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

by Karen Chester

  With a silent groan, Emma obeyed the order and set a pot of coffee brewing, while Faye began preparing a smorgasbord of fruit and nut treats for her parrot.

  “Have the police been to see you recently?” Emma asked, wondering how much Faye knew of the recent attempted break-ins.

  “I spoke to Sherilee yesterday.”

  “So you know about Kenneth Bischoff barging in here,” Emma said when it became clear Faye wasn’t going to say anything more.

  Faye turned from the chopping board to point her knife at Emma. “She said you let him in.”

  A guilty flush heated Emma’s face. “Okay, that was my fault.” Drawing in a breath, she decided to take the plunge. “But I know about the photos, Faye. I couldn’t help seeing one of them when Pepper flew into your study.”

  Faye stared at her for several moments, her face dark with disapproval. “No one likes a snoop, Emma,” she declared without a hint of irony.

  Emma protested, “I wasn’t snooping.” Not then, she hadn’t. “Anyway, the fact is Kenneth Bischoff came here because he wanted your phone. He was furious about the photos.”

  Faye snorted. “He should’ve thought about that before cheating on his wife yet again.”

  Why wasn’t Faye taking this more seriously? “You do realize that Bischoff might have been the one who pushed you down the stairs?”

  “Kenneth?” Faye scoffed. “The man likes to swagger, but underneath it he’s a cream puff.”

  Cream puff? It was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to tell Faye about the gun hidden in Bischoff’s jacket, but caution prevailed. She didn’t know for a fact that he even had a gun, so she contented herself by saying, “Maybe, but he seemed pretty desperate, and if you drive a rat into a corner, you shouldn’t be surprised if it tries to bite you.”

  Faye continued to frown as she fed her parrot a few slices of strawberry. “You shouldn’t have poked through my things while I was laid up in hospital.”

  “Hey, you and Lorraine asked me to be here.” Emma held up her hands defensively. “And I wasn’t poking through your things. I was cleaning up after your parrot when I found that photo of Bischoff and his mistress. And I didn’t enjoy him barging in here and menacing me. He’s a very unpleasant man.”

  Faye’s eyes narrowed even further. “Well,” she said, striking an ominous tone. “I guess that means you and I will have to do a little investigating of our own.”

  “What investigating?”

  “We’ll have to find out where Kenneth was last Saturday afternoon at the time of my fall. We’ll start by asking his mistress.”

  Emma felt her eyes goggling. “We will?”

  “Yes. We’ll go and visit Carmel tomorrow when she’s at work.”

  “You know who Kenneth’s mistress is?” Emma asked slowly.

  “Mm-hmm. She’s a waitress at a pancake parlor over in Marietta. Married, too. She usually works the Sunday morning shift.”

  “How do you know all this? Have you been following people around?”

  “I don’t follow people around.” Faye drew herself up, all haughty and offended. “I just happen to get around a lot, and I keep my eyes open. If folks want to conduct their shenanigans in broad daylight, then that’s hardly my fault. I can’t help what I see.”

  “Right,” Emma murmured, conscious that she herself did something similar from time to time, though she was hardly in the same league as Faye.

  She pulled two clean mugs from the dresser and poured out the coffee. Faye washed up the knife and chopping board she’d been using, dried her hands, and joined Emma at the kitchen table.

  “So you can’t remember anything more about your fall?” Emma asked.

  “No. My memory is still fuzzy, but the doctor said it will probably come back eventually.” Deep in thought, Faye drummed her fingers on the table. “You know, it could’ve been Bettina or Alvin.”

  An instant memory of Alvin Tucker outside Faye’s house flashed through Emma’s head. “I doubt it,” she said with more hope than conviction.

  “They’re angry with me when I’m the victim here,” Faye grumbled. “I didn’t slip and hurt my shoulder outside their restaurant on purpose. It’s their fault, yet now they’re blaming me.” Extending one finger, she pushed the plastic container on the table away from her. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that casserole has poison in it.”

  Emma gaped at her. “Poison?”

  “Don’t look so flabbergasted. You just said earlier that a cornered rat can bite.”

  “But Alvin and Bettina wouldn’t try to hurt you.”

  “You don’t think so? Bettina was once charged with assaulting a police officer. Bet you didn’t know that.” She waited until Emma shook her head before concluding, “Don’t be fooled by her harmless housewife looks.”

  Bettina assaulting a police officer? It boggled the mind. But then, Emma’s own gentle, law-abiding father had once been arrested for protesting against land clearing.

  Faye gave the chicken casserole another poke. “Maybe I should hand this in to the police so they can test it. Wrap it in a plastic bag and pop it in the freezer, will you?”

  Emma did as she was told. It was easier than arguing.

  “Now then,” Faye continued, sounding far too energetic. “We’d better get going. We need to take Pepper to the vet, then on the way home we can stop off at the grocery store and pick up a few things.”

  Emma thought about protesting. It wouldn’t do to let Faye assume she was at her beck and call. But she had already resigned herself to doing whatever the old lady wanted today, and not because she was a doormat. She genuinely wanted to get to the bottom of who had pushed a harmless—well, fairly harmless—woman down the stairs. She knew the police, in particular Sherilee, were investigating, but they had other calls on their time, and at the back of Emma’s mind lurked the uncomfortable suspicion that Faye was not safe in her own home. Someone had almost done away with her, and who’s to say that person wouldn’t return to finish the job?

  Emma hauled herself to her feet. “Okay, then. Vet first, and then the grocery store.”

  ***

  “Are you sure he’s okay?” Faye asked once more as the vet ran his hand down Pepper’s back several times. “I’ve been in hospital for a week. It must have been a terrible shock for him. He’s a very particular bird, you know. I’m the only one he really trusts.”

  “He seems fine to me,” Nick Stavros, the young vet who’d recently taken over the practice, said. “His feathers look healthy, he’s a good weight, and—oof!” He winced as the parrot bit his finger, but to his credit, the vet carried on, “And he seems as sparky as ever.” He met Emma’s eyes and grinned at her.

  “Hmpf.” Faye sniffed, clearly unimpressed that the vet wasn’t making a bigger fuss over her pet.

  While Faye was settling the bill with the receptionist, Nick chatted with Emma. He hadn’t been in Greenville for very long, having moved here from Los Angeles with his two cocker spaniels, and like her was still finding his feet. Before she could find out more about him, Faye cut their conversation short and hustled Emma out of the vet’s office.

  “I don’t know if he’s all that good,” Faye said on the way to the store. “Maybe I’ll try the vet in La Quinta next time. He’s been in business for a long time, whereas this Nick looks a bit wet behind the ears.”

  From what Emma had observed, the vet seemed caring and professional. He was about her age, she thought, single, and probably eager to meet people in his new hometown. That reminded her of Wesley and their date tomorrow. Once again, she toyed with the idea of cancelling but in the end decided not to. It was just lunch, and on the face of it Wesley was a nice guy. Plus, she needed to expand her social life. She couldn’t waste all her spare time angsting over Owen and what might have been.

  When they reached the grocery store, Faye handed Emma a shopping list and some money. “My foot hurts, and I can’t leave Pepper alone in the car,” she said, her hands firmly placed on the cardboard box
in her lap that contained her parrot. “You’ll have to get my things for me, and please make sure the apples are pink ladies and check the expiry dates on the milk and…”

  Emma hurried around the grocery store grabbing stuff off the shelves. As she rounded a corner, her shopping cart bumped into another, and she looked up to see Lorraine.

  Emma lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, hi, Lorraine. Didn’t expect to bump into you here. I thought you had some emergency.”

  Lorraine flushed to the roots of her hair. “I—I do. Something, er, came up, and I have to leave town today.”

  She pulled her shopping cart away, causing Emma to glance at its contents. A bottle of champagne, strawberries, a kitchen knife, and… Holy moly, was that a tub of body glitter? Emma blinked at her old teacher, completely flummoxed. Lorraine looked very different today. She’d got a haircut, she had makeup on—pink lipstick and mauve eye liner—and she was wearing an embroidered cream silk shift over linen pants. She looked younger, softer, and dressed up as if she were going on a date.

  “Faye’s in my car outside,” Emma murmured, still surprised and thinking Lorraine would appreciate the heads up. “With Pepper. I’ve just taken her to the vet, and now I’m doing her shopping for her.”

  “Oh. Right.” Lorraine swallowed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll slip out the back entrance.” She hesitated, then added in a rushed whisper, “I don’t need Faye telling me how foolish I am.”

  “Um, okay.” Emma nodded.

  “I’m leaving a few days early for my exhibition. Taylor called, asked if we could spend some time alone together, and I said yes.” She lifted her chin. “I’ve always regretted letting Faye drive a wedge between us. It won’t happen again. From now on, I’m going to live my own life, and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even my interfering sister. Thank you for taking care of her. I know she won’t thank you herself, but I do appreciate it. Must rush now. Goodbye.”

  Emma stared after Lorraine as she hurried away with her shopping cart. Well, that was an odd encounter. Clearly, Lorraine was fed up with her sister interfering in her life, and Emma didn’t blame her. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why Lorraine needed a kitchen knife for her reunion with her ex-husband. Was it to cut cheese or something?

  She decided not to tell Faye about bumping into Lorraine, since she suspected Faye would get mighty annoyed at her sister running away and ignoring her. The relationship between the two sisters was complicated enough. Best to let them sort it out between themselves.

  When they returned to Faye’s house, Faye limped inside, leaving Emma to first carry Pepper in his box into the dining room before heaving the shopping bags to the kitchen. Next door, Tom’s dog was barking again. Every now and then it stopped for a couple of seconds, before starting up again. A few minutes later, Faye joined her in the kitchen with Pepper balanced on her shoulder.

  “What an infernal racket!” Faye grumbled as she took one of the apples from a shopping bag and placed it on a chopping board. “That mangy, flee-bitten mongrel. Should’ve been put down years ago.”

  “I’ve never seen it,” Emma said as she stored away cereal and crackers.

  The barking grew louder. To Emma’s untrained ear, it sounded more than a little frantic.

  “Oh, I am so sick of that Tom!” Red in the face, Faye clenched a paring knife in her hand as she glared out the window. “I’ve had to put up with so much! The weeds and unsightliness, stealing my peaches, the noise his dog makes. Sometimes the mongrel even poops in my yard! Can you believe it? And no one from the council does a thing about him.” The sharp knife trembled in her grip. “Sometimes I could just kill him myself!”

  Emma blinked, taken aback by Faye’s outburst. If Faye felt such deep resentment for her neighbor, maybe the feeling was reciprocated. Maybe Tom was the one who had pushed her down the stairs. He did live right next door, and by all accounts he wasn’t the full bottle. Maybe he had lied to Sherilee about seeing a woman running away to cover up for himself.

  Faye spun around to face Emma. “Why don’t you go next door and tell Tom to keep his mutt quiet?”

  “Me?” Emma shrank back. “Oh, no, I don’t think—”

  “He won’t listen to me because I’ve been over there so many times before. In fact, these days when I knock on his door he pretends he’s not in. But he’ll listen to a young thing like you.” Faye waved the knife, making shooing motions. “Go on, now. That dog is driving me crazy. And look at poor Pepper. He’s distressed by the noise.” Pepper, perched on the counter next to the chopping board, seemed more interested in the apple that Faye was about to cut, and didn’t appear at all put out by the barking.

  “But how do I know he won’t turn violent?” Emma asked, stalling for time.

  “That man jumps at his own shadows,” Faye scoffed. “He wouldn’t say boo to a goose.” Apparently Faye had completely forgotten than she had pinned the blame on Tom Kovacs for pushing her down the stairs. Using the knife, she pointed at the dense clump of bushes that hid the break in the fence. “Now get going. Push your way through there, and you’ll find yourself in Tom’s yard. Just go up and knock on his back door. And don’t worry if you come across that dog. It’s practically toothless, so it can barely bite.”

  Wonderful, that filled her with confidence. Sighing, Emma grabbed her phone, exited the house, and descended the stairs to the yard. She really, really didn’t want to go next door to creepy Tom’s. But the dog was still barking, and a small worm of foreboding was wriggling in her stomach. Maybe something was wrong next door.

  She plunged into the bushes and fought her way through, pushing aside thick foliage and branches. She came out on the other side to find herself standing in an overgrown wasteland. Towering trees and thick shrubs cast deep shadows over the yard and a tumbledown shack that she at first took for a large shed until she realized that this was the house proper. The rusting roof, cracked windows, and peeling paint only added to its derelict air. It looked like it could collapse at any minute, with only grime and cobwebs holding the structure together. Small piles of bottles and empty cans littered the ground. Weeds grew waist-high among clumps of ratty grass. Old tires offered perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes.

  Out of the wasteland a mangy, dun-colored dog suddenly appeared and stopped. Baring his teeth, he growled tentatively, but didn’t move toward her. She stood still and waited. The dog released a volley of barks, then turned and disappeared into the house. It seemed to be telling her something urgent. Emma picked her way over the rough ground until she reached the back door leading into what she assumed was the kitchen.

  “Hello? Mr. Kovacs?” she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Is anyone home?”

  Silence greeted her. Not even the dog barked. A stale, greasy odor assailed her as she peered inside. The gloomy interior sent trepidation prickling across her back. Bracing herself, she stepped into the house. For a few seconds she was blind as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Gradually she made out her surroundings—damp-stained walls, cracked linoleum, an ancient cooker in one corner, a lumpy armchair, newspapers and magazines scattered everywhere, dirty dishes and mugs, flies buzzing around congealing food, a dusty TV hunkered in the detritus.

  A panting whine drew her further in. Rounding a sagging couch, she spotted the dog. And a body lying face down on the floor with a knife buried in its back.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  She knew it was Tom Kovacs, even though she couldn’t see his face. Who else could it be with the poor dog whining next to the body, fear and pathos shining in the animal’s eyes? Tom’s hair was gray and matted. His clothes matched his tumbledown surroundings—tattered, navy blue sweatpants and a faded T-shirt that had once been white but was now yellow with age and stained a deep ruby red from the blood. So much blood…

  A wave of dizziness and pity rushed over Emma. Who could’ve done this? It looked like the killer had chased Tom into the house, where Tom had tripped over a pile of books
that still lay scattered under his bare feet. And then, with Tom sprawled on the floor, the killer had plunged the knife deep into his back.

  Nausea washed over her again, causing her to clutch at the back of the couch for support. As she struggled for breath, she couldn’t help noticing the knife. Why did it seem familiar to her? And then it hit her. That knife, with its distinctive carved bone handle, had sat in a drawer in her parents’ kitchen for years. That knife had once belonged to Emma’s mom and dad, and now it was a murder weapon.

  She stumbled out of the kitchen, fighting the urge to be sick. The dog was barking again, but this time his woofs were mournful, as though he knew his master was beyond help. Emma staggered into the back yard. Sunshine streamed over her, but nothing could penetrate the icy dread encasing her. Somehow she managed to get her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and dial the police, her fingers numb and fumbling.

  After the dispatcher had taken her call and reassured her that the police were on their way, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fight the chill that threatened to overwhelm her. More than anything she wanted to get away from this gloomy house and its taint of death, but something held her back. It didn’t feel right to abandon the body, and there was the dog, too, sounding so lost and forlorn. It occurred to her that maybe it wasn’t safe to linger here when a murder had just been committed, but with the dog making such a ruckus, she reasoned the killer would be long gone by now.

  Sirens heralded the arrival of the police, and several uniformed officers burst into the yard at the same time as Faye, no doubt unable to contain herself, appeared via the bushes, her moonboot and crutches no impediment to her curiosity. Emma pointed the cops toward the house before turning to Faye, who was all agog.

  “Tom’s been murdered,” Emma said as briefly as possible. “Knifed in the back.”

  Shock gripped Faye’s expression but was quickly replaced by her usual avid inquisitiveness. Her rapid-fire salvo of questions passed largely over Emma’s head.