Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2)

by Karen Chester

  “If you like, I could give you a lift there,” she offered, hoping to be refused but knowing what the answer would be.

  “Oh, could you?” Relief flooded Lorraine’s voice. “It’s just that my hands are shaking so much I doubt I could operate a car. Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Emma said. “I can be at your place in fifteen minutes. Is that enough time for you to get ready.”

  “Yes, and thank you. I knew I could count on you, Emma.”

  Well, nice to know some people appreciated her. She pushed her feet into her sandals, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for the door. The DVD and popcorn would have to wait a while.

  On the drive to County Hospital, Lorraine fretted and fidgeted, shredding a tissue between her shaking fingers. She definitely was in no shape to drive, and Emma was relieved to transport her. Lorraine’s jeans and T-shirt bore mud stains, her short, rough fingers had traces of dirt, and a few leaves were caught in her mop of gray curls. It looked like she’d been gardening when Emma had delivered the bad news, and been too rattled to change or wash up. Lorraine must be really upset about the accident.

  Which surprised Emma a little because the two sisters had never seemed very close. They were rarely seen in each other’s company. They lived on opposite sides of town. They didn’t speak much about each other. Lorraine had married a fellow artist, and they’d lived in Greenville for many decades. Emma remembered going to an art exhibition in which both husband and wife had exhibited paintings. She also remembered Faye making loud, disparaging remarks about Lorraine’s husband’s work, and some sharp words being exchanged. Later, Lorraine and her husband had separated, and ugly rumors had circulated that Faye had been a factor in the breakup. If that were true, it was little wonder that the relationship between the two sisters was strained.

  But now Lorraine was shaking and gulping and snuffling into her tissue. Maybe Emma was too cynical after her years in a big city, but to her the tears seemed over the top. Almost as if Lorraine was trying to prove how much her sister meant to her—even though last night at the retirement party she hadn’t had a kind word to say about her. Let her go ahead and dig her own grave. That’s what Lorraine had said about her sister. And this afternoon, Faye had very nearly met her end.

  At the hospital, a harried-looking doctor had some mixed news for them. The good news was that Faye was alive and not in any danger. The bad news was that, apart from a mild concussion and cuts and bruises, she also had a fractured ankle which would require surgery. The operation was scheduled for tomorrow, after which Faye would remain in hospital for several more days. Lorraine blinked and nodded as she took in the prognosis. Then a nurse directed them to Faye’s room.

  As they entered, Emma couldn’t help bracing herself against a possible flood of accusations from Faye. But she breathed a little easier when she saw that Faye was asleep. A gauze pad was taped to her forehead, covering the angry red mark Emma had glimpsed earlier, and an IV drip was attached to her arm, but otherwise she appeared much the same.

  “Oh, Faye.”

  Clapping a hand over her mouth, Lorraine drew in a quivery breath, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She sank into a chair next to the bed. For several long minutes Lorraine sat staring at her sister. In contrast, Faye appeared almost serene as she lay there, her hands plump and relaxed against the white sheets.

  Emma stood in silence a few yards away from the bed. Hospitals made her uneasy, reminding her of her mother’s illness and the trauma of losing her.

  She was relieved to see Faye alive and breathing. At the same time she couldn’t help wondering what would happen when Faye woke up. Maybe it was self-centered of her, but she knew firsthand the kind of damage Faye’s tongue could wreak. She wished she could slip out of the room, but she sensed that Lorraine needed her there, and so she remained.

  Eventually Lorraine’s tears dried up and her composure returned. Faye slept on, oblivious to her sister’s emotional upheaval. If she were awake, would Lorraine’s reaction have been the same? Or did she show her emotions only because her sister was unconscious?

  After a final squeeze of her sister’s hand, Lorraine rose to her feet and signaled to Emma that they should leave.

  Outside the hospital, Emma drew in a breath. Even though the air was sweltering, it was better than the antiseptic atmosphere inside. The afternoon sun shimmered in a sky hazed with summer heat. Her T-shirt stuck to the small of her back, reminding her that she desperately needed a long, cool shower. Back in the car, she immediately flicked on the AC. Her aging Toyota could produce only a coolish breeze, but it was better than nothing. Lorraine seemed unaffected by the heat. She stared out the windshield, not saying a word as they headed back to Greenville. Only when they neared her house did she speak, startling Emma.

  “I always knew this day would eventually come,” Lorraine stated in a flat voice.

  “Excuse me? What day?” Emma asked.

  “The day when my sister would finally drive someone to take extreme measures.”

  “I’m sorry…extreme measures?” Emma asked cautiously. She had an idea what Lorraine was alluding to, but didn’t want to assume anything.

  The other woman shifted in her seat to look at Emma, suddenly animated after the long, silent drive. “You know what I mean.” She flapped her hands in agitation, then pushed them through her disheveled hair. “Faye and her runaway tongue. For years she’s been gossiping about everyone and everything. No one in Greenville is safe from her; no one in the whole of Shamrock Lake, for that matter. My sister is like a champion truffle pig, sniffing out the choicest tidbits of gossip, gobbling them up, and then bragging about them far and wide. People get annoyed with her, furious even, but she’s immune to criticism. I should know.” Lorraine snorted. “But now she’s angered the wrong person. Someone who wants to stop her gossipy tongue for good. She didn’t fall down those stairs. She was pushed. Someone tried to kill my sister.”

  A chill spread through Emma, and it wasn’t due to the anemic AC. But she couldn’t say she was all that shocked because the same suspicion had lurked in the back of her mind ever since she’d discovered Faye’s crumpled figure. Faye was an indiscriminate gossip, and sometimes—often— she did hurt people, and she didn’t seem to care. Still, it might be unwise to jump in and enthusiastically agree with Lorraine when the woman was in a deeply emotional state and might later regret her words.

  “People do fall down stairs,” Emma said, striving for a mild tone.

  “Faye is as sturdy as a horse. She’s never fallen down anything.”

  “We-ell, you don’t live with her,” Emma cautiously pointed out. “She might have had some mobility problems recently that she didn’t want to tell you about.”

  “If Faye had any health problems she’d be chewing my ear off in an instant. She’d have me running errands for her all day long. She loves attention. If you think she’d pass up on the opportunity to guilt trip me into paying her attention, then you don’t know my sister!”

  Emma waited until she had pulled the car into Lorraine’s driveway before answering. “Okay, then. So Faye didn’t have any health issues, but do you really think someone could get so mad with her that they’d want to do away with her?”

  Lorraine picked at some dirt under her fingernails. “I’ve wanted to strangle her myself plenty of times,” she blurted out. At Emma’s wide eyes, she lifted her work-roughened hands. “Come on, you’ve felt the urge to throttle my sister yourself. Admit it.”

  “Uh, well, I admit I’ve been annoyed with her at times.”

  “Merely annoyed?” Lorraine shook her gray curls. “She blabbed about your previous business troubles to Debbie Scheel, and as a result you lost her daughter’s wedding. That cost you a lot of money and kudos. Don’t tell me you were only annoyed with Faye.”

  “Okay, yeah, I was pretty mad.” Emma wriggled in the seat, wishing she could escape Lorraine’s attention. “But I wouldn’t harm he
r.”

  “Oh, of course I know that! Not on purpose, you wouldn’t. I’m just saying that everyone has their limit. Given the right provocation, even the most angelic person could snap.” For a few moments Lorraine stared ahead as if she were trying to figure out the likeliest suspects. Then, with an abrupt change of mood, she reached for the door handle. “No point in speculating. Faye will tell us as soon as she wakes up. She’ll tell us who tried to kill her. Thank you so much for the ride, dear.” She heaved herself out of the car, waved goodbye, and made her way slowly to her front door, her curls glinting silver in the sunlight.

  Emma drove home slowly, her head aching from everything that had happened. When she parked her car in the driveway, she saw that her fingernails were ragged from nervous chewing. The cold ball anchored in the pit of her stomach didn’t auger well, either.

  She had to find out if Faye really had been pushed down those stairs, and if so, who had done it. And she had to find out soon, before Faye woke up and told everyone who might listen that she had been attacked by Emma Cassidy.

  Chapter Nine

  The warm, sugary scent of waffles and strawberries filled Emma’s nose.

  “Mm.” She breathed in deep before lifting her fork. “I shouldn’t be eating this. I should have ordered oatmeal or muesli.”

  Across the table, her father shook his head. “It’s Sunday brunch. You can’t have oatmeal.” He squirted ketchup over his fried eggs and bacon.

  They were at Becky’s Diner, which meant they got to eat delicious food and didn’t have to clean up afterward. Emma cut a wedge of waffle, dipped it in maple syrup, and popped it into her salivating mouth. Bliss. “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips,” she said. “You know I’ve gained five pounds since I moved back here?”

  Andrew pushed up his wire-framed spectacles and looked her over. “You needed it. You were skin and bone. You look much better now.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” What would she have done without her dad? When she’d dragged herself back to Greenville, she’d been so exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally, financially. Her father had welcomed her back without a fuss, quietly giving her the space and support to recover on her own terms. Little wonder that he was good at his job as a student counselor at the local high school.

  “But it wouldn’t hurt to lose a bit of weight.” She pinched her midriff which wasn’t as svelte as a few years back. “I’ve joined a gym. Had my first class on Friday.” With Wesley, the muscle-bound fitness instructor. The fact that he was blond, good-looking, and friendly had made the class a little less painful.

  Her dad shook his head. “What’s wrong with walking? It would take the same amount of time as going to the gym, plus it wouldn’t cost you anything.”

  “Yeah, but being in a class motivates me.” As did Wesley. Not that she was interested in him or anything. After her ex had let her down so badly, she was wary of jumping into the dating pool again. Plus, there was the Owen factor, something she wasn’t willing to think about too much at the moment.

  Becky stopped by their table to top up their coffee.

  “Hey, Becky,” Andrew said. “Tell Emma she doesn’t need to go to the gym and do those crazy workouts.”

  “If it’s exercise you need, you could help out here.” Becky waved a hand at the rest of the crowded room. Summer and Sunday brunch-time meant the diner was packed. Even so, Becky sailed unfazed through the melee, always friendly and calm, her staff taking their lead from her. The diner might be plain and unpretentious, but there was a reason why people returned here, and it wasn’t just the excellent coffee and pie.

  Emma chuckled at Becky’s suggestion. “Have you forgotten the time I worked here when I was sixteen? On my first shift I spilled a soda over the minister’s wife, almost gave a peanut butter sandwich to an allergic kid, and managed to set my apron on fire. I think you were quietly relieved when I quit after that.”

  “You were sixteen. A lot has happened since then.”

  “Maybe, but I’m still a klutz around the kitchen. No, I’ll stick to the gym, thanks.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you. They do have some nice-looking instructors there.”

  “Do they?” Emma asked in mock innocence.

  She glanced at her dad who was calmly eating his eggs and bacon. He had once said that she should start dating again, had also voiced a hope that she and Owen might rekindle their relationship. Now, he didn’t say anything, just lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “Wesley comes in here sometimes,” Becky continued, a teasing glint in her eyes. “He’s got a bit of the bad boy vibe about him, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, he’s okay.” Emma forked up the last of her waffles and stuffed them into her mouth since she had nothing further to say about hot fitness instructors. With a final grin, Becky patted Emma on the shoulder and floated over to the next table.

  Emma and her dad were lingering over a final cup of coffee when she received a call. It was Lorraine. She’d just come back from the hospital. Faye was more coherent now, after being under observation for eight hours. Her ankle surgery was due to take place later today.

  “Actually, I called because I have another favor to ask you,” Lorraine said. She sounded more in control today, though a quaver persisted in her voice. “Faye asked me to bring her a few things from her house—some toiletries and clothes—and also to feed her pet parrot. Thing is, I’m allergic to birds. As soon as I step foot in her house, I start wheezing and have trouble breathing. I—I was wondering if perhaps you could go to Faye’s house for me?”

  The wincing hesitation in Lorraine’s voice indicated she felt she was asking too much. But for Lorraine’s sake Emma didn’t mind helping out. Plus, it gave her the perfect opportunity to examine the scene of the “crime”, so to speak.

  “Sure, I can do that,” she said.

  “Oh, thank you.” Lorraine’s voice trembled. “It’s so good of you.”

  A little guilt pinched at Emma. Lorraine thought she was volunteering out of pure kindness; she didn’t suspect that Emma wanted to snoop around Faye’s house in an effort to clear her name.

  Was this a good idea? The last time she’d meddled in something, she’d been abducted by a half-crazed idiot and had spent several terrifying hours lost in the darkness. But she’d done it to get a friend out of trouble, and the situation with Faye was similar. She was only investigating Faye’s fall so she wouldn’t find herself falsely accused of a serious crime. Plus, if someone had deliberately pushed Faye and Emma uncovered the culprit, then she would be saving Faye’s life. Surely that was reason enough to do a bit of detective work?

  “Can you tell me what Faye needs from her house?” Emma pulled a notebook from her tote bag and jotted down the items.

  “I’m not sure about the parrot,” Lorraine confessed. “To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to Faye while she was giving me instructions because I was worrying about my allergies. But I guess there should be some sort of birdseed in the house, and if you fill up the bowl and top up the water, that should be enough for now.” She paused and sighed. “Faye’s had the bird about a year or so. She seems quite attached to him. His name’s Pepper.”

  “How do I get into the house?” Emma asked.

  “There’s a spare key hidden under a table on the rear deck. That unlocks the back door.”

  “Okay. It shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll bring Faye’s things to your place.”

  “Please don’t rush on my behalf,” Lorraine begged. “I’ll be going back to see Faye at three this afternoon, so there’s plenty of time. It’s Sunday. I hate to think you’re doing chores for me on your day off.”

  “It’s no problem. And I often work on Sundays.”

  “Well, thank you once again. I’m so grateful, and Faye will be, too, I’m sure.”

  Emma ended the call and lowered her phone to find her father looking at her with a benevolent smile.

  “Glad to see you getting into the neighborly spirit, pumpkin.�
�

  Once more guilt nipped at her, but she pushed it aside. Someone needed to fetch Faye’s essentials and feed her pet, and if she happened to stumble across a few clues, well, that would be merely serendipitous.

  ***

  The key slid smoothly into the lock, and the door swung open on oiled hinges. Emma couldn’t help tiptoeing into Faye’s house. She was here on legitimate business, so why did she feel like a thief? Maybe it was because Faye didn’t know she was entering her house; she assumed Lorraine was doing these chores, though she must be aware of her sister’s allergy to birds. Maybe she didn’t take Lorraine’s condition seriously, or maybe she thought Lorraine would do as she asked anyway.

  Emma stood in the middle of Faye’s kitchen and took stock of her surroundings. Cherry wood cabinets lined two walls. The cooker and appliances were gleaming stainless steel. Potted African violets lined a windowsill overlooking the rear yard. Everything was neat and tidy, the tiled floor swept clean, the sink sparkling.

  On a round table in the center of the kitchen was Faye’s plastic, green-and-yellow shopping bag. Everything had started with that darn shopping bag. Emma deposited her tote bag on the table next to the shopping bag. Right. Time to explore the rest of the house.

  She walked down a wide, dim hallway that led toward the front door. A pink-tiled bathroom sat just beyond the kitchen. The living room was at the front of the house, the parted drapes revealing a big, square room with a floral maroon carpet and heavy, dark wooden furniture. Some of these pieces looked pretty ancient; possibly Faye had inherited them from her parents together with the house. The most modern item in the room was a large flat-screen TV that sat incongruously in one corner.

  A cabinet filled with framed photographs drew her attention. She couldn’t help peering at them, even though it made her feel like an inquisitive busybody. Judging by the family photos, Faye had been a remarkably pretty girl, with thick dark hair, bright eyes, and an engaging, open smile. She seemed to be quite popular, too. There were photos of her with friends hiking, boating, playing softball. Also pictures of her in evening gowns accompanied by young men in suits. She’d had a few beaus, apparently.