Matt understood her anger. “In retrospect, I wish I had confronted him, but at the time, I thought it was just a bad patch. People hit them all the time.”
“This one was so bad, he killed himself,” Emma retorted. “And you did nothing! How could you?”
The accusation stung more than she could possibly realize. Matt wanted to rush around the desk and hold her, tell her that no one had guessed Don was so desperately depressed that he would end his own life, not even Rosa, who had known him better than anyone. Because his own sense of guilt ran deep, he didn’t say a word, didn’t try to defend his decision to give Don a little space to work things out on his own.
Finally Emma sighed. “I know it’s not your fault, Matt. I do. But it’s awful knowing that he was so desperate and felt he couldn’t turn to anyone. Maybe if I’d been here—”
“Stop that right now. Thinking about what might have been won’t do you or anyone else any good. I know, darlin’. I’ve never felt more helpless or guilty in my life than I did the night I found that car. I’ve gone over and over that day and the days before it trying to come up with something I could have done differently, but your dad wasn’t the kind of man to open up about his problems. He solved everyone else’s, but whatever issues he had, he kept to himself.”
“I know,” she whispered, swiping furiously at the tears tracking down her cheeks. “And I also know it’s too late to fix things, but I still need to know what drove him to it. Maybe then I’ll be able to find some peace. Please, Matt. Help me find some answers. Where can we start?”
Matt suspected Don had deliberately set out to make the cause of his death seem ambiguous. He’d left no note offering a tidy explanation. Maybe he’d thought he was sparing the family, rather than causing them even more anguish. Maybe it had been a matter of the insurance money, thinking it would help them move on with their lives. If his death were ruled a suicide, whatever policies he had would be null and void. He wondered if Emma understood that.
He also knew that anything else Emma discovered, no matter how it stacked up, would never be conclusive proof of anything. The best Emma would ever have would be circumstantial evidence and speculation.
“Will it really help?” he asked, hoping to convince her to let it go. “No matter what we find, it will still only be conjecture. And, in the end, it won’t really change anything, except the fact that there will be no insurance money.”
She paled at that. “I hadn’t considered that. We need that money.”
He heard the edge of panic in her voice. “If you need it that badly, then let this drop. Accept the medical examiner’s ruling.”
She seemed to weigh his words for an eternity, then shook her head. “As badly as I want to do that, I can’t. I think it’s important that we understand what was going on in his head, even if we can’t ever say for sure what drove him to kill himself.” She looked more lost and vulnerable than he’d ever seen her look before. “Please.” She picked up a tote bag she’d brought in with her. “I have these.”
She pulled out what looked like accounting books.
“You think there’s something in there?” he asked, surprised. The diner had been in business a long time in a prime location. It was always crowded with customers. By every standard he could imagine, it most certainly had to be a financial success. Some sort of business problem would be the last thing Matt would have suspected.
“I don’t know,” Emma admitted. “The attorney told us some things, then Jeff looked over the records and he says the numbers don’t make sense, that dad was bleeding the business dry. He’d taken out a new mortgage on the house, too. There had to be a reason for it. He’d never been reckless with money. If anything, he was conservative.”
A shudder washed over Matt as he realized why she’d sounded so desperate about the insurance money. He didn’t like the direction this was taking. Suicide was always messy and left families with a million and one questions, but what Emma was suggesting hinted that more had been going on. Blackmail? Gambling losses? Another woman? Whatever it was, it could get ugly. Did she really want to take the chance that her father’s reputation might be tarnished forever, even if the only people who knew were members of his own family? And the odds of keeping the truth secret would diminish with every clue they unearthed. The mere fact that they were conducting an investigation would tell people that he and Emma, at least, didn’t believe the accidental death ruling.
“You might not like what I find,” he warned her. “It’s not just the insurance we’re talking about. Your father’s reputation could be ruined if I discover that he was mixed up in something illegal or immoral.”
She regarded him with a familiar stubborn set to her jaw. “I don’t believe for a minute it was anything illegal or immoral, but whatever it was, I have to know the truth.”
“What about your mom? Would she want this? As devout as she is, would she want to know that Don committed suicide?”
Emma faltered at that. “I don’t know,” she admitted, sounding shaken. “In a weird way, even though we haven’t discussed it, I think she already suspects it. I think that’s why she’s been hiding out in her room.” She regarded Matt wistfully. “Couldn’t we do this quietly, then decide what to tell her?”
“She’ll hear about it if we’re asking questions, Emma.”
“Not if she doesn’t leave the house, and she’s showing no signs of going out.”
“And is that what you want? Do you honestly want her to continue avoiding everyone?”
“No,” she conceded.
“Then you have to sit down and tell her what you’re doing, you have to explain the insurance implications, because once I start looking under rocks, you won’t be able to turn back. The truth will come out, whatever it is. And you won’t be able to hide it from Rosa or Jeff and Andy. They’re hurt and confused now, but at least their memories of your father haven’t been destroyed. At least whatever financial mess your father created would be solved. Think it through, Emma. Maybe it’s best to leave it alone. Pick up the pieces and move on.”
Her hands were clenched together so tightly that her knuckles were white. Matt noticed that, as well as the strain around her mouth. He wondered idly if a kiss would put some color back in her cheeks, maybe soften her lips into a smile. And then he felt like a complete jerk for allowing his thoughts to even stray in that direction when she was in such obvious pain. She didn’t need a momentary distraction. She needed much more from him.
“I’ve been thinking about this for days now. I can’t move on without answers,” she said finally. “No matter what it costs.”
Matt nodded, knowing he had no choice. He had to help her. She would do this alone, if she had to, and he didn’t want her making whatever discoveries were out there without someone supportive at her side.
“Then we’ll find the answers,” he told her.
She seemed relieved by his response, as if she’d doubted it. “Where should we start?” she asked.
“The books are here. Let’s start with those,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know a thing about accounting procedures or numbers. Do you?”
Emma shook her head. “I can do the day-to-day stuff, but my boss has an outside accountant do the books.”
“Then I know someone who does have some expertise,” he said. “Would you mind if I show them to her?” When Emma looked uncertain, he added, “She’ll be discreet. She’s known your folks for years.” Besides that, it would give him a chance to check out a few of the things Gabe and Harley had said at the reception following the funeral. He’d hesitated about going to see Jennifer before, because of their history. He didn’t want to give her any reason to think he’d had a change of heart about the two of them.
Surprise registered on Emma’s face. “Who is it?”
“Jennifer Sawyer. She was in school with me, so she’s a couple of years older than you. She’s a very successful financial planner, and she’s been a regular at the diner since we were kid
s.” He deliberately didn’t add that, according to Gabe and Harley, she’d been spending an inordinate amount of time huddled with Don Killian before his death. Granted, it had been very public huddling, but who knew where that might have led?
“Of course. I remember her,” Emma said, her expression brightening. “She hasn’t been in since I got back, though. May I come with you?”
Matt would have preferred to go alone. He didn’t want Emma picking up on any of the vibes between him and Jennifer. Not that he was either ashamed of the relationship or had any reason to hide it from her, but it would only complicate things. Besides, there was every chance that he’d have better luck getting information from Jennifer if he handled it alone. And if there were any ugly secrets to be uncovered, he wanted the chance to pretty them up before telling Emma.
But these were Emma’s accounting records and Don had been her father. She had a right to come along. Hopefully he wasn’t leading her straight into a quagmire.
“Of course,” he told her, standing up. “Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we call first?” she asked, sounding oddly hesitant now that they were about to move forward.
“She’ll be there,” he said wryly. “She doesn’t go anywhere during the day where she can’t keep her eye on the stock exchange ticker tapes.” It hadn’t been the reason he’d stopped seeing her, but it had put some other men off, men who’d wanted to be her first priority.
“Okay, then,” Emma said with obviously forced enthusiasm. “Let’s do it.”
Matt tried to make small talk en route to the office building where many of the brokerages in town maintained suites. Jennifer’s financial planning firm was in the penthouse, a testament to her success.
When he’d parked down the block from the building, he turned to her. “We don’t have to do this,” he reminded her quietly one last time. “Or I can go in alone.”
“No,” she said, clutching the record books more tightly. “I’m coming.”
On the twelfth floor, the elevator doors whooshed open quietly to admit them to a carpeted suite with dark paneled wood on the walls and Sawyer Financial Services in gold block letters behind a very impressive reception desk.
“Hey, Matt,” Corinne Fletcher said, brightening when she saw him. “What brings you by? I thought…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened. “Emma Killian, is that you?”
Emma seemed momentarily taken aback when the very pregnant Corinne lumbered awkwardly around the desk and embraced her. She blinked hard and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Cori? Corinne Holt?”
“It’s Fletcher now.” Her own smile dimmed. “Oh, Emma, I am so sorry about your dad. You know how we all adored him. I’d expected all my kids to grow up in Flamingo Diner under his watchful eye just the way we did. I can’t even count the number of times he sat down with me and gave me advice. He always had time to listen, even when I was going on and on about my parents or some boy. You were so lucky to have a dad like that.”
“I know. Thanks,” Emma said, her eyes turning damp.
Matt immediately stepped in. “Cori, can you get us in to see Jennifer? We have some questions we thought she might be able to help us with.”
Cori looked oddly uncomfortable. “Actually she’s out of town right now. I’m not expecting her back till next week. Can someone else help you?”
Matt glanced at Emma, who shook her head. “No, we’ll wait for her,” Matt said. “Set up an appointment for Monday afternoon. Is that okay for you, Emma?”
“Sure. Anytime after three should work.”
Cori went back behind the desk and scanned the page of a date book. “She has a three o’clock, but I can change it.”
“Thank you,” Emma said.
“Will you be staying in Winter Cove?” Cori asked her. “I’d love to get together if you are.”
Emma nodded. “At least for the time being, and I’d love to see you. Maybe we can have dinner sometime?”
“I’ll check with my husband and compare schedules, then call you,” Cori promised. “You’re staying with your mom, right? I have that number.”
“Then I’ll wait to hear from you,” Emma replied.
Cori looked from Matt to Emma, then back again. “You want to join us, Matt?” she asked, her tone about as innocent as that of the scheming operator of a full-service matchmaking enterprise.
Matt glanced at Emma. “Sure, as long as Emma doesn’t object.”
“Of course not,” she said with something that almost sounded like relief.
After they’d left, he called her on it. “Was there some reason you weren’t looking forward to getting together with Cori and her husband on your own?”
She frowned at the question. “What gave you that idea?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you looked as if I’d saved you from a fate worse then death when I agreed to come along.”
“Maybe I just wanted your company,” she replied.
He leveled a look straight into her eyes. “Did you?”
He heard her breath hitch, saw the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, the quick rise of color in her cheeks. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting him to call her on her claim.
“It’s dinner, Matt, not an invitation to have sex,” she finally said testily.
“Too bad,” he murmured, then grinned. “I’ll try real hard to remember that.”
“See that you do,” she said sternly, but there was an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes.
That little spark was more than enough to give a man hope.
Emma spent a lot of time weighing Matt’s argument that she needed to be honest with her mother about what she was doing. She finally concluded that he was right, it wouldn’t be right to keep Rosa in the dark, especially since it could cost her mother whatever insurance money there was. If Rosa objected too vehemently, there was still time to call off the investigation.
When she took a supper tray into her mother’s room, she carried a bowl of cold, spicy gazpacho along for herself.
“I thought I’d eat with you,” she announced, not waiting for her mother’s response before pulling a chair over beside the bed.
Rosa watched her warily. “What’s on your mind, Emma?” she asked eventually.
Emma barely resisted the urge to snap a response asking what on earth her mother thought would be on her mind these days. Instead, she said quietly, “I’ve done something I wanted you to know about.”
Rosa’s hand froze in midair. Slowly she placed the spoonful of soup back into the bowl. “What have you done?”
There was no point in dancing around it, Emma decided. “I took the diner’s books to Matt and asked him to help me figure out what was going on with Dad.”
Rosa’s already pale complexion turned ashen. “Oh, Emma, you didn’t. Why would you do such a thing?”
This was going to be the hard part, telling her mother that she suspected her father’s death wasn’t an accident. She drew in a deep breath. “We need to know, Mama.”
“Maybe you do.”
“We all do,” Emma insisted. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to make this harder on you than it already is, but the truth is that I don’t believe Dad’s death was accidental.”
She waited for a shocked gasp, some hint of outrage, maybe even another slap, but her mother merely closed her eyes. A tear trailed down her cheek. In that instant she looked as if she’d aged ten years.
“You suspect the same thing, don’t you?” Emma said at last. “I thought so.”
“I can’t talk about this,” her mother said, shoving away her tray. “Please, Emma. Leave it alone. Think of your brothers.”
“That’s exactly who I am thinking about. Them and you. Look at you. You’ve been holed up in here for a couple of weeks now. Jeff’s run off to who knows where. Andy’s worrying himself sick.”
“And you’re trapped here in Winter Cove,” Rosa said sharply. “That’s the real problem, isn’t it? Once you fi
nd out what happened with your father, you’ll be able to place the blame on me or someone else and then take off again.”
The accusation was as stinging as the slap she’d anticipated. “That’s not it,” she insisted. “I’m happy to stay and help out for however long you need me, but none of us can go on forever wondering about that night and why it happened. It’s this huge elephant sitting in the middle of the room and we’re all trying to ignore it. I think even Andy and Jeff suspect that something’s not right.”
“Surely not,” her mother said. “They’re young. They adored their father, even Jeff, though he’d never admit it.”
“I know and this won’t ruin that. It will just make it easier for them to understand why he’s gone.”
“Will it really?” her mother asked bitterly. “How will you explain that there’s no insurance money for Jeff to finish college, for Andy to go next year, or to pay off the mortgages your father took out on the house and the diner?”
Despite her mother’s emphasis on the money, a vague suspicion crept into Emma’s head and refused to be ignored. “Mama, do you already know why Dad would commit suicide? Do you think he did it for the money?”
“Of course not. If I had known he was that upset over something, don’t you think I would have insisted he get help? Don’t blame me for any of this.”
“I wasn’t blaming you. It’s just that it wasn’t like him to refinance the house and the diner without talking it over with you.”
“Well, he didn’t,” Rosa snapped. “I would never have let him do such a thing and he knew it.”
Emma sighed. “I just thought maybe you had some idea what was going on in his head, maybe without even realizing it was important. You two always talked about everything.”
“Well, not this time, and I don’t want to know, either.” There was real fear in her voice.
“What are you afraid of, Mama?” Emma asked.
“I’m not afraid. I’m angry.”
“At Dad?”
Flamingo Diner Page 11
