Throw a Monkey Wrench (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

Cynthia White was not a woman to be
underestimated. That brittle iciness could crack and reveal the steel inside.
But why did she look so upset? Shouldn’t she be happy now that they had the
perfect excuse for cancelling the privately dreaded wedding? From Cynthia and
Howard’s point of view, Tony’s death couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
In fact, if Emma were extra cynical, she might even suspect them of
orchestrating the murder. But no, that was too fanciful. The Whites wouldn’t
stoop to murder just to prevent their daughter from making a calamitous
mistake. Would they?

Emma turned back to her car just as Madison
emerged from the garden. For a moment Madison looked nonplussed, and then a
pink hue colored her cheeks.

“Hi!” Madison’s voice squeaked. As she
hurried forward, she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. Emma could have
assured her that her mystery male visitor was nowhere in sight.

“Hi, Madison. I thought I’d stop by and
check in with you. I was expecting you at the courthouse yesterday for Sean’s
arraignment.” She watched Madison closely, alert to any reaction.

The pink in her cheeks deepened to crimson,
but even when she was under pressure Madison looked guileless and innocent.

“I—I wanted to be there so much, but my
parents were adamant I shouldn’t go…because of the reporters.”

“Well, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t
go because there was a TV crew and some of the McCluskey cousins showed up and
were ejected from the courthouse for being too rowdy.”

“Oh, dear.” The concern deepened on
Madison’s face.

“Anyway, they all left after a while, and I
was there to give Sean a lift home after he posted bail.”

“Thank you for that.” Madison chewed her
lip. “How is he?”

“Why don’t you go visit him and see for
yourself? Or you could at least call him.” Emma couldn’t help the censure
creeping into her voice. What had Madison been doing all this time? Had she
been too busy with her secret male friend?

“I’m on my way to see him right now.” She
jingled a set of car keys. “I was just…waiting for my mom to leave first.”

But her gaze slid away, and Emma knew she
wasn’t telling the truth. Not the whole of it, anyway. She debated whether to
ask who the man was she’d seen Madison with, but decided not to. Given the
clandestine manner of the two, Madison would most likely lie about him, and
that wouldn’t help.

Emma decided to move onto more important
matters. “Your mom says the wedding has to be cancelled. Is that true?”

Madison’s eyes grew dark. “Mom and Dad are
insisting I call the wedding off, but—but I don’t want to. I’ve dreamed of this
wedding for so long. How can I just give it up now?”

Well, at least she still wanted to marry
Sean. That was something.

“You should probably discuss this with
Sean. The sooner you can come to a decision, the better because there’ll be
cancellation fees to consider.”

The idea of breaking the bad news to all
the suppliers was not a pleasant one for Emma, but it was part of her job. She
wasn’t sure if she would charge her own cancellation fees to Madison, given the
circumstances. She’d lose out on some money she sorely needed, but it might buy
her some goodwill from the Whites.

“I’ll talk to Sean.” Madison grimaced. “My
mom wants to call all the people she’s invited and tell them the wedding’s off
today
.
Can you believe it? I know she doesn’t exactly like Sean, but she’s been acting
so weird over this death.”

“How weird?”

“She’s taking it so personally. As if Tony
Barnet meant something to her.”

“Maybe they were friends.”

“I seriously doubt it. Tony Barnet was loud
and flashy, and, let’s face it, my mom’s a snob.”

Emma cleared her throat but made no
comment.

Madison continued, “When Tony was renting a
house nearby, he invited my parents over for some of his parties. I think they
went to one or two, but after that they stopped. Not their type. That was a
couple of years ago. So it’s strange that my mom’s so upset about his death.
She even had an argument with my dad over it. I heard her shouting at him last
night.”

“Shouting?” Emma had a hard time picturing
the refined Cynthia White raising her voice.

“Yeah, they were in my dad’s study and the
door was shut, but I could still hear them. My mom yelled ‘Tony is dead,’ and
then my dad said something like ‘Good riddance,’ and then things were quiet
after that, but it was a tense quiet, you know?”

“I guess we don’t expect a murder to happen
around here. I’m sure your mom isn’t the only one rattled by it.”

“I just want it all to go away. It’s like
living in a nightmare.” Madison squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds, then
blinked them open. “Have you made any progress on clearing Sean’s name?”

“I’ve talked to a few people,” Emma
guardedly replied. She would have told Madison everything she knew so far, but
the question mark over Madison’s mystery admirer made her hold back. Until she
was sure of her facts, she wouldn’t blurt everything out to Madison.

“Jordan Kozlowski’s hired me to organize
Tony’s funeral reception,” she continued. “That should help in my enquiries.”

“Thanks, Emma. I really appreciate your
help, and I’m sure Sean does too.” She hitched her purse strap further up her
shoulder. “I should go now. Sean will be waiting for me. I’ll see you later.”

Emma watched Madison drive off before
getting back into her own car. She sincerely hoped Madison wasn’t leading Sean
down the garden path. At a time like this, the last thing he needed was doubt
over his fiancée’s sincerity.

As she headed toward Greenville, her
stomach rumbled. It was past one o’clock, and after her minimal breakfast and
busy morning she was starving. She’d park her car at the office and head
straight to Becky’s Diner for a hearty lunch, she decided. No salad or soup
today; she needed a juicy hamburger with fries.

But when she arrived outside Lulu’s Salon,
a police cruiser sat at the curb, and Officer Sherilee Ackerman, crisp and
officious in her uniform, was waiting for her.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions,”
Sherilee said, and the tone of her voice indicated this was not a request.

“About what?” Emma couldn’t help sounding
belligerent. She was starving, and Sherilee always brought out the worst in
her.

“About the poisoning at Tony Barnet’s
party.” Sherilee bared her teeth in a parody of a polite smile. “Shall we go
into your office, or should I take you down to the station?”

“I had nothing to
do with the food poisoning,” Emma protested, feeling cornered and defensive as
she perched behind her desk in her office, arms folded across her chest.

Across from her, Sherilee sat comfortably
in the visitor’s chair, her notebook open on her knee. Her hair was neatly tied
and pinned, her boots were polished, her shirt spotless. Her discreet lip gloss
and mascara enhanced her air of competency.

“Emma, I’m just doing my job. I have to
interview everyone who might have had an opportunity.”

Her condescending manner only made Emma
grit her teeth harder. “Opportunity? You mean to say the poisoning was
deliberate?”

“Oh yes. Unless you call ground up slug
pellets in the pistachio ice cream an accident?”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Slug pellets?”

“Mm-hmm. Metaldehyde. It’s a nasty poison.
Causes abdominal cramps, nausea, vomiting…well, you know yourself, don’t you?”

Cat
. Emma
just managed not to let that slip out. “Doesn’t that put me in the clear? If I
poisoned the ice cream, why would I eat some myself?”

“To throw suspicion off yourself?”

“Oh, this is ridiculous! Why would I want
to poison everyone and sabotage my business? And anyway, why aren’t you chasing
down whoever made the ice cream?”

“We’ve questioned those people and checked
their manufacturing premises. Everything looks in order. No one else who bought
their pistachio ice cream got sick. The carton of ice cream was sealed when the
caterers brought it to the party. Then it was scooped into a big glass serving bowl
and packed in a tub of ice on the buffet table for at least an hour to an hour
and a half. Anyone could have tossed in the pellets, and since they taste
sweet, no one would have realized until it was too late. Did you notice anyone
behaving suspiciously near the dessert buffet?”

“No.” Emma frowned as she recalled the
night in question. She’d been busy with many things during the party, and
fussing over the ice cream had been a minor concern. Only now, in hindsight,
did it seem important.

“As the party planner, isn’t it your job to
keep an eye on things both at the party and behind the scenes?”

Now she’s telling me how to do my job?
Emma’s jaw ached from her clenched teeth, but she refused to rise
to the bait.

“That’s correct,” she said calmly. “I moved
between the great room and the kitchen area constantly throughout the night and
I don’t recall any suspicious behavior.”

“That’s a pity.” Sherilee cocked her head
to one side as if to suggest that Emma hadn’t done a very good job if she’d
allowed the culprit to poison the ice cream right under her nose.

“Have you used the caterer before?”
Sherilee consulted her notes. “Alvin Tucker?”

“Yes, twice before the housewarming. He has
a good reputation.”

“Yes,” Sherilee agreed. “Tucker Food has
been in business for years, and they’ve never had a problem.”

Until A Perfect Party came along
. Shoot. She was planning to ask Alvin to do the catering for Tony’s
funeral reception, but maybe, after a visit from Officer Ackerman, he wouldn’t
want to do business with her.

Flipping shut her notebook, Sherilee rose
to her feet. “If you think of anything else, give me a call at the station.”

Emma stood too. “Instead of hounding me,
why aren’t you out there catching some real criminals?” She hadn’t meant to say
that, but Sherilee always brought out the child in her, and she couldn’t manage
to bite her tongue.

“Real criminals?” Sherilee’s blue eyes
became hard and pointed. “You mean Tony Barnet’s killer? In case you hadn’t
noticed, we have already caught him, and he’ll be facing justice soon. The ADA
says we have a strong case.”

Sean wasn’t the only one with a motive
to do away with Tony
, Emma wanted to blurt out. She
bit back the words but couldn’t let Sherilee have the last word.

“What about the criminal who ran over Luisa
Crespo and never stopped? Are you looking for him or her?”

Sherilee paused midway toward the door to
shoot Emma a frown. “Luisa Crespo? Are you mixed up in that, too?”

Heat built up on the back of Emma’s neck.
“I’m a concerned citizen. I don’t want a hit-and-run driver roaming free around
Greenville.”

“Neither do we. The Crespo incident is
still under investigation. We won’t give up until we catch the culprit,”
Sherilee retorted. “In the meantime, don’t interfere with our investigations.”

Once Sherilee had turned away, Emma
couldn’t help sticking out her tongue.

***

Emma plopped
herself into the end booth at the diner facing away from the other customers
and blew out a breath. Her blood pressure was still elevated after Sherilee’s
‘interview’, and she wanted a quiet lunch by herself to recover her
equilibrium.

Mags, one of Becky’s part-time waitresses,
poured her a cup of coffee and took her order for a hamburger with fries and a
side of bacon. Emma figured she deserved the bacon after Sherilee.

She reached for a sachet of sweetener only
to find there were none at her table. She twisted around to ask the person in
the next booth if they had any, only to find herself gazing into Owen
Fletcher’s brown eyes.

“Oh, hi, Owen.” An irrational urge to tidy
her hair assailed her. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Hi, Emma.” His eyebrows quirked up as he
gave her a faint smile. “You were a bit steamed up when you came in, so I’m not
surprised you didn’t notice me. Is anything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I, um, there’s no sweetener at
my table.”

“There’s plenty here.” He nodded at the
container of sachets on his table, but instead of handing her one he gestured
at the seat opposite his. “Want to join me? I’m waiting for my veggie
burritos.”

She hesitated. Moments ago all she’d wanted
was a solo lunch, but this was Owen, and he looked so handsome and
friendly—friendlier than he had in a long time—that she couldn’t resist.

“Sure.” She picked up her coffee cup and
bag and slid into his booth. “Veggie burritos? Are you on a health kick or
something?”

“Gotta keep fit.” He patted his lean
stomach. Today he was in his sheriff’s office uniform, and a little tingle
started in her stomach as she took in how fit and smart he looked.

“So, Deputy Sheriff, what have you been
doing this morning? Catch any criminals?”

Good grief!
What was coming out of her mouth? Why did she sound so flirty all of a sudden?
It wasn’t like she wanted to attract Owen’s attention. She grabbed a sachet of sweetener
and stirred it into her coffee.

“Just doing some follow up interviews in
the area.”

“How long have you been with the Sheriff’s Office?”
There, that was an innocuous, non-flirty question.

“About five years.”

“You must like it, then.”

“I do.  There’s more scope in the Sheriff’s
Office than a small agency like the Greenville PD.”

A pity Owen wasn’t investigating Tony
Burnet’s murder. She had a feeling he would be more thorough and less
prejudiced than Chief Putnam.

“So what have you been up to today?” Owen
asked.

“Jordan Kozlowski called me. I’m arranging
Tony’s funeral reception for her.”

“Yeah?” He looked startled. “She needs a
party planner for that?”

“Hey, it’s a tough time for her.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Emma blinked. “Excuse me? Did I hear right?
Did you just admit that I’m right?”

“Make the most of it, sunshine. I won’t do
that again in a hurry.”

The sparkle in his eyes gave her a fresh
burst of tingles all over. Ugh, she wasn’t going to go all mushy over an old
boyfriend, was she? What with Sherilee and now Owen, she was beginning to feel
like a distracted, angsty teenager, the last thing she needed.

Fortunately, they were interrupted by Mags
with the veggie burritos and burger and fries. She deposited their plates,
refilled their coffees, and fetched them glasses of water. By the time Emma
tucked into her burger, she was feeling more composed.

“How is your mom?” she asked. “I hope she’s
feeling better after that housewarming party.”

“She made a quick recovery.” Owen bit into
his burrito and chewed. “Luckily she only had a small helping of that pistachio
ice cream.”

“Oh. So you know about the slug pellets in
the ice cream?”

He nodded. “Sherilee told me.”

Some of Emma’s appetite vanished. She set
down her burger and reached for a napkin from the caddy. “Officer Ackerman paid
me a visit just before lunch. Wanted to know if I’d poisoned the ice cream. Can
you believe the nerve of that woman?”

“Sherilee’s a good police officer. She’s
only doing her job. You should cut her some slack.”

Emma dunked a fry in ketchup and crunched
it loudly.

“I’m surprised you and Sherilee aren’t
dating,” she said, unable to temper her waspish voice.

A chunk of avocado fell out of Owen’s
burrito as he stared at her. “Dating?”

“Yes, dating. You two seem to have a mutual
admiration society going on, plus you’re both in law enforcement. Seems like a
no-brainer to me.”

“I don’t think Sherilee sees me that way.”
Looking a little flushed, he bit into his burrito.

Wrong. Emma had noticed the way Sherilee’s
face had softened when Owen had arrived on the scene after the poisoning
episode. The woman definitely saw Owen as more than just a colleague.

“How do you know? Have you ever asked her
out on a date?”

“Why the sudden interest in my personal
life?”

“For heaven’s sakes. We dated all through
senior year. Of course I’m interested in your personal life.”

The abrupt silence around their booth
alerted her that her voice had risen. She sighed inwardly. So what else was
new? She’d always been too loud, too much, for Owen.

She waved a hand at the diners around them.
“Sorry about that, nothing to see here.”

Turning back to her plate, she bent over
her burger to avoid Owen’s eye.

“Glad to see you haven’t changed that
much.” He let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re not embarrassed?” She risked a
glance at him. He was chewing away at his burrito looking surprisingly relaxed.

“Hey, I’m not eighteen anymore.”

He looked better now than he ever had at
eighteen. He had matured and made his place in this world. He was respected,
successful, admired. A part of her couldn’t help wondering what might have
happened if she hadn’t broken up with him. And another part couldn’t help
wondering if there might still be a future for them. But she quickly quashed
her speculation. She wasn’t ready to put her faith in another man. Not even one
as trustworthy as Owen. And besides, he didn’t sound too enthusiastic about
taking a trip down memory lane either. No, it was better all around if they
could just be friends again.

“Can I ask you something?” he said after he
had finished his burritos.

She sat up. Why did he sound so serious?
Was he going to ask her out on a date? Her palms suddenly felt clammy. “Sure.”

“I saw you driving away from the courthouse
in La Quinta yesterday. What were you doing with Sean McCluskey?”

Not a date, then. And suddenly he sounded
stern rather than friendly.

“I gave him a lift home. What’s it to you?”

He pushed his plate away and folded his
arms on the table. “He’s been charged with second degree murder. You should
stay away from him.”

“I happen to think he’s innocent.”

“Why? Because he was friendly to you back
in high school? Emma, the man has a criminal record. Witnesses heard him
arguing with the victim shortly before the murder occurred. He
owns
the
murder weapon, for Christ’s sake. How much more proof do you need?”

“The Chief is prejudiced against Sean
because he couldn’t make that possession of stolen goods charge stick. In fact,
he’s prejudiced against all the McCluskeys. I don’t think the police did a
thorough enough investigation. They just pounced on Sean because he was convenient.
They haven’t considered any other suspects.”

Owen stared at her for several moments,
breathing hard. Then he leaned back. “Oh jeez. Don’t tell me you’ve volunteered
to play detective for him.”

She clenched her hands in an effort to
control herself. “No one else believes him. Everyone is so eager to lock him up
and throw away the key.”

Owen raked his fingers through his short,
mocha-colored hair. “Keep out of this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll
get hurt.”

As if she wasn’t hurt already by his
assumptions and his eagerness to believe the worst of her. She tossed her hair
over one shoulder. “Thanks for that vote of confidence. You always know how to
make me feel
so
good about myself.”