Throw a Monkey Wrench (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 1) (16 page)

“Of course he did,” Pamela spat at Gerald.
“You’re either incompetent or up to no good.”

The lawyer flushed but stood his ground as
he addressed the furious Kyle. “Your father changed his will a couple of weeks
ago. He said he’d finally realized it was a big mistake leaving you with a
fortune and that Miss Kozlowski deserved to be taken care of. “That’s why he
left a third of his estate to you, and the rest to Miss Kozlowski.” He nodded
toward Jordan, who appeared too stricken to speak.

“You’re a liar!” Kyle jabbed a finger at
the attorney. “And a swindler. You connived with that tart to cheat me out of
my inheritance.”

Gerald’s flush deepened. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Pamela blasted
at Gerald, the feathers on her hat vibrating with anger. “If you think I’ll
stand by and let you and that hussy cheat my son out of what is rightfully his,
then you’re stupider than you look. Be prepared for a call from my lawyers.” Sweeping
past him, she crooked her finger at Kyle. “Come on, we’ll discuss this at
home.”

Ignoring the gesture, Kyle glowered at
Jordan, his face so contorted with bile that Emma moved instinctively, putting
herself between Jordan and Kyle’s spleen.

“You’d better do as your mom says,” Emma
said.

“And you’d better watch your step, Miss
Party Pooper,” he hissed back at her. “I told you to keep your nose out of my
business. Seems you’re too dumb to know any better. Maybe you need another
lesson.”

The malice in his voice made her stomach
turn. Before she could respond, he stomped after his mother, petulantly kicking
at a flower pot as he passed it.

“God, what a pair!” Gerald O’Neil smoothed
a hand over his gray thatch of hair, his cheeks still mottled with indignation.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Jordan finally
spoke, her shoulders hunched, hands twisted together, a picture of abject
misery.

“Oh, I’ve had worse. Remember, I was there
when Tony divorced Pamela. I know what she’s like. But don’t worry. She can
send all the attorneys she likes, she won’t get anything more for her brat of a
son.” He patted her arm. “Now, I think I deserve a good stiff drink after
that.”

The lawyer walked back into the house, but
Jordan didn’t follow him. Instead, she made a rueful moue at Emma before
sinking into a bench on the porch.

“You missed the climax of the funeral
reception,” she said wearily, gesturing to Emma to join her on the bench.

Emma sat beside her. “The reading of the
will?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a reading of
the will, but Kyle and Pamela cornered poor Gerald and demanded to know what Kyle
was inheriting. So I told Gerald we should all go into the study and he could
tell us together. I didn’t want to know about the will until Tony was properly
sent off, you see. Well, as soon as Gerald read the will, those two started
shouting accusations at Gerald and me. And then they stormed out of the study
still yelling, and of course everyone heard them.” She bit her lip, and Emma’s
heart went out to her as she imagined Jordan being labeled a gold-digger in
front of the whole crowd. 

“I can’t believe Tony left me two thirds of
everything he owned.” Jordan’s eyes widened. “To be honest, I thought I’d be
lucky just to get the house. I never thought Tony would leave me so much…” She
inhaled a quivering breath. “Gerald explained that Tony had been supporting Kyle
for years, paying his college fees, buying him a car, and taking care of his
debts time and time again. Plus, a third of the estate is still a lot of money.
At least, it is to someone like me.”

“I’m sure Gerald has drafted a watertight
will,” Emma said.

Jordan didn’t appear to hear her as she
worried her teeth against her lower lip. “I don’t know what to do now. If
Pamela sets her lawyers on me, I might be fighting this in court for years.
What’s that going to cost me? Especially if I lose. Maybe it’s better to come
up with a compromise. Maybe if I offer Kyle more of the estate, that will make
them back off.”

“Maybe,” Emma replied, though she felt less
than confident. This wasn’t just about money. Embittered and resentful, Pamela
was after her pound of flesh, and Kyle didn’t strike her as a reasonable
person. Jordan was too easy a target. “But you shouldn’t do anything hasty.
Talk to Gerald and your mom before you decide anything.” LouAnn was tough and
sensible. She’d be a good adviser to Jordan.

But Jordan shrugged. “Mom just wants me
back in Toledo.” She pushed to her feet and squared her shoulders. “I’m not
going anywhere. I like it here, even if some people love to gossip about me.”
She glanced down at Emma. “Thanks for all your help today. It was a good
funeral. Tony would’ve enjoyed it. He’d even have a laugh at Pamela and Kyle
causing such a ruckus, too. But I think it’s time I got rid of all the gawkers.
I want my house to myself.” Her mouth twisted. “While it’s still my house, of
course.”

Head held high, she walked back into the
house. Alone, Emma rose to her feet, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. A blur
of movement on the road caught her attention. She looked up in time to see a
black pickup truck zoom past the entrance gates. It was the truck she’d
inspected earlier. And since Pamela and Kyle were the only people who had left
in the past few minutes, they had to be in that truck. Question was: who had
been behind the wheel yesterday, and why were they trying to scare her?

After Emma had
helped Jordan shoo the last mourners out the door, she hurried through the
clean up, anxious to be on her way. Jordan was swaying on her feet with
tiredness and didn’t put up much of a fight when her mom insisted she go
upstairs for a sleep.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” LouAnn
informed Emma when all the hired help had left. “I wish I could stay longer,
but if I don’t sell houses I don’t eat. And besides, Jordan gets restless if I
stay for more than a few days.”

“Hopefully she’ll visit you later when
she’s feeling better.”

“Huh. I doubt she’ll be feeling better in a
hurry when she has that she-devil and her no-good son hounding her.” LouAnn
propped her hands on her hips, looking quite formidable. “When those two
started slinging insults at Jordan, I gave them what for, but I don’t think
Jordan appreciated it.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think she’s a mite embarrassed
about her Midwestern roots.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma prevaricated.
“It’s probably just a mom-daughter thing. I didn’t always get along with my
mom, but now she’s gone I miss the heck out of her.”

LouAnn’s smile softened her features. “I
like you, girl, which is more than I can say about some of the folks I’ve met
around here.” She picked up her purse and fished inside it. “Do me a favor when
I’m back in Toledo, will you? If you think Jordan needs my help, give me a
call.” She pressed a business card into Emma’s hand. “And now, if you’ll excuse
me, I think I’ll have a lie down myself. You will make sure all the doors are
locked before you leave, won’t you?” Waving goodbye, LouAnn headed for the
stairs.

The huge house, which had been crowded just
an hour ago, was now still and silent. Kneading the back of her neck, Emma
gazed out at the lake, its waters now gold and violet from the sinking sun. But
the vague throb nagging at the base of her skull prevented her from fully
appreciating the beauty of the lake.

She glanced about the great room to check
that everything was in order. All the dirty plates and glasses had disappeared,
the buffet tables had gone, the oversized portraits of Tony had been packed
away. Even the crumbs on the floors had been swept up. Only the air held a
lingering whiff of perfume and canapés. She’d done a good job here, but no one
would remember that. Instead, everyone would be chattering about Kyle and
Pamela and the names they’d called Jordan. There was nothing she could do about
that. Hopefully in a few weeks’ time there’d be a juicier bit of gossip for
people to chatter about.

As she hooked the strap of her bag over her
shoulder, she caught the sound of a muffled thud. Was someone still in the
kitchen cleaning up? But she had seen off all the caterers herself. Puzzled,
she walked down the corridor to the kitchen, but the spacious room was empty,
as was the adjoining pantry and utility room.

She retraced her steps to the great room.
Everything was deathly quiet.
Like a tomb
, her over-active imagination
added. Stop that. She was tired, and she wanted to go home for a well-earned rest.
She strode toward the hall that led to the front door.

The faint sound came again, this time
closer. It had come from the study, she was sure of it. Jordan and LouAnn were
upstairs napping. So who was in the study? Probably just a mourner who’d fallen
asleep. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances.

From a nearby console table she lifted a
heavy brass candlestick and tiptoed to the door of the study. If there was an
intruder in there, she was confident her screams would bring LouAnn running
downstairs. Taking a deep breath, she flung open the door.

The man on the other side of the study
jumped about a mile in the air and dropped something which fell with a dull
thunk on the thick carpet.

“Mateo!” Emma exclaimed.

The gardener stared at her, his usually
surly expression now replaced by one of stunned shock. She glanced at the
wooden box he’d dropped, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Cigars?” Her gaze darted to the built in
shelves where Tony had kept his set of humidors. Sure enough, there was a
telling gap among them.
Cigars, of course
. Jordan had noticed a few Lego
minifigures were missing, but she’d never thought to check on Tony’s cigars,
and even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell if some were
missing from a box. Emma inhaled another breath. “Are you stealing them?”

A dull maroon color flushed the craggy
folds of Mateo’s face. He wore his usual thick pants and faded navy T-shirt,
his arms hanging at his sides, sinewy and corded with lean muscle. Emma
involuntarily tightened her grip on the brass candlestick. If he wanted to,
Mateo would make a formidable opponent.

He bent to retrieve the humidor, a
handsome, lacquered rosewood box with ebony edging. Staring at it, he opened
the box and straightened the fat, richly hued cigars resting inside.

“My son, Daniel,” he suddenly spoke, his
voice gruff. “You know about him.”

“Yes. What does this have to do with him?”

“Your father, the school counselor, he
wants Daniel to finish high school and go to college, yes?”

Emma nodded. She knew what was coming next.

He held up one of the cigars. “You know how
much one of these cost? Sixty or seventy dollars. Just for one. And look how
many there are in this room.” He gestured to the shelf where two more humidors sat.
“These cigars, there are so many. I only take them to look after my wife. If
she gets better, then my son can finish school.”

Yes, but it’s still stealing
. She thought the words but couldn’t say them. What was right and
what was wrong? She couldn’t tell anymore. Was it right that Mateo’s family had
to suffer? Was it wrong that he was doing everything in his power to provide
for them?

“But if you’re arrested for theft, how will
you look after your family?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there and
glowered at her like a goaded bull, almost challenging her to do her worst. The
staring match continued, and she was the first to blink.

“Put the cigars back on the shelf,” she
said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

His chin jutted up, and for a few anxious
moments she thought he was going to defy her, but then he shut the lid of the
humidor with a sharp snap and plunked the box back in its place on the shelf.

“Are you going to report me to Ms.
Kozlowski?” he asked.

No pleading for mercy, no wheedling or
bargaining. Mateo was a proud man, and no doubt he felt it beneath him to
grovel to someone like her, a young woman who, by comparison, had never had to
struggle for anything.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” she
conceded, irritated with her indecision and lack of power. He shrugged, and
that little gesture made her feel even more impotent. “If anything else goes
missing, I’ll go straight to the police.”

Her warning had little effect on the ornery
gardener. He marched toward her, looking so fierce she found herself stumbling
back, her heartbeat revving. And then, just as she feared she might have to use
the candlestick grasped in her hands, he stomped past her and, moments later,
slammed out of the front door.

Feeling queasy, she returned the candlestick
to the console table in the hall and slumped into a nearby chair. When the
strength returned to her legs, she pulled herself to her feet and went through
the house, checking that all the doors were locked and the house secure.
Finally she exited through the front door. By now more than ten minutes had
passed, and Mateo was surely long gone. There was no sign of him as she
scampered to her car and piled in. Seconds later, she was laying rubber as she
sped away from Jordan’s house.

Now what was she going to do? Should she
tell Jordan about Mateo’s thefts and risk him going to jail? That would be a
catastrophe for his family, and she’d feel so guilty about it. But then another
thought struck her. How long had Mateo been pilfering cigars from the house?
Had Tony found out and confronted him, and had Mateo, driven by his urge to
protect his wife and son, killed him?

Her stomach did a bilious somersault. Mateo
had given evidence that he’d witnessed the argument between Sean and Tony. It
didn’t take much imagination to see him creeping back into the garage after
Sean had left and offing Tony. Her theory made a lot of sense, more sense than
Sean killing Tony because of some unpaid bills.

But then a smidgeon of doubt clouded her
mind. If Mateo had killed Tony to keep him quiet about the thefts, then why
hadn’t he done the same thing to her? She wasn’t much of a physical threat,
despite the candlestick, while Mateo was all wiry muscle from his gardening
labors. And desperation would give him added strength. It wouldn’t have taken
much from him to grab the candlestick from her and conk her over the head. Once
you committed one murder, killing a second time would be easier.

So maybe Mateo wasn’t the killer.

***

When she reached
home, the house was empty. Her father and Janet would be in Sacramento by now,
enjoying their seminar together. Relieved to have the house to herself, she
took a quick shower, hoping it would revive her, and changed into comfortable
jeans and an old college sweater. She needed some time to think over the events
of the past few days and plan what to do next. She lay down on her bed,
intending to sort out her confused thoughts, but within a few seconds her
eyelids were drooping as she slid unresisting into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, she started awake. The
light was fading outside. A sunset breeze lifted the curtains at her bedroom
window. Wait. She couldn’t remember opening her window. Tension coiled in her
stomach.

A sudden pounding at the front door had her
leaping from her bed.
Oh my God!
Who was that? Heart thumping, she
padded on bare feet to the front door and peeked through the spy hole. Her
heart beat did not slow down. On the other side of the door stood Owen, looking
handsome in his sheriff’s deputy uniform. What was he doing here?

She poked at her ratty hair, then scolded
herself for caring about what Owen thought of her appearance, and yanked open
the door.

“Owen, what a surprise.”

“Just dropped by to see how you were.”

He looked her over, and his clear brown
eyes seemed to take in every detail, from her mussed up bed hair to her baggy
college sweater to her bare feet. She shifted uneasily, aware of something
different in his scrutiny. Then it dawned on her that he wasn’t frowning at
her. In fact, he looked almost pleased to see her.

“Oh, I—I’m doing okay,” she stammered out,
inexplicably flustered. “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Sure.” He followed her inside, and she was
hyper-conscious of his tall figure right behind her.

She led him into the living room and they
sat, him in an armchair, her on the couch.

“How did the funeral reception go?” Owen
asked.

“You haven’t heard the gossip yet?”

“No. What happened?”

“Tony’s ex-wife, Pamela, arrived with her
son Kyle. Of course Jordan didn’t turn her away. Then Kyle found out from
Tony’s lawyer that he’s inheriting only a third of the estate, when he was
expecting all of it, while Jordan gets two thirds. He and Pamela caused a scene
and stormed out, threatening all kinds of legal action on Jordan.”

With a soft whistle, Owen leaned forward.
“That’s nasty.”

“Yes. Jordan’s thinking of offering Kyle a
bigger share to stop him from suing. She doesn’t want this dragging on for
years.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Well, I don’t know of
many people in her situation who’d be so magnanimous.”

“I agree, but there’s more to Jordan than
meets the eye,” she said. “I like her a lot. I hope she’ll stay on in
Greenville.”

Owen nodded. “And you? Are you staying on
in Greenville?”

She searched his expression for hidden
meaning, but all she found was friendly interest. Well, that was more than
she’d come to expect from Owen. “I think I am,” she said with a faint smile as
she settled deeper into the couch. “I wasn’t sure at first, but the place is
starting to grow on me.”

“Better late than never. It’s only taken
thirty years.”

“Hey, I’m not thirty yet. Still got a few
more months before I hit that milestone.”

“Take it from me, it’s not that bad being
on the other side of thirty.”

Emma found herself chuckling. It had been
so long since she and Owen were on the same page, and she realized how much she
missed this easy camaraderie between them.

“I can’t believe we’re getting so old. It
seems like only yesterday when you were talking about being a cop. All those
episodes of
Law and Order
you used to make me watch.” She smiled at the
memories. “It’s good to know you achieved your dreams.”

“You speak as if you didn’t.”

There was a question in his eyes, and
suddenly she found them too penetrating. She glanced down at her hands.

“I guess the dream wasn’t all it was
cracked up to be.” There, she had admitted it. “I thought I had it all. A
growing business, a slick boyfriend, an exciting life in a city that never
sleeps. But it was all a mirage. I couldn’t see through the lies.” Now that
she’d started, it felt strangely cathartic to reveal her flaws to him, the boy
she’d ditched in order to pursue her mirage. “You were right, Owen. I never
should have left.”