STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery)

by Bev Pettersen

  “But Shania doesn’t ride. Would they use Splash? Or maybe Ice?”

  “I don’t care what horse they use,” Judith said impatiently. “I just know Tracey liked to ride around the estate in the evenings. A bunch of grooms did.”

  Judith sounded increasingly testy and Emily soothed her voice. “That’s great. I’m glad everything is going well, and that you have more background work.”

  “Everything is fine,” Judith said. “But you shouldn’t have left. You definitely missed your chance with Dan. He and Shania are really tight. She was hanging on him all morning, and he wasn’t pushing her away.”

  “But they’re working together. He’s just humoring her.” Emily paused. “Don’t you think that’s what he’s doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Judith snapped. “And don’t you think finding a body is more important than who’s hanging on Dan Barrett’s arm?”

  “Not really,” Emily said.

  The line turned silent. Then went dead.

  Emily sighed but quickly called back. Judith was obsessed about solving the mystery of Tracey’s disappearance, and a true friend would be more supportive.

  “Sorry,” Emily said, as soon as Judith answered. “Of course I’ll help you check Billy’s yard—wherever Hamilton was standing. And anywhere else you want to look.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Judith said, rather stiffly. “We already checked the apartment. She can’t be hidden in the barn. The smell and stuff. Wouldn’t horses freak?”

  “Like Reckless did,” Emily said.

  Neither of them spoke for a taut moment.

  “But the barn was built a whole year before Tracey disappeared,” Judith finally said. “Do stalls have wood floors or concrete?”

  “Wood. Concrete wouldn’t be good for a Thoroughbred’s legs.” Emily’s knuckles whitened around the phone. “When was the wash stall put in?”

  “You think maybe…she’s under the wash stall?”

  “Well, it slopes funny and doesn’t drain,” Emily said. “But there’s no way they’d go twenty years without having it fixed. There’d be constant flooding.”

  “Mr. Hamilton moved the three-year-olds after Tracey disappeared,” Judith said. “They had some studs in there for awhile but basically there was no access. Until the movie.”

  Emily pressed against the seat. The phone suddenly felt heavier than a hay bale. “Hamilton must have known,” she whispered. “That’s why he doesn’t want anyone in the apartment.”

  “So he and Billy could have been in this together,” Judith said. “And he’s trying to cover up something. We need to check that floor.”

  “It’s not easy to dig up concrete.”

  “We could pull out the drain and look around. Or you could ask Dan to have the set guys fix the floor.”

  “But they’re not shooting there anymore,” Emily said. “There’s no reason for the company to fix it.”

  “Yes, and I bet Hamilton is behind the switch. But maybe we can find something in Billy’s yard. Enough of a reason to check the barn.”

  An authoritative voice hollered in the background.

  “I have to go,” Judith said. “They’re calling the extras. But I’ll sneak in my phone. Text me when you get here.”

  “Would you let me know if you see Dan?” Emily asked. “He was too busy to talk the last time I called.”

  “Okay. Be sure to ask him about the floor. Gotta go.”

  Emily put away her phone and peered at the speedometer. The car was highway cruising at just over the limit but it seemed to be crawling. A sense of urgency consumed her. Billy had always been eccentric, his comments rather bizarre. With dementia, normal filters were removed. He might even have confessed to a dark partnership with Hamilton. If he’d lived long enough.

  She folded her hands, trying to stop their twitching. But despite turning up the heat, goose bumps snaked down her back. There had been no official announcement about the cause of the explosion. Not yet. But it seemed increasingly possible that Thomas Hamilton might be responsible for more than one murder.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Emily stared through the car’s window at the blur of Kentucky road signs. Not far now. I’ll be there in forty minutes, she texted to Judith. Are you still on set? Is Dan there?

  She’d already sent Judith two texts, as yet unanswered, but surely the shoot would finish soon. It might be difficult for Judith to pull out her phone under the watchful eye of the assistant director. Actually it was surprising Judith even dared to sneak it onto the set. That woman was definitely loosening up.

  The message light blinked and Judith’s text appeared: Just finished. Dan not here or Hamilton. Going to cottage now.

  The sun was dropping and red tinged the western ridge, but there was still plenty of daylight. And the stud barn had good lighting. Emily clasped her hands, barely noticing her chipped nails and the ridge of calluses. She just wanted the car to move faster.

  She leaned forward. “How much further?”

  “Twenty-two miles,” the driver said. “Is there a back entrance?”

  “Yes, we can use the caretaker’s driveway. The security guard will let us in with my movie card.”

  She settled back against the seat, determined not to call Dan yet. He might be finished on set but she didn’t want to disturb him during a production meeting. Besides, when she couldn’t see his face, it was hard to know what he was thinking. Texting was totally unsatisfactory. What if he didn’t answer?

  She lasted another interminable six minutes but it wasn’t her nature to pussyfoot. She picked up her phone and pressed Dan’s number.

  He answered on the second ring. “Barrett.”

  His deep voice seemed to suck the oxygen from the car, and it took a second to gather her senses. “Hi,” she finally said. “I’m less than half an hour away. Just wondered if you were busy tonight?”

  “Yes, I’m at the hotel. Doing some research.”

  “Okay.” She paused, but he didn’t speak and she understood firsthand how he’d become so adept at fending off women. Her chest tightened but she kept her voice light. “Peanut’s doing well,” she said. “The vet was happy with his blood work.”

  “Good.”

  Questions. She needed a question, some way to get him talking. “Did you decide if you’re using Splash?” she asked.

  “Not sure yet. Shania has some interesting recordings we’re checking now.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, her chest constricting. Shania and Dan. At a hotel. It was impossible to stop the painful stream of images. And he wasn’t making it easy. But his job involved working with actresses, and he didn’t need another drama queen. He’d made that clear. Besides, this was Dan. Everyone knew he was famously immune to co-workers.

  “Good luck,” she said, ignoring a woman’s sultry laugh in the background. “I hope you find something that helps.”

  “We discovered Reckless couldn’t be washed inside,” Dan said. “And a lot of people knew it. Anthony may cut that scene.”

  “But was the trouble only in the little barn? Because Judith and I think…” She paused, but her fear tumbled out. “We think Reckless smelled something and that’s why he acted up. Maybe we could even find Tracey’s body.”

  “Reckless acted up everywhere.” Dan gave a humorless laugh. “But don’t worry. Anthony has already guaranteed you a speaking role.”

  “The role doesn’t matter.” She fought a wash of despair. She hadn’t considered the ramifications of dropping the bath scene. Didn’t care if she was ever accepted in the union. But clearly Dan thought that was her main concern.

  Of course, at one time it had been.

  “Your name is on the actors’ sheet for a hotel room,” he said. “So at least you don’t have to worry about a place to stay.”

  “Great.” She forced some enthusiasm into her voice. “I’m meeting Judith now but maybe I’ll see you at the hotel later?”

  “Yeah. Give me a call,” he said, before hanging
up.

  She leaned back against the headrest, her tension marginally easing. It wasn’t all bad. He wasn’t bursting with enthusiasm but at least she’d see him. Surely she could make him understand why it had been so important to go home.

  She pressed Judith’s number. “I’ll be at Billy’s cottage in about fifteen minutes,” she said.

  “Good. There’s so much debris lying around here, it’s impossible to find a duffle bag. But it looks like there was a small pen about thirty feet from the house. Do pigs use little houses?”

  “It’s probably just the dog kennel,” Emily said. “Is it boarded? Or wired?”

  “Nothing like that. Just some rotten planks and a shovel. But it’s close to the spot where Hamilton was looking.” Judith’s voice lowered. “Is Dan coming? This is kind of creepy.”

  “He’s working at the hotel.”

  “Darn. But at least there are two of us. Maybe we can find something to grab his interest.”

  “I hope,” Emily said. But she blew out a tormented breath, hating to think what Shania might be doing to arouse Dan’s interest.

  *

  “This is the last interview,” Shania said. She reached for the wine bottle and raised a questioning eyebrow at Dan.

  “No, thanks.” He jotted down another notation. Anthony’s decision to include the mystery of Tracey’s disappearance required some adjustment with the horses, but fortunately Shania had conducted extensive research. Her reputation of accurately portraying true characters was well deserved. He’d never met an actress who gathered so much material, and his respect for her professionalism mushroomed.

  Anthony wanted the horse to mirror Reckless’s actual behavior on the day Tracey was reported missing. Splash definitely couldn’t be used for that scene, not after reading Shania’s notes. And they would have to shoot outside, since by all accounts Reckless had been unmanageable in the little barn. Maybe Emily was onto something about the smell.

  “This groom lived in the area,” Shania said, “and worked for the neighboring estate. When Louise and Thomas married, the two properties were joined, and Hamilton Stud became one of the largest horse farms in the state. She knew Tracey well and rode with her in the evenings. But she said Tracey stopped riding and turned rather secretive. That would have been a few months after she was given the apartment in the stud barn.”

  “The two properties were joined?” For some reason that detail bothered Dan, but he couldn’t pinpoint his unease. “Sorry,” he said. “Please continue.”

  Shania paused to take a sip of wine then resumed talking. “This groom agrees with the consensus that Tracey and Thomas were having an affair. She claims Tracey was only a mediocre groom who happened to have a special bond with Reckless. And his owner.

  “There was plenty of jealousy about Tracey being assigned a Derby hopeful,” she went on. “At least five grooms felt they deserved the colt and the bonuses that came with his wins. But they didn’t want the…extra duties that came with the apartment.” Shania gave a meaningful smile.

  Dan scribbled down a notation. Clearly there were plenty of people who resented Tracey, and the missing person case should be re-opened. But he didn’t like gossip, and his responsibility related to the colt and how to best simulate the horse’s actions. “So this groom confirmed Reckless’s behavior changed that morning?” he asked. “The exact day Tracey didn’t show for work?”

  “Absolutely. A media shoot had been scheduled and the girl I interviewed tried to prep Reckless. But he was too rambunctious. He almost scrambled over the stall door. It took three of them to hold him for his bath. She said it was like he’d lost his mind.”

  Dan sighed. Based on this information, Bruno would be the best horse. He looked formidable when rearing. Emily would have to evade the horse’s front feet as well as deliver her lines, but she would certainly be center stage. It would be a great opportunity, especially since interest in the movie was skyrocketing.

  “Media attention will make this a blockbuster,” Shania said, as if reading his mind. “Anthony and the producer are masters at grabbing opportunities. It’s not just your horses that are affected. He’s changed several of my scenes to demonstrate a growing fear of Billy. The timing of the explosion couldn’t have been more convenient.”

  “Not so convenient for Billy,” Dan said dryly.

  “Yes, and normally I’d give a more concrete thanks. But he doesn’t have any children.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Otherwise, I’d start a fund of some sort.”

  “You still could,” Dan said. Billy’s death and subsequent rumors about his involvement had boosted movie interest. However, it was still a tragedy, and he wasn’t going to let Shania escape with cheap platitudes. “What about Tracey’s family?” he asked. “They must have gone through hell and back. This stirs up fresh agony. I’m sure your fans would be quite impressed with your compassion.”

  “Yes.” Shania tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. “My publicist should have considered that angle. A fund would keep the movie in the news until its release. And Tracey is a more sympathetic figure than Billy—who was no doubt her murderer. That was my pick, by the way.” She peered at Dan from beneath long dark eyelashes. “Or did you bet on Hamilton?”

  “Bet?”

  “There’s a betting pool. Hamilton, Billy or the field which includes all the jealous grooms as well as any random creeps. Anthony threw in a thousand bucks trying to stoke interest. The win pool is swelling.”

  Dan abruptly laid down his pen. There wasn’t any winner in this, and he craved fresh air. And maybe someone who wouldn’t sell their soul for ratings.

  Shania leaned forward, laying her manicured fingers over his wrist. “This conference room isn’t very cozy. Perhaps we should order dinner and finish in my suite?”

  “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone later.” He scraped back his chair and rose. “Thanks for sharing your notes.”

  She made a moue of disappointment. “At the very least we should join Anthony and Hamilton in the media room. A few pictures would boost our movie. Besides, what’s your rush? Your little actress already skipped out.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Anthony said so. He was going to give her a speaking role and she blew it. Simply walked away. She’s definitely not dedicated.”

  “Not to the movie,” Dan said. “But clearly to other things.”

  Shania sniffed. “When you’re making a movie, nothing can be more important. Not to a real actress.”

  Dan paused. Emily claimed she didn’t want to be an actress. He hadn’t believed her. Deep down, he’d suspected part of the attraction she had for him was based on his position. Yet she’d dropped everything for a geriatric pony—a family pet cherished by both her and her sister.

  “You’re right.” His voice thickened, and a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. “Obviously she’s not a real actress.”

  Shania glided around the table, encouraged by his sudden smile. “And everyone knows you’re all about commitment. We’d make an attractive couple. I could be very committed, at least for the length of the movie.”

  Dan laughed, still pumped from thinking about Emily and her spontaneous selflessness. But Shania’s eyes narrowed with displeasure, and he quickly sobered. “I’m very honored,” he said. “But you don’t need a horse trainer.”

  “Of course I don’t. But I need you. For now.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him in front of a gilded mirror. “What do you see?”

  “An astonishingly beautiful woman.”

  “Not me.” Her voice rose. “You! Look at yourself.”

  Dan’s mouth tightened. His mother had passed on some attractive genes but he rather resented it. If she’d been ugly, she might have stayed home.

  “I’m thirty-two years old,” Shania went on. “I need to be seen with a stud. Besides, you’re not married so what does it matter? Or will your little actress be jealous?”

  He thought for a moment. Emily constan
tly saw him with other women. But unlike him, she’d trusted his words, every one of them. “No,” he said, letting out a big breath. “Emily’s good. Surprisingly…perfect.”

  “Then, please. A few photos. Just smile adoringly. Besides, you owe me.” Shania had already pulled out her phone and pressed a number. Obviously her press secretary, judging from her terse instructions.

  “Twenty minutes,” he said. “And then I have some pressing business.”

  Shania cut the connection. “Thirty minutes.” She looped her arm through his and gave a triumphant smile. “And be sure to kiss me on the lips when you leave.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “You can let me out here, please,” Emily said, reaching for the door handle.

  The driver stopped the car by the wreckage of Billy’s cottage. “What a mess,” he said, peering through the murky light. “Gas stove?”

  “The police haven’t released much information yet.” Emily grabbed her bag and slid from the seat before the driver could open her door. “Thanks for the drive.”

  The man nodded. He turned the car and eased along the road until his glowing taillights disappeared into the gloom.

  Emily skirted the yellow caution tape that circled the charred ruins. The handle of a pot poked from beneath a blackened beam and a coffee mug, curiously intact, tilted against a skeletal bed frame. She swallowed. Billy’s body had been removed but the place felt like a grave—sad, desolate, creepy.

  “Judith,” she called, scanning the grassy yard. The wide plot of green looked benign, a contrast of color against the scorched cottage, lush even in the fading light. A shovel leaned against a wooden sawhorse, and a clear water hose was neatly coiled.

  She checked over her shoulder. The curving drive was visible from every point. Clearly this was a poor place to hide a body, assuming Billy was even involved in Tracey’s disappearance. At any rate, they needed more sophisticated help. Judith had probably reached a similar conclusion.