In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5)

by Karen Chester

  ***

  The following morning Emma was woken by her cell phone, the insistent ringing dragging her out of a well-deserved sleep. Who called at nine a.m. on New Year’s Day? she thought grumpily as she fumbled with her phone. Hazel Destefano, that’s who.

  “Good morning. I thought we could get an early start on the accounting.” The secretary’s pithy voice drilled into Emma’s ear without apology.

  “I’m sorry?” Emma stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. What was Hazel talking about? “Um, today’s a holiday, isn’t it? Why don’t we wait until tomorrow?”

  “I have plenty of other work waiting for me tomorrow,” Hazel retorted. “The mayor entrusted me with the financial oversight of this fundraiser, and I take my responsibilities very seriously.”

  “Yes, but—” Emma started to protest before she broke off with a sigh. “Fine, but I’ll need an hour to wake up and get myself ready.”

  “You’re still asleep?” The secretary sounded astonished.

  “Yeah, well, I only got home at two this morning.”

  “So did I, but I was up at seven. I never sleep more than five hours a night. It’s a waste of my time.”

  But not a waste of mine, Emma thought. However she kept her silence on that and instead said firmly, “I’ll be ready in an hour. Where do you want to meet? At the mayor’s office?”

  “No, the mayor doesn’t like me allowing visitors near his office outside work hours. We may as well meet here at my house. You do know where it is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s next door to Wayne Goddard’s.”

  “That’s correct. Number 34. I’ll see you in an hour.” Hazel hung up abruptly.

  Resisting the lure of her downy comforter, Emma pulled herself out of bed and tried to wake up under a hot shower. She dressed in jeans and sweater and went downstairs to her quiet, orderly living room. Once again she wondered where Rowena had gone. Even though her unwanted house guest had run off without so much as a goodbye note, she hoped that she was safe. Rowena had a knack for landing on her feet, she told herself. She had probably found a hiding spot much more to her liking than Emma’s cottage.

  After a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, she gathered the metal cash box and her file containing the receipts for the fundraiser, and headed out. The day was cold but clear, the sky a vivid blue with only traces of high cloud. The perfect day for a stroll through the woods or visiting friends, Emma thought with a sigh. Not closeted with Hazel doing bookkeeping.

  When she parked at the curb outside Hazel’s house, she couldn’t help studying Wayne’s house next door. She knew it was just her imagination, but the house seemed bleak and neglected, with dead leaves littering the porch, and fallen branches lying in the yard. There was no yellow crime scene tape across the front door. Obviously the police believed Wayne’s death was just a tragic accident.

  She gathered her tote bag, briefcase, and cash box, and walked up Hazel’s path. This house was spick and span, its windows sparkling, its front porch swept clean, and the yard equally tidy. No stray leaf would dare fall on this property.

  Hazel answered her knock and showed her into the living room. As expected, it was very neat, not a speck of dust anywhere, the books and magazines on the coffee table lined up with military precision. But there were also surprising touches, like the crocheted throw on the couch, the stitched samplers on the wall, and the hand-embroidered footstool.

  “That’s lovely,” Emma said, gesturing at the colorful throw. “Did you make it?”

  “I did.” A hint of color touched Hazel’s cheeks, and she almost looked pleased by the compliment. “I enjoy several handcrafts.”

  “That’s great. I’m not much good at knitting and crocheting,” Emma confessed.

  “We’ll work here.” Hazel pointed at a table by the window which held a laptop and a folder. She seemed uncomfortable with chitchat and eager to get on with the purpose of the visit.

  Emma took a seat at the table and spread out her own paraphernalia. Taking off her winter coat, she was surprised by the chilliness of the room. She rubbed her hands, debating whether to put on her coat, but the sleeves were too cumbersome for the work they would be doing. Hazel didn’t seem to notice the cold. In fact, she wore just a thin sweater over a light skirt, a gauzy scarf loosely knotted around her throat. As usual, she had applied several layers of foundation to her cheeks, giving her a slightly waxy complexion.

  The secretary noticed Emma trying to warm up her hands. “Is it too cold for you in here?”

  “A little.”

  Hazel walked out of the room and came back with a woolen poncho. “Here. You can wear this.”

  “Thanks.” Emma draped the soft garment over her and snuggled into its warm folds. “You don’t find it chilly?”

  “No.” The other woman hesitated, and then pursed her lips wryly. “Actually, I’m having some hormone treatment at the moment, which gives me hot flushes at times, so if you don’t mind, I prefer to keep the temperature low in my house.”

  “Oh, of course I don’t mind,” Emma said, surprised that the starchy secretary had confided in her. “I’m sorry your treatment is giving you side effects.”

  Hazel lifted her shoulders. “Yes, but it’s worth it. Now, should we start? How much money did we collect from the raffle tickets?”

  They worked solidly for an hour, and Emma had to admit that Hazel, for all her faults, was efficient and capable and a hard worker.

  “I hope the mayor appreciates your dedication,” Emma said when they had reached a natural break in their work. “Especially working on your day off.”

  “I know I’m good at my job. I don’t need the mayor’s approval.”

  “Yes, of course,” Emma murmured, wishing the other woman wasn’t such a prickly character.

  “I’ll make us some tea.” Hazel stood up.

  “Want some help?” Emma began to rise to her feet.

  Hazel frowned. “No. You stay there,” she commanded before disappearing out of the room.

  Alone, Emma took the opportunity to study the living room more closely. There were no photos, she noticed. But there was a single Christmas card perched on a bookcase. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she tiptoed over and peeked at the card. Without touching it she could just make out the inscription.

  Missing you so much. Wish we could be together again. Love J.

  Who was J? A relative, a friend, a lover? The message sounded rather plaintive. An ex-lover perhaps?

  Hearing movement in the hall, she scampered back to her seat and got there just in time as Hazel entered bearing a tray. The secretary put two mugs of tea, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies on the table.

  “These are delicious,” Emma exclaimed when she tasted a cookie. The light, buttery flavor was familiar, she thought. “They taste just like the ones Becky makes.”

  “Yes, I get a dozen of them from the diner each week.” Hazel looked down at her tea. “Becky always sets them aside for me.”

  There was a curious note in her voice that made Emma feel awkward. Sipping her tea, she glanced out the window, searching for a new topic of conversation.

  “I wonder when Wayne’s family will arrive,” she said, her attention drawn once more to the house just a few yards away. “I guess whoever comes will have to go through his things.”

  Hazel set down her mug, her lips pressed together. “It’s sad that he died so needlessly, but I for one won’t miss him. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but he was a rather disruptive neighbor.”

  Emma hesitated before replying, “Yes, I heard about the incident in the car park. That must have been distressing.”

  The other woman stared at her. “How did you find out?”

  Emma lifted her shoulders. “Greenville’s a small town. It’s hard to keep a secret around here.”

  A dull flush rose in the other woman’s cheeks. She pulled at the scarf around her neck, looking overheated and flustered. “Well, it wasn’t just that,” she sna
pped. “Wayne was noisy, playing his guitar at all hours of the night, not to mention his laser show. And he wasn’t just disruptive here. The other day I saw him in the grocery store having a big argument. Wayne completely lost his temper, snapping and snarling, and then the other man, the vet, started yelling too, until the store manager had to step in and separate them. It was really unpleasant, especially when they started bandying Becky’s name around.” Hazel suddenly stopped short, as if she’d realized she’d said too much.

  Emma stared at her. “Are you saying that Wayne Goddard got into an argument with Nick Stavros, the vet, and they were arguing over Becky?”

  Frowning, Hazel turned her head and gazed out the window. “I think I’ve said too much already.”

  Emma fell silent, wondering at the implications of what she’d heard. If Nick and Wayne had fallen out over Becky, then didn’t that give Nick a motive for wanting to do away with Wayne? Once again the events of last night came to mind. Maybe Nick had pushed Rusty off the stage in a fit of jealousy? And then she remembered Becky walking away last night arm-in-arm with Nick, and a finger of ice slid down her spine. What if she had allowed Becky to go home with a murderer?

  “Where are you going?” Hazel said, sounding astounded.

  It took a couple of seconds for Emma to realize that she had leaped to her feet. “Um, I just need to make a quick call.” Before the other woman could reply, Emma grabbed her bag and rushed out of the house.

  Pacing up and down the front porch, she dialed Becky’s number, anxiety biting deeper into her with each ring.

  “Hi, Emma.” Becky’s cheerful voice flooded Emma with relief. “What’s up?”

  She sagged against a wall. “Just checking that you got home safe and sound.”

  “I did, thanks for asking. Is everything okay? You sound a bit funny.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Where are you?” Becky asked.

  “I’m at Hazel’s, doing bookkeeping for the fundraiser.”

  “On a public holiday? I’m guessing that was Hazel’s idea.” Becky sounded amused.

  “Yes.” Out of the corner of her eye Emma noticed Hazel peering at her from the front door. “I gotta go. I’ll speak to you later.”

  She ended the call and returned to the house, feeling a little sheepish. Perhaps she had overreacted. Just because Nick had squabbled with Wayne didn’t make him a killer. She was jumping at shadows again. She hadn’t had enough sleep, and her imagination was running wild.

  Inside, Hazel had cleared away the tea things, and her face was set and unsmiling. “I shouldn’t have mentioned anything about Wayne or the vet fellow,” she said repressively.

  “Well, I’m only concerned for Becky’s sake,” Emma replied. “It’s not her fault that men are drawn to her like bees to a honey pot.”

  Grooves deepened around the secretary’s pinched mouth. “If you ask me, she should get rid of them all, including that callow vet. None of them are good enough for her.” She grabbed the laptop and pulled it closer to her. “Now enough about men. Let’s finish these accounts.”

  Emma silently complied, but as they worked she couldn’t forget how Hazel had spit out the word ‘men’, as if she despised every last one of them. She had certainly despised Wayne, she had only a superficial respect for the mayor, and she was no fan of Nick’s. And last night she had dismissed Rusty as nothing more than a drunk.

  She found herself surreptitiously studying the woman, noting her sturdy build, her broad hands, her forthright manner. A new and chilling possibility filled her mind. Could Hazel be the groupie who had lured Kieran O’Reilly to Greenville? Hazel had arrived in town just a few years ago, with no sign of friends or family. Why choose a small town like Greenville? Was it really a fresh start, or was it because she had tracked down O’Reilly’s daughter? Maybe in the beginning she had only come to the diner as a way of being in contact with O’Reilly, the object of her fantasies, but then as time wore on, she had transferred her obsession to Becky. She certainly seemed fixated on Becky, dismissing all her admirers as fools. Yes, Hazel could well be the groupie, this mysterious Jamie who had written those letters to Kieran O’Reilly.

  “What’s wrong?” Hazel’s tart voice snapped her back to attention. “Are you sick or something?”

  Emma put a hold on her runaway thoughts. She had no proof that Hazel was anything other than what she presented. And then she remembered the Christmas card on Hazel’s bookcase, the one signed by a mysterious J.

  J as in Jamie?

  Maybe Hazel was hiding something. Suddenly Emma didn’t feel too comfortable sitting alone with Hazel.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Actually, I’m not feeling that great,” Emma muttered. “If you don’t mind, I think I should go. We can finish this up tomorrow.”

  She rose to her feet, pulling off the borrowed poncho and folding it up. A stern frown darkened Hazel’s face, but Emma avoided her eyes as she hastily gathered her possessions and almost scuttled from the room.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Hazel said at the front door, looking cold and dour.

  “Yeah. See you.”

  Emma hustled to her car and drove off. As Hazel’s house receded in her rear view mirror, she let out a sigh of relief and began thinking she might have over-reacted. Hazel was such a forthright person, hardly the kind of woman who would become infatuated with a convicted killer. Emma didn’t know much about these so-called groupies, but she imagined them to be immature, susceptible, maybe even delusional. Hazel didn’t strike her as any of those things. So maybe she had maligned the poor woman. Well, at least she hadn’t blurted out any embarrassing accusations.

  She drove through the center of town. All the stores were shut, but the Shore Thing Bar and Tavern was lit up, and their parking lot showed they had several customers. A lone figure dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweater jogged along the footpath. It was Oscar, she realized. She thought of slowing down and saying hello to him, but his head was down and he looked like he was concentrating on his run, so she decided not to disturb him.

  Two blocks further, her cell phone rang. It was her father.

  “Hi, pumpkin. Where are you? Janet and I were wondering if you’d like to pop in for lunch.”

  “I’m driving through town right now,” she answered, her mood lifting, “and I’d love to have lunch with you guys. See you in a few minutes.”

  Five minutes later, she pulled up in her father’s driveway. After her strange morning with Hazel, spending time with her dad and Janet was exactly what she needed. She had no sooner hopped out of her car when a voice called from behind her.

  “Ah, Emma! Just the person I wanted to see.”

  Emma’s heart sank as she saw Faye Seymour bearing down on her with fixed purpose. Today the plump sexagenarian wore a purple velour tracksuit under a pink parka with a matching beanie and scarf. The cold air had whipped color into her cheeks, and her eyes were sparkling with a familiar brightness that said she was bursting with a tasty bit of gossip.

  “Hello, Faye,” Emma greeted her politely. “Happy new year to you. Enjoying your walk?”

  “Yes, I am.” Grabbing her arm, the woman marched Emma toward the front door. “And you’ll never guess what I saw while I was walking. Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.”

  “Uh, you do know that I don’t live with my dad anymore.” Emma gently tried to remind Faye that she hadn’t been invited in, but the woman was impervious to hints.

  “Oh, yes. And don’t worry, I also know that Janet spent the night here last night.” She winked roguishly, much to Emma’s dismay, and knocked on the front door.

  When Emma’s father opened the door, he blinked in confusion at seeing Faye, but to his credit quickly recovered. “Why, Faye, what a surprise. Please, won’t you come in?”

  “Hello, Andrew. Don’t mind if I do.” Faye trundled into the house, leaving Emma with her father on the doorstep.

  Emma lifted her shoulders at her dad in a h
elpless gesture. “She nabbed me outside,” she murmured as she slipped off her coat. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Andrew smiled and gave her a quick hug.

  Janet appeared from the kitchen, her silver earrings swinging in surprise when she saw Faye, but she too welcomed their unexpected visitor before pecking Emma on the cheek.

  “So what did you want to tell me?” Emma asked Faye as she ushered her into the living room. The quicker the woman relayed her tidbit of gossip, the quicker she would leave, Emma reasoned as she put on an expectant expression.

  “Well, I hope you won’t be too upset,” Faye said as she plopped into an armchair, looking like she was settling in for a long gossip. “I know how sensitive you can be.”

  Not responding to the bait, Emma took a seat on the couch.

  Her father spoke up. “Why don’t Janet and I leave you two for a while? We’ll be in the kitchen.” He and Janet left.

  “I promise I won’t be upset,” Emma said, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

  “Well, like I said outside, I’ve just been for my morning walk,” Faye began. “You know how important exercise is. Keeps the brain and the body fit.”

  Emma nodded. In her opinion the main reason why Faye walked every day was because it gave her an excellent excuse to pry into everyone’s business.

  “This morning my route took me down Cedar Avenue.” Faye paused meaningfully. “I think you’re familiar with that street.”

  Cedar Avenue was the street that Becky lived on. “Has something happened to Becky?” she asked, immediately thinking the worst even though she’d spoken to Becky earlier.