She dragged her hands over her face, wiping away a few tears. “After that, I knew I wasn’t safe. Even behind bars, he’d still find a way to get to me. So I disappeared. I found someone who specializes in this kind of thing. He gave me fake documents for a new identity, and I became Stacey Shulman. In the beginning I moved around a fair bit. I was scared that Trevor might track me down. But nothing happened, and he got sent to prison for fifteen years, so eventually I took a chance. I settled down here in Greenville, got a job at the council, and started a new life.”
She glanced sideways at Emma, a sad smile twitching the corners of her mouth. “I even made a few friends. Some good friends. I’m sorry for deceiving you, Emma, but I had no choice.”
Emma nodded, moved by what she’d heard. What Stacey had gone through was unimaginable. She couldn’t imagine what this Amanda Roche had been like, but the tired, tearful woman sitting in front of her was the friend she’d come to know and like.
“I understand.” She thought back on the events of the past week, Stacey’s true identity now throwing a new light on things. “So that night when someone broke in here and went through your things… Were you reluctant to go to the police because of your false identity?”
Stacey nodded. “I try to stay under the radar. All these years I haven’t yet been questioned about my identity, but just one minor incident might raise someone’s suspicions. Plus, I’m not that eager about the police, either. They didn’t do much for me when Trevor was terrorizing me. Oh, things are different now, yes. The cops take domestic violence more seriously, but when it was happening to me, I felt completely isolated and helpless.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It must’ve been awful.” Whatever she said seemed inadequate, Emma thought.
“I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. But time is a great healer. When I finally managed to leave Trevor, I vowed to myself I’d never be a victim again.” Stacey rose to her feet, straightened her glasses, clasped her hands in front of her, and looked at Emma. “So. About Faye. Do you think I pushed her down the stairs?”
Emma blinked up at her. “I think I’m afraid to ask.” She paused. “How did you react when Faye announced she knew who you really were?”
“I was appalled. You can imagine what a bombshell it was after all these years living here, thinking myself safe, finally enjoying my life again. Everything was going so well. I had a secure job, my own home, friends…even an admirer.” Stacey’s fingers curled into her gray skirt. “I don’t know why I’d hung onto that book, but I had it with me when I left Philly. It was in my car because I intended to donate it to the thrift store, but when I gave Faye a lift one day, she saw it and asked to borrow it. Not sure why, as she’s never struck me as the reading type. A week later she dropped in and told me she knew all about me and Trevor. I was horrified and frightened. Suddenly my nightmare had returned.”
“What did Faye want?”
“She didn’t really say. She didn’t ask for money or any favors. I think she just enjoyed having that power over me, which in a way was more sinister than merely demanding something.” Stacey rubbed her upper arms. She paced up and down her sparsely furnished living room. “She was convinced I knew something about the missing diamonds. Kept badgering me even though I swore I had nothing to do with it. While I was married to Trevor, I tried to know as little as possible about his jobs, and he kept me in the dark. He never brought his cronies home, never talked about details in front of me, never mentioned any possible hiding places. I honestly knew nothing. I begged Faye to keep my secret. I told her how Trevor had abused me, but I don’t think it made much impact on her.”
“Surely with Trevor behind bars you’re safe now?”
Stacey uttered a bitter laugh. “I thought I was safe, until someone left those flowers on my doorstep. Trevor used to buy me zinnias when he wanted to make up to me. I always hated them.”
No wonder she’d reacted so strongly to that bunch of red and yellow zinnias. Unease slid down Emma’s back. “So you think Trevor’s tracked you down?”
“I’m not sure. It might have just been a coincidence. But I’m tired of running. I want to stay here in Greenville. As Stacey Shulman.”
“But Faye might out you.”
Stacey’s lips tightened. “Exactly. I asked Faye to return my old library card. She refused. She toyed with me. She took pleasure in my misfortune.” Her face darkened with a strong emotion Emma had never before seen on her friend’s face. “Faye is a woman lacking in empathy.”
Filled with dread, Emma pushed to her feet. “Oh God, Stacey. What did you do?”
“I’ve never thought of myself as a violent person, but after what I’ve been through, I’ve learned something about myself. If I’m cornered, I’m capable of a lot of things. I never thought I’d have the strength or the wits to leave Trevor and disappear, but I managed that. And if I felt threatened again, I’d fight back.” Her gaze was steady, resolved. “I did entertain some wild schemes about silencing Faye, but I never laid a finger on her. I didn’t push her down those stairs.”
Emma swallowed. She didn’t have much experience of suspecting a friend of attempted murder. “Um…well, good.”
“I can see you’re not completely convinced.”
To her dismay, Emma realized that she wasn’t. Yes, with all her heart she wanted to believe that her friend was innocent, but her rational brain told her that she didn’t really know this woman standing in front of her. She’d seen only the assumed persona, Stacey Shulman, but she didn’t know Amanda Roche, what she’d been through, what she could be driven to.
A few months ago when Emma had helped clear a friend of murder, she had seen that people lie all the time, sometimes for innocuous reasons, sometimes not. People were not always what they seemed. Murder could lurk in the hearts of the mildest.
Stacey sighed, looking weary. “I wish I had a solid alibi for the time Faye had her accident, but I’m afraid I don’t. After the yard sale, I came home by myself, and I was here all afternoon until about six.”
That was no alibi at all. Why couldn’t Stacey have spent the afternoon with Jackie?
“I didn’t hurt Faye,” Stacey said once again, her chin wobbling. Her bravado was beginning to slip, and her eyes were filled with consternation.
Why was everything so complicated? Emma hated causing her soft-hearted friend so much anxiety. But perhaps her ‘friend’ wasn’t as soft as she seemed. The situation was getting too perplexing, and Emma had an urge to go home and lie down.
“I think I should go,” she said. “I won’t say anything.” For now. She needed time to think things over.
The corner of Stacey’s eye twitched. The pinched lines on her face made her look older than her years. “Could I…” She gestured hesitantly. “Could I have my library card, please?”
The card was still clutched in Emma’s hand, forgotten. She handed it over silently and walked to the door.
“Emma…” Stacey said from behind. “I wish I could ask you to believe in me, but I know I have no right to ask that. Not yet, anyway. But I hope that in time you’ll find it in your heart to trust me again.”
Chapter Eighteen
How do I end up in these situations? The question nagged at Emma the following afternoon as she drove toward La Quinta with Lorraine in the passenger seat. She had to learn how to put her foot down and say no, Emma mused. Last night she had displayed no backbone when Lorraine had called and informed her that Faye wanted to see her. Emma was working hard with the preparations for the country music festival, and she was already taking care of Pepper, which ought to earn her enough good neighbor brownie points in her opinion. She could ill afford the time and wished she’d made up some excuse, but instead she had meekly agreed, even suggesting she pick up Lorraine.
Discovering Stacey’s real identity had shaken her, so she’d had a poor night’s rest. In the end, she had decided that Stacey couldn’t possibly have harmed Faye, even though she had a very
strong motive. Emma would keep silent about everything she’d been told; she had to have faith in her friend.
“You seem rather distracted, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Lorraine said as they walked through the hospital corridors. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, sure. I just have a lot of things to do for the music festival tomorrow night.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve pulled you away from your work.” Lorraine immediately looked concerned. “You should’ve said something. After all, you’re already feeding Pepper. You don’t have to be at Faye’s beck and call.”
Emma lifted her shoulders. “Well, I’m here now.”
Lorraine sighed as they reached Faye’s room. Sitting up in bed, her left foot encased in a moon boot and her auburn-dyed hair on end, Faye looked disconcertingly vulnerable. Always indomitable in the past, she was now a frail old woman lying in hospital. Emma’s rising sympathy was checked when Faye lost no time in complaining about the food Lorraine had brought her.
“I asked for chicken soup,” she said, pulling a face at the thermos she had unscrewed. “This is minestrone.”
“I’m sorry, that’s all I had at home,” Lorraine said. “I didn’t have time to make chicken soup when I have so many paintings to finish.”
“You’d think your own sister would be more important than a few paintings.”
“It’s not just a few paintings. You know what this exhibition means to me.”
“Yes, a chance for you to run off and have fun while I suffer in agony here,” Faye huffed as she pushed the thermos of soup aside.
Lorraine leaned forward in her visitor’s chair. “But I spoke to your doctor. He says you’re making good progress.”
“Well, I’m very stoic. All I have is a fractured ankle.” Faye gestured at her cumbersome moon boot. “Such incredible pain, but I put up with a lot. You never hear me complain.”
“But—”
“Oh, but who wants to sit here and listen to a sick old woman?” Faye waved a plump hand dismissively. “Not you. You’d rather mix with some decrepit, failed hippies.”
Crimson spots appeared in Lorraine’s freckled cheeks. “That’s not fair. Some of these friends I haven’t seen in years.”
Faye slid a sly glance at her sister. “I suppose that ex-husband of yours will be there.”
“I believe so,” Lorraine said with some dignity. “Taylor and I have always remained friends, despite everything.”
“Oh, Lorrie, I hope you’re not going to make a fool of yourself by running after him again. He’s bad news. You’re much better off without him.”
The front of Lorraine’s floral print dress heaved as she drew in a breath. “Well, thank you so much for telling me.” Red in the face, she lurched to her feet. “I don’t know how I’d manage without you interfering in my life.” She rushed out of the room, leaving Emma sitting awkwardly on the remaining visitor’s chair.
“Huh!” Faye snorted, not looking particularly upset by her sister’s outburst. “She needs a rest, that one. Too much fussing over her painting, if you ask me.”
“The exhibition means a lot to her,” Emma said. “And I think she’s a very talented artist.”
As Faye narrowed her eyes at her, Emma was reminded that Stacey was another victim of this woman. Faye had cast misery and anxiety onto a vulnerable person, and fed off that pain.
“What did you want to see me about?” Emma added, ignoring Faye’s ornery look.
Faye pulled the edges of her bed jacket together. “I heard from the police that someone tried to break into my house the other night.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right.”
“They must be after Pepper.”
“They? Who do you mean?”
Faye struggled to sit up. “Thieves. Bird thieves. An African Grey is worth hundreds of dollars.” She put a finger to her mouth, frowning. “Maybe they’re after my silver as well. That must be worth thousands. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You must move into my house and protect Pepper and my silver and all my other valuables.”
Emma gaped. “What?” She couldn’t have heard right.
But Faye was nodding earnestly. “I’d ask Lorraine, but she’d make some excuse about being allergic to birds. Makes too much fuss over her health in my opinion, but anyhoo, she says you’re doing a good job with Pepper, so it has to be you.”
It has to be me? Oh, jeez, no. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Emma began, desperately searching for a way out.
“Why not?”
“But—but what about your friends at the women’s civic club?”
“Pepper’s used to you. He wouldn’t take to those old biddies. Besides, you’re still living at your father’s, mooching off him. Why not give him a break and stay over at my house for a couple of nights?” Emma couldn’t help wincing at the ‘mooching’ comment, but Faye, having gathered speed, barreled on, “It would be quite a luxury break for you, too, staying at my house. Of course you’ll have to be careful with my things, and I don’t want you touching any of my Spode china, and you must leave everything spotless.” She paused to fix Emma with a penetrating stare. “You are a tidy person, I hope. Nothing worse in a young woman than slovenliness.”
Sorry, I’m a complete slob when it comes to housework. That was what she should have said, but instead she found herself murmuring defensively, “I’m not too bad.”
“Well, that’s settled then.” Looking triumphant, Faye folded her arms.
Emma gawked at her. Why had she ever thought Faye was frail and vulnerable? In five minutes flat the acid-tongued woman had managed to simultaneously offend her sister and wrangle a house-sitter. She ought to refuse. No one would blame her.
But what if Faye was right and a bird thief was after Pepper? She didn’t like to admit it, but the parrot was starting to grow on her, and she’d be furious if he was stolen. And if she stayed at Faye’s, maybe Tom would grow accustomed to her and she’d get a chance to talk to him properly.
“I can’t be at your house all the time,” she said, silently admitting defeat. “I still have to go to my office during the day. Plus, I’ll be working late tomorrow night with the music festival.”
“If you’re coming and going from my house, that would probably be enough to put the thieves off. And maybe you could get Owen Fletcher to make a few rounds when you’re out Friday night. You are still friends with the deputy, aren’t you?”
Emma felt the heat rise in her neck but forced herself not to react. “I don’t think I could ask him to do that.”
“You should watch out. If you’re not careful, that Sherilee Ackerman will snap him up from under your nose. She’s been circling him for a while now. Poor man doesn’t even know it.”
Sherilee might already have snapped up Owen. The heat reached Emma’s ears, but she refused to rise to the bait. “Like I said, I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him to do security checks.”
Faye opened her mouth as if to argue the point, but then she must have decided otherwise because she said, “Sherilee was here yesterday, asking me questions about my fall. I heard it was you who found me and called the ambulance.”
“Yes,” Emma said and waited.
“You didn’t notice anything amiss?” Faye looked at her like a disappointed school principal.
Guess she shouldn’t hold her breath waiting for Faye to thank her. “No,” Emma replied.
“What a pity. Anyway, I already told Sherilee who was responsible.”
Emma couldn’t help starting. “Who?”
“It was Tom, who else? That crazy coot!”
“What? Tom pushed you down the stairs? You’re sure about that?”
Faye shifted, toying with her sheets. “Everyone knows that fool has rats loose in the attic. He’s been doing everything he can to get under my skin. Who else could it have been?”
Who else? A disturbingly long list of people, and each of them, if pushed to the limit, could have snapped and tried to do away
with the meddling gossip queen.
“You don’t know for sure, do you?” Emma challenged.
“Someone pushed me,” Faye insisted. “I was dazed and confused for a few days, but it’s clear in my mind now. I had that rear deck sanded and fixed just a couple of months ago. I always wear sensible shoes, and I was not ill or in any way dizzy. There is no way I could have stumbled by myself and fallen down those stairs. I was pushed.” Her eyes glared with conviction. “My memory’s still a bit foggy, but it’s improving every day. I’m sure in a few days I’ll remember who it was. My money’s on that nincompoop next door, but I’ll be certain soon.”
And if she didn’t blame the nincompoop next door, who else would she accuse? Stacey, Jason, Alvin? Maybe even Emma? The sooner Emma unraveled this mystery, the better. And in the meantime, she was house-sitting at Faye’s. Oh, joy.
***
On arriving home, Emma packed a few necessities for her stay at Faye’s. Her father, home from work, was predictably pleased with her sacrifice.
“I always knew you were a sweetheart.” He put his arm around her and kissed her forehead.
He wouldn’t think she was such a sweetheart if he knew everything she’d done, Emma thought. Still, it was nice to have her dad’s approval. She wondered if her father would take advantage of her absence to have Janet Ramos over for dinner. He and Janet, a teacher at the high school, were in the first stages of what appeared to be a rather protracted courtship, and Emma was glad to give her dad more space for a couple of nights.
When she arrived at Faye’s house, she saw a young man in baggy shorts and tank top scrubbing at the graffiti. He paused to squint at her over his shoulder, nodded, and then continued with his rather half-hearted efforts.
Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) Page 13