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

and found the garage door open, which was a bit
strange. I parked my car inside the garage. When I got out, I saw Tony. He was
lying between his Porsche and his SUV. At first I thought he’d fainted or had a
stroke, but then I saw the blood. He was lying on his stomach, and the back of
his head was all messy.” She rubbed her arms, shivering but not distraught, and
Emma thought she must have repeated this account to the police several times
already, and so the impact was lessened, though the shock still lingered.
    “And the wrench? Was that near Tony?”
    “I didn’t see the wrench at all. The police
found it later under the SUV.” She pulled out a fresh handkerchief from a
pocket and carefully dabbed at her eyes. “I can’t believe Sean McCluskey would
do such a terrible thing. He was always nice to me when I brought my car to his
workshop. Just shows you, doesn’t it? You never know who could be a killer.”

Chapter Eight
    An hour and a half
later, the meeting was over. Jordan had spent a long time choosing photos of
Tony including the one she wanted for the cake, and then she went through an
extensive list of Tony’s favorite music. Finally, she downloaded the photos and
music onto a memory stick, which she gave to Emma. She also gave Emma a
document containing the funeral service booklet and instructed her to have a
hundred and fifty copies printed.
    Emma’s mind was busy with all the tasks to
be done in the four days before the funeral. High on the list of priorities
would be finding the right band that could project a suitable
atmosphere—uplifting but not too festive. She didn’t know a lot of bands in the
area, so this might be a challenge.
    As she walked toward her car, she noted the
triple garage leading off the sweeping driveway, and her thoughts returned to
the murder. One of the garage doors was open, and before she had second
thoughts, she walked into the garage.
    Inside, were three cars—Jordan’s red Miata,
Tony’s yellow Porsche, and his black Cadillac SUV. The garage was large, well
lit, and clean. She walked over and stopped between the Porsche and SUV. So
this was where the murder had taken place. She paused and waited to be assailed
by a sinister atmosphere, but all she could detect was a faint whiff of motor
oil. There were no chalk outlines, no police markers, not even a stain on the
concrete floor. If there’d been blood, someone had mopped it up. The cars were
spotless, too. She assumed they would have been dusted for fingerprints, but
someone had washed off all traces.
    A door at one end of the garage looked like
it led into the house. Just outside the garage was a row of oleander shrubs
forming a hedge that separated the driveway from the garden. Given the door and
the hedge, it would be quite possible for someone to either come in through the
house or hide behind the oleanders and ambush Tony in this garage. Tony wasn’t
a particularly tall man, and he was of average build. According to Jordan’s
description of the scene, he’d been attacked from behind, so his assailant
could have been female. Jordan could have heard the argument between Sean and
Tony. She could have waited in the house until Tony was alone, sneaked into the
garage, hit him over the head, then gotten into her car and driven off to La
Quinta. She had mentioned taking her car to Sean’s workshop in the past, so
she’d had the opportunity to steal one of his wrenches.
    Emma frowned at the concrete floor. It made
her uncomfortable to suspect Jordan, especially as she was turning out to be a
good client, but if Sean was innocent, then someone else had to be guilty.
    “Hey, you!” A gruff voice startled her out
of her reverie.
    She faltered back a step as an
angry-looking man in rough worker’s clothes stomped toward her. Suddenly the
garage seemed far too empty and isolated. The man blocked her path, and her
heart began to knock against her ribs.
    “This is private property!” The man loomed
closer. “What