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

by Karen Chester

  Mateo’s seriousness didn’t lift an inch. “I’ve seen that young man when he visited his father. He’s rude and vain, and he has a loud mouth. He thinks only of himself. You should stay away from him.”

  “Oh, I intend to, don’t worry.” She shifted her feet. Her legs were aching, and her body was crying out for a long rest. “Well, I’ll be on my way.”

  Mateo accompanied her to her car parked near the trailer.

  “Thank you,” he said awkwardly, as if he wasn’t used to dishing out thanks.

  “Let me know if you want me present when you speak to Ms. Kozlowski,” she said as she opened her door and slid into the driver’s seat.

  Nodding, he stepped back. “He was there, you know.”

  What had he said? It didn’t make sense. She wound down her window. “Excuse me? Who was where?”

  “Kyle, Mr. Barnet’s son. He was at the housewarming party.”

  “Well, that’s not surprising. His father must have invited him.” But, come to think of it, she couldn’t remember Kyle being among the guests. Most of the invitees had been from the older set, more Tony’s age. Kyle, being the arrogant young man that he was, would have stood out. She would surely have remembered him. But she didn’t.

  “I don’t think so,” Mateo said, resting his hands on the edge of the driver’s window. “I saw him hanging about the kitchen area a couple of times, and he wasn’t dressed for a party. He was wearing black pants and a white shirt, just like all the servers.”

  Emma gaped at him. “How long was he there? When was he there?”

  “I can’t remember. I was busy myself, and I didn’t pay much attention to him. I assumed he was crashing the party to annoy his father, or maybe he sneaked in to steal a few bottles of champagne. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that.” He stepped back from the car. “Anyway, you know what he’s like, so stay away from him.”

  “I will.”

  Putting her car into gear, she pulled away.

  All the way home her mind churned with a new suspicion. Kyle was responsible for the food poisoning at the housewarming party. He’d skulked in the background, disguised as one of the wait staff, and waited for his opportunity. If someone spotted him, he would have simply pretended he was gate-crashing the party. But he’d seen a chance and taken it. He had poisoned the ice cream with ground up slug pellets.

  Did he simply wanted to embarrass his father, or had he planned something more sinister?

  Either way, Kyle was bad news. As soon as she got home, she would call the police. She’d have to speak to Sherilee, since she was the officer investigating the food poisoning, but there was no helping that. And even though she and Sherilee were like oil and water, her old antagonist appeared to be a conscientious police officer.

  Emma reached home and swung her car into the driveway. She’d forgotten to leave a porch light on, and the house and front yard were plunged in darkness.

  As she climbed out of her car, the strengthening wind blew her hair into her face, obscuring her vision. The rustling trees all but masked the sound of footsteps running up behind her. She turned in time to make out a dark figure rushing toward her. A man, she thought. She tried to duck, but he barreled into her, knocking her clean off her feet. All the air whooshed out of her lungs as her back impacted against the driveway. Her head hit the concrete, and then everything faded to black.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It felt like someone was using her head as a bongo drum. She heard groaning and realized it was coming from her. Ugh. What had happened? Why was her skull throbbing, and why was she jouncing around like she was on a hay ride? With a sickening jolt, it all came back to her.

  She peeled open her eyes to find she was lying in an enclosed space. In a vehicle, moving at high speed. Not trapped in a locked trunk, but in the open cargo area of a pickup truck with a soft tarp over her. And she wasn’t tied up, either, so that was something.

  But the truck was hurtling along, and the driver was reckless, skidding around corners at breakneck speed. If she wasn’t careful, she might be thrown from the truck and do some serious damage to herself.

  What did her abductor intend to do with her? Drive her out to a remote spot and kill her? There were so many quiet locations around the lake or up in the mountains or in the state forest. So many places to hide a dead body that wouldn’t be found for weeks or months.

  Fear combined with claustrophobia and crushed her, making her gasp for air. With a burst of panic, she clawed at the tarp covering her, ripping it from its fastenings. Half of it lifted in the wind, flapping wildly for a minute, before the rest of it tore off and the entire thing took off into the night like a giant, crazy bat.

  She looked around, desperately trying to find a landmark she recognized. But it was a dark, moonless night, and they were away from town with no sign of any houses or lights, just this narrow, bumpy dirt road leading to God knows where.

  The truck slowed suddenly, as if the driver had noticed the tarp flying away. Forward momentum shoved Emma toward the driver’s cab, pushing her into a tool box and a pile of empty beer bottles. Grabbing onto the rim of the tray, she hauled herself into a sitting position, panting from the exertion. She was right behind the driver’s cab. Through the rear window, she could make out the driver, a man hunched over the wheel.

  Her assailant. The jerk who had knocked her unconscious and then tossed her into the back of his pickup truck. The moron who had stalked her yesterday and run her off the road. Anger flooded her, pushing aside the fear.

  She pounded her fist on the window. “Hey, you! You coward!”

  The man flinched and glanced over his shoulder.

  Drawing in a breath, Emma recommenced hammering the glass. “Kyle Barnet! You dirtbag. Stop this truck right now!”

  She hadn’t expected him to obey her, but that was exactly what he did. He stomped on the brakes, causing the tires to squeal in protest and Emma to brace herself as she waited for the truck to spin out of control. Fortunately it only did a couple of fishtails before it careened off the road and bounced for several hundred yards before coming to rest in a cloud of dust.

  Coughing and wheezing, Emma forced her body to get moving. She flung one leg over the side of the tray but misjudged the distance to the ground and found herself tumbling into the dirt, the rough grit grazing her palms and cheeks.

  She scrambled to her feet, just as Kyle rounded the truck. His eyes were wild, his shirt was soaked, and he reeked of sweat and alcohol.

  Emma gulped. “Get away from me, you jerk!” she tried to yell, but only a hoarse croak came out.

  “Hey, it’s your fault. You shouldn’t have interfered. Didn’t you get the message last time, or are you that dumb?”

  “So it was you yesterday. I knew it!” She glared at him even as she inched a few steps back. She had a vague idea of where the road was, but maybe it would be smarter to hide out in the scrub. Under the cover of darkness it would be difficult for him to find her. But first she had to get away from him, and she didn’t feel too good. Her skull was pounding, and her entire body ached, which must have been the result of Kyle manhandling her limp form into his truck.

  “I’ve already reported you to a deputy sheriff,” she said, clinging to the memory of Owen. If something happened to her tonight, he would get to the bottom of it, she felt sure. She might exasperate the man, but he wouldn’t let her death go unpunished. “He knows all about you.”

  Okay, that wasn’t true. She had stupidly refused to tell Owen that she suspected Kyle, but he was a smart man. He’d figure it out. He would investigate all the people who had attended the funeral reception and check which of them drove a black pickup truck. Of course, by then, Kyle might have fled to Mexico and she might be knocking on the pearly gates.

  Kyle upped his chin, a suspicious look hardening his face. “Oh, yeah? I don’t believe you. No one’s come looking for me.”

  “That’s because I only figured it out today when I saw your pickup truck at y
our dad’s funeral. Pretty stupid of you to keep driving in the same truck. I took a few photos of your truck and the license plate and showed them to the police just a few hours ago. They’ll be looking for you soon enough.”

  He goggled at her. “Don’t know what you’re raving about, you snooping, interfering bitch!”

  “Oh, and I know something else. I know you’re responsible for the food poisoning at your father’s housewarming party. Yeah, how about that, huh?” Despite the dire situation, she felt a brief flash of satisfaction as his perspiring face suddenly blanched.

  “That—that was nothing. Just a harmless joke.”

  “Harmless? I hardly think so. Three people ended up in hospital. The police are still investigating the crime.”

  “It’s not a crime! I tell you what is a crime—that gold-digging tramp getting her claws into my father and stealing my inheritance. That’s the real crime.”

  Emma gazed at him in disbelief. “You know, I almost pity you. You’ve had every advantage possible, yet you’ve turned out to be lazy, selfish, and vindictive. And worse, you’re a murderer.” She waited for his red-rimmed eyes to widen. “Yes, a murderer. You killed your father, didn’t you, Kyle?”

  “What? That’s insane! Why would I kill my own father?”

  “Because he was tired of bailing you out of financial difficulties, and he told you he wasn’t giving you any more money. That’s probably why you poisoned the ice cream at the housewarming party, right? As petty payback. You thought you were going to inherit most of his estate, and you had Serge on your back, hounding you for that hundred grand you owe his boss.”

  She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her words, but he stayed silent, so she continued, “You were desperate, so you decided to kill your dad and frame Sean McCluskey for the murder. Oh, yes, that was an extra bonus for you, doing away with Sean, the man who was engaged to Madison, the girl you wanted because you thought she had money. You’d been to Sean’s auto repair shop several times, so you knew where his tools were kept. It must have been fairly simple to steal that wrench. You were also at the repair shop when you heard Sean arguing with your dad and his threat to get even with him. So you followed Sean to your dad’s house, waited until Sean had left, then sneaked into the garage and killed your father, leaving Sean’s wrench for the police to find.”

  Kyle was scowling at her. “Are you mad? Sean killed my father. That sleazy grease monkey. Crooked just like the rest of the McCluskeys.”

  Ignoring his interjection, Emma swept on, “You threatened me with your car yesterday and ran me off the road. Tonight you bashed me over the head and abducted me. I’d say you’re very capable of murder.”

  “Hey, I didn’t run you off anywhere, and I didn’t bash you over the head. You fell, and your head hit the ground. And—and I didn’t abduct you. For crying out loud, you’re frigging crazy.”

  “You’re the one who’s crazy. Crazy enough to kill.”

  Kyle’s face slowly reddened with rage. Uh-oh. How many times had she been told she was too rash? Now she was beginning to rue her impulsive streak. Her first priority should’ve been to get away from Kyle, not accuse him of murder and heap insults on top of that. Stupidly, she had riled a killer, one who had offed his own father, who was drunk and desperate to shut her up. She had seriously miscalculated.

  She spun around and hightailed it into the dark.

  ***

  Emma stumbled blindly over the rough terrain. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she feared she’d miss the sound of Kyle creeping up on her from the rear. She had to get as far away from him as possible. Cold sweat glued her sweater to her back, while fear drained the strength from her legs, drop by drop.

  “Ow,” she moaned as she tripped over a rock and went sprawling in the dirt. She dragged herself upright, but as soon as she put weight on her left foot, pain shot through her ankle, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out in agony. She dropped to the ground again and massaged her ankle, all the while trying to gain control of her panicked thoughts.

  The night was warm, and high above her the Milky Way glowed in the moonless sky. This wasn’t going to be her last night on earth, she vowed to herself. Kyle was a mean, vicious man, and she refused to let him get the better of her.

  Off in the distance several hundred yards away she could see the headlights of the truck still blazing in the night, but there was no sign of Kyle. She didn’t have a clue where he was, and now that she had stopped in her wild dash for freedom, she was frightened of striking out in any direction. What if she bumped into Kyle in this darkness? He was so enraged now that she’d confronted him with the truth. Despite his blustered denials, she was convinced of his guilt.

  Her fingers closed around a lump of rock. It wasn’t much, but it was heavy and solid and better than nothing. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  Which way should she head? A nearby bush rustled, and her nerves shrieked. Something scuttled past her. A bandicoot? A rat? She didn’t want to know, but anything was better than Kyle. Oh God, she was scared of moving off into the darkness, but she couldn’t sit here all night, frozen with fear, waiting to be caught. Better to be moving, she decided.

  Squinting at the horizon, she thought she could make out the faint outline of some mountains. If they were the Pine Ridge Mountains, then she knew they lay east of the lake, which meant if she headed west she would hopefully, eventually find the main highway that circled the eastern shore of the lake. She peered up at the stars, wishing she’d paid closer attention to her dad when he’d tried to teach her navigation without a compass.

  Finally she couldn’t delay any longer, and she set out, trying to be as quiet as possible. Her sneakers were sturdy enough, but they didn’t prevent her from floundering over the rugged ground. Her eyes ached from the strain of peering into the darkness, and her palms smarted from the grazes she’d received. She was exhausted and frightened, her head throbbed, and her stomach was tied in bilious knots, but she plodded on, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to imagine the man who was after her.

  She didn’t know how long she walked for. Time lost all meaning as she slogged on, pushing through dense scrub, shuffling across dry river beds, and scrambling up hills. The threat of Kyle faded to the back of her mind. All she could concentrate on was putting one foot forward after another.

  So it came as a shock when her feet hit the hard edge of tarmac, and she realized she was on a main road and salvation was close by. But, as headlights appeared in the distance, fear returned. What if that was Kyle, driving up and down the highway in search of her? She crouched down in the culvert, watching as the vehicle lumbered up the hill. It wasn’t going very fast, and the engine made a puttering noise, quite unlike the roar of Kyle’s pickup truck. It had to be someone else.

  Waving her arms, she left the culvert, scuttled to the side of the road, and jumped up and down, hoping the driver would spot her. The car, a station wagon, swooshed past her. Her arms had just slumped down in defeat when the station wagon screeched to a halt fifty yards ahead. The reverse lights came on, and it slowly backed up until it came level with her.

  “Can I help you?” the male driver spoke.

  The light from the dashboard illuminated his face, a face that filled her with intense relief. It was Rusty, the lead singer of the Morrisons.

  “Hi, Rusty,” she croaked out, trying and failing to produce a smile.

  “Do I know you?”

  “Yes. It’s Emma Cassidy. I hired you to play at the funeral reception this afternoon.” Had the reception only been this afternoon? It seemed like eons since then.

  “Dang! Emma! What’s happened to you?”

  In a trice he was out of the car and ushering her into the passenger seat. Emma sank into the saggy old seat as they drove off. She didn’t care that the station wagon was clunky and reeked of cigarette smoke. It was the most blissful place on the planet, and right then she was ready to marry Rusty
.

  “What happened, Emma?” he asked, casting her anxious glances. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”

  A tiny, hysterical laugh bubbled up, but she tamped it down. “I had a disagreement with someone. He drove me out to the middle of nowhere, but I managed to get away from him. I walked for miles before I came across this road. Thank God you stopped, Rusty. You’re a lifesaver.”

  His brow wrinkled up, and he looked even more anxious. “Some guy kidnapped you? That’s insane.” He shifted in his seat. “So, uh, I guess you want me to take you to the nearest police station, huh?”

  “Well, yes. He’s not going to get away with this. And he’s wanted on more serious charges, too.” She didn’t name Kyle. She was teetering on the edge of tears, and if she said his name, she was afraid she’d break down and bawl for hours, and Rusty didn’t deserve that.

  “Um, well, the thing is, I don’t want to go anywhere near any cops tonight. Not in this car, anyway.”

  For the first time Emma registered the faint, sweetish smell lingering in the station wagon, and she saw the remains of what had to be a doobie in the ashtray.

  “That’s fine,” she quickly replied. The last thing she wanted was to get Rusty into trouble. “Just drop me off at home.”

  “Is that safe? This guy who’s after you, he might be waiting for you when you get home.”

  Good point. And with her dad away, it was even more dangerous to go home. But where else could she go? Owen sprang into her mind, before she ruthlessly shoved the idea aside. He might be a cop, but she wasn’t going to go running to him for protection. She didn’t want to disturb Becky, either. There really was only one person she could go to for safety.

  “I’ll go to Sean McCluskey’s house. I’ll be safe enough there.”

  And Sean would be over the moon when she told him that she had discovered the real killer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emma hurried up the long path that led to Sean’s house. When Rusty had dropped her off, she’d suggested he clean out his car of any incriminating substances in case the police visited him to check out her story, and he had quickly sped off. Poor guy. She’d do anything to keep his name out of this. The lights glowing from the windows beckoned her, and she almost collapsed against the front door, overcome with relief. It only took a couple of knocks before Sean opened the door. His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he saw her.