Murder Most Likely
(an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3)
by
Karen Chester
Newly minted millionaire software entrepreneur Mervyn Butterick returns to his home town in a blaze of glory. Once a socially awkward nerd, he’s now rich, successful, and attractive, and he credits everything he’s achieved to his life coach and mentor.
Emma Cassidy, event planner and owner of A Perfect Party, is pleased at the transformation in her old school friend. But when Mervyn’s life coach drowns in the lake, she can’t help wondering. Was it an unfortunate accident, or a case of mistaken identity? Is someone gunning for Mervyn Butterick and everything he’s achieved?
With Mervyn desperate for answers, Emma agrees to help. For a mild-mannered geek, Mervyn has a surprising number of enemies, but which of them is a dangerous killer?
The Emma Cassidy Mystery series:
Book 1: Throw a Monkey Wrench
Book 2: Pushed to the Limit
Book 3: Murder Most Likely
Copyright © 2016 by Karen Chester
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design © 2016 Simon Mann
Cover photo © interactimages / Bigstock.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter One
Mervyn Butterick gulped down the last of his cocktail and smacked his lips. “Now that’s what I call a margarita! Thanks, Emma. I didn’t think you could get a decent mixologist here in Greenville, but you proved me wrong. Guess that’s what makes you a good party planner, huh?”
Emma Cassidy, sole proprietor of A Perfect Party, smiled at the compliment. When Mervyn had given her a blank check to organize this party for him, she’d known she had to pull out the stops to impress him, so she’d hunted out the best bartender in the area and made sure everything, from the liquor to the food, was top notch.
“I’m glad little old Greenville doesn’t compare too badly to Silicon Valley,” she said. “You must have some pretty slick parties there.”
“Hey, I don’t have time to party when I’m there. It’s all nose to the grindstone.” He signaled to a passing waiter and helped himself to another margarita.
“All that hard work has paid off, hasn’t it? I saw you made the Top Ten Tech Innovators to watch out for in eWeekly.”
Mervyn’s eyes brightened. “You saw that?” He squirmed for a moment, a pink blush coloring his cheeks.
“Yes.” Emma nodded. Her father had pointed out the article to her; he liked keeping up with past students from the high school she’d attended and where he still worked as a counselor, especially with the school’s seventy-fifth anniversary coming up.
Mervyn Butterick was one of South Lake High School’s most successful alumni in the past twenty years. He’d been in the same year as Emma. A socially awkward math and computer genius, he hadn’t shared much in common with her. In less than a dozen years he’d graduated from Berkley, established several tech startups, and then sold one of them to a major corporation for an eye-watering sum. The idea behind his app was deceptively humdrum—an order-tracking system for small vendors—but it had proved remarkably lucrative. At the age of thirty, Mervyn was a self-made millionaire, and his future looked stellar.
With his success based squarely in Silicon Valley, a three hour drive away, it was a bit of a mystery why he’d bought a property here in Greenville, though Emma wasn’t complaining. He’d hired her to organize a party for him and his employees, all fifty of them bussed in from San Jose, and also tasked her with arranging their accommodation at various hotels and bed-and-breakfasts around Shamrock Lake for the weekend. If Mervyn wanted to throw a party for his workers in his hometown, then that was fine with her.
“Will you be spending more time here in Greenville now that you’ve bought this house?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know yet. I kinda bought this place on a whim.”
“You did?” Emma cast a curious glance at him. This was a prime piece of property on the shores of Shamrock Lake, California. The modern house was of generous proportions, especially this expansive lower level which had been fitted out as an entertainment center, with a built-in bar and special lighting. There was even a dance floor and a disco ball spinning above it, sending out shards of light around the walls.
Mervyn lifted his shoulders. “It came on the market a few months ago, and when I saw it, I just had to have it. Don’t ask me why.”
“Well, it’s a stunning house.” If Mervyn wanted to make a statement that he’d come a long way since high school, then this house definitely did that.
“Yes, stunning…” He gazed about him, then took another gulp of his cocktail. “Anyway, I plan on coming here to work when I need some peace and quiet. I’ve fitted out one of the bedrooms upstairs with state of the art security.”
Emma started. “Security? Your work’s not dangerous, is it?”
“Well…” His smile took on a conspiratorial air. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Kill me? Emma’s hand instinctively went to her throat, and she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
“Hey, it’s just a joke!” Mervyn peered at her, his expression concerned. “Jeez, I would never harm you, Emma.”
“I know. I’m being silly.” Emma tried to brush her momentary lapse aside. What was wrong with her? So a few weeks ago she’d come face-to-face with a scheming, cold-blooded killer, but she had survived, and the murderer was behind bars, and everything had turned out okay—well, almost everything. She had put the incident behind her and got on with running her event planning business. But it seemed her nerves hadn’t fully recovered yet.
“I’m just working on some software for my new project,” Mervyn said, trying to put her at ease. “All top secret, of course. Hence the need for security.”
“Your mother must be pleased with your success,” Emma said, nodding toward the short, plump woman moving through the crowd toward them.
“Oh, yeah. You know Ma,” Mervyn said with all the complacency of a man whose mother had always been his number one fan.
A single mom without many resources, Vera Butterick had worked in the school canteen, where she had blatantly slipped her son extra helpings and choice tidbits. The fact that Mervyn had been on the chubby side and didn’t need the extra calories had never deterred her; it had been her way of showing she cared for him, and Mervyn, unlike most other teenagers, had never been embarrassed by her attention.
“My, my, now who’s this handsome fella?” Vera joked as she reached Emma and Mervyn and beamed up at her son. “You look like someone famous. Are you a movie star or something? Could I have your autograph?”
Mervyn sighed. “Ma, that’s the third time
you’ve done that tonight.”
Undaunted, Vera turned to Emma. “I bet you didn’t recognize him when you saw him again, did you?”
After a brief hesitation, Emma nodded. “You’re right. Mervyn’s changed a lot since high school.”
She wasn’t sure if it was polite to acknowledge that Mervyn had altered dramatically from his geeky school days, but his mother seemed to have no qualms bringing up the subject.
“It’s amazing what a decent haircut and contact lenses can do.” Vera fondly ruffled her son’s bright red hair which was now fashionably cut.
It was true that back in high school Mervyn’s pudding basin haircut and thick black glasses hadn’t done him any favors, but in Emma’s opinion the biggest change was his dramatic weight loss. Gone were the rolls of fat and flabby chins that Vera’s French fries and ice cream had contributed to. Mervyn was now forty pounds lighter, toned and fit and almost unrecognizable in charcoal gray pants, designer lemon shirt, and fire engine red jacket.
Mervyn patted his taut stomach. “It’s amazing what losing some weight can do, too. Plus a wardrobe makeover. And it’s all thanks to Todd.” He gestured toward a tall, dark, elegantly groomed man dressed all in black who was chatting to a couple of girls next to the pool table. “That’s Todd Neumann, my coach.”
“Coach?” Emma asked. “I didn’t know you were into sport.”
Mervyn laughed. “Todd’s a life coach. Or a mentor, if you like. He’s incredible. It’s because of him I’ve got all this.” He waved a hand to encompass the house, the party, and all his success.
Vera pursed her lips. “It’s not because of him. You did this all on your own, Mervie.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t realize my full potential until Todd started working with me,” he said to Emma. “Under his guidance, I changed everything in my life. My negativity was blocking me, but once I learned to think and act like a winner, everything started to go right for me. I lost weight after years of trying and failing, I sold my startup for a fortune, I established another company, and I even worked up the courage to ask the girl of my dreams to go out with me, and look where that ended.”
He beamed fondly in the direction of his girlfriend Georgia, who was deep in conversation with someone nearby. Slim and stylish in her green mini dress and hooped silver earrings, she exuded the glamour and poise of a supermodel. It had come as a bit of a surprise to Emma to learn that Georgia was in fact the office manager of Mervyn’s company. Apparently, she’d worked there several years before she and Mervyn had become a couple.
“Hmpf.” Vera’s expression remained unimpressed. It seemed she was convinced that Mervyn’s brilliance alone—with perhaps some added maternal encouragement—was responsible for all his achievements.
“She’s very beautiful,” Emma said.
“Oh, she’s an angel!” Mervyn gushed. “I’d better go over and see if she wants a glass of champagne. You did get the Veuve Clicquot, right? It’s her favorite.”
“Yes,” Emma replied. “The bartender should have it.”
He sashayed across the room, a bright red splash moving through the crowd, pausing now and then as various people tried to get his attention. Under the glittering lights, his face was flushed, and his movements meandering. Though he’d downed several cocktails, Emma had the feeling he was more intoxicated with excitement than alcohol.
“He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?” Vera said, her gaze still fixed on her son.
“Uh, yes,” Emma answered politely.
“He always liked you back in high school, you know. Said you weren’t stuck up like the other popular girls.”
“Right,” Emma murmured. At the back of her mind lurked the guilty admission that she hadn’t always been nice to Mervyn. Sure, she hadn’t made fun of him like so many others had, but she hadn’t had much time to spare him either, busy as she was with her studies, her friends, and of course her high school boyfriend, who had occupied most of her thoughts then.
The thing about Mervyn was that he had never been very socially aware. He wasn’t the shy, silent type of geek, but a talkative one. If he latched onto someone willing to listen to him, he could chew their ear off forever, without noticing his subject getting bored, and ignoring attempts to change the topic of conversation. Which was why sometimes Emma had deliberately avoided him, not because she didn’t like him, but because she didn’t have the time. Maybe that had been mean of her, but it seemed better than losing patience, snapping at him, and hurting his feelings.
“He might’ve had a few setbacks in high school, but look at him now.” Vera beamed with pride as she gazed over the noisy room. “Everyone loves Mervyn.”
Just then, one of the glass doors that led out to the terrace flew open, and a man dressed in grubby jeans and sweater burst into the room. Conversation died down as everyone turned to the intruder. He stared wildly about before he caught sight of Mervyn and let out an angry howl.
“Mervyn Butterick! I’m going to fricking kill you!”
Hands outstretched, he launched himself at Mervyn.
***
With reckless abandon the unknown assailant swung his fists at Mervyn, who stumbled back a couple of paces before toppling over. The other man hurled himself at poor Mervyn, and the two wrestled on the floor while women shrieked and scattered out of the way. A couple of men tentatively tried to break up the fight but were quickly repelled by the assailant. And all the while, music continued to play and the disco ball showered sparkly lights over the tussle.
“Archer Janick!” Vera shouted before hurtling across the room like a nuggety bullet. “How dare you? Get your hands off my son.”
Archer Janick? Emma did a double take before she realized that Vera was right. The man trying to pummel Mervyn was indeed Archer Janick, Mervyn’s best friend in high school—maybe his only friend. Back then, it had seemed only natural that the two geeks would pair up since they had a lot in common. Emma remembered Archer as the quiet type who avoided eye contact, let alone confrontation. But here he was, gate-crashing a party and intent on flogging Mervyn, who was curled up defensively, arms raised to protect his head from the blows.
“You’re a lying, cheating bastard!” Archer yelled, punctuating his insults with poorly aimed punches. “Backstabbing. Devious. Thief.”
Vera grabbed a cushion and pounded Archer’s head with it. He ignored her. Todd, the mentor Mervyn had praised so highly, finally darted forward. His cashmere sweater and slim build indicated he wasn’t accustomed to fisticuffs, but he signaled to another man, a bigger, beefier man whose rolled up sleeves revealed some serious biceps, and the two grabbed Archer, kicking and hollering, and hauled him off Mervyn.
“Let me go!” Archer roared. Messy black hair flopped into eyes that were bloodshot and enraged. He was just as skinny as he’d been in high school, maybe even skinnier. His face was gaunt, the cords in his neck sticking out as he struggled futilely.
Mervyn scrambled to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Look,” he said to Archer, breathing hard, “why don’t we go somewhere quiet and talk?”
“Talk? There’s nothing to talk about unless you want to admit that you cheated me out of ten million dollars.” Archer spat out the words at Mervyn like they were poison. Resentment seethed in his eyes as he glanced at the people surrounding him, staring at him. “Yeah, that’s right. This guy who you all think is so great, this guy that eWeekly gushes over, this jerk pretended he was my friend. He said he’d take care of all the pesky legal stuff so I could concentrate on my work. We were supposed to be partners, but then he sold the company, and suddenly I found we weren’t partners after all, and I got nothing. And when I asked for an explanation, he fired me. He stole my share. He stole ten million dollars from me.”
“That’s not true.” Mervyn’s face was turning red, and his hands were twitching at his sides. His gaze darted about the room before coming to rest on Archer. “It’s not true, Archer, and you know it. The fact is, you
couldn’t hack it. You didn’t deserve a share of anything because you were never my equal. You were not my partner, and you aren’t even good enough to work for me.”
“Liar!” His face swelling with fury, Archer made a lunge at Mervyn, but the two men holding his arms gripped him even tighter.
Georgia ran to Mervyn’s side and clutched his arm, her thick false eyelashes fluttering in alarm. “Oh, Mervyn! Are you okay?”
“Leave this worm to me,” the beefy guy holding Archer said.
Todd, the life coach, hesitated. “Are you sure, Ivan?”
Beefy guy, aka Ivan, nodded. “I can handle him on my own no problem. I’ll, uh, escort him off the premises.”
Todd hesitated before gingerly letting go of Archer. The life coach didn’t appear upset by the incident; in fact, he seemed almost regretful. “Archer? Maybe you and I could talk some time,” he said in a quiet, thoughtful tone. “I know you’ve been through a lot. Maybe I could help you.”
In reply, Archer snorted. “Why the frick would I want to talk to you? You convinced Mervyn to hang me out to dry.”
Todd shook his head. “That’s not true. All I did was guide Mervyn to achieve his potential, and I believe I can assist you, too. I wouldn’t charge you. I just want to help you.”
“Go to hell!” Archer burst out. “You can all go to hell.”
The beefy Ivan growled and shook him in warning.
“Go easy, Ivan,” Mervyn said.
“If he goes easy, then I will.”
Archer’s head drooped, and Emma felt a twinge of sympathy for the man as Ivan frog-marched him out of the house. All the fight seemed to have vanished from Archer, and he seemed totally despondent, as if he’d used up all his courage on this confrontation and the humiliation was too much to bear.
Then, remembering that it was her job to make sure the party was memorable for the right reasons, she raised her voice and addressed the room. “Hey, everyone. Who wants to try a flaming Dr. Pepper?” She caught the bartender’s eye, who nodded that he was ready.
Murder Most Likely (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 3) Page 1
