Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (10 page)

“Thanks for the lift home. I’ll talk to you
later. Bye.”

The door shut in Emma’s face before she
could utter another word. She stared at the door in surprise for a few moments,
then turned and walked back to her car, where she plopped the zinnias on the
passenger seat. Well, that was a very odd ending to the evening.

When she reached home, she examined the
bunch of flowers more closely. They were enclosed in cellophane wrap, but there
was no card. If it had been Greg, surely he would’ve left a note tucked into
the flowers? Maybe the note had fallen out during transport, or been blown away
by the wind. Or maybe the person responsible had deliberately not included a
card. Now that was a little unsettling.

It occurred to her that maybe the flowers
were
for Jackie. Delivered by her ex partner. Her abusive ex. Perhaps zinnias held a
special meaning, which explained why Stacey had been so anxious for Emma to
take the flowers away before Jackie got home. She didn’t want her nervous friend
to get spooked.

Emma climbed out of her car, marched to the
garbage bin, and flung the flowers inside. Dusting her hands, she went inside.

“Hi, Emma!”

“Hey, Gabby.” Emma smiled at the energetic
young woman who was limbering up beside her. Emma had just managed to drag
herself out of bed for the fitness class, but Gabby looked like she was ready
to run a marathon.

“Hope you didn’t take what I said about Kenneth
Bischoff the wrong way,” Gabby said with a quick glance over her shoulder. People
were still filing into the class, and Wesley hadn’t appeared yet.

“Oh, I’m very grateful for your advice.”

“Good.” Gabby nodded. “Mr. Bischoff’s been
acting real strange these past few days. He’s barely been in the office at all,
and when he is, he locks himself in the office and won’t tell me what’s going
on. If you ask me, it looks like he won’t be in business for much longer. I’ll
have to find another job, but I won’t be sorry to leave, that’s for sure.”

Wesley entered the room, and the conversation
ended. As Emma lunged and punched and perspired, she thought about what Gabby
had said. She was willing to bet Kenneth Bischoff’s business problems were all
tied up with his personal ones. Without his wife, his façade of business
success would crumble, and with that his political connections. Bischoff could
not afford for his wife to find out about his mistress.  Had he tried to break
into Faye’s house in an attempt to get rid of the photo evidence? It was a
strong possibility.

At the end of the class, once more Wesley
hung back to chat to Emma. She wasn’t imagining things; he did seem attracted
to her, and she found his attention flattering, especially as they didn’t bump
into Owen and Sherilee this morning.

“Want to grab something at the juice bar?”
Wesley asked with a friendly glint in his eye. “I always get a protein smoothie
around about this time. It’s great for building up muscle tissue.”

Emma hesitated. “I’d love to, but I have to
run an errand before work. Some other time maybe?” She gave him a smile to show
that she wasn’t making excuses. She really did have to go over to Faye’s to
feed Pepper.

“Sure.” His confident answer indicated he
assumed she was telling the truth. “I’ll see you around.”

She sauntered out, thinking that joining
the gym had been one of her better decisions.

***

“I want candy!’
Pepper squawked, bobbing up and down in anticipation as he caught sight of the
chopped up melon Emma had prepared for him.

Had Faye been singing the sixties hit to
him? Maybe the bird brought out the softer side in the old woman. Emma slipped
the tin cup filled with melon into the cage and secured it to the bars. Pepper
aimed a half-hearted nip at her hand, but he was more interested in the fruit.
He grabbed a piece in his beak, then, holding it in one claw, bit into it.

“You’re beginning to like me, aren’t you,
pretty boy?” Emma crooned.

Pepper merely made a ‘grr’ sound, all his
attention focused on his treat.

She bundled up the soiled newspapers and
carried them out to the kitchen. After she’d stuffed them into the waste bin,
she glanced about her. Now that she was ninety-nine percent sure that Faye’s
fall had been no accident, her main suspect was still Kenneth Bischoff. She
hadn’t yet got a firm alibi out of him, but in the meantime she could have a
look around Faye’s house for any clue that he had been there.

She stepped out the house. The rear deck
wrapped around the house, meaning whoever had assaulted Faye had most likely hidden
around the corner, out of view from the kitchen window. She began a thorough
examination of the entire deck. She looked under pot plants, peered through
cracks in the decking, and knelt under the crawlspace, risking contact with
spiders and creepy crawlies. Nothing. She supposed that Sherilee had already
searched the deck anyway.

Heaving a sigh of disappointment, she
returned inside and checked on Pepper. He had gobbled up all the melon already.

“I want candy,” he yapped at her.

“Sorry, that’s all for now. You have your
yummy pellets still.” Pepper hunched his shoulders and shuffled away. She had
thought about letting him out of his cage—he must be going stir crazy by
now—but once he was out she knew it would take some effort to coax him back in,
and she couldn’t spare the time this morning. She’d let him have some exercise
when she returned at the end of the day.

“Goodbye, Pepper.”

He ignored her.

Grabbing her bag, she headed out, making
sure to lock the back door behind her. As she walked around the side of the
house, a small scrap of paper under a bush caught her attention. Faye wouldn’t
like rubbish accumulating in her yard. She bent over and scooped up the litter.
It was a business card for Tucker’s Bistro.

A nasty chill ran over Emma, raising goose
bumps on her bare arms. The white card was slightly crumpled at the corners, but
it was dry and the print was still bold and unfaded. It hadn’t lain here for
months. Last Friday it had poured with rain during the day, so the card must
have been dropped after that, like on Saturday. She fingered the sharp edges as
unwelcome thoughts chased around inside her head.

Alvin Tucker must have been here. Alvin,
who stood to lose thousands of dollars if Faye chose to sue him as she’d
threatened. Alvin, who had a very good motive for wanting Faye out of the way.

She shook her head. How could it be
Alvin
?
She’d known him all her life; he was a born and bred Greenville man, a pillar
of the community. Alvin loved cooking and making people happy. He didn’t creep
up behind old women and push them down stairs. But maybe he’d been driven to
despair. He hadn’t told his wife about the potential bill they faced. The
pressure of keeping such a huge secret from her might have become too much to
bear.

She’s walked over me for the last time.
Alvin’s angry outburst about Faye came back to haunt Emma.

The sick feeling in her stomach persisted
as she got into her car. When her phone rang, she welcomed the distraction from
her milling thoughts.

“Emma? It’s me, Stacey.”

“Oh, hi, Stacey. Is everything okay?”
Immediately her thoughts jumped to last night and the mystery bunch of flowers.
“You didn’t get more flowers today, did you?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Stacey
answered hurriedly in a low voice. “I’d appreciate it if we could keep that
between the two of us.”

“Sure, no problem.” The last thing Emma
wanted was to upset Jackie. That woman was already too much on edge. “So what
are you calling about?”

“I have Alvin Tucker’s check for the
retirement party. You can pick it up any time.”

The nausea was back. Alvin, again. And the
check he was so desperate for. “Thanks, you’re a star. I’ll come by and get it
right now, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

Emma drove to the municipal offices with a
growing lump of dread lodged in the pit of her stomach. She collected the check
from Stacey.

“How are things going with Richard’s
replacement?” she asked. She was stalling going to Alvin’s, and she knew it.

“He’s fine.” Stacey smiled. “Even though
he’s no Richard.” Her gaze veered past Emma, and a pink blush colored her
cheeks.

“Hi, Emma.” Greg Foster walked up and
leaned an elbow at the counter. “Hey, Stacey.” His friendly smile widened for
the assistant. Stacey’s eyes brightened before she made a show of shuffling
some papers, but she didn’t fool Emma; Greg was the reason her face had lit up.

The sooner she recognized her feelings, the
better, Emma thought. Stacey had a nice guy just dying to become better
acquainted with her. If only she’d let down her guard and give Greg a chance.

Deciding to give the two some time alone,
Emma waved at them and took her leave. She had a task to do, one she wasn’t
looking forward to.

***

Even though it
wasn’t yet ten and the restaurant was shut, she knew that Alvin would be
inside, either doing food prep or working in his office, so she walked around
to the rear of the building and rapped on the service door. A minute later, it
opened a few inches and Alvin peered out. For a moment she was too shocked to
respond. Alvin looked terrible. Huge bags weighed down his bloodshot eyes, his
face was pasty white, and his thinning hair seemed to have gone gray overnight.

“Alvin!” Emma exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

Her horrified tone appeared to jolt him out
of his daze. “Huh? Nothing’s happened,” he mumbled, squinting into the sunlight
like a mole emerging from its tunnel. He held the door open only a few inches as
if he didn’t want her coming in, but she needed to speak with him, and what she
had to say couldn’t be done in public.

“Mind if I come in?” Giving him no option,
she nudged the door with her elbow and slipped into the building. Alvin huffed
and let the door bang shut, making her start.

The kitchen was dim and deserted, with only
a faint light shining from Alvin’s office.

“Is anyone else here?” Emma asked, glancing
around her.

“No,” Alvin replied tersely.

She rubbed the goose bumps that had
reappeared on her arms and wondered if she’d miscalculated. Here she was, alone
in an empty building with someone who had a motive for attempted murder.
No,
stop that
. She couldn’t think that of Alvin, not without stronger evidence.

“I’m kinda busy at the moment,” Alvin said,
drumming his thick fingers on a stainless steel counter. He was a short, stocky
man, a few inches taller than her. The thick roll of muscle around his neck
seemed very tense. “What did you want?”

A knife block sat on the counter not far
from Alvin’s meaty, restless fingers. The steel handles glinted in the dimness.
Emma swallowed. “Uh, I have your check.”

His neck muscles relaxed a fraction. “Oh.
Thanks.”

He paused expectantly, and she realized he
was waiting for the check. She scrambled through her bag, once more cursing the
lack of organization in it. She really had to get a better tote bag, one with
more compartments so she could have everything to hand.

“Here it is.” She pulled out the check. At
the same time, something small and white fluttered out and landed on the floor
between them.

Alvin bent and picked it up. The Tucker’s
Bistro business card she’d found at Faye’s place. Her mouth dried as he
examined the card. He handed it to her and took the check without comment.

“Thank you.” He frowned at the numbers on
the check.

“Is everything in order?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She’d expected him to show some relief at
the check, given his urgency when he’d approached her about it, but he didn’t
appear happy at all. The edges of the card dug into her palm.

“Alvin, do you know where I found this?”
She held up the business card.

Looking wary, he shook his head.

“Outside Faye’s house. It can’t have been
there more than a few days.” She paused, and Alvin stiffened, his gaze jumping
from the card to her. His black eyes seemed to bore into her. “I—I was
wondering how it got there. Did you visit her recently?”

“No,” he snapped, visibly trembling. With
anger, perhaps? “I don’t even know where Faye lives, so I definitely haven’t
visited her.”

“Oh. Well, I just wondered how this card
got there—”

“There’s a whole stack of them sitting at
the front desk. Plenty of customers take one. Someone else must’ve dropped one
at Faye’s, or maybe she took one herself. Got nothing to do with me.”

There was something ‘off’ about his denial.
It was too forceful, too brusque. If he genuinely knew nothing about it, would
he be so belligerent? As if sensing that his reaction was too vehement, Alvin
rubbed a hand over his bald spot and heaved out a sigh.

“Look, I don’t mean to get all excited, but
Faye isn’t my favorite person, y’know.”

Emma nodded. “The police haven’t ruled out
foul play in her fall.”

Alvin’s face turned a sickly yellow.
“O-oh?” he stuttered. “I haven’t heard anything like that. It was an accident,
wasn’t it?”

“Maybe it was, but we don’t know for sure
yet. Faye doesn’t recall what happened, but she may regain her memory at any
time.”

Beads of sweat appeared on Alvin’s skull
where the hair had disappeared. “But it musta been an accident. It musta,” he insisted
as if trying to convince himself. “People fall down all the time. Doesn’t mean
there was anything sinister in it.” As if realizing he was talking aloud to
himself and the impression he was making, his face clammed up. He frowned at
Emma. “I’m real busy right now. Was that it?”

Alvin had never been this curt to her
before. Something serious was going on with him. He wasn’t telling her the
truth, not by a long shot, but she wasn’t going to get anything more from him
today, and she had a sharp longing for the safety of her office.

“Yes, that’s about it.” She backed away
warily, still aware of the block of knives on the counter. “I’ll, uh, see
myself out.”