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

by Karen Chester

  “Alvin!” Emma exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

  Her horrified tone appeared to jolt him out of his daze. “Huh? Nothing’s happened,” he mumbled, squinting into the sunlight like a mole emerging from its tunnel. He held the door open only a few inches as if he didn’t want her coming in, but she needed to speak with him, and what she had to say couldn’t be done in public.

  “Mind if I come in?” Giving him no option, she nudged the door with her elbow and slipped into the building. Alvin huffed and let the door bang shut, making her start.

  The kitchen was dim and deserted, with only a faint light shining from Alvin’s office.

  “Is anyone else here?” Emma asked, glancing around her.

  “No,” Alvin replied tersely.

  She rubbed the goose bumps that had reappeared on her arms and wondered if she’d miscalculated. Here she was, alone in an empty building with someone who had a motive for attempted murder. No, stop that. She couldn’t think that of Alvin, not without stronger evidence.

  “I’m kinda busy at the moment,” Alvin said, drumming his thick fingers on a stainless steel counter. He was a short, stocky man, a few inches taller than her. The thick roll of muscle around his neck seemed very tense. “What did you want?”

  A knife block sat on the counter not far from Alvin’s meaty, restless fingers. The steel handles glinted in the dimness. Emma swallowed. “Uh, I have your check.”

  His neck muscles relaxed a fraction. “Oh. Thanks.”

  He paused expectantly, and she realized he was waiting for the check. She scrambled through her bag, once more cursing the lack of organization in it. She really had to get a better tote bag, one with more compartments so she could have everything to hand.

  “Here it is.” She pulled out the check. At the same time, something small and white fluttered out and landed on the floor between them.

  Alvin bent and picked it up. The Tucker’s Bistro business card she’d found at Faye’s place. Her mouth dried as he examined the card. He handed it to her and took the check without comment.

  “Thank you.” He frowned at the numbers on the check.

  “Is everything in order?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She’d expected him to show some relief at the check, given his urgency when he’d approached her about it, but he didn’t appear happy at all. The edges of the card dug into her palm.

  “Alvin, do you know where I found this?” She held up the business card.

  Looking wary, he shook his head.

  “Outside Faye’s house. It can’t have been there more than a few days.” She paused, and Alvin stiffened, his gaze jumping from the card to her. His black eyes seemed to bore into her. “I—I was wondering how it got there. Did you visit her recently?”

  “No,” he snapped, visibly trembling. With anger, perhaps? “I don’t even know where Faye lives, so I definitely haven’t visited her.”

  “Oh. Well, I just wondered how this card got there—”

  “There’s a whole stack of them sitting at the front desk. Plenty of customers take one. Someone else must’ve dropped one at Faye’s, or maybe she took one herself. Got nothing to do with me.”

  There was something ‘off’ about his denial. It was too forceful, too brusque. If he genuinely knew nothing about it, would he be so belligerent? As if sensing that his reaction was too vehement, Alvin rubbed a hand over his bald spot and heaved out a sigh.

  “Look, I don’t mean to get all excited, but Faye isn’t my favorite person, y’know.”

  Emma nodded. “The police haven’t ruled out foul play in her fall.”

  Alvin’s face turned a sickly yellow. “O-oh?” he stuttered. “I haven’t heard anything like that. It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “Maybe it was, but we don’t know for sure yet. Faye doesn’t recall what happened, but she may regain her memory at any time.”

  Beads of sweat appeared on Alvin’s skull where the hair had disappeared. “But it musta been an accident. It musta,” he insisted as if trying to convince himself. “People fall down all the time. Doesn’t mean there was anything sinister in it.” As if realizing he was talking aloud to himself and the impression he was making, his face clammed up. He frowned at Emma. “I’m real busy right now. Was that it?”

  Alvin had never been this curt to her before. Something serious was going on with him. He wasn’t telling her the truth, not by a long shot, but she wasn’t going to get anything more from him today, and she had a sharp longing for the safety of her office.

  “Yes, that’s about it.” She backed away warily, still aware of the block of knives on the counter. “I’ll, uh, see myself out.”

  When she was outside she realized she was covered in a cold sweat. Ugh. She shivered, trying to shake off her fit of the heebie-jeebies. In the brightness of the sunshine, it seemed absurd to suspect Alvin of attacking Faye. Sure, his life would be a lot easier if she weren’t around, but he was a peaceable, upstanding citizen. He was devoted to his wife and kids, and his restaurant was his life. She had never seen him yell at his underlings, even when under extreme duress. Determined to put a halt to her suspicions about Alvin, she walked back to her car.

  “Emma, oh, Emma,” someone called out.

  A woman climbed out of the blue sedan parked near Emma’s hatchback and hurried toward her. It was Bettina, Alvin’s wife, and her puckered face indicated she was worried.

  What now, Emma wondered as she greeted Bettina.

  “I just saw Alvin and gave him the check for Friday’s retirement party,” she said, hoping Bettina wouldn’t want her to go into the restaurant. The last thing she needed was to face Alvin so soon again.

  Bettina glanced at the restaurant, then back at Emma. The frown on her forehead deepened. “Could we sit in my car and talk for a moment?”

  “Sure,” Emma said cautiously, wondering where this was going. She climbed into the passenger seat of Bettina’s BMW while Bettina returned to the driver’s side. The interior was all buttery beige leather that oozed luxury. She wondered about the monthly repayments on this car and how much longer Alvin could keep paying them.

  For a few moments Bettina just stared out the windshield. Then she twisted toward Emma. “I’m sorry for dumping this on you, but I’m going crazy with worry, and I don’t know who to turn to.” She waved her manicured hands agitatedly. “Oh, I have friends and family, but this is something I can’t bring myself to discuss with them because—” she heaved out a sigh “—because it’s so terrible I can scarcely think about it myself.”

  “Go on,” Emma said when Bettina fell into tortured silence.

  “It’s about Alvin.” As if it could be anything else. “I know about him not paying the business insurance.”

  “Oh. So you know…”

  “That we might be up for fifty thousand dollars if Faye decides to sue us and wins?” Bettina ran a hand through her thick waves of brown hair. “Yes, I know all that. Why Alvin thought he could hide something like that from me I will never fathom. But that’s beside the point. I’m so worried about my husband. He knows I know about Faye. We had a bit of an argument over that, but I feel he hasn’t laid all his cards on the table. He’s keeping something from me. He’s been acting very strangely the past week or so. Oh, sure he’s stressed out about the possible damages, but there’s more to it than that. Call it a wife’s instinct.”

  “What has he been doing?” Emma asked.

  “Staying out late, saying he’s working back when I know he isn’t, acting furtively. Not talking to me. Fobbing me off with excuses.” She cast a dry glance at Emma. “Now, most women would say that he’s having an affair. But I know my husband. He isn’t cheating on me.”

  Emma had to acknowledge that Bettina was right on that score. She didn’t think Alvin was cheating on his wife, either. No, the way he’d been sweating back there, it was something else. Something far more serious.

  “Last week, he stayed out late, came back roaring drunk. A
lvin’s never been a heavy drinker. I barely recognized him when he came home. He woke up the next day and couldn’t remember where he’d been the night before. Or, at least, that’s what he said to me, but I knew from his face he wasn’t telling the whole truth.” Bettina clasped her hands together in her lap and stared ahead. “I’m convinced it’s got something to do with Faye. You see, the Saturday afternoon when she had her fall, Alvin disappeared somewhere. He didn’t come home for hours, and when he did he was all sweaty and agitated. I asked him where he’d been, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said ‘out.’ And then, when we heard the news about Faye’s fall, he turned so white I thought he was going to pass out. He disappeared into the bathroom, and I could hear him retching, but when he came out he just said he’d eaten something bad. I think—” Her voice cracked, and she had to suck in a gulp of air before she could continue “—I think Alvin had something to do with Faye’s fall. But—but I can’t ask him because I’m afraid of what he might tell me.” She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

  For a while Emma just sat there, her thoughts blundering about like confused moths. “Alvin might have a perfectly reasonable explanation for his behavior,” she said.

  Bettina sniffed and dropped her hands. “You think?” she asked hopefully.

  Emma wasn’t sure at all, but Bettina was desperate for reassurance. “You don’t have any solid proof he was involved in Faye’s fall.” Well, there was the business card, but that was hardly conclusive proof. Like Alvin had pointed out, anyone could have taken a Tucker’s Bistro card and dropped it at Faye’s house. And besides, there was no way of knowing if it had been left there on Saturday.

  Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, Bettina nodded. “No, I don’t, and Alvin has been under so much stress lately. He probably needs time off to get away from me.” She blew out a breath. “We’ve been married twenty years. I know my husband. I know he would never do anything violent, even though Faye is such a pain in the patootie.” She smiled, a brittle, shaky smile that didn’t fool either of them. “I’m a silly woman. I hope you won’t take my crazy talk too seriously.”

  Meaning that confiding in Emma had alleviated Bettina’s fears, but now she was at ease she wished the conversation had never happened. Emma wasn’t offended; she’d seen how close to the edge Bettina had teetered.

  “Of course not,” Emma said. “It’s forgotten already. And don’t worry. No one will ever hear a word of this.”

  Bettina patted her hand quickly. “You have a nice day now.”

  Feeling herself dismissed, Emma climbed out of the car and watched as Bettina swung the BMW onto the street. Where was she going now? Off to buy something to distract her from all her ‘crazy talk?’

  Emma returned to her car. Now she had two likely suspects—Alvin Tucker and Kenneth Bischoff—and no real proof it was either of them. The evidence around Alvin looked bad, but try as she might she couldn’t picture him doing something as violent as shoving a woman down the stairs. No, her money was still on Bischoff. She just had to track down his whereabouts on Saturday afternoon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Despite her busy workload that day, Emma found time to look up the motel featured on the matchbook she’d picked up from Bischoff’s office. Somewhat to her surprise, the Tall Trees Motel boasted a professional-looking website and the rates to match. Judging by the photos of tastefully decorated rooms, this wasn’t your average roach-infested slum where rooms could be hired by the hour. She guessed someone with access to money like Kenneth Bischoff could afford to conduct his trysts in comfort. The motel was halfway between Greenville and La Quinta, off the main road, making it a fairly secluded location for secret meetings. She might go check out the place; maybe it would give her a clue. The only other option of confronting Bischoff and asking him point blank where he’d been last Saturday afternoon seemed, at this point, a little too drastic.

  Most of her day was occupied with the country music night in two days’ time. After lunch, she made her way downstairs. She had a meeting with the president of the Main Street Association, which was co-sponsoring the event with the town council, to go over the layout of the festival. As they traipsed about the shorefront park, a light breeze blew off the water, bringing a slight relief from the sizzling heat.

  “Phew!” Rhonda, the president of the association and owner of a quilting store, fanned herself with a printout of the festival layout. “This heat. It doesn’t help that I’m going through the change, either. I tell you, sometimes at home I sit in nothing but my underwear.” She chuckled comfortably. “Thank heavens the kids have all left home and it’s just me and Bertie.”

  Emma smiled. “Want to go over to those shady trees?”

  “Naw, we’re nearly finished here.”

  Emma had met Rhonda several times and found her to be friendly, down-to-earth, and honest. She decided it might be worth sounding her out about Bischoff.

  “Can I ask you something unrelated to the festival?” she asked as they paced the paved area where the food stalls would be set up.

  “Sure!” Rhonda beamed encouragement.

  “What can you tell me about Kenneth Bischoff?”

  “Anything in particular you want to know?”

  “Well, what kind of man is he? Would you say he’s trustworthy?”

  Rhonda snorted. “Not if you’re married to him. That poor wife of his. I suppose she was swept off her feet by his movie star looks. But I doubt he can pull the wool over her eyes for much longer. He’s getting very careless. Just the other day I saw him with his fancy woman right here in Greenville.”

  “When was that?”

  Rhonda wrinkled her nose. “Saturday afternoon. I was driving home from the yard sale, and I spotted him behind Louie’s hardware store. He was with a woman. A brunette, well dressed, high heels, a big floppy hat so I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it wasn’t his wife. Too tall and busty and va-va-voom, if you know what I mean. They were having an intense conversation, almost an argument. They didn’t even notice me. Then Kenneth shouted something like ‘Fine, I’ll take care of it,’ and they got into separate cars and drove off.”

  Emma’s heart thudded with excitement. She tried her best to keep her expression bland. “What time was this?”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure. Around about noon, I’d say.” She cast a curious glance at Emma. “Why all these questions about Kenneth?”

  Emma bit her lip. “Ah, well, there’s something he might be involved in that I’m sorting out for a friend,” she said, figuring the ‘friend’ fib wasn’t such a big lie.

  Rhonda’s curiosity morphed into concern. “Oh, honey, it’s got nothing to do with financial planning, does it? I’ve heard some sad tales about his so-called business advice.”

  “Um, no, it’s something else.”

  Rhonda still looked doubtful. “I hope your friend isn’t in too much trouble.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  Their conversation returned to the festival, and soon their meeting broke up. Emma walked away, her thoughts consumed with what she’d learned from Rhonda. So Bischoff had met with his mystery lover, and they’d argued—possibly about Bischoff’s wife finding out—and Bischoff had said he’d ‘take care of it.’ Did that include going to Faye’s house, hiding in wait, and then shoving her down the stairs?

  As she reached her car parked outside Lulu’s, she had a sudden urge to drive past the location where Bischoff and his mistress had been spotted. She hopped into her boiling hot car. Beads of perspiration instantly spouted on her brow. With the AC on high, she steered the car down the length of Main Street. Louie’s hardware store was situated on the outskirts of the main shopping strip, where a network of alleys stretched behind the stores.

  She turned into the side street next to Louie’s and edged her car along the rutted road. Behind the hardware store was a large warehouse. A handful of teenagers in grungy jeans and baseball caps lounged in the shade of the buildings, one of them sp
ray painting the wall of the warehouse. As soon as they spotted her, the three boys took off. Two of them disappeared around the corner, but the third one tripped on something and landed sprawling in the gravel.

  Emma got out of her car and cautiously approached the prone figure who was still groaning from his fall.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, edging closer. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” The boy rolled over and sat up. He was older than she’d first thought. “Jason? Jason Wylie?”

  The skinny young man squinted suspiciously at her. “How do you know me?”

  “I know your parents, Richard and Helen. I’m Emma Cassidy. I helped organize your dad’s retirement party.” She scanned his torn, grubby jeans. It was hard to tell if any of the rips were from his recent stumble. “Are you okay?” she repeated, tentatively offering him a hand to help him up.

  “I guess.” Ignoring her outstretched hand, he heaved himself to his feet.

  A can of spray paint rolled away from him. Emma bent and picked it up. Bright orange fluorescent paint. She glanced at the warehouse wall and saw the fresh graffiti, the wet paint still gleaming in the sun.

  Jason Wylie slouched in front of her, his greasy hair hanging in his eyes. Despite the faint sneer on his lips, he seemed anxious about something. Emma had a good idea what he might be worried about.

  She waggled the can of spray paint. “Do you know,” she said conversationally, “I happened to see this exact shade of orange just yesterday. Want to know where that was?”

  Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He shrugged and ran his tongue over his lips.

  “Someone sprayed graffiti over Faye Seymour’s house. ‘Snooping cow’, in orange paint. Know anything about that?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jason clammed up faster than a kid at a dentist. He scuffed his sneakered feet in the dirt, wiped a finger across his nose, and scratched his neck, looking anywhere but at Emma.