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

by Karen Chester

  “Come on, Jason,” Emma said in a softer tone. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Anyone can buy a can of orange paint. Doesn’t mean it was me who did it.”

  “True, but you’re the one who lost out when Faye turned you in to the cops.”

  An angry flush burned in his cheeks as he met her eyes for the first time. “Is that what you’re going to do now? Turn me in to the cops?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You seem so sure I’m guilty.” He lifted his arms and let them drop to his sides, belligerent. “What are you waiting for? I’m not running away.”

  And if he did, she couldn’t stop him anyway. “Look, why don’t I give you a lift home instead?”

  His eyes widened in surprise, then he shrugged again. “Whatever.”

  He scooped up a baseball cap from the dirt, jammed it onto his hair, and sauntered after Emma to her car. Still moody, he flung himself into the passenger seat and scowled straight ahead. Except for giving her his home address, he was silent the entire journey.

  The Wylies lived on acreage a few miles out of town, the neat white house situated on a rise with views of Shamrock Lake. As Emma pulled the car to a halt near the house, a golden retriever trotted up to inspect them. When Jason climbed out, the dog wagged its tail and snuffled eagerly at him. Helen Wylie, wearing a straw hat and gardening gloves, emerged from the garden and approached them with a tentative smile.

  “Jason, I wasn’t expecting you home so early.” Her gaze switched to Emma, and her eyes grew puzzled. “Hi, Emma. This is a surprise.”

  “I gave Jason a lift home,” Emma said.

  “Oh. That was kind of you.” Helen was still clearly mystified. “Won’t you come in?”

  “Actually, this isn’t exactly a social call.” Emma glanced at Jason, but he was studiously petting the golden retriever and appeared to have no intentions of speaking first. Oh, well, if that’s the way he wanted it... She addressed Helen. “I found Jason spraying graffiti behind Louie’s hardware store.”

  “You mean the old warehouse?” Helen’s lips pinched. Her chin went up as she edged closer to her son. “That place is covered with graffiti. I doubt the owner cares.”

  “Maybe, but I believe Jason has left graffiti somewhere else, on someone’s home.”

  Helen turned to her son. “Is this true? Whose house?”

  In reply, Jason threw up his arms. “Whose do you think? Cousin Faye’s, of course.” Then he stomped off, hands shoved in his pockets, a very angry young man.

  Helen’s face had paled. “Is this true?” she asked Emma, her voice shaking. “Did he vandalize Faye’s house?”

  “Well, he hasn’t actually admitted it, but yes, someone painted ‘snooping cow’ across the front of Faye’s house in bright orange paint, and when I came across Jason today, he was using the exact same shade of paint.”

  Helen pulled off her gardening gloves and rubbed her furrowed brow. She gestured to the house. “Can we go inside? I’m not feeling that great.”

  Neither am I, thought Emma as she followed the older woman into the house. Clearly Jason had caused his mother plenty of worry recently, and now Emma was only adding to her burden.

  Helen led her into a bright, open kitchen where she poured two glasses of iced tea and they sat at the polished pine table. Helen took off her straw hat to push her fingers through her hair. Stress lines detracted from her natural good looks.

  “I’m afraid it must have been Jason,” she said. “It sounds like something he’d do, unfortunately. But you do see that he’s not entirely to blame. If Faye had only kept her mouth shut about his drinking, none of this would ever have happened.”

  Emma could only nod. “Yes, I agree. I’m not going to tell the police about Jason, but maybe it would be best if he went to them and confessed.”

  More lines crisscrossed Helen’s forehead. “I don’t know. That might make things worse for him.”

  “If he doesn’t go to the police, they may very well still come looking for him. And it’ll look bad for him if he doesn’t come forward.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.” Helen stared into the depths of her iced tea. “This is all Faye’s fault. If she weren’t such a snoop and a gossip and a snitch, none of this would have happened. I’m not surprised she had that fall. Even the sanest person can only take so much...” She trailed off as if realizing who she was talking to, and pressed her lips together. “You know what I mean,” she muttered.

  Was Helen trying to confess something? That she had put up with so much from Faye over the years, and that she had finally snapped and done something crazy and out-of-character? Emma swallowed a gulp of iced tea, hoping it would cool down her brain.

  “Look, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way,” Emma said, “but where were you and Jason on Saturday afternoon?”

  Helen sat bolt upright and glared at Emma. “Richard and I were with Jason helping him pack up the stall. Ask Richard if you don’t believe me.”

  Emma held up a hand. “I just needed to know.” It wasn’t the strongest of alibis. Richard, she felt sure, would do just about anything to protect his wife and son, including giving a fake alibi. Judging it was time to leave, she rose to her feet. “Thanks for the iced tea. I’ll be on my way.”

  Helen jumped up as well, her concern returning. “About Jason. You’re sure you won’t...”

  “Like I said, I won’t tell anyone, though I strongly suggest he confesses.” Emma walked to the door. “However, there is one other question I need to ask him.”

  Pushing open the front door, Helen gestured wearily toward the garage, a separate building standing apart from the house. “He’ll be in there.” With that, she disappeared back into her home.

  Emma walked over to the double garage, which stood open, and paused when she spotted Jason slumped into a deckchair playing some game on his cell phone.

  “Jason, I wanted to ask you one last question,” she said, walking up to him.

  “What?” he huffed, eyes still glued to the screen.

  “When you painted the graffiti on Faye’s house, did you also try to break into her house?”

  “What!?” This time his tone was very different. “No, never!”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Sure I’m sure! I’m no thief!” He scrambled out of the deck chair, his face suffused with red. “Crap, what the hell’s going on? I wrote that cow a message, yes, but that’s all. I would never break into someone’s house.” Lifting his arms, he braced his fingers behind his head. His face crumpled, and suddenly he looked like a frightened boy. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I think I do.” Sympathy welled up in Emma. She’d done some silly stuff too when she was younger. Jason was a lost, mixed-up kid, and spraying graffiti on Faye’s house had been a dumb thing to do, but he didn’t seem like a vicious person. “I won’t say anything to the police, but, like I’ve told you and your mom, it might be wisest to tell them what you did. And didn’t do. Anyway, I’ll leave you now.”

  She walked away. When she got into her car, Jason was still standing in the garage, his face screwed up. He swiped at his eyes as if wiping away tears, and that made her feel awful. Sometimes, finding out the truth didn’t make anything better.

  ***

  The SNOOPING COW message blared at Emma that afternoon as she walked up to Faye’s house. She winced, wondering when it would be cleaned up. Maybe Lorraine would see to it before Faye came home from hospital. As she let herself into the house, a wave of tiredness came over her, but she couldn’t go home without first making a brief stop here. She’d said to herself that she would let Pepper out of his cage for a short while. It wasn’t fair on the bird to be cooped up for so long, and maybe some exercise would make him more cheerful.

  Pepper sat hunched in his cage. He barely acknowledged her when she greeted him. “Hey, sulky boots, I’m going to let you out of the cage for a bit. You’ll like that, wo
n’t you?”

  Pepper shuffled to the far end of his perch and turned his back on her.

  She made her preparations. She had sliced up strawberries and cucumbers ready to lure him back into the cage. She had the T-shaped perch which would protect her hands from his bite. She had a new bird toy she’d bought from the vet in case he proved resistant. She shut the doors so that Pepper would only be able to wander around the dining room and living room. Finally, she opened the cage door and stepped back.

  Pepper, who had been studiously ignoring her, barged out of the cage in a whirr of wings. For a few minutes he swooped and hopped about the room, whooping and hollering as if he’d been let out of prison. Which, he had.

  Regretting she hadn’t done this sooner, Emma watched on as Pepper stretched his wings and skittered across the coffee table. He climbed to the top of an armchair and crowed at her, sounding almost happy.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  He dipped his head. “Peeping Tom!” he cackled.

  “What? I’m no peeping Tom.”

  “Peeping Tom,” the parrot insisted, weaving his head this way and that.

  He seemed to be looking at something over her shoulder. She spun around to the window behind her. There was a peeping Tom staring at her, a haggard, white face with bulbous eyes and a straggly beard.

  Her heart jumped. “Hey!”

  The black eyes met hers and bulged even more. A second later, the man vanished.

  “Hey, you!”

  She pounded out of the dining room, pausing only to shut the door before barreling through the kitchen and out the back door. A skinny man dressed in grubby clothes lumbered out of the peach trees at the side of Faye’s house.

  “Tom,” Emma called out—because it had to be the neighbor—as she ran for the deck stairs. “Wait, I just want to talk to you.”

  Ignoring her, the man charged toward the thicket of bushes that hid the break in the fence. Several unripe, green peaches tumbled to the ground as he scrambled through the bushes and made his escape.

  Emma came to a halt, breathing hard. “Tom, please don’t be afraid. I don’t mean you any harm.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was pursuing Faye’s weird neighbor except that he might have seen or heard something important on the day of Faye’s fall. He might even know who had tried to break into her house the night before. But he had vanished. Clearly Tom didn’t trust her. And why should he after all the complaining Faye did about him? He probably thought Emma was just like Faye.

  Using her toe, she poked one of the green peaches he’d dropped in his haste. Did he really like eating hard, sour peaches? Or did he steal them just to annoy his interfering neighbor? Maybe a bit of both.

  She returned to the dining room, wondering what havoc Pepper had managed to wreak during her absence. He had discovered the strawberries and cucumbers she’d prepared earlier. Even though she’d placed them in a sealed plastic container, Pepper had managed to prise the lid off, and was now happily munching his way through the treats that were meant for luring him back into his cage. When he caught sight of her, he cackled in triumph, his beady black eyes daring her to scold him.

  Instead, she sighed. “You’re a menace, Pepper, but I think you’re starting to grow on me.”

  “Grow on me. Cup of tea.”

  Hmm. A cup of tea sounded heaven after her long day, but she didn’t fancy rummaging through Faye’s kitchen. She moved over to an armchair by the empty fireplace and sank into it. Nearby was a small bookcase with various books on parrots and gardening. It wouldn’t hurt to read up on parrots; maybe she’d pick up some useful tips. She chose a book titled ‘Caring for your African Grey Parrot’ and settled back in the armchair. She would read a few chapters and allow Pepper a bit more freedom before she thought about herding him back into his cage.

  As she opened the book, a thin plastic card slipped out of the pages and fell into her lap. She picked it up. It was a Philadelphia Public Library card for one Amanda Roche. A perfectly ordinary, unremarkable library card. Except that the photo was that of a woman Emma had always known as Stacey Shulman.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emma squinted at the library card until her eyes ached, but there was no getting around it. The woman in the photo was at least a dozen years younger, her hair was longer and blonder, and she didn’t wear glasses. But she was unmistakably Stacey.

  Her friend was not who she said she was. The woman known as Amanda Roche had abandoned her identity and changed herself into Stacey Shulman. She’d cut her hair, acquired glasses, disguised her old self. She’d built a new life for herself in Greenville. And then, somehow, Faye had gotten hold of this library card and discovered Stacey’s secret.

  Emma stared at the library card, wondering what she should do with it. She dropped it into her bag without coming to a decision and swiveled about, searching for Pepper. To her surprise, he was perched on top of his cage, looking ready to go back inside. She found the toy she’d bought, a wooden bird kabob, and hung it in the cage. Pepper hopped inside and immediately took to investigating the new toy.

  “See you tomorrow, Pepper,” she said as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

  “Tomorrow,” he sang out, practically chirping.

  Deep in thought, Emma drove home, the library card weighing on her consciousness. Fortunately, her father was out at a school meeting, and she had the house to herself. When she glanced at her laptop, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Opening an internet browser, she googled Amanda Roche from Philadelphia. At first there didn’t seem to be anything, but then she widened her search, and the information she dug up made her stomach knot up with fright.

  She read the news articles several times over and peered at the photos. If what she suspected was true, then it was little wonder Stacey had changed her identity to escape the nightmare. When she had gleaned everything the internet could provide her, she leaned back in her chair and wondered what to do next. For the briefest of seconds, she considered going to the police with her information—if not Sherilee, she could at least talk to Owen—but quickly discarded the idea. Stacey, or whoever she was, was still her friend; she had to speak with her first.

  Her mind made up, she left the house and drove to Stacey’s house. Her friend’s car sat in the driveway, and the lights were on in the house.

  “Hi! This is a nice surprise!” Stacey’s wide smile when she opened the door only made Emma feel worse. “Come in.” She gestured enthusiastically.

  “Is Jackie home?” Emma asked as she followed Stacey inside.

  “No, she’s out on an errand. Did you want to see her about something?”

  Emma shook her head. At least with Jackie absent this would be marginally less awkward. “Actually, I came to see you about something.”

  Stacey peered at her more closely. “Oh, dear. I don’t like that look on your face. Have I done something wrong?”

  Wow, this was so hard. “I have something I think belongs to you.” Stacey raised her eyebrows expectedly. Emma pulled the library card out of her bag and held it in front of her, the photo facing outward. “This.”

  For a few seconds Stacey was completely motionless, her gaze pinned on the library card. Then, slowly, a shudder worked through her, distorting her face.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered before hauling in a rasping breath. “I suppose you found that at Faye’s house.”

  Emma nodded, feeling wretched at causing her friend such distress. “It fell out of a book.”

  Stacey turned away, her arms wrapped around her waist. Moments ago when she’d greeted Emma, she had moved with youthful grace, but now she shuffled away as if she were ill. She sank into the nearest couch. The expression of utter defeat on her face alarmed Emma so much that she dropped into the seat next to her.

  “So careless of me,” Stacey muttered to herself. “I should’ve checked that book before lending it to Faye.”

  “A book on parrot care?”

  Stacey shook her head.
“No. The House of Mirth. Didn’t realize that card was still in it, tucked under the flap. One stupid mistake, and everything comes crashing down.” She lifted eyes that were weary and frightened toward Emma. “I suppose you know all about Amanda Roche.”

  “Well…” Emma hesitated. “I know some things from the internet, but not everything, I’m sure.”

  Stacey sighed. “What do you want to ask me?”

  This conversation was clearly hurting Stacey, and Emma’s questions would hurt even more, but there was no other way. Emma had to know.

  “Are you married to Trevor Roche?”

  “No. Like I said, I divorced him.” The words jerked out of Stacey. “You already know what he did to me. I finally found the courage to leave him. That was before the final robbery.”

  “How many, um, jobs did he do?”

  “I’m not sure. He never told me anything about his work, you know, and I quickly learned not to ask questions. Not if I didn’t want a backhander across the face.”

  Emma winced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

  “No, it’s okay. It happened a long time ago. I should be able talk about it now. My husband was a thief and a brutal thug. He abused me, but I wasn’t his only victim. There was that jeweler at his last robbery, an innocent old man. Trevor bashed him, and he had no reason to because the man was petrified and would’ve done whatever he wanted.”

  “The last robbery. The one that finally led to him being caught and sent to prison. The one where…”

  With a stifled inhale, Stacey clamped her lips together. “Where some of the diamonds were never recovered. Yes, that one, and no, I don’t know where they are. Like I said, I’d already left Trevor. I had nothing to do with him or the robbery, and I have no idea where he hid the diamonds.”

  “So why did you change your identity?”

  Stacey buried her face in her hands. “Because I was terrified of Trevor. He was furious that I’d filed for divorce. I’d gone into hiding because I knew how he’d react, but he managed to track me down. Someone broke into my apartment, disturbed my things. I knew it was Trevor. One day, when he was out on bail, he followed me and dragged me into an alley, and threatened to kill me if I didn’t go back to him. I don’t know what would’ve happened if some construction workers hadn’t walked by and interrupted him.”