tall and well-groomed, tonight she wore a blue silk dress that looked like it cost plenty. She should have been enjoying her husband’s retirement party, but her brow was furrowed, and her eyes were filled with bitter resentment as she glowered at Faye across the room.

  “Faye is like a lobster,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Feeding off dirt, getting fat on filth. Well, she’d better watch out. One of these days she’ll find herself in a pot of boiling water, and I, for one, won’t be fishing her out.”

  ***

  Clearly there were family tensions, but the exact reasons why Helen Wylie loathed her cousin-in-law remained a mystery to Emma as she was caught up in running the party. After allowing half an hour for drinks and chatting, she announced that dinner was ready, and guests surged toward the long buffet tables which groaned under the weight of a surfeit of food. Once the service was underway, Emma headed past the swing doors that led to the kitchen. There, in the sweltering heart of Tucker’s Bistro, Alvin Tucker, owner of the restaurant and a caterer Emma had used several times before, was busy directing his small team of workers.

  “Hey, Emma.” He nodded to her as he put the final touches on a platter of shrimp. “How’s it going out there?”

  “It looks like your spare ribs are a big hit. Hope you’ve got a good supply of them.”

  “I sure do. The spare ribs always go down well, especially with the men.”

  He passed the shrimp platter to a waiting server who whisked it away. The crustaceans reminded Emma of Helen’s parting remark about Faye. It seemed there was always someone annoyed with Faye Seymour. Emma grimaced as she recalled her most recent run-in with the gossip queen. It had cost her a potential client, and that still rankled.

  Emma was almost thirty. When she’d finished high school, she’d envisioned that within a decade she’d be established in a successful career. She’d started off well, graduating from a reputable college back east and landing an exciting job as an event planner in New York, the city she’d always dreamed of moving to. She’d worked hard to become a partner in the small but up-and-coming business; she’d gained an eligible
boyfriend who worked in finance; she’d signed a lease on a gorgeous loft apartment. Everything was going well. But then her business partner had cleared out their bank accounts and skipped town, leaving Emma with scores of disgruntled clients threatening to sue and a heap of unpaid bills. Suddenly she couldn’t afford her loft apartment anymore, could barely put food in her mouth. When she’d turned to her boyfriend—a man she’d thought she would marry one day—he turned out to be a fair-weather beau incapable of genuine support. That was when she’d decided to cut her losses and move back to Greenville.

  Debbie Scheel had been considering hiring Emma as her daughter’s wedding planner, until Faye had got in her ear, embroidering Emma’s past failed business until she made Emma sound like a Ponzi scheme operator. Debbie had abruptly gone somewhere else, leaving Emma fuming helplessly. She knew she was good at her job, knew that people would come to trust her. But her turnover was barely covering the bills, and she couldn’t afford to lose one client to Faye’s scuttlebutt.

  Alvin glanced about the bustling kitchen before leaning toward Emma. “Can we talk in private for a moment?”

  Emma blinked at him in surprise. When it came to cooking, Alvin was a perfectionist and liked to oversee every plate before it left the kitchen. So why did he want to take time out in the middle of a busy service to talk to her?

  “Sure.” She nodded before following him to his office. The small, cluttered room had a narrow window looking out onto the kitchen so Alvin could keep an eye on his staff.

  The caterer shut the door and rocked on his toes. “I was wondering how soon I could get the check for tonight’s party,” he said without preamble.

  Emma felt her mouth sagging open. When she’d booked Alvin’s services, the city council had put down a ten percent deposit, with the balance due to be paid within thirty days of the event, as per the agreement. It was standard practice, but this time around something clearly wasn’t standard.

  “Well, I can talk to the council and ask them to prioritize your bill,” she said uncertainly. Stacey Shulman would know who to contact, she thought, still wondering why Alvin needed the money so urgently.