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

by Karen Chester

  This was yet more evidence that Kenneth Bischoff had strong motivation for making sure Faye never gossiped about his recent affair. If word got to his wife, if someone sent her a copy of that incriminating photo, then Bischoff’s cushy lifestyle would come to an abrupt end. That was a very strong reason to shut Faye up.

  So the councilman had motive, but did he have opportunity? Where had he been at around one pm on Saturday afternoon? Emma had witnessed him earlier arguing with Faye at the community yard sale. What had he done after that? Had he gone to Faye’s home, waited on the rear deck until she came out, and then shoved her down the stairs? He could have parked his car a block or two away. After attacking Faye, he could have jumped through the bushes to the property next door, then walked back to his car and driven away. And perhaps it was he who had lurked outside Faye’s kitchen door yesterday, hoping to break in and retrieve any incriminating evidence.

  “I’m glad I’m not rich,” Caitlyn said, jolting Emma out of her reverie. “When I get married, I know my husband won’t be doing it for my money.”

  Emma smiled. “Thanks, Caitlyn. You’ve cheered me up over my shocking bank balance.”

  She made her way back to her office. No time for coffee; she had to discover if Kenneth Bischoff had an alibi for the time of Faye’s fall. In order to do that, she had to find out more about him. She sat down in front of her laptop, brought up a browser, and began her search.

  Half an hour later, she had gleaned some interesting facts. Bischoff had had a number of careers including real estate broker, bar owner, and marina operator. It seemed several of his businesses had failed, but along the way he appeared to have made some useful connections who had endorsed him in his campaign to run for councilman. And no doubt his wife’s money and name had helped, too. According to the Shamrock Times, he’d stirred some controversy by running a smear campaign on his nearest rival. Currently, his stated career was as a financial planner with an office just off Main Street, a ten-minute walk away.

  Chewing her lip, Emma stared at the address on her screen. It was one thing to say she needed to check his alibi, but it was quite another to actually go out and do the deed. What was she going to say to him? She couldn’t very well march into his office and demand to know his whereabouts on Saturday afternoon.

  But the longer she sat here, the shorter the odds of her chickening out. Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. She would think of something on the walk to Bischoff’s office.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time Emma reached Kenneth Bischoff’s office, she was damp under her shirt and a little out of breath, and it wasn’t because of the walk or the weather. She paused on the sidewalk to straighten her hair and calm her nerves. Bischoff’s office was in the middle of a row of restored nineteenth century stores, its plate glass front etched with the words ‘Bischoff Financial Planning’. She pushed open the door and entered a white, air-conditioned reception area.

  A smartly dressed woman sitting behind a white counter looked up and smiled at her. “Hello, can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if Mr. Bischoff was available.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s out at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?” Rising to her feet, the receptionist tilted her head to one side. “I think I recognize you. Weren’t you in my gym class this morning?”

  Emma peered more closely at her and saw she was the woman who’d remarked about Wesley showing an interest in her. “That’s right.” Emma nodded. “I’ve only recently started. I was dying there.”

  “You gave it a good shot anyway.” The receptionist regarded her with friendly interest.

  Emma held out her hand. “I’m Emma Cassidy, by the way.”

  “Gabby Moretti.” She gave Emma a firm handshake. “I’m sorry Mr. Bischoff’s not in. Do you want to leave him a message or make an appointment to see him?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure.” Emma toyed with the rack of business cards on the counter. “I don’t really know him. I have something to discuss with him, but, well…”

  “You wanted to meet him in person first.” Gabby nodded. “I understand. I take it you’re here to discuss financial planning?”

  “Er, well, I’d rather not say.” The perspiration had started to break out again between Emma’s shoulder blades. She really wasn’t very good at subterfuge.

  Gabby studied her for a few moments before leaning forward. “If you are looking for financial advice, you might want to shop around a bit,” she murmured conspiratorially.

  “What?”

  The receptionist glanced about as if checking for onlookers, though there was no one else in the room. “All I’m saying is that you can’t be too careful these days.”

  Wow. She knew about Bischoff’s checkered business career, but she’d never expected Bischoff’s own employee to warn her off. “Um, but you work for him. Should you be telling me this?”

  Gabby exhaled, tapping her neatly manicured fingernails on the counter. Clearly she was conflicted. “Probably not, but Mr. Bischoff’s been tardy paying my wages recently, and I don’t think my job here is going to last much longer. Besides, I can’t stand by and watch an innocent person like you throw your hard-earned money into a black hole.”

  “So Mr. Bischoff’s business isn’t doing too well?”

  “We’ve had a lot of angry people calling or turning up demanding to see Mr. Bischoff, so I’d say that’s a fair indication of the state of his business. I’m going back to college in the fall, so this is just a temporary job for me, which is a relief. I hate it when he makes me lie to his clients, telling them he’s not in when he’s hiding out in his office.”

  Emma’s gaze immediately went to the shut door at the back of the reception area. “Like now?”

  “Oh, no. He really is out at the moment. These days he’s away from the office more often than not.” The phone began to ring. “Will you excuse me for one moment? I have to take this.”

  Emma nodded and moved away to give Gabby a little space. A small object lying on the ground just outside Bischoff’s office door drew her attention. She walked over and picked it up. It was a matchbook printed with the name Tall Trees Motel and its address. She slipped the matchbook into her bag. The motel had to be the place where Bischoff and his mystery mistress had their trysts because Gabby, young and fit, didn’t seem like a smoker. Then, she recalled the match she’d found in the bushes between Faye and Tom’s houses. Had that match come from a matchbook like this? Was Bischoff a smoker? Had he been at Faye’s place that afternoon and accidently left a trace of himself?

  Gabby was still on the phone, and it looked like her caller was one of the irate ones because she couldn’t get a word in edgewise and her color was mounting.

  “I’ll be on my way,” Emma murmured to her, pointing at the door.

  Poor Gabby could only nod while an irritated voice crackled out of the phone. Hoping the receptionist would have better luck in college, Emma left.

  ***

  On her way back to her office, she stopped by at the diner and told Becky that their dinner tomorrow night would include two extra people.

  “Sure, honey,” Becky said easily as Emma had anticipated. “Stacey could do with more social interaction, and it sounds like her friend’s had a rough deal. We can help take her mind off that for a few hours at least.”

  She was lucky to have a friend like Becky, Emma concluded as she crossed the street to Lulu’s. Her thoughts returned to Bischoff. She hadn’t discovered his whereabouts on Saturday afternoon, but she’d made some progress. Bischoff was definitely in financial trouble, and he’d been meeting his mistress at the Tall Trees Motel.

  Her phone rang. It was Lorraine with an update on Faye.

  “The concussion is still affecting her memory,” Lorraine said. “She doesn’t remember falling from her deck.”

  So it sounded like Faye hadn’t accused Emma of attempted murder. Not yet, anyway.

 
“I’m so sorry. But at least her ankle’s on the mend, right?”

  “Yes. She’ll be out of hospital by the weekend.” There was a hesitant pause on Lorraine’s end.

  “Do you want me to feed Pepper while she’s away?”

  “Would you?” Relief flooded Lorraine’s voice. She sounded tired and stressed. “That would be a load off my mind. All Faye can talk about is her blessed parrot. ‘Make sure you look after Pepper,’ she keeps nagging me. She doesn’t even consider my allergies…” Lorraine took a deep breath as if she had to rein in her emotions. “There are plenty of people at her women’s civic club who’d be happy to take care of Pepper, but, well, Faye is rather jealous about her pet. Doesn’t want him getting attached to anyone she considers a rival. But she’s happy if you do it.”

  “I don’t mind,” Emma said. “It’s no problem, really.” And feeding the parrot would give her a few extra days in which to investigate.

  “Oh, thank you. That’s one thing less I have to worry about.”

  “You sound like you could do with a rest.”

  I don’t have time to rest. I need to get my paintings finished.” Lorraine sighed. “Thanks once again for taking care of the bird.”

  The next time she went to Faye’s, Emma mused, she’d be better prepared. That parrot was not going to get the better of her a second time.

  ***

  The following day promised to be a busy one for Emma. She had multiple tasks to complete as she prepared for Friday’s country music night. It didn’t help that she rolled out of bed with arms and legs stiff and aching from Monday’s gym class. She hobbled through her shower, pulled on tobacco-colored capris and a white shirt, and ate a quick breakfast of muesli and orange juice.

  Before heading to the office, she needed to stop by Faye’s house and see to Pepper. Last night, armed with thick gardening gloves and a healthy respect for the feisty bird, she had managed to feed and water the parrot without mishap. Hopefully, this morning she would be equally successful.

  Her hopes of a quick pit stop were dashed when she spotted the police cruiser outside Faye’s house. What now? She parked behind the cruiser, threw on the handbrake, and hurried out, only to stop short when she saw the graffiti scrawled across the front of the house. SNOOPING COW, it read, in glaring, fluorescent orange spray paint.

  Not exactly the filthiest insult, but juxtaposed against the neat, white house and the quiet street, it jolted Emma so much she could only gape at the scrawl.

  “Emma.”

  Her heart sank. Of course, it had to be Sherilee again. Why did they keep bumping into each other? Her mind flashed back to yesterday at the gym, where Sherilee and Owen had laughed together and looked so at ease in each other’s company. Her hands clenched involuntarily.

  “When did this happen?” Emma tilted her chin at the graffiti.

  “Sometime last night. The neighbor across the street called it in. What are you doing here again?”

  “I’m feeding the parrot until Faye gets out of hospital.” She caught her breath as a thought struck her. “He is okay, isn’t he?” Graffiti vandals wouldn’t hurt an innocent animal, would they? She started to run toward the house, but Sherilee held her back.

  “You can’t go in there yet until the crime scene techs are finished.”

  “Crime scene! What—”

  “It appears someone tried to break into the house, but the neighbor must have scared whoever it was off.”

  “But the parrot—”

  “He’s fine. I checked the house; it doesn’t look like the perp was successful breaking in. He or she just left some scratch marks around the lock on the front door.”

  Adrenaline pumped through Emma’s veins. Was Bischoff responsible? Or someone else? Spray painting SNOOPING COW didn’t seem something Bischoff would do.

  First Stacey’s house, now Faye’s. Greenville was meant to be a safe town. She shivered, her stomach feeling tight and sore. “Oh, I hate this!” she burst out. “Two break-ins in less than a week.”

  “Two break-ins?”

  Realizing her slip, Emma tried to cover it up. “Gee, look at the time. I have to get to work, but I’m worried about the parrot. Do you think you could feed him?” Pepper probably wouldn’t try anything with Sherilee; he’d be smart enough to sense she wouldn’t stand for any of his antics.

  But Sherilee wasn’t fooled by her attempted diversion. “Where was this other break-in?”

  “Um, I forgot.”

  Sherilee folded her arms. “You’re lying.”

  It was true. She was a terrible liar.

  “Look, this person doesn’t want to report the break-in.”

  Sherilee gazed at her in silence. “But you think differently?”

  “Yes,” Emma sighed. “But I can’t betray a friend’s confidence.”

  Stacey would be upset if she blabbed to the police. On the other hand, Emma was still uneasy that some stranger had gone through all Stacey’s personal stuff and not taken anything. There was something creepy about that, and she got the feeling that Stacey wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Not that she was obliged to, but what if the woman was in danger?

  “I’ll ask her again to call you guys,” Emma said.

  “You do that.”

  If anything happened to Stacey, something that might have been prevented if the cops had known about the break-in, then Emma would never forgive herself. She resolved to have a quiet word with Stacey when she saw her at dinner tonight.

  “What about the parrot?” she asked.

  “Come back later. I’ll call you when we’re done here. The bird will survive a few more hours.” Sherilee held out a key to her. “I took the back door key from its hiding place. Seemed the prudent thing to do after someone tried to break in. You may as well hang onto it until Faye gets back.”

  Emma took the key and returned to her car. Before starting the ignition, she stared at the glaring graffiti one more time. It might be just mindless teenage vandalism, but it might also be a sinister threat. Quit snooping around or else…

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Shore Thing Bar and Grill was a recently opened restaurant housed in what had once been an old bait shop on a pier overlooking the lake. The bait shop had been spruced up and extended, and now featured lots of polished timber, vintage fishing paraphernalia, and folding glass doors that let in the balmy summer evening air and views of the water.

  Emma spotted Stacey and Jackie sitting at a table on the far side of the restaurant and waved at them.

  “Hi, guys!” Emma said as she slid into a chair at the table set for four. Stacey beamed at her, while Jackie gave her a small nod. “Glad you could make it, Jackie.”

  The woman ducked her head and mumbled, “Thanks for inviting me.”

  Jackie wore a plain, dark green shirt tucked into jeans. As usual, her face was half-concealed by her abundant hair, and she wore no makeup. In contrast, Stacey had on a cheerful sundress in pale blue with tiny white flowers, a welcome change from the browns and grays she usually wore.

  “You look nice, Stacey,” Emma said. “New dress?”

  “Uh-huh.” Stacey pushed her spectacles up her nose. “An impulse buy. Not something I normally do.”

  “Speaking of things you don’t normally do…” Emma rested her elbow on the table and leaned toward Stacey. “I’ve been thinking about that break-in at your house, and I really think you should tell the police.”

  Stacey’s relaxed smile instantly disappeared. “Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry you got caught up in that.”

  “Never mind me. I’m worried about your safety. Both of you.” She glanced at Jackie. The woman was staring at the glass of water in front of her as if it held the meaning of life. “Jackie, aren’t you worried, too?”

  Slowly her head lifted. For the first time Emma got a good look at Jackie’s face. High cheek bones, a long, straight nose, a thin mouth, and eyes that seemed curiously blank and detached. An attractive face, but there was a repressed look to her
as if she kept most of her true feelings buried beneath the surface. Hardly surprising, given the abusive relationship she had escaped. Emma felt a twinge of regret. Maybe she shouldn’t be reminding a woman who’d sought refuge in a women’s shelter that the world was a dangerous place.

  “I trust Stacey’s judgment,” Jackie said, raising the glass of water to her lips.

  “I really think we’re fine,” Stacey said to Emma, though the pleat in her brow indicated otherwise. “Why are you bringing this up again?”

  “Because there’s been another break-in nearby…” Emma started to reply before she exclaimed, “Oh!” as Jackie’s hand jerked and water sloshed out of her glass, a few drops splashing onto Emma’s sleeve.

  “I—I’m so sorry!” Jackie stammered while Stacey went into action, grabbing napkins to soak up the excess liquid.

  “No, it’s fine,” Emma assured her. A waiter hurried to help them, and a minute later order was restored.

  “I’m such a klutz.” Jackie was still flushed with embarrassment.

  “You’re not,” Stacey murmured, squeezing her hand on the table. “Everyone has accidents.” She turned her attention back to Emma. “You were saying? Another break-in?”

  “Attempted break-in, actually. At Faye’s house last night. Someone sprayed graffiti over the front of the house, too.”

  “Wait, what?” Stacey frowned. “Graffiti and an attempted break-in?”

  A fresh voice broke in. “Seems like an odd combination, doesn’t it?” Becky slung her purse over the back of the fourth chair and sat at the table. “Hi, everyone!” She cast her benevolent smile at the others. “Sorry I’m late. Hey, why are there no drinks here?”

  “We were waiting for you.” Emma grinned, glad to see Becky.

  The waiter was at their table in a flash, a common occurrence when Becky was around. Both Stacey and Jackie ordered iced tea, while Becky and Emma decided to share a half-bottle of white.