Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (12 page)

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.

“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, won’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.

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.”

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.