Pushed to the Limit (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 2) (6 page)

The warm, sugary
scent of waffles and strawberries filled Emma’s nose.

“Mm.” She breathed in deep before lifting
her fork. “I shouldn’t be eating this. I should have ordered oatmeal or
muesli.”

Across the table, her father shook his
head. “It’s Sunday brunch. You can’t have oatmeal.” He squirted ketchup over
his fried eggs and bacon.

They were at Becky’s Diner, which meant
they got to eat delicious food and didn’t have to clean up afterward. Emma cut
a wedge of waffle, dipped it in maple syrup, and popped it into her salivating
mouth. Bliss. “A moment on the lips, forever on the hips,” she said. “You know
I’ve gained five pounds since I moved back here?”

Andrew pushed up his wire-framed spectacles
and looked her over. “You needed it. You were skin and bone. You look much
better now.”

“Thanks, Dad.” What would she have done
without her dad? When she’d dragged herself back to Greenville, she’d been so
exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally, financially. Her father had
welcomed her back without a fuss, quietly giving her the space and support to
recover on her own terms. Little wonder that he was good at his job as a
student counselor at the local high school.

“But it wouldn’t hurt to lose a bit of
weight.” She pinched her midriff which wasn’t as svelte as a few years back.
“I’ve joined a gym. Had my first class on Friday.” With Wesley, the muscle-bound
fitness instructor. The fact that he was blond, good-looking, and friendly had
made the class a little less painful.

Her dad shook his head. “What’s wrong with
walking? It would take the same amount of time as going to the gym, plus it
wouldn’t cost you anything.”

“Yeah, but being in a class motivates me.”
As did Wesley. Not that she was interested in him or anything. After her ex had
let her down so badly, she was wary of jumping into the dating pool again.
Plus, there was the Owen factor, something she wasn’t willing to think about
too much at the moment.

Becky stopped by their table to top up
their coffee.

“Hey, Becky,” Andrew said. “Tell Emma she
doesn’t need to go to the gym and do those crazy workouts.”

“If it’s exercise you need, you could help
out here.” Becky waved a hand at the rest of the crowded room. Summer and
Sunday brunch-time meant the diner was packed. Even so, Becky sailed unfazed
through the melee, always friendly and calm, her staff taking their lead from
her. The diner might be plain and unpretentious, but there was a reason why
people returned here, and it wasn’t just the excellent coffee and pie.

Emma chuckled at Becky’s suggestion. “Have
you forgotten the time I worked here when I was sixteen? On my first shift I
spilled a soda over the minister’s wife, almost gave a peanut butter sandwich
to an allergic kid, and managed to set my apron on fire. I think you were
quietly relieved when I quit after that.”

“You were sixteen. A lot has happened since
then.”

“Maybe, but I’m still a klutz around the
kitchen. No, I’ll stick to the gym, thanks.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. They do have some
nice-looking instructors there.”

“Do they?” Emma asked in mock innocence.

She glanced at her dad who was calmly
eating his eggs and bacon. He had once said that she should start dating again,
had also voiced a hope that she and Owen might rekindle their relationship.
Now, he didn’t say anything, just lifted an eyebrow at her.

“Wesley comes in here sometimes,” Becky
continued, a teasing glint in her eyes. “He’s got a bit of the bad boy vibe
about him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, he’s okay.” Emma forked up the last of
her waffles and stuffed them into her mouth since she had nothing further to
say about hot fitness instructors. With a final grin, Becky patted Emma on the
shoulder and floated over to the next table.

Emma and her dad were lingering over a
final cup of coffee when she received a call. It was Lorraine. She’d just come
back from the hospital. Faye was more coherent now, after being under
observation for eight hours. Her ankle surgery was due to take place later
today.

“Actually, I called because I have another
favor to ask you,” Lorraine said. She sounded more in control today, though a quaver
persisted in her voice. “Faye asked me to bring her a few things from her
house—some toiletries and clothes—and also to feed her pet parrot. Thing is,
I’m allergic to birds. As soon as I step foot in her house, I start wheezing
and have trouble breathing. I—I was wondering if perhaps you could go to Faye’s
house for me?”

The wincing hesitation in Lorraine’s voice
indicated she felt she was asking too much. But for Lorraine’s sake Emma didn’t
mind helping out. Plus, it gave her the perfect opportunity to examine the
scene of the “crime”, so to speak.

“Sure, I can do that,” she said.

“Oh, thank you.” Lorraine’s voice trembled.
“It’s so good of you.”

A little guilt pinched at Emma. Lorraine
thought she was volunteering out of pure kindness; she didn’t suspect that Emma
wanted to snoop around Faye’s house in an effort to clear her name.

Was this a good idea? The last time she’d
meddled in something, she’d been abducted by a half-crazed idiot and had spent
several terrifying hours lost in the darkness. But she’d done it to get a
friend out of trouble, and the situation with Faye was similar. She was only
investigating Faye’s fall so she wouldn’t find herself falsely accused of a
serious crime. Plus, if someone had deliberately pushed Faye and Emma uncovered
the culprit, then she would be saving Faye’s life. Surely that was reason
enough to do a bit of detective work?

“Can you tell me what Faye needs from her
house?” Emma pulled a notebook from her tote bag and jotted down the items.

“I’m not sure about the parrot,” Lorraine
confessed. “To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to Faye while she was
giving me instructions because I was worrying about my allergies. But I guess
there should be some sort of birdseed in the house, and if you fill up the bowl
and top up the water, that should be enough for now.” She paused and sighed.
“Faye’s had the bird about a year or so. She seems quite attached to him. His
name’s Pepper.”

“How do I get into the house?” Emma asked.

“There’s a spare key hidden under a table
on the rear deck. That unlocks the back door.”

“Okay. It shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll
bring Faye’s things to your place.”

“Please don’t rush on my behalf,” Lorraine
begged. “I’ll be going back to see Faye at three this afternoon, so there’s
plenty of time. It’s Sunday. I hate to think you’re doing chores for me on your
day off.”

“It’s no problem. And I often work on
Sundays.”

“Well, thank you once again. I’m so
grateful, and Faye will be, too, I’m sure.”

Emma ended the call and lowered her phone
to find her father looking at her with a benevolent smile.

“Glad to see you getting into the
neighborly spirit, pumpkin.”

Once more guilt nipped at her, but she pushed
it aside. Someone needed to fetch Faye’s essentials and feed her pet, and if
she happened to stumble across a few clues, well, that would be merely
serendipitous.

***

The key slid
smoothly into the lock, and the door swung open on oiled hinges. Emma couldn’t
help tiptoeing into Faye’s house. She was here on legitimate business, so why
did she feel like a thief? Maybe it was because Faye didn’t know she was
entering her house; she assumed Lorraine was doing these chores, though she
must be aware of her sister’s allergy to birds. Maybe she didn’t take Lorraine’s
condition seriously, or maybe she thought Lorraine would do as she asked
anyway.

Emma stood in the middle of Faye’s kitchen
and took stock of her surroundings. Cherry wood cabinets lined two walls. The
cooker and appliances were gleaming stainless steel. Potted African violets lined
a windowsill overlooking the rear yard. Everything was neat and tidy, the tiled
floor swept clean, the sink sparkling.

On a round table in the center of the
kitchen was Faye’s plastic, green-and-yellow shopping bag. Everything had
started with that darn shopping bag. Emma deposited her tote bag on the table
next to the shopping bag. Right. Time to explore the rest of the house.

She walked down a wide, dim hallway that led
toward the front door. A pink-tiled bathroom sat just beyond the kitchen. The
living room was at the front of the house, the parted drapes revealing a big,
square room with a floral maroon carpet and heavy, dark wooden furniture. Some
of these pieces looked pretty ancient; possibly Faye had inherited them from
her parents together with the house. The most modern item in the room was a
large flat-screen TV that sat incongruously in one corner.

A cabinet filled with framed photographs
drew her attention. She couldn’t help peering at them, even though it made her
feel like an inquisitive busybody. Judging by the family photos, Faye had been
a remarkably pretty girl, with thick dark hair, bright eyes, and an engaging,
open smile. She seemed to be quite popular, too. There were photos of her with
friends hiking, boating, playing softball. Also pictures of her in evening
gowns accompanied by young men in suits. She’d had a few beaus, apparently.

She couldn’t help noticing that there were
few pictures of Lorraine, her closest living relative. But there were plenty of
a large, gray parrot, some of them taken inside the house, and others outdoors.
Evidence that Faye adored her parrot…and thought more of him than her own
sister?

“Wark!”

Emma jumped at the loud croak. She turned
around. An arched entryway separated the living room from an adjoining dining
room filled with more dark furniture. Near the window was a large domed
structure shrouded by a plastic cover. This must be the parrot’s cage.

She walked over and carefully lifted one
flap of the cover.

“Wark?” A beady black eye stared back at
her.

She pulled the cover off the cage and
admired the parrot inside. He was larger than she’d expected, gray feathered with
a black beak and a bright red tail. The animal cocked his head as if he was
still making up his mind about her.

“Hello, Pepper,” she said. “I’m Emma.
I’m…well, I’m not exactly a friend of your mom’s, but I’m helping her out.” She
paused, feeling silly for trying to converse with a bird.

“Mommy’s home. Mommy’s home.” Pepper bobbed
his head from side to side.

Was he peering over her shoulder, looking
for Faye?

“Aw, you poor thing.” She found herself
cooing. There was something about helpless animals that always got to her. As
an only child, she’d been inseparable from her golden retriever. Shaggy had
gone to doggy heaven when she was sixteen, and she’d never had another pet. Now
that she wasn’t in New York anymore, maybe she could think about getting
another dog. When she had her own home, of course.

The newspaper lining the bottom of the cage
was liberally soiled with bird poop and food debris. Three stainless steel
bowls were clipped to the side of the cage. One held an inch of water, another
held some gray-brown pellets, and the third contained a few wilted leaves. Hmm,
it looked like parrots ate vegetables and maybe fruit as well as pellets.
Should she give Pepper some fresh food? He’d probably be all right if she only
replenished the bird pellets, but he deserved a treat after spending the night
on his own.

She returned to the kitchen and soon found
a bag of bird pellets in a cupboard. Using her phone to access the internet,
she read up on the diets of African grey parrots and discovered they enjoyed
fruit, too. So she took an apple from the fruit bowl and cut it into small
chunks. She gathered several sheets of newspaper from a recycling box in the
laundry, filled a jug with water, and carried everything back to the dining
room.

“Mommy’s home! Mommy’s home!” Pepper
squawked. He shunted up and down his perch, eyeing her closely as she
approached.

He wasn’t as calm as before, she noted.
Maybe with the cover off, he was fully awake and expecting Faye. Instead, she
was here, a stranger in the house, and he was probably getting agitated.

“Easy there, fella,” she murmured, moving
more slowly.

She placed the newspaper, jug, bird
pellets, and the bowl containing the cut up apple on the dining table, trying
to do everything in slow motion. Keeping up a continuous murmur of reassuring
phrases, she unlocked the cage door and reached in to remove the soiled lining.

“Bad boy!” Pepper scolded her, bobbing up
and down. “A no good cheat. No good. Cheat.”

Who? Emma wondered. Who did Faye think was
a no good cheat?

“Dirtbag. Douche.”

Oh dear. Pepper had picked up some salty
language. From Faye? The idea made her want to giggle.

The sheets of newspaper crackled as she
drew them out of the cage. Pepper screeched, hopped off his perch, and sank his
beak into the soft part of her arm. She shrieked and shook him off, scattering
bird poop and lord knows what else far and wide. She snatched her arm out of
the opening. With a volley of flapping wings, Pepper burst free of the cage and
swooped upward to land precariously on a light fitting.