Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

Owen lifted his chin toward Emma. “Great festival,
Emma. Good bands and awesome food.”

For a moment she allowed herself to enjoy
the warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. The weather’s nice, so that helps.”

“Maybe it’ll become an annual event,” Owen
said.

“Maybe. We’ll see if we cover costs.”

Sherilee nudged his arm. “Hey, didn’t you
promise me a dance?”

She leaned against him, eyes turned up at
him, and Emma’s stomach clenched tighter. Sherilee had always been a no
nonsense, pragmatic person, but it seemed being with Owen brought out the inner
kitten in her.

Owen glanced at Sherilee. “I don’t remember
an actual promise.”

Sherilee pouted and fluttered her
eyelashes. “Aw, come on.”

Putting a hand over her mouth, Emma hastily
smothered a cough. Watching Sherilee flirt with Owen was so bizarre—like
finding out your staid old Geography teacher was a cross-dresser. Emma gave
herself a mental slap. It was only gruesome to watch because of her unresolved
feelings for Owen and her antipathy toward Sherilee. On paper, the two made
perfect sense, far more sense than she and Owen. No, she was letting the old
green-eyed monster get the better of her, and she shouldn’t. She should try to
rise above it.

“We’ll see you later,” Owen said to the
others. “Enjoy your evening.” He seemed to give Emma an extra salute before
walking off with Sherilee.

Stacey’s sympathetic smile was almost too
much for Emma to bear, so it was almost a relief when Wesley ambled up to her,
flashing those brilliant white teeth at her. She introduced him to Stacey and
Greg, who, after a few minutes of polite chat, excused themselves and wandered
off to the food stalls.

“Have you tried the spare ribs?” Emma
asked, eager to focus her attention on Wesley and not think about Owen and
Sherilee. “I hear they’re very good.”

“I had a small helping.” Wesley grinned as
he patted his rock-hard abs. “Don’t like to overeat in the evening.”

He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, she
observed. And he liked drawing attention to that fact, even if it was
subconscious.

“I’m too busy tonight to really enjoy the
food,” she said.

“Why don’t I take you out to lunch
sometime? Then we can both enjoy ourselves.” Wesley’s smile was dazzling.

This was the second time he’d asked her
out. He was fit and attractive, and after she’d had to witness Sherilee
flirting with Owen, the admiration in Wesley’s eyes was a balm to her soul.

“Sure, why not?”

“Great. How about Sunday?”

“Perfect. Sunday it is.” She returned his smile,
pushing her vague misgivings to one side. It was just a date, and it had been a
long while since she’d had one of those. How could it hurt?

“I suppose Pepper
is all drooping feathers by now.” Faye shook her head, hands clamped around the
large purse on her lap.

Emma, at the wheel of her car, thought
about Pepper and the cubes of melon he had gobbled down this morning.
“Actually, he’s in pretty good shape. He doesn’t appear to have lost his
appetite at all.”

Faye gave her a sharp look, as if skeptical
that someone else could look after her parrot as well as she. “Well, we’ll see
about that when we get home. You might have to drive us to the vet to get him
checked out.”

Emma had spent the morning supervising the
clean up after the music festival and making sure the park was left pristine.
After that, and her abbreviated night’s sleep, all she’d wanted was to go home
and rest, but instead she’d got a call from Lorraine. Sounding rushed and
agitated, Lorraine had asked Emma to pick Faye up from hospital after her
discharge and drive her home. Emma, caught by surprise, assented, and Lorraine
had quickly ended the call without offering any explanation.

Now, Emma opened her mouth to protest. She
had done her duty by house-sitting for Faye, and driving her home from the
hospital, but wasn’t that the end of it? The ladies at the women’s civic club
had organized a roster for delivering meals to Faye and transporting her to her
physiotherapy sessions which started next week, and a home health aide would be
visiting each day to assist Faye in her dressing and bathing. As well, Lorraine
would be around until she left for her art exhibition in Sacramento in a few
days’ time. So Emma didn’t see why she should still be Faye’s gofer, especially
on a Saturday. But then she recalled the various people who’d been snooping
around Faye’s house—Alvin, Kenneth, and possibly others—and swallowed her
objections. She’d tolerate being the old woman’s lackey for the day. Besides,
it might stop her from brooding over Owen and Sherilee and her own rash
decision to go out with Wesley on a rebound date.

When they reached home, Faye carefully maneuvered
herself out of the car with the help of her crutches, and scanned the front of
the house where faint smudges of orange paint were still visible against the
white brick walls.

“Humpf.” Faye sniffed. “He didn’t do a very
good job cleaning up. That Jason Wylie is a born idler.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back to finish up, maybe
with some white paint.” Emma wasn’t certain why she was defending Jason. Maybe
she felt sorry for him and the spiraling despair he seemed caught in.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll call Richard. That
wife of his has always been too soft on the boy. That’s why he’s turned out such
a disappointment.” Faye surveyed the front yard and pointed a crutch at a few
stray leaves and twigs on the lawn. “That dratted Tom. If he kept his yard in
better order, I wouldn’t get so much mess in mine.” She scowled at the
wilderness next door, and as if on cue a dog started barking. “Oh, that
wretched dog! Always going on.”

In all the time Emma had spent here, she’d
barely noticed Tom’s dog. She wondered if the dog only started barking when it
heard Faye’s sharp and distinctive voice.

Faye hobbled her way up the porch stairs to
her front door, surprisingly nimble despite her moonboot and crutches, leaving
Emma to follow with the suitcase. Once inside the house, Faye made straight for
the dining room, calling out to her parrot. “Pepper, Pepper. Mommy’s back.
Everything will be all right now.”

The parrot hopped and shuffled back and
forth on his perch, bobbing his head in excitement. “Mommy’s back!” he
screeched over and over.

Faye lifted him out of the cage and pressed
him to her cheek, crooning at him. “Aw, come here, you poor little thing.
You’ve missed me, haven’t you? Oh, look at you. Wasting away! No one can look
after you like I can, hmm? What’s that? Yes, I’m sorry you had to put up with
her. But don’t worry. I’m here now, and I’ll soon have you back to your best.”

Torn between indignation and amusement,
Emma watched on as Faye and Pepper were reunited. There was nothing wrong with
the parrot, but clearly Faye needed to feel indispensible, and it was obvious
she cared for the bird. It was a surprise to see this softer side to Faye, a
side she seldom revealed to others.

“I’ll put your suitcase in your room,” Emma
said, leaving Faye with her bird.

She placed the small piece of luggage in
the front bedroom, then went to the spare bedroom that she had been occupying
for the past two nights. Before leaving for the hospital, she had stripped the
bed linen, wiped the furniture, and vacuumed the floor. Now, she gave it a final
once-over, determined not to give Faye the chance to nitpick about anything.

Someone knocked on the front door. She
exited the room just as Faye, with Pepper balancing on her shoulder, opened the
door. Bettina Tucker stood on the threshold, clutching a plastic food
container.

“Hi, Faye!” Bettina’s lips stretched into a
taut smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I heard you’d come home. I hope
you’re feeling better.”

“I’ve been worse,” Faye said rather
ungraciously before waving her in.

“Poppycock,” Pepper grunted.

Bettina stepped warily around the parrot
before her gaze fell on Emma. She stopped short, clearly disconcerted. “Oh,
hello, Emma. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Hi, Bettina. I drove Faye home from the
hospital.”

Faye motioned them into the kitchen, where
Bettina stood with the food container clasped against her stomach, looking even
more uncomfortable. After a moment, she held the plastic tub out to Faye. “I
brought you a chicken casserole. You just need to reheat it in the microwave,
or you can pop it in the freezer for another day, if you like.”

“Thank you. Put it down there, if you like.”
Faye gestured at the table, eyeing the casserole with a dubious expression.
“Did you make it yourself?”

Bettina set the casserole on the table. “Oh,
no. Alvin did. It’s his special recipe.”

“I see.”

Bettina fiddled with the strap of her
wristwatch. “Um, so how are you Faye? I heard you had a fractured ankle. On the
mend now, I hope.” She ventured a glance at Faye’s black, cumbersome moonboot
and winced.

Faye lowered herself into a chair at the
table and stuck out her moonboot at an angle. “Of course I’ll need plenty of
physiotherapy before I’m healed, but I’m no longer at death’s door, although
I’m sure that will disappoint a few people.”

Bettina started, her mouth falling open.
“Oh, I—I don’t know about...”

“How is Alvin?” Faye bared her teeth in
what seemed like a rather voracious smile. “Busy, I assume, with all the summer
crowds.”

“Yes, busy.” Bettina nodded, her brow
creased. She darted an anxious look at Emma before drawing in a breath. “So
glad to see you’re recovering. I’d better be off. No, don’t trouble yourself,
I’ll see myself out.”

She practically scurried out, the front
door shutting behind her a few moments later.

“Well.” Faye frowned at the food container
on the table. “She’s in a twitchy mood.”

Yes, Emma silently agreed. Why was Bettina
such a bundle of nerves? And why had she rushed over here so soon after Faye
had been discharged from hospital? Maybe she had hoped to have a quiet chat
with Faye and possibly try to persuade her not to sue Alvin, but Emma’s
presence had thwarted her.

Faye was murmuring softly to her parrot,
her visitor apparently forgotten.

“Perhaps I should leave and let you get
settled in,” Emma said hopefully.

Faye’s head instantly snapped back to her.
“Oh, no, you can’t leave yet,” she commanded. “Put on some coffee while I take
care of my poor, neglected Pepper.”

With a silent groan, Emma obeyed the order
and set a pot of coffee brewing, while Faye began preparing a smorgasbord of
fruit and nut treats for her parrot.

“Have the police been to see you recently?”
Emma asked, wondering how much Faye knew of the recent attempted break-ins.

“I spoke to Sherilee yesterday.”

“So you know about Kenneth Bischoff barging
in here,” Emma said when it became clear Faye wasn’t going to say anything
more.

Faye turned from the chopping board to
point her knife at Emma. “She said
you
let him in.”

A guilty flush heated Emma’s face. “Okay,
that was my fault.” Drawing in a breath, she decided to take the plunge. “But I
know about the photos, Faye. I couldn’t help seeing one of them when Pepper
flew into your study.”

Faye stared at her for several moments, her
face dark with disapproval. “No one likes a snoop, Emma,” she declared without
a hint of irony.

Emma protested, “I wasn’t snooping.” Not
then, she hadn’t. “Anyway, the fact is Kenneth Bischoff came here because he
wanted your phone. He was furious about the photos.”

Faye snorted. “He should’ve thought about
that before cheating on his wife yet again.”

Why wasn’t Faye taking this more seriously?
“You do realize that Bischoff might have been the one who pushed you down the
stairs?”

“Kenneth?” Faye scoffed. “The man likes to swagger,
but underneath it he’s a cream puff.”

Cream puff? It was on the tip of Emma’s
tongue to tell Faye about the gun hidden in Bischoff’s jacket, but caution
prevailed. She didn’t know for a fact that he even had a gun, so she contented
herself by saying, “Maybe, but he seemed pretty desperate, and if you drive a
rat into a corner, you shouldn’t be surprised if it tries to bite you.”

Faye continued to frown as she fed her
parrot a few slices of strawberry. “You shouldn’t have poked through my things while
I was laid up in hospital.”

“Hey, you and Lorraine asked me to be
here.” Emma held up her hands defensively. “And I wasn’t poking through your
things. I was cleaning up after your parrot when I found that photo of Bischoff
and his mistress. And I didn’t enjoy him barging in here and menacing me. He’s
a very unpleasant man.”

Faye’s eyes narrowed even further. “Well,” she
said, striking an ominous tone. “I guess that means you and I will have to do a
little investigating of our own.”

“What investigating?”

“We’ll have to find out where Kenneth was
last Saturday afternoon at the time of my fall. We’ll start by asking his
mistress.”

Emma felt her eyes goggling. “We will?”

“Yes. We’ll go and visit Carmel tomorrow
when she’s at work.”

“You know who Kenneth’s mistress is?” Emma
asked slowly.

“Mm-hmm. She’s a waitress at a pancake
parlor over in Marietta. Married, too. She usually works the Sunday morning
shift.”

“How do you know all this? Have you been
following people around?”

“I don’t
follow
people around.” Faye
drew herself up, all haughty and offended. “I just happen to get around a lot,
and I keep my eyes open. If folks want to conduct their shenanigans in broad
daylight, then that’s hardly my fault. I can’t help what I see.”

“Right,” Emma murmured, conscious that she
herself did something similar from time to time, though she was hardly in the
same league as Faye.

She pulled two clean mugs from the dresser
and poured out the coffee. Faye washed up the knife and chopping board she’d
been using, dried her hands, and joined Emma at the kitchen table.

“So you can’t remember anything more about
your fall?” Emma asked.

“No. My memory is still fuzzy, but the
doctor said it will probably come back eventually.” Deep in thought, Faye drummed
her fingers on the table. “You know, it could’ve been Bettina or Alvin.”

An instant memory of Alvin Tucker outside
Faye’s house flashed through Emma’s head. “I doubt it,” she said with more hope
than conviction.

“They’re angry with me when
I’m
the
victim here,” Faye grumbled. “I didn’t slip and hurt my shoulder outside their
restaurant on purpose. It’s their fault, yet now they’re blaming me.” Extending
one finger, she pushed the plastic container on the table away from her. “I
wouldn’t be surprised if that casserole has poison in it.”

Emma gaped at her. “
Poison?
”

“Don’t look so flabbergasted. You just said
earlier that a cornered rat can bite.”

“But Alvin and Bettina wouldn’t try to hurt
you.”

“You don’t think so? Bettina was once
charged with assaulting a police officer. Bet you didn’t know that.” She waited
until Emma shook her head before concluding, “Don’t be fooled by her harmless
housewife looks.”

Bettina assaulting a police officer? It
boggled the mind. But then, Emma’s own gentle, law-abiding father had once been
arrested for protesting against land clearing.

Faye gave the chicken casserole another
poke. “Maybe I should hand this in to the police so they can test it. Wrap it
in a plastic bag and pop it in the freezer, will you?”

Emma did as she was told. It was easier
than arguing.

“Now then,” Faye continued, sounding far
too energetic. “We’d better get going. We need to take Pepper to the vet, then
on the way home we can stop off at the grocery store and pick up a few things.”