Saddled with Trouble

by Michele Scott

  That thought made Michaela smile. “Yes, exactly, Kevin. When in Rome.”

  “I knew this was going to be fun!” Camden squealed.

  Kevin shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. Probably wishing he were in his suit slacks rather than a pair of jeans that appeared to be cutting off any circulation from the waist down. Goodness, what was Camden thinking?

  Uh-oh, was Michaela doing it again? Were her reasons for not liking the partners her closest friends chose more about herself than Kevin or Summer? Then she watched as Kevin put his arm around Camden, gold rings with ruby jewels on two of his fingers and a diamond one on his pinky. Hmmm, in this case, she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her wanting to control her friend and who she dated, but instead wanting to protect her friend, who actually didn’t look like she wanted any protecting from the lech.

  It didn’t take long before they made it to the restaurant.

  “I hear this place is great,” Camden said as they pulled into the parking lot. “It got five stars in the paper. The chef comes from Guadalajara so it’s not like real Mexican food.”

  “Excuse me?” Michaela said. “Last time I looked at an atlas Guadalajara was still located in Mexico.”

  Kevin patted Camden’s knee. “That’s why I love this woman. She says the cutest things.”

  He had to be kidding. Camden looked at him with these goo-goo eyes that stirred the stomach almost to the point of retching.

  “Oh, you two. You know what I mean. It’s not the typical taco and burrito menu. The food is gourmet Mexican. For example, I read that they have a dish where the pork is cooked in banana leaves. Pibil style or something like that. And, it is supposed to be the new hot spot. After we eat we can hang out at the bar and then there are two dance floors. One with pop and that rap stuff, the other a bit more down to earth with a live band. We don’t even need to go over to Boots and Boogie, because this place has it all and is supposed to be all the rage.”

  “Fun,” Michaela said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “Now, come on. We will have a good time tonight. I know there is a fun master inside of you just waiting to come out and play. It’ll be like Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood for grown-ups.”

  “You’re a disturbed woman.”

  “Yes, I am. But I have to tell you, it’s a blast. Try it for a night, Michaela. Let down that guard of yours and kick up your heels. You just never know what destiny has in store for you.”

  “I didn’t know destiny had anything to do with tonight.”

  “Destiny has everything to do with everything. Now let’s go have some of that pibil pork or whatever and a Cadillac Margarita.”

  For someone who was such a maneater and who always tried to come off as a sophisticate, listening to Camden at that moment reminded her why they were friends. When it came down to it, Camden’s dinginess was endearing and laughable, and she was able to laugh at herself.

  “Okay, señoritas. Let’s make it fiesta time.” Kevin laughed. Michaela stepped out of the car. He was still laughing. “Get it? Like Miller Time, only fiesta time.”

  “I get it,” Michaela replied, and walked ahead of the couple while she was sure they busied themselves with a game of grab-ass.

  Once seated with margaritas at the table, which Michaela planned to nurse through the dinner, she reminded herself of her mission, and talk turned to Uncle Lou.

  “Hey, Michaela I am so sorry about your uncle. He was a really good man. I liked him a lot.”

  Michaela had just taken a sip of her drink and nearly shot it back out as the lie poured from Kevin’s mouth. She put on her game face. “Yes he was. It’s horrible.”

  “Do they have any leads at all as to who murdered him?” Kevin asked.

  Camden glanced at him. What kind of look was that? A warning? What was going on between these two that concerned Michaela’s uncle? Or was she being paranoid? “No. At least they haven’t said anything to me about a lead. I don’t know. It’s a bit strange, though, how one of the detectives has been behaving toward me.”

  “Really? How is that?” Kevin motioned for another round from the waiter.

  Michaela hadn’t taken but two sips. “Well, he was really nice to me right after I found my uncle.”

  “He better have been,” Camden cut in.

  “Then he came over that evening to question me further, and again he was gracious, understanding, and he listened without what I assumed was any judgment.”

  “Is this that cute detective?” Camden asked and smacked her lips together. “Sooo divine.” Kevin shot her a nasty look. “Oh, but so not you.”

  That was true. Kevin Tanner was certainly no Detective Jude Davis. Not by a long shot. No doubt, the detective had never even received a traffic fine. Kevin on the other hand . . . well, she was sure he’d dabbled in his share of dirty secrets.

  “Let her finish,” Kevin said.

  Michaela noted the agitation in his voice. She had him right where she wanted him. She was tossing out the bait. “Yes, it is the same detective. Anyway, earlier today I was working one of the horses and he came by. But he was no longer Mr. Congenial. He’d obviously done his share of interviewing and someone on his list apparently made a suggestion that I was unhappy my ex left me, and I could have blamed my uncle for it.”

  Kevin took a long pull from his drink. “That’s ridiculous!” Camden exclaimed.

  “That’s what I told him. He made some further insinuations about it until I asked him to leave. I was pretty uncomfortable with the direction in which things were going.”

  “No doubt,” Kevin said. “You don’t think someone is setting you up to take the fall? I mean, God knows you would have never harmed your uncle.”

  “That’s a good question, Kev. What do you think? I do suppose it’s entirely possible. I heard or read somewhere that the first twenty-four hours of a murder investigation are the ones that yield the most important facts. So, maybe someone decided to divert the detective’s attention by exaggerating my circumstances and embellishing quite a bit.”

  Kevin nodded. “That’s too bad. It could be that. But I am sure the police will find out who did this and justice will be served for Lou.”

  Michaela took a sip from her margarita as the waiter set down their food. She wasn’t terribly hungry. The talk had dulled any hunger she might have felt earlier. It still felt wrong to take pleasure in anything, even simple pleasures like good food. Setting her drink down and thanking the waiter, she turned back to Kevin. “I didn’t realize you knew my uncle so well. I was under the impression that the two of you had a rather tense relationship. Isn’t it true that you’d recently made an attempt to purchase his property and even after he told you no, you remained persistent? Apparently you don’t like to take no for an answer.”

  Camden set her fork down, her mouth full of pork pibil. She did not appear especially happy. She glared at Michaela, who attempted to smile sweetly. Camden’s eyes narrowed, making her look like a Cheshire cat who’d just shoved a canary in her mouth only to discover that she’d really bitten into a snake. Oh yeah, she was pissed off, but Michaela knew she’d get over it, especially if she didn’t have anything to do with killing her uncle, which she hoped was true. But this Kevin jerk, she had a feeling in her gut, was responsible in some way for her uncle Lou’s murder.

  Kevin let out a halfhearted laugh. “Don’t be silly. That is crazy talk.”

  “Is it?” Michaela asked.

  “Of course. I had nothing but respect for your uncle. Sure, I would have loved to acquire his land. After all, he owned some prime property. A resort hotel and golf course would be great and do a lot to help boost the local economy. But I understood Lou’s position. He’d owned that land for years and loved it. I don’t think he needed it all, but that was not my business.”

  “No, it wasn’t, but you still persisted, didn’t you? And, now that my uncle is gone, it might be easier for you to buy property from a grieving widow.”

&n
bsp; “Michaela, that is enough,” Camden said. “Kevin is a businessman. He wouldn’t harm anyone. Please stop. We came out to have a good time. Okay?”

  Kevin shook his head. “No. It’s okay. I understand. I do. You’re sad and probably feel miserable, and I can’t blame you for lashing out. You’ve been through hell. I’m sorry if I ever made Lou uncomfortable, or you for that matter. He was a good man. I’m sorry for your loss. I did respect him, and I don’t take no easily. I wish I had. Please accept my apologies.”

  Michaela studied him. He did seem sincere. Strange. Really strange turn of events. How to handle this one? “Then you don’t plan on pressuring his wife Cynthia to see if she has an interest in selling to you?”

  He shook his head. “Uh, no. I’ve come across some other property that will work as well, if not better.”

  Oh yes, he had, hadn’t he? Suddenly that act of sincerity he’d expressed became just that—an act. “You have, haven’t you? The old dairy farm, right behind my place.”

  Kevin didn’t reply right away. He took another drink. Camden looked at him. “That’s correct. I did acquire that piece of property recently.”

  “I can’t wait to have condos or a golf course right behind my property.”

  “Maybe you won’t have to. I’m willing to make you a very nice offer for your place and that way any condos I might build behind your land won’t offend you.”

  Michaela pressed her back into the booth. How did Camden not see this guy’s transparency? “You want to purchase my property?” she asked, amused.

  Kevin nodded. “I’m willing to pay you full market value for it, and it’s my understanding that you could use the cash.”

  Michaela shot Camden a dirty look. Was Camden telling this jerk that Michaela was having financial problems? Camden tried to smile, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “Excuse me?” Michaela raised a brow. “I’m fine, and I’m not interested in selling.”

  “Fair enough. Can’t hurt to ask,” Kevin replied.

  Michaela knew that this was far from over. Her gut nagged her. Kevin was like a fox that would lie in wait. She’d been married to one, and she’d learned to recognize the traits. What really disturbed her was that she couldn’t help wondering if this guy hadn’t been using Camden all along to get to her.

  “It never hurts to ask. And, you did, and she said, ‘No,’ so, let’s see if we can’t lighten the subject around here. Please,” Camden said, fidgeting nervously with her hands.

  “Sure,” Michaela said. For the remainder of their dinner, she tried to stay as involved as she could about topics as simple as the weather to as complicated as politics in the Middle East, but her mind kept wandering back to Kevin Tanner’s proposition and the fact that the man had a horse on his newly acquired property hours ago. She wanted to question him further and see if he could answer her question as to where the horse had disappeared to, but decided for now to wait for another opening. She also couldn’t forget the conversation she’d overheard between Camden and Kevin just the night before. Were they two simply fantastic liars with a huge secret to hide?

  As they finished dinner and moved over to the bar and club, Michaela had a thought. “So, Kevin, have you ever ridden or owned a horse before?”

  He nodded. “Sure. My first wife owned Arabians. Pretty horses to look at, but gawd, what a pain in the ass. High strung.”

  “Maybe. I’m not completely convinced. Sure they can be a bit more squirrelly than some of the other breeds, but I was out at the Scottsdale Arabian Show a few years ago to watch the stock horses and I was impressed. They’re beautiful and agile. I actually wouldn’t mind having one of my own. So, you don’t have a horse now?”

  “No. I like to look at them, but riding is not for me.”

  “Huh. Did you know that there’s a horse been taking up house in your old dairy barn?”

  “What?”

  Camden shifted in the booth. “Yeah. My stud, Rocky, got loose today and he charged right over to your place. He apparently found himself a girlfriend. There was a mare there. In a stall, flirting with him.”

  Kevin shook his head. “That’s impossible. I was over there two days ago and there was nothing there. Nothing but a bunch of cobwebs and rotted wood. I don’t know if you’re playing a game with me, but it’s making you look a bit foolish.”

  “Me? Playing a game? Tell him, Camden: There was a mare there earlier today and then when I went back, she was gone.” Camden didn’t say anything. “Camden, are you going to back me up on this?”

  “Technically, I didn’t see a horse. You told me there was a horse there.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Michaela stood and put her hands on her hips. “Someone is playing games here, but it isn’t me.” She started to leave.

  Camden caught up to her as Michaela walked toward the bar. “I’m sorry, hon, but I didn’t see a horse.” Michaela kept walking. “I think you’re tired and angry and—”

  “And what? You think I’m losing it? That I didn’t see a horse in Kevin’s barn?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  Michaela stopped and faced her. “Really? Then, why didn’t you defend me back there?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go tell him right now that I believe you. I do believe you.”

  “You can tell him whatever you want, but I know what I saw and I also think Kevin Tanner is hiding something. And, I think he’s making a fool of you.”

  Camden looked like she’d been punched. “What?”

  “I think the man is playing you to get to me so he can buy me out.”

  “I don’t . . . think that’s true.” Camden stuttered on her words. “I think he . . . really likes me. Men do like me.”

  “Yes they do. They certainly do. But not always for the right reasons. I think that men tend to play you, Camden.” Michaela walked away from her friend, leaving Camden stunned and hurt—her own stomach sank as despair blanketed her heart.

  NINETEEN

  MICHAELA SAT DOWN AT THE BAR, SHOVING down her emotion, trying hard to keep from crying. Had Camden’s greed for the good life come before loyalty and friendship? Could money and Kevin’s love be that important to her? Enough to betray? Enough to . . . kill?

  “A Coke, please. Can you make sure no one takes my seat? I have to go to the restroom.”

  He winked at her. “You got it.”

  When she came back there was a glass of white wine waiting for her, not a Coke. She called the bartender back over and pointed at the wine. “I didn’t order wine. I asked for a Coke.”

  “Yeah.” He tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, and leaned against the bar, his dirty blonde, longish hair falling down in front of his eyes.

  “Yeah. Can you take it back?”

  The bartender lifted his head, tossed back the hair, and gazed past her. “That would be rude, don’t you think,” a voice from behind her said.

  Her stomach dropped as she recognized the voice and turned to face her ex-husband. “Brad.”

  He looked at her with his light brown eyes, the kind that made you wonder if they were green, hazel, or brown. They were brown. Poop brown. He ran a hand through his hair, which she was glad to see was thinning. The hair was the same color as the poop-brown eyes. His other hand was wrapped around a drink. Surely a gin and tonic: a mean man’s drink, as far as she was concerned.