Page 67 of Hell Hath No Fury

Matthias snorted. “We need to stay on Fergusson’s good side. Correction—Ineed to stay on his good side, which I’ve sucked at so far. Otherwise he’ll shut us out, and we’ll be of no help to Eric.”

Emma recalled the conversation she’d overheard earlier. She’d known Matthias and Fergusson had history, but it went a lot deeper than she’d first thought. She had to wonder if Matthias was even capable of staying on Fergusson’s good side.

Matthias shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking space. “There are two people who might know if there was a rift between Jones and Neidermeyer. Jones’s wife and his foreman.” Matthias glanced at Emma. “How would you feel about continuing to take the lead on this investigation?”

“I feel less like a lead detective and more like the ventriloquist’s dummy.” When Matthias gave her a pained look, she grinned. “I’m okay with that. The problem is, I don’t know the foreman. Idoknow Ashley.”

“You were friends in high school, right?”

“Friends?” Emma squirmed thinking of Ashley the popular cheerleader and Emma the nerdy president of the camera club. They did not run in the same social circles. “We were classmates.”

“Close enough. Our next stop is a visit to the widow.”

ChapterTwenty

Emma managed to locate the address on her phone as Matthias drove. When they pulled up in front of the small, shabby home, she was stunned.

Matthias must’ve had the same thought. “The cobbler’s children have no shoes.”

“Sonny apparently wasn’t using his residence as a model home.”

The single-story structure had an asymmetrical sloping roofline and tall, narrow windows typical of mid-century modern houses. A carport housed a Honda CR-V as well as the pickup Sonny’d had at the construction site on Saturday. Matthias parked behind the truck. They climbed out and followed the sidewalk to the front door. Emma pressed the video doorbell.

After a beat, a female voice said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The minute turned into two. Then three. Emma looked at Matthias, wondering if Ashley had bolted out the back door. He shrugged.

The inner door swung open, leaving the glass storm door between them. Despite the heat of the August day, Ashley Jones was again huddled in her pink hoodie. She eyed both of them, her gaze settling on Emma. “I know you from high school. Emma, right?”

“Emma Anderson.”

Ashley’s gaze skated to Matthias. “And you were at the construction site the day they found—” Her voice cracked.

“That’s right,” he said. “Matthias Honeywell. Emma’s friend.”

Emma didn’t react. Here he was her friend, not a detective. She got it. “I wanted to stop by and pay my condolences.”

Ashley shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shot a glance over her shoulder. She did not invite them in. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Emma didn’t have to be a trained investigator to know there was someone else in the house, and that someone made Ashley nervous. Or maybe it was Emma and Matthias’s presence. “Do you mind if we come in? I promise we won’t stay long.”

“Why? I mean, why do you want to come in? I’m busy. I have a funeral to plan.”

Emma suddenly wished they’d stopped at a bakery and picked up a cake or cookies to give them an excuse. “I’m so very sorry about what happened to Sonny. He and I were working on a deal. He wanted to buy my family farm.”

“Then you should talk to Tina at the office. I’m not involved in the business.” Ashley moved to close the door on them.

“Please.” Emma held out one hand, imploring. “I really need to speak with you.”

Ashley studied her. Emma maintained the most beseeching face she could manage. With a sigh, Ashley said, “You’ll need to meet me on the back deck.” She gestured around the side of the house. “Daphne’s finally sleeping. Losing her father’s been devastating to her.”

Ashley and Sonny’s daughter. That’s who was in the house. Emma remembered hearing about the couple having a child several years ago. “I’m so sorry.”

Ashley shut the door without another word.

In silence, Matthias and Emma followed the flagstone pavers to the backyard and a deck, which connected the house to an above-ground pool. Ashley stepped through a sliding glass door, closed it, took a seat on one of the rattan chairs, and huddled deeper into the hoodie.

“I’m sorry to be so brusque,” she said. “The last few days have been hell. And I think I’m coming down with the flu. I can’t seem to get warm.”