Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

She laughed lightly. “Aren’t you sweet? I
bet you say that to all your clients.”

“No.” He blinked, and a faint flush rose in
his cheeks. “Uh, sorry if I offended you.”

She hadn’t expected the blush, and she
hadn’t intended to embarrass him, either. “Oh. No, I’m not.” She hesitated. “So
I’ll see you on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, sure.” He smiled again, seemingly
relieved. “Let me walk you out.”

They strolled toward the reception area.
They were passing the weights room when a man and woman came out, laughing and chatting
to each other. Sherilee and Owen, both in tight-fitting gym clothes and looking
like they belonged in a TV commercial.

Owen stopped short, his expression freezing
as his gaze swung between Emma and Wesley. “Hi,” he said to her.

It hadn’t escaped her notice how quickly
his smile had disappeared when he’d spotted her. “Hello,” she said evenly to
the both of them. “Enjoy your workout?”

“Yes, we did.” Sherilee’s cool face gave
nothing away. Of course she had to look fresh as a daisy after her weights
session. No sweaty clothes or messy hair for Officer Ackerman, especially when
she was with Owen. Since Emma’s return to Greenville, she’d become aware that
Sherilee had a soft spot for Owen, and that didn’t sit comfortably with her—her
childhood nemesis getting together with her high school sweetheart? Of course she
didn’t like the idea. She hadn’t been able to fathom out Owen’s feelings about
Sherilee, but seeing as they were doing early morning gym sessions together,
she had to conclude that they were become close. And that made her stomach
cramp up, even though it was none of her business.

She pasted a big smile on her lips. “I had
a great session with Wesley myself.” She patted the trainer’s muscle-bound arm
and continued moving. “See you later.”

She said goodbye to Wesley and left the
gym. As she drove home, she reviewed her actions and let out a groan. Fake
smiles and patting Wesley? What was she thinking? She had no intention of using
the fitness instructor to make Owen jealous. So why had she done it?

She had to put the blame on her
subconscious because deep down she knew she still had a “thing” for Owen. Whenever
she bumped into him, even if he was with Sherilee, her heart did an involuntary
little jump of joy. They might have broken up years ago, she might have moved away
and lived a full and varied life, but she couldn’t deny he still had a hold
over her—even though she wasn’t ready for another relationship.

But Owen preferred Sherilee now. If they
were doing an early morning gym session, then maybe they had spent the night
together. The knot in her stomach grew bigger. Now
that
, she did not
want to think about.

After a quick stop
at home to shower and change, Emma headed for Greenville’s town center, where
her office was situated on the second story of a sweet wooden Victorian house.
The lower level was occupied by Lulu’s Salon, where Caitlyn, her part-time
receptionist, worked as a manicurist. Emma let out a sigh of satisfaction as
she entered her office. She loved the small but airy room with its lace balcony
and its views of Main Street and Shamrock Lake just beyond the rooftops. For
the first time in her life she was the sole owner of her business, mistress of
her own destiny. If she worked hard enough, she could make it succeed.

She opened her mail and read her emails.
There were no new bills in the mail, thank goodness, and she had two emails
confirming events in the near future, a family reunion and a company party. They
were both good, lucrative jobs, and the healthy satisfaction she felt almost
eclipsed the dejection that persisted after seeing Owen and Sherilee together.

Her business was growing. In fact, her next
event was the annual Greenville summer country music night this coming Friday.
She had won the contract despite some grumblings from the mayor’s wife. She had
worked hard getting every detail right, and she hoped that on the night
everyone, including Henry and Monica Benson, would see how capable she was.

After dealing with the mail, she reviewed
the retirement party from the past Friday and noted what had gone well and what
could be improved. After each event she organized, she liked to debrief herself
with the aim of improving her service. She recalled Alvin Tucker’s money
problems and his embarrassed request to be paid as soon as possible. She’d have
to speak to the engineering department at the town council, since the
retirement party had come out of their budget.

She called Stacey and related Alvin’s request
to her. Stacey, always helpful, said it wouldn’t be a problem and she’d get the
check cut within a few days. Emma thanked her, and they chatted some more about
the party. She’d been thinking about Stacey and the revelation of her abusive husband—thankfully
now an ex-husband—but there was no way she’d bring up the subject. However, she
could mention the break-in.

“I hope you didn’t have any more trouble at
home,” Emma said.

“No, it was just the once, thank heaven.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.” Emma
went on to tell Stacey what had happened to Faye.

“Oh, my goodness! That’s terrible. I hope
she’ll recover soon.” Stacey sounded genuinely shocked.

“Yes, I hear the operation on her ankle
went well.” Yesterday afternoon Emma had received a text message from Lorraine
updating her on Faye’s progress.

“Poor Faye. What bad luck.”

“I had to go over to her house and collect
a few things and feed her parrot,” Emma said. She inspected her arm where
Pepper’s beak had gouged her, but any trace had vanished. “The bird bit me.” A
bubbling noise came from the other end, and Emma realized that Stacey was
giggling. “It really hurt. And the parrot pooped on the dining table.”

A gale of laughter burst out from the
phone. “Ha-ha-ha. I don’t know why, but the thought of you and the pooping
parrot tickles me.”

Emma couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, I
guess it’s funny when it happens to someone else.”

“You’ll have to tell me everything when we
have more time.”

“I’m meeting Becky for dinner tomorrow
night. Why don’t you come too?”

Stacey hesitated. “Are you sure Becky
wouldn’t mind? I don’t know her as well as you do.”

“Becky will be fine with it,” Emma said
with conviction.

“In that case I’d love to come, but…”

“But what?”

Stacey’s voice grew tentative. “Would you
mind if I brought Jackie with me? I know it’s a cheek to ask, but she’s been
acting a bit strangely, and I feel responsible for her. I wouldn’t feel right
leaving her alone while I went out and enjoyed myself.”

Stacey was such a nice person. Not content
with giving Jackie shelter from an abusive relationship, she seemed to have decided
to be both her protector and therapist. Emma only hoped Stacey wasn’t taking
too much upon herself.

“Sure, bring her with you,” Emma said.

Becky might not be impressed that their
plans had altered, but they could always have their intimate, gossipy dinner
some other time. Stacey was a likeable woman, and Emma wanted them to be
friends. Jackie, she wasn’t so sure about; there was something slightly furtive
about her. But that made Emma feel mean, and she decided to be as pleasant as
possible to Jackie the next time they met.

“We’re meeting at seven at the Shore Thing
Bar and Grill.”

“Sounds great. We’ll see you there.”

***

An hour later, Emma
was heading downstairs to grab a coffee from Becky’s Diner when she spotted
Caitlyn at the door of the salon saying goodbye to a customer. The client had
her back to Emma, but there was something vaguely familiar about her fluffy fawn-brown
hair and pale arms. Clothed in a floral chiffon dress, she stalked away with a
jerky gait to a shiny white Lexus parked at the curb.

“I feel like I’ve seen her before,” Emma
said to Caitlyn as the Lexus pulled out, bunny-hopped a couple of times, then
sped off down Main Street.

“It’s Ellen Bischoff.” Caitlyn flicked her fingers
through her hair which was streaked with deep purple to match her nails. Emma’s
young receptionist was a bower bird when it came to color, and today sported a
mauve skirt, cranberry shirt, and a short, sleeveless lavender waistcoat. “She
came in for her weekly manicure.”

“Ellen Bischoff? Councilman Kenneth
Bischoff’s wife?” She should have recognized her from Friday night’s party.

“He’s a councilman? I didn’t know that. All
I know is that he’s a jerk to his poor wife.” Caitlyn’s youthful face darkened.
“He cheats on her and lies about it all the time.”

A recollection of that damning photo of
Bischoff and his mistress flashed through Emma’s mind. “So Ellen knows about
his affairs?”

“Uh-huh. You should’ve seen her nails when
she came in. All ragged and chewed to bits. She doesn’t usually talk about her
husband, but today it was like she couldn’t hold back.”

At the retirement party Ellen had appeared
vague and almost spaced out, but it seemed there were some things she couldn’t
miss, like her husband’s philandering.

“Ellen’s usually such a softie,” Caitlyn
continued, “She looks like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. But she’s had
enough. She told Kenneth if she caught him cheating again, she was going to
divorce him.”

“Oh? When did this all happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Caitlyn wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe a week ago when she heard some rumors? Anyway, apparently her husband was
quite shocked because usually he buys her flowers or jewelry and weasels his
way back in with her, but this time it’s different. She’s taking a stand, and if
she did dump his sorry ass, he’d be in a lot of trouble. Ellen has all the
money, you see, through a family trust fund, whereas he has nothing but a pile
of debts. He can’t afford a divorce.”

This was yet more evidence that Kenneth
Bischoff had strong motivation for making sure Faye never gossiped about his
recent affair. If word got to his wife, if someone sent her a copy of that
incriminating photo, then Bischoff’s cushy lifestyle would come to an abrupt
end. That was a very strong reason to shut Faye up.

So the councilman had motive, but did he
have opportunity? Where had he been at around one pm on Saturday afternoon?
Emma had witnessed him earlier arguing with Faye at the community yard sale.
What had he done after that? Had he gone to Faye’s home, waited on the rear
deck until she came out, and then shoved her down the stairs? He could have
parked his car a block or two away. After attacking Faye, he could have jumped through
the bushes to the property next door, then walked back to his car and driven
away. And perhaps it was he who had lurked outside Faye’s kitchen door
yesterday, hoping to break in and retrieve any incriminating evidence.

“I’m glad I’m not rich,” Caitlyn said,
jolting Emma out of her reverie. “When I get married, I know my husband won’t
be doing it for my money.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks, Caitlyn. You’ve
cheered me up over my shocking bank balance.”

She made her way back to her office. No
time for coffee; she had to discover if Kenneth Bischoff had an alibi for the
time of Faye’s fall. In order to do that, she had to find out more about him.
She sat down in front of her laptop, brought up a browser, and began her
search.

Half an hour later, she had gleaned some
interesting facts. Bischoff had had a number of careers including real estate
broker, bar owner, and marina operator. It seemed several of his businesses had
failed, but along the way he appeared to have made some useful connections who
had endorsed him in his campaign to run for councilman. And no doubt his wife’s
money and name had helped, too. According to the
Shamrock Times
, he’d stirred
some controversy by running a smear campaign on his nearest rival. Currently, his
stated career was as a financial planner with an office just off Main Street, a
ten-minute walk away.

Chewing her lip, Emma stared at the address
on her screen. It was one thing to say she needed to check his alibi, but it
was quite another to actually go out and do the deed. What was she going to say
to him? She couldn’t very well march into his office and demand to know his
whereabouts on Saturday afternoon.

But the longer she sat here, the shorter
the odds of her chickening out. Without giving herself time for second
thoughts, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door. She would think of
something on the walk to Bischoff’s office.

By the time Emma
reached Kenneth Bischoff’s office, she was damp under her shirt and a little
out of breath, and it wasn’t because of the walk or the weather. She paused on
the sidewalk to straighten her hair and calm her nerves. Bischoff’s office was
in the middle of a row of restored nineteenth century stores, its plate glass
front etched with the words ‘Bischoff Financial Planning’. She pushed open the
door and entered a white, air-conditioned reception area.

A smartly dressed woman sitting behind a
white counter looked up and smiled at her. “Hello, can I help you?”

“I was wondering if Mr. Bischoff was
available.”

“I’m sorry, he’s out at the moment. Is
there anything I can help you with?” Rising to her feet, the receptionist
tilted her head to one side. “I think I recognize you. Weren’t you in my gym
class this morning?”

Emma peered more closely at her and saw she
was the woman who’d remarked about Wesley showing an interest in her. “That’s
right.” Emma nodded. “I’ve only recently started. I was dying there.”

“You gave it a good shot anyway.” The
receptionist regarded her with friendly interest.

Emma held out her hand. “I’m Emma Cassidy,
by the way.”

“Gabby Moretti.” She gave Emma a firm
handshake. “I’m sorry Mr. Bischoff’s not in. Do you want to leave him a message
or make an appointment to see him?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.” Emma toyed with the
rack of business cards on the counter. “I don’t really know him. I have
something to discuss with him, but, well…”

“You wanted to meet him in person first.” Gabby
nodded. “I understand. I take it you’re here to discuss financial planning?”

“Er, well, I’d rather not say.” The
perspiration had started to break out again between Emma’s shoulder blades. She
really wasn’t very good at subterfuge.

Gabby studied her for a few moments before
leaning forward. “If you are looking for financial advice, you might want to
shop around a bit,” she murmured conspiratorially.

“What?”

The receptionist glanced about as if
checking for onlookers, though there was no one else in the room. “All I’m
saying is that you can’t be too careful these days.”

Wow. She knew about Bischoff’s checkered
business career, but she’d never expected Bischoff’s own employee to warn her
off. “Um, but you work for him. Should you be telling me this?”

Gabby exhaled, tapping her neatly manicured
fingernails on the counter. Clearly she was conflicted. “Probably not, but Mr.
Bischoff’s been tardy paying my wages recently, and I don’t think my job here
is going to last much longer. Besides, I can’t stand by and watch an innocent person
like you throw your hard-earned money into a black hole.”

“So Mr. Bischoff’s business isn’t doing too
well?”

“We’ve had a lot of angry people calling or
turning up demanding to see Mr. Bischoff, so I’d say that’s a fair indication
of the state of his business. I’m going back to college in the fall, so this is
just a temporary job for me, which is a relief. I hate it when he makes me lie
to his clients, telling them he’s not in when he’s hiding out in his office.”

Emma’s gaze immediately went to the shut
door at the back of the reception area. “Like now?”

“Oh, no. He really is out at the moment.
These days he’s away from the office more often than not.” The phone began to
ring. “Will you excuse me for one moment? I have to take this.”

Emma nodded and moved away to give Gabby a
little space. A small object lying on the ground just outside Bischoff’s office
door drew her attention. She walked over and picked it up. It was a matchbook
printed with the name Tall Trees Motel and its address. She slipped the matchbook
into her bag. The motel had to be the place where Bischoff and his mystery
mistress had their trysts because Gabby, young and fit, didn’t seem like a
smoker. Then, she recalled the match she’d found in the bushes between Faye and
Tom’s houses. Had that match come from a matchbook like this? Was Bischoff a
smoker? Had he been at Faye’s place that afternoon and accidently left a trace
of himself?

Gabby was still on the phone, and it looked
like her caller was one of the irate ones because she couldn’t get a word in
edgewise and her color was mounting.

“I’ll be on my way,” Emma murmured to her,
pointing at the door.

Poor Gabby could only nod while an
irritated voice crackled out of the phone. Hoping the receptionist would have
better luck in college, Emma left.

***

On her way back to
her office, she stopped by at the diner and told Becky that their dinner
tomorrow night would include two extra people.

“Sure, honey,” Becky said easily as Emma had
anticipated. “Stacey could do with more social interaction, and it sounds like
her friend’s had a rough deal. We can help take her mind off that for a few
hours at least.”

She was lucky to have a friend like Becky,
Emma concluded as she crossed the street to Lulu’s. Her thoughts returned to
Bischoff. She hadn’t discovered his whereabouts on Saturday afternoon, but
she’d made some progress. Bischoff was definitely in financial trouble, and
he’d been meeting his mistress at the Tall Trees Motel.

Her phone rang. It was Lorraine with an
update on Faye.

“The concussion is still affecting her
memory,” Lorraine said. “She doesn’t remember falling from her deck.”

So it sounded like Faye hadn’t accused Emma
of attempted murder. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m so sorry. But at least her ankle’s on
the mend, right?”

“Yes. She’ll be out of hospital by the
weekend.” There was a hesitant pause on Lorraine’s end.

“Do you want me to feed Pepper while she’s
away?”

“Would you?” Relief flooded Lorraine’s
voice. She sounded tired and stressed. “That would be a load off my mind. All
Faye can talk about is her blessed parrot. ‘Make sure you look after Pepper,’
she keeps nagging me. She doesn’t even consider my allergies…” Lorraine took a
deep breath as if she had to rein in her emotions. “There are plenty of people
at her women’s civic club who’d be happy to take care of Pepper, but, well,
Faye is rather jealous about her pet. Doesn’t want him getting attached to
anyone she considers a rival. But she’s happy if you do it.”

“I don’t mind,” Emma said. “It’s no problem,
really.” And feeding the parrot would give her a few extra days in which to
investigate.

“Oh, thank you. That’s one thing less I
have to worry about.”

“You sound like you could do with a rest.”

I don’t have time to rest. I need to get my
paintings finished.” Lorraine sighed. “Thanks once again for taking care of the
bird.”

The next time she went to Faye’s, Emma
mused, she’d be better prepared. That parrot was not going to get the better of
her a second time.

***

The following day
promised to be a busy one for Emma. She had multiple tasks to complete as she
prepared for Friday’s country music night. It didn’t help that she rolled out
of bed with arms and legs stiff and aching from Monday’s gym class. She hobbled
through her shower, pulled on tobacco-colored capris and a white shirt, and ate
a quick breakfast of muesli and orange juice.

Before heading to the office, she needed to
stop by Faye’s house and see to Pepper. Last night, armed with thick gardening
gloves and a healthy respect for the feisty bird, she had managed to feed and
water the parrot without mishap. Hopefully, this morning she would be equally
successful.

Her hopes of a quick pit stop were dashed
when she spotted the police cruiser outside Faye’s house. What now? She parked
behind the cruiser, threw on the handbrake, and hurried out, only to stop short
when she saw the graffiti scrawled across the front of the house. SNOOPING COW,
it read, in glaring, fluorescent orange spray paint.

Not exactly the filthiest insult, but
juxtaposed against the neat, white house and the quiet street, it jolted Emma
so much she could only gape at the scrawl.

“Emma.”

Her heart sank. Of course, it had to be
Sherilee again. Why did they keep bumping into each other? Her mind flashed
back to yesterday at the gym, where Sherilee and Owen had laughed together and
looked so at ease in each other’s company. Her hands clenched involuntarily.

“When did this happen?” Emma tilted her
chin at the graffiti.

“Sometime last night. The neighbor across
the street called it in. What are you doing here again?”

“I’m feeding the parrot until Faye gets out
of hospital.” She caught her breath as a thought struck her. “He is okay, isn’t
he?” Graffiti vandals wouldn’t hurt an innocent animal, would they? She started
to run toward the house, but Sherilee held her back.

“You can’t go in there yet until the crime
scene techs are finished.”

“Crime scene! What—”

“It appears someone tried to break into the
house, but the neighbor must have scared whoever it was off.”

“But the parrot—”

“He’s fine. I checked the house; it doesn’t
look like the perp was successful breaking in. He or she just left some scratch
marks around the lock on the front door.”

Adrenaline pumped through Emma’s veins. Was
Bischoff responsible? Or someone else? Spray painting SNOOPING COW didn’t seem
something Bischoff would do.

First Stacey’s house, now Faye’s.
Greenville was meant to be a safe town. She shivered, her stomach feeling tight
and sore. “Oh, I hate this!” she burst out. “Two break-ins in less than a
week.”

“
Two
break-ins?”

Realizing her slip, Emma tried to cover it
up. “Gee, look at the time. I have to get to work, but I’m worried about the
parrot. Do you think you could feed him?” Pepper probably wouldn’t try anything
with Sherilee; he’d be smart enough to sense she wouldn’t stand for any of his
antics.

But Sherilee wasn’t fooled by her attempted
diversion. “Where was this other break-in?”

“Um, I forgot.”

Sherilee folded her arms. “You’re lying.”

It was true. She was a terrible liar.

“Look, this person doesn’t want to report
the break-in.”

Sherilee gazed at her in silence. “But you
think differently?”

“Yes,” Emma sighed. “But I can’t betray a
friend’s confidence.”

Stacey would be upset if she blabbed to the
police. On the other hand, Emma was still uneasy that some stranger had gone
through all Stacey’s personal stuff and not taken anything. There was something
creepy about that, and she got the feeling that Stacey wasn’t telling her the
whole truth. Not that she was obliged to, but what if the woman was in danger?

“I’ll ask her again to call you guys,” Emma
said.

“You do that.”

If anything happened to Stacey, something
that might have been prevented if the cops had known about the break-in, then
Emma would never forgive herself. She resolved to have a quiet word with Stacey
when she saw her at dinner tonight.

“What about the parrot?” she asked.

“Come back later. I’ll call you when we’re
done here. The bird will survive a few more hours.” Sherilee held out a key to
her. “I took the back door key from its hiding place. Seemed the prudent thing
to do after someone tried to break in. You may as well hang onto it until Faye
gets back.”

Emma took the key and returned to her car.
Before starting the ignition, she stared at the glaring graffiti one more time.
It might be just mindless teenage vandalism, but it might also be a sinister
threat.
Quit snooping around or else…