“I have something to tell you.” She reached for Becky’s hands. “It’s Nick. He’s had an accident at home. They’ve taken him to hospital.”
Becky’s lips rounded to form a silent O. Her hands trembled in Emma’s grip. “I have to go to him,” she said.
“That’s why I’m here.” Emma guided her toward her hatchback on the other side of the road.
Becky cast a distracted glance over her shoulder. “What happened back there? Is there something on my porch?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Emma handed her friend into the passenger seat and scooted around to the driver’s side.
Becky buckled her seat belt and pressed her hands between her knees. “Please hurry.”
***
A gritty gumminess blurred Emma’s vision when she peeled open her eyes the following morning. The clock on her nightstand said it was just past seven. Way too early, given what had happened last night, but clearly her brain was too wired for her to sleep in. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at Owen’s photo next to the clock. It felt like months since she’d last seen him. The grayness that hung over her thickened.
Well, at least Nick was still alive. She and Becky had spent several tense hours at the hospital. Eventually an ER doctor had come out and told them the good news. Nick had several burns to his body, but he was doing well. He would continue to be monitored and remain in hospital for a few days. Emma and Becky had been allowed to see Nick for five minutes. Barely conscious, he’d managed a weak smile and a few words of reassurance before the nurse had chivvied them away. In his confused state, Emma doubted he’d remember much of what had happened; any questions about how that radio had ended up in his bathtub would have to wait.
But Emma didn’t need to wait to know that sinister events were happening in Greenville. She got out of bed and grabbed a quick shower, her mind preoccupied. Last night, when she had driven Becky home, the bunch of flowers on her front porch had disappeared. Becky, distracted by Nick’s injuries, hadn’t mentioned it. Possibly she didn’t even remember it. But Emma did. She figured Hazel must have returned and removed the flowers, thinking better of it after her run-in with Emma. Hazel’s infatuation with Becky was yet another cause for concern.
As Emma dressed, she became aware of the wind howling around the cottage. She looked out to see trees being whipped by the gale and leaden clouds scudding across the sky. Dried leaves and twigs swirled around, and a loose pipe knocked against the side of the house. As predicted, they were in for a wintry storm, possibly even snow.
Downstairs, all that could be seen of Rowena was a foot sticking out of from a pile of bed clothes on the couch. She had already fallen asleep when Emma had returned last night, and remained comatose now, no doubt the result of spending three nights in a cold, uncomfortable garage. Moving about quietly, Emma gathered her bag and laptop, and left for work.
The roads were slippery, and she drove with care, not wanting to end up in a ditch in this foul weather. Reaching town, she parked in her usual spot outside Lulu’s Salon and then, tucking her chin into the collar of her jacket, hurried across the windswept street to the diner.
She wasn’t all that surprised to learn that Becky was coming in later and had left Oscar and Abigail to see to the morning rush.
“Are you coping okay?” Emma asked when a pink-cheeked, slightly flustered Abigail arrived to take her order.
The young woman pushed back a stray piece of hair. “Yeah, of course I’m coping. I won’t let Becky down, you can tell her from me. In fact, I don’t see why she can’t put her feet up more. I’m quite capable of running this diner.”
Just then Oscar dinged the bell at the pass-through window behind them. His long, pale face appeared in the opening, looking annoyed.
“Abigail, this food is getting cold,” he barked, jerking his head at the three heaped plates in front of him. “Get it to the customers now.”
The waitress scowled. “Jeez, what’s up with him?” she muttered out the side of her mouth at Emma.
“I guess he feels the diner’s his responsibility too while Becky’s away,” Emma said.
“Huh. Well, he’s not the boss of me.” With pinched lips, Abigail grabbed the plates of food and quickly delivered them to the waiting customers, switching on a smile for them. As she returned to Emma, so did her disgruntled expression. “Oscar can be such a killjoy sometimes,” she grumbled to Emma as she wiped up a spill on the counter. “Like, he keeps telling me how trashy my magazines are, but he put me onto them in the first place, and why should I stop reading them just because he says so?”
“I thought you and he were good friends,” Emma said.
The young woman shrugged. “He’s getting on my nerves. I think he’s jealous because I get on so well with Becky. I mean, I’m practically her second-in-command, don’t you reckon? I’d do anything for her, and she likes me, and Oscar can’t deal with that.” She pulled her notepad out of her apron pocket. “Anyway, what can I get you?”
Emma ordered a Mexican omelet and coffee. As the waitress hurried away, she studied the young woman with an uneasy feeling. Becky refused to believe that Abigail could be Kieran O’Reilly’s groupie, but Emma couldn’t get rid of her suspicions. In fact, she couldn’t stop feeling suspicious about other people, too…
A heavy tread sounded behind her, and seconds later the solid form of Officer Martinez appeared by her side as he stopped at the counter. He turned, and as their eyes met, he gave her a brief nod.
“Emma.”
“Hey, Martinez, where were you yesterday evening?” She hadn’t meant to bark out the question so baldly, but her nerves were still on edge, and she seemed to have lost her capacity for polite small talk.
The police officer stiffened. “I heard about you from Polk.”
“Polk? Who’s Polk?”
“The officer who attended Nick Stavros’ house yesterday. Sounds like you were interfering again.”
“Interfering!” Emma drew in a breath. “If I was interfering, it was only because Officer Polk refused to do his duty. You should have—”
“Polk just happens to be Chief Putnam’s nephew. Sure, he’s green, but he’s one of us, and you treated him like a fool. Our job is hard enough without members of the public sticking their noses in things that don’t concern them and bleating about prowlers and God knows what.” Martinez’s face was impatient, even hostile. “Just because you’ve accidentally solved a few crimes, doesn’t make you an expert. You have this over-inflated opinion of yourself. You think you know better than the professionals. Well, I’m getting tired of it, and so is the rest of the force. Stay out of our business, Emma.”
Emma gaped, stunned by his unexpected attack. “But there’s evidence,” she protested. “A witness saw a prowler, and there are clues at the scene. Go to Nick’s house and take a look. I’m sure—”
“Stop right there.” The officer’s eyes seethed. “I don’t take orders from you.”
Emma tried to take a more diplomatic approach. “I’m sorry for overstepping the mark with Polk. I didn’t mean to offend anyone, but please. Think about Nick. What if his electrocution wasn’t an accident? What if someone tried to kill him?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if it’s the same person who killed Kieran O’Reilly?”
For a second there was a flash of doubt in the officer’s eyes, but then he shook his head, his expression closing up. “That’s just wild speculation.”
“But surely you must be concerned, for Becky’s sake at the very least.”
At the mention of Becky, the officer’s ears turned pink, and he looked away. “Once and for all, stop interfering with a police investigation, or you’ll have the chief on you, and you sure don’t want that.”
She opened her mouth, still trying to convince the cop, but at that moment Abigail came rushing up. Martinez ordered coffee. She poured him one into a paper cup, he thanked her, and, without another glance at Emma, strode out of the diner.
Abigail brought Emma her omelet and coffee, but Emma’s appetite had ebbed. Had Martinez turned on her because Polk had complained about her to his uncle, the chief of police? Or could there be a more sinister reason to Martinez’s sudden hostility? Like…maybe she was getting too close to the truth?
An icy giddiness swept over her. She fought against it. No, her imagination was getting away from her. There was no way that an honest, hard-working cop like Eric Martinez could be involved.
But the insidious whispers inside her head continued. Martinez admired Becky almost to the point of worship. He was quiet and reserved. He lived alone. Maybe his unrequited love for Becky had morphed into something else, an obsession to know everything about her. Maybe he had found out her previous identity and tracked down her father. Who knew, perhaps he thought killing her father would be doing her a favor?
And from there maybe he had moved on to getting rid of all Becky’s admirers. Wayne Goddard was an obvious target, the way he flirted with Becky so openly, making no bones about his admiration. But after Wayne had been eliminated, a far more serious rival had popped up—Nick Stavros. So Nick had to be rubbed out too with another staged accident. Where had Martinez been yesterday evening? He had taken the afternoon off, according to Polk. Was it in order to rig Nick’s electrocution?
“Something wrong with the omelet?” a voice asked.
Emma glanced up to find Oscar standing on the other side of the counter, a glum expression on his face.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I guess I don’t have much appetite.”
The cook nodded. “Not surprising, considering what happened yesterday to the vet. Becky told us when she called.” He paused, his brow wrinkling. “She sounded pretty shaken up. It’s good she’s having the morning off.”
“I’ll stop by her place and make sure she’s okay,” Emma said, pushing her barely touched plate away.
Oscar shook his head. “She said she was going to sleep in, so you’d only be disturbing her.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” Emma bit her lip, wondering how best she could support her best friend.
“You’re a good friend to Becky.” Oscar’s blue eyes held a glimmer of approval. “Not like some around here.” He shot a dark look aimed across the diner at Abigail, who was clearing a table.
“Oh, dear. Have you and Abigail had a falling out? You used to be such pals.”
The cook pulled a face. “Yeah, but I didn’t realize how wacky she is.” He hesitated, and Emma could see he was having an inner debate.
“Do you know something about Abigail?” she prompted. She didn’t like to pry, but at this stage anything to do with Becky seemed crucial.
“Uh, yeah, but I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“I’m not a gossip, Oscar. I’m just concerned about Becky. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but you should tell Becky.”
“Yeah, except she’s got enough to deal with at the moment.” He hesitated again, but then seemed to relent. “Okay, here’s what I know. Abigail once had a restraining order slapped on her. By an ex-boyfriend. Seems she wouldn’t leave him alone after the break-up. She stalked him all the time, bombarding him with phone calls and letters. And when he started seeing another girl, it got even worse. Abigail tried to poison her with hydrochloric acid.”
Emma stared at him with rising dismay. “That’s awful. But surely she would’ve been sent to prison for that?”
“Insufficient evidence, apparently.”
“This sounds serious. But…how do you know about it?”
Oscar’s lips twisted wryly. “Abigail told me, can you believe it? Of course, everything she said was from her point of view, but I could read between the lines. After the attempted poisoning, she had to attend therapy for a while, but when that was done she decided to move away.”
“And that’s why she came to Greenville. For a fresh start.” Emma glanced over her shoulder. Abigail had stopped to chat with a customer and had no idea she was being discussed. Emma turned back to the cook, frowning. “But you’ve kept all this to yourself? You haven’t told Becky?”
“No. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t they? Abigail seemed to be doing okay, but lately she’s been saying some weird things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Like she and Becky are connected, that it was fate that brought them together, that she’s the only one Becky can rely on. That kind of crap. I tried to tell her that Becky is nice to everyone, that Abigail isn’t special. She didn’t like that.” Oscar drummed his fingers on the countertop. “She turned on me, called me some really hurtful names…” To Emma’s dismay, tears welled up in the cook’s blue eyes. He lowered his head, dashing a hand across his face.
“I’m so sorry, Oscar.”
Before she could come up with more words of comfort, he turned and trudged back to the kitchen, his narrow shoulders hunched around his ears.
Chapter Twenty
Emma retreated to her office where she sent a text message to Becky asking her to call when she’d woken up. Then she tried to do some work but was too distracted to make much progress. The gathering storm didn’t help either, the wind rattling her windows and seeping in through the cracks. Downstairs, the noise from Lulu’s Salon was more muted than usual, indicating business was slow.
At eleven o’clock, Becky called, and Emma, seeing the name pop up on the screen, quickly grabbed her cell phone. Sounding her usual calm self, Becky assured her that she was feeling rested. She had already called the hospital and spoken to Nick, which had cheered her up.
“I’m coming to the diner now,” Becky said. “I hope Oscar and Abigail managed in my absence.”
“I was there earlier, and they seemed okay,” Emma replied, deciding not to mention the sudden antipathy between the cook and the waitress just yet.
“Oh, good. Abigail can be a little scatty, but Oscar is always so dependable and steady.”
The memory of Oscar’s tearful blue eyes rose in Emma’s mind again, together with what he’d revealed about Abigail. Hopefully, she’d have a chance to mention this to Becky at some point.
“I might come to the diner and do some work on my laptop,” Emma said. “I can’t seem to concentrate here in my office today.”
“Yes, do that,” Becky replied, sounding pleased. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
So fifteen minutes later, Emma bundled herself into her coat, picked up her tote bag and laptop, and headed out. Outside, the storm was gathering momentum, the gale tearing at her hair and clothes. Squinting against the swirling debris, she plowed through the freezing wind and staggered into the diner, a gust of chilly air blowing in behind her.
Becky was standing at the register, looking calm and crisp in a pink dress and white apron. When she caught sight of Emma, she smiled and beckoned her to the table near the kitchen door.
“Sit here,” she said. “It’s out of the way and you won’t be disturbed.”
Emma set down her bag and laptop. “It doesn’t really matter if I’m disturbed because I’m not getting much work done.” Sitting down, she glanced about the diner. There were only a handful of diners, and they all appeared to be engrossed in their food. There was no sign of Abigail or Oscar.
“Everything okay here?” Emma asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Where’s Abigail and Oscar?”
“Well, I suggested they both take the rest of the day off, seeing as the storm’s keeping the customers away, but they were both adamant they’d stay, so I insisted they at least take a break.” Becky took the seat opposite Emma and clasped her hands on the table. A trace of anxiety skated across her features. “Uh, I wanted to ask you something,” she said, her voice low and hesitant. “What happened to Nick…are we sure it was an accident and not foul play?”
Emma hesitated, unsure how much she should tell Becky, given how everything was connected to her. Her lack of response must have been telling because Becky’s face
grew serious.
“You don’t think it was an accident, do you?” Becky said.
“Well, put it this way. I think the police should be doing a thorough investigation.”
“But they’re not?” Becky leaned back, puzzled. “But I’m sure they would if asked. Did you speak to Eric?”
Emma toyed with her laptop. “I did, just a couple of hours ago, and he snarled at me and basically told me to mind my own business.”
“What? I can’t believe it. Why would he suddenly turn on you like that? Eric is such a steady, sensible man.”
Steady and sensible? Martinez had seemed anything but when he had snapped at Emma this morning. But could she reveal her suspicions to Becky? No, not yet. Not until she had more concrete proof than just a feeling of unease. The trouble was, she was seeing everyone as a suspect, and that was affecting her rationality. She was too jumpy, she acknowledged, which meant she had to watch her tongue.
“Maybe Martinez is stressed out from the extra workload,” Emma suggested. “It can’t be easy for him when they’re on a skeleton crew.”
“Yes, perhaps.” Becky clasped and unclasped her fingers, frowning. “It’s just that I hate the thought that Nick might be suffering because of me.”
“Oh, gosh, Becky. Whether it was an accident or not, it’s not your fault!”
Her friend gave her a faint smile. “Thank you, honey.”
One of the customers looked up at them, lifting a finger to signal for attention. Becky rose to her feet and walked over to him. Emma opened her laptop and tried to focus on her proposal for a wedding anniversary in two months’ time. As she worked, a few more customers drifted into the diner. Minutes later, she was surprised when her stomach let out a growl of hunger before she remembered that she had barely had any breakfast. Becky was pouring coffee and slicing pie at the counter. Abigail hadn’t yet returned.
She would slip into the kitchen, Emma decided. If Oscar was back, she’d ask him for a Reuben sandwich. If he wasn’t, then she’d grab an apple or a cookie until Becky wasn’t so busy.
In the Dead of Winter (an Emma Cassidy Mystery Book 5) Page 21
