Throw a Monkey Wrench (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 1) (13 page)

Stepping closer, Emma retorted, “Madison
doesn’t want you here, so please leave.”

A furious glare was her reward. “Butt out.
This is between me and Madison.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” Madison
shook her head. At his mulish look, she added, “I’ll call you later. Please
leave, Kyle.”

Several seconds ticked by before he finally
decided to retreat. With a final nod to Madison and another black scowl at
Emma, he turned and left, strolling casually through the gardens as if he had
every right to be there.

Madison waited until he’d disappeared
before she turned and sank back into her chair at the table. Emma took her seat
opposite her and waited.

“Well?” she prompted when it became clear
Madison wasn’t going to talk first. “If I’m not mistaken, that was Kyle Barnet,
Tony Barnet’s son from his first marriage.”

Madison gave a defeated flutter of her
fingers. “Yes, that’s him.”

“I saw him the other day out there.” Emma
pointed at the garden outside the French doors. “You were with him, and it
looked like you were more than just acquaintances.”

A guilty flush rushed over Madison’s cheeks
as she met Emma’s eyes. “There’s nothing going on between us anymore.”

“Anymore? So there was something before?”

Madison fidgeted in her chair, her fingers
obsessively twirling a piece of hair. Her fingernails, Emma observed, had
always been impeccably French-manicured, but now they looked ragged and bitten.

“I met Kyle about a year ago, and we sort
of hit it off,” she eventually confessed. “But I knew my parents didn’t like
his father, and I wasn’t very serious about him. To be honest, I always thought
Kyle was too self-centered, but I was feeling a bit lost at the time, and it
was better hanging out with Kyle than having my parents on my case twenty-four
seven. After a couple of months, I broke it off with Kyle. He could be nice,
but other times he could be wild, even nasty.”

Nasty? Emma sat up straighter. Was Kyle
nasty enough to kill?

“He was always short of money.” Madison
continued, the flood gates wide open now. “His dad gave him an allowance and so
did his mom, but it was never enough. He always seemed to be in debt. Once, he
even tried to borrow money off me. When his dad brought his girlfriend to
Shamrock Lake, Kyle was angry. Said his dad was wasting all his money buying
her fancy cars and building her that huge house across the bay. A couple of
months ago he blamed her when his dad refused to pay any more of his overdue
bills.”

“He sounds like a total charmer. Why did
you meet him in secret two days ago?”

“After his dad was killed, he called me,
sounding so broken up. I had to comfort him, even though Sean was arrested.”
She gnawed at the edge of a fingernail. “He came to the house, but my mom was
home, so I met him out in the garden. We spoke for a bit, but then I told him
he should leave, so he did.”

“And that’s all?”

Madison stared down at her bitten
fingernail as if it held all the answers. “Well, he did suggest we get back
together again, but of course I refused. He was a bit upset when he left. I
didn’t think he’d turn up again today.” She lifted doleful eyes to Emma. “You
won’t tell Sean, will you? He doesn’t think much of Kyle.”

“Why? Because he’s your ex-boyfriend?”

“He’s repaired Kyle’s cars a few times, and
Kyle’s treats him like he’s just a grease monkey. But Sean needs the business,
so he’s always bit his tongue.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thanks.” Madison gave a brief smile of
relief, then shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I seem to have
a weakness for bad boys. But Sean’s not a bad boy, not really. Underneath it
all, he has a heart of gold.”

“Yes,” Emma murmured, but she was
preoccupied by the information Madison had given her. So Kyle would have gone
to Sean’s workshop several times, enough times to see where his tools were
kept. Kyle had overheard Sean having a blistering argument with Tony. Kyle was
short of cash and owed that hoodlum at the casino money. Kyle could have gone
to his dad’s house and waited until Sean had left. He might have asked his dad
for the money one more time, and when Tony had refused, killed him in a fit of
rage.

The number of suspects with means,
opportunity, and motive was starting to pile up.

***

Fifteen minutes
later, Emma left the Whites’ mansion. She was just about to climb into her car
when she froze and stared in disbelief at the scratch mark stretching the
length of her hatchback. What the hell! Someone had done this on purpose,
deliberately using a stone or a car key to vandalize her car. Someone like Kyle
Barnet.

While she had no proof, she knew without a
shadow of a doubt that he was responsible. He was sending her a message,
Stay
out of my business or you’ll get hurt
. Well, she wasn’t going to let a
smarmy jerk like him frighten her off. With the car already not worth peanuts,
the additional damage didn’t amount to much financially, but scratching her car
was a sly, hostile thing that showed the pettiness of the culprit. Fuming, she
got into her car and slammed the door shut. Anger beat in her veins, but her
hands on the steering wheel weren’t as steady as she would have liked.

Morning sunshine
streamed through the conservatory, turning it into a bowl of golden warmth.
Pausing at the entrance, Emma breathed in the organic freshness of the potted
ferns and ornamental trees that dotted the slate floor. For a moment she forgot
her errand as she walked toward the windows, drawn to the view. This morning
the lake was a sheet of blue glass, placid beneath the windless skies. A flock
of birds dipped and swooped over the water.

“Can I help you?” a man spoke from behind.

She spun around to find Howard White
standing a few feet away, impeccably dressed as always in tailored pants, snowy
white shirt, and silk tie. A financial journal was tucked under one arm.

“Oh, good morning, Mr. White,” Emma said,
trying to suppress the feeling that she’d been sprung.

“Madison’s not here and neither is my
wife,” he said before she could explain her presence, his lifted eyebrow
expressive.

“Yes, Maria told me. I just dropped in to
pick up my sunglasses. I forgot them here yesterday.”

After discovering the lacerations to her
car, she’d been so rattled that she hadn’t realized her sunglasses were missing
until late in the day, and by then she hadn’t wanted to disturb the Whites’
evening. So she’d come by this morning. The Whites’ housekeeper hadn’t noticed
her sunglasses and was busy with chores, so Emma had gone to the conservatory
by herself.

Glancing about the room, she spotted a pair
of sunglasses on a baker’s rack containing a profusion of potted African
violets. “Oh, there they are.” She darted over and picked up her sunglasses.

“You were here yesterday?” A slight frown
touched Howard’s brow. “I thought the wedding was cancelled.”

“Madison asked me to downsize it to about
twenty guests.”

The frown deepened. “Why is she so damn
stubborn?” he burst out. Emma braced herself for a further eruption, but
miraculously Howard appeared to collect himself. Drawing in a deep breath, he
gazed out the window for several moments. “Ah, well. At least I can enjoy the
view these days.”

Following his line of sight, her gaze was
drawn to the house across the bay, all shimmering white walls and glinting
glass, the house that Tony Barnet had built as a deliberate rejection of what
the Whites stood for. The sight of that house must have galled Howard, given
the secret affair between his wife and Tony. But now, with Tony gone, the view
from here was much better for Howard.

She studied Howard more closely, noting his
fit body beneath the expensive clothes. Howard kept himself in shape. He
wouldn’t have any trouble using a wrench to conk someone over the head.

“You didn’t like Tony Barnet much, did
you?” The question left her lips before she could stop herself.

“No, I didn’t. He was crass and loud, both
ingratiating and conceited.” He lifted a shoulder, careless. Clearly he didn’t
care about expressing this view to a mere underling.

“But you liked him enough to go into a
business deal with him.”

He turned on her, the smug expression disappearing
to reveal a hardness that had her wanting to step back. “Who told you that?” he
snapped.

She took a breath. “I hear you’re suing his
estate over this deal. But the deal apparently fell through a while ago. Why
wait until now? Is it because your wife is so upset about Tony’s death?” A red
light started flashing in the back of her brain, warning her of reckless
behavior, but she couldn’t stop. “It must have irritated you so much watching
that house being built right across the bay from you. Tony might have been
frozen out by the people around here, but he just wouldn’t go away quietly.”

Howard White drew himself up, his eyes as
piercing as a hawk. “Here’s a suggestion for you, Miss Cassidy. Keep your mouth
shut or I’ll shut you down so fast it’ll make your head spin.” He jerked his
chin toward the exit. “Now get out of my house.”

***

The confrontation
with Howard White left Emma with a knotted stomach, but she drew some comfort
that she hadn’t backed down from asking him some difficult questions. He’d
threatened to make life miserable for her, which hinted that she’d touched a
nerve. But she wasn’t all that convinced that he was the murderer. He would
have killed Tony when he’d found out about the affair with Cynthia, not wait
two years before doing it. And ruining Tony financially and socially was more
Howard’s style, not a bloody scuffle in a garage.

After her tense visit, it was a relief to
spend the afternoon away from Greenville. She would go ahead and downsize
Madison and Sean’s wedding, notwithstanding Howard’s disapproval and his
threats to her. She visited the venue of the reception, a charming vineyard on
the northern shores of Shamrock Lake, and scoped out the options for a more
intimate wedding. Fortunately, the main reception hall could be divided into
smaller spaces, while the wedding ceremony could still take place in the
gazebo, surrounded by rose and lavender gardens, with the lake and the
mountains making a stunning backdrop.

Relieved that the changes required were
minimal, Emma headed back toward Greenville, intent on meeting with the
caterers next. She was passing through La Quinta, when she noticed the black
pickup truck several cars behind her. It had been behind her ever since she’d
left the vineyard, and despite numerous opportunities to overtake her, had
remained steadfastly on her tail. Slowing down to a crawl, she peered at her
rear view mirror. A couple of cars zoomed past her, but not the black pickup.
It hung back, letting a panel van pull in between them. Was it the same vehicle
that had almost run her over on the side of the road yesterday? She was certain
that vehicle had been a dark-colored SUV or truck, so this black pickup truck
fit the description.

Instead of continuing on the main
thoroughfare through town, she hooked a left, checking her rear view mirror as
she did so. Several seconds later, the black truck came into view, and her
throat dried. The truck’s tinted windshield prevented her from getting a good
look at the driver. She took another turn, and again the truck copied her,
still keeping a car between them so that she couldn’t make out the license
plate.

It was stupid to be scared, she told
herself. She was driving through a busy town. Surely the driver wouldn’t try
anything. But her hands were clammy on the wheel. What was she going to do?
Call the police? The sheriff’s station was only a few blocks away. Maybe she
could call Owen. And tell him what? That she was meddling in Tony Barnet’s
murder, and that a stranger in a black pickup truck was stalking her? She could
practically see Owen rolling his eyes at her. The last couple of times they
met, he hadn’t exactly seen her in a glowing light. First, she’d puked into a
crystal vase in front of him, and then they’d had that strange little argument
in Becky’s Diner that had resulted in him stalking off in a huff.

A sudden
whoop-whoop
from behind
startled her, and she glanced up to see a sheriff’s car on her tail. And if she
wasn’t mistaken, the driver was none other than the man she’d just been
thinking about.

As she pulled over on the side of the road,
the black pickup truck zipped past. She squinted into the lowering sun, trying
to read the license plate, but a passing van obstructed her view.

Owen ducked his head at her open window.
His face was bland and expressionless. “Hey, Emma,” he said briskly. “On your
way somewhere?”

“Hi, Owen.” She could be as impersonal as
he, she decided. “I’m on my way back to Greenville.”

“Where’ve you just been?”

“Rosemount Vineyard.”

His eyebrows rose slowly. “Had anything to
drink there?”

“No, I was there on business.” She felt
herself flushing, and hated herself for doing so. “What makes you think I’ve
been drinking?”

“You were driving erratically. Slowing
down, changing lanes without indicating.”

“Oh. Well, uh, I must have been distracted.
Sorry about that.”

He eyed her for a few more moments, and his
silence began to make her antsy. “Is it something I can help you with?”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but she
seemed to detect a sigh behind his words, a sigh of resignation, as if to say
What
now?
Her spine stiffened at the implication. She wasn’t going to blabber to
Owen about a mysterious driver shadowing her in a menacing truck. She wasn’t
going to have him sigh and go “there, there”, treating her like an
over-emotional puppy.

Giving him her best fake smile, she
chirped, “Oh, I don’t think so, unless you have an opinion on peach versus
champagne tulle for a bridesmaid’s gown?”

Sighing, he straightened up and slipped his
shades back on. For a moment she was struck by how handsome he looked in his
sheriff’s uniform, the dark sunglasses adding to his attractiveness. But then she
reminded herself of all the reasons why she and Owen were incompatible and
wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel.

“Drive safely, Emma.”

“You’re not giving me a ticket?”

“Consider this a friendly warning.”

Friendly? He hadn’t been friendly toward
her for…ages. Her mood inexplicably darkened, and it was an effort to smile at
him. “Thank you, I will.”

Not returning her smile, he raised his
finger to his head in a casual salute. “Goodbye, Emma.”

He could have said something friendlier,
like
See you later
. But he hadn’t, because maybe he didn’t feel all that
warm toward her. Feeling glum, she drove away, but instead of taking the main
route back to Greenville, she decided to take the more circuitous road through
the Pine Ridge Hills to the east of Shamrock Lake. It was a longer, windier
route, but she didn’t want to risk bumping into that pickup truck again.

Half an hour later, she was ruing her
decision. Major road works caused several stoppages, and all she could do was
sit and wait. At least there was a spectacular sunset for her to enjoy. As she
watched the sky turn from molten gold to orange and indigo, she reflected that
since returning to Greenville she’d had little time to relax and admire
sunsets. In the past few months she’d been as run off her feet as if she’d
never left New York. But now she had an opportunity to drink in the serenity of
her surroundings.

Eventually the line of vehicles began to
move again. Gradually the traffic thinned out, and by the time she neared
Shamrock Lake, she was the only car on the road, and a deep indigo twilight was
settling over the countryside. The radio station was playing a Willie Nelson
song, and she sang along, tapping her finger on the wheel in time.

A dazzling glare filled her car from the
rear. Glancing in her rear view mirror, she gasped as she saw the huge
headlights moving up behind her. The black pickup truck. It had to be, even
though she couldn’t make out anything besides those blinding headlights. Panic
sent her foot pressing down on the gas, and her little car spurted ahead. But
her ageing hatchback was no match for the behemoth following her, and it zoomed
up effortlessly, hanging back just a few inches off her tail.

What was she going to do now? She should
have told Owen about the truck. She should have got him to escort her back
home. Even if he had rolled his eyes, at least she wouldn’t be alone here in
the dusk with a madman on her tail.

This stretch of road was uninhabited, with
only orchards and fields and patches of trees surrounding her. There weren’t
any houses for at least ten or fifteen miles further on. A corner loomed up,
and she took it a bit too fast, clinging to the steering wheel as her car
slewed around the bend. Somehow she made it without losing control of the car,
but so did the truck, and now it zoomed even closer, so close she began to fear
it might ram into her—

Thunk
. She
jolted forward with the car, and a cry of fear left her mouth. Oh God, he
really had rammed her. Not that viscously, but hard enough to let the panic
bursting out. The speedometer needle edged up. The engine rattled in protest.
Another corner appeared, and the headlights behind threatened her again.

She was going too fast. She had to slow
down, but the truck was right behind her… A whimper rose in her throat as she
realized she had no hope of making the corner. Jamming on the brakes, she
careened off the road and plowed straight through a clump of bushes. The tires
squealed, the car rocked, someone screamed, and with a bone-shuddering jolt the
car came to a halt.

Dazed and breathless, she peeled her
fingers one by one from the death grip she’d had on the steering wheel. That
scream she’d heard had come from her. The car’s angled headlights highlighted
swirls of dust and crumpled bushes. With a groan, she undid her seat belt and
climbed out of the car, feeling like she’d just come off a freaky roller
coaster.

Her car had come to rest in a culvert
running alongside the road. From the little she could see, there didn’t appear
to be any major damage, but heck if she could get it back on the road.

The sound of a car pulling up nearby had
her spinning around in panic. Was that the pickup driver coming back to finish
off what he’d started? Should she run and hide in the bushes? She was just
about to sprint off into the darkness when she spotted the flashing blue lights
on top of the vehicle that had just pulled up and realized that help was at
hand.