Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

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.”

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.

“Hey, Jason,” she called out in greeting as
she got out of her car and strolled toward him.

“Yo,” he muttered, working his rag slowly
over the W in ‘cow’.

“So I guess you went to the police, then?”
she asked when it became clear he wasn’t going to volunteer any information.

“Guess so.” He dropped the rag in the
bucket of foamy solution, tipped back his baseball cap, and kneaded the small
of his back as if he’d been laboring for hours.

“Well?” Emma was determined not to let his
sullenness get the better of her. “What happened?”

Jason’s shoulders drooped. “The sarge
agreed not to charge me if I cleaned up the graffiti and did some other
community work.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“S’ppose.” Picking up the rag, he continued
his listless swabbing.

Emma returned to her car to fetch her
things. Besides her duffel bag of clothes and toiletries, she had also brought
her laptop and a couple of bags of basic foodstuffs, thinking that she wouldn’t
feel comfortable digging into Faye’s supplies. She carted her duffel bag and
laptop into the house and was returning to the car for the food when a cyclist
slowly pedaling past drew her surprised attention.

“Hi, Jackie.” She waved to get the
cyclist’s attention. Jackie’s eyes widened, and her bike wobbled before she
brought it to a stumbling halt, narrowly missing Faye’s mailbox.

“Um, hi,” Jackie said, her gaze darting from
Emma to the house. “Is this where you live?”

“No.” Emma laughed. “This is Faye Seymour’s
place. I’m house-sitting for her while she’s in hospital.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “Oh, yeah. The old
lady who had that fall.”

She swung herself awkwardly off the bicycle
and wiped the back of her hand across her brow. The bike looked old and rusty
and difficult to maneuver. Jackie was dressed in denim jeans rolled up at the
ankle, black sneakers, and a black T-shirt. It was hot out; not a pleasant day
for cycling, Emma would have thought.

“Is that bike Stacey’s?” Emma couldn’t help
asking.

“She said I could borrow it,” Jackie said a
little defensively. “Apparently it was already in the house when she moved in.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s good exercise,”
Emma replied, wondering if she’d offended her. She wanted to like Jackie, yet
the woman didn’t appear to warm to her as she had toward Stacey.
Maybe I’m
too abrasive
, Emma thought.