"Was it Ativan?"
"Don't know the name. Sam picked up the stuff at the drugstore for him and ask him why he needs medicine. He tells us for stress, and we tell him he needs a vacation. Then Lou, says to me, maybe me and Sam be right about a vacation, 'cause he forgettin' all sorts of stuff lately and feeling confused sometimes."
Michaela's headache wasn't going away at all. Everything Dwayne was telling her was very disturbing. "I wish he had taken a break. I wish I'd known the pressure he was under with this program. You never had anything to do with the AI program, then?"
Dwayne chuckled. "Nah. Dealing with all that not my thing. Sure, a lot of money in it. A whole lot, but I'm not interested. I think what happened, you want to know, is that the containers got switched somehow. Honest mistake. That's what I think."
"What about the signed contracts and the checks? Do you think Lou really forgot about that money or where he put it? And if he was hiding money, why would he?"
Dwayne shifted from one foot to the other. Something appeared to be bothering him. After a few seconds he said, "Don't know. But, I think maybe I should talk to you 'bout something else you should know, before you find it out another way. Me, I don't plan to say nothing to no one. But someone else might. I have no control in case they go to the police."
"What are you talking about?" Michaela asked.
"Your father." He fiddled with Loco's halter. "Like I said, none of my business. Lou told me the other day after your dad been to see him, they didn't agree on some things. He said they had a falling-out."
"What do you mean? What kind of falling out? No one said anything to me." Michaela crossed her arms. She didn't care for the tone in Dwayne's voice or the evasive way he was getting to the point... or not getting to it.
"Your dad, he gambling again. He been borrowing money from Lou to pay off his debt. I'm not sure, but Cynthia say she don't know where the money is from the checks those people sent for artificial insemination. Maybe your uncle hang on to that money for your dad. Maybe he keep it aside for him. Lou asked me to see into what was going on with your father, how much he owe, and to who. It's not good."
"Oh, no." Michaela sighed. Her worst fear had been confirmed. For a few seconds she couldn't say anything else as a gamut of emotions ran through her. "What, the horses again?"
"Everything. Horse, dog, sport."
"How much is he in for?"
"Over a hundred grand."
Michaela's jaw dropped. "A hundred thousand dollars?"
Dwayne nodded.
"Did Lou give him any money?"
"I don't know. He told me to find out how deep your dad in first. I told him the other night before I left for Vegas. The night before..."
Michaela held up her hand. "I know."
"Anyway, he say that he'd call up Benjamin and have a heart-to-heart with him. He hope to get him over here the next day."
Michaela took a step back as it dawned on her why she'd first gotten the runaround from Dwayne. Why he'd told her up front that he wasn't going to tell anyone but that the word might get out anyway. She knew what it might look like, and obviously so did Dwayne. "My dad didn't murder Lou because he wouldn't give him the money to bail him out, if that's what you were thinking." She recalled the argument she overheard between her parents when she'd gone to their house yesterday. Her dad had mentioned something about his brother.
"Whoa, no, no, I know that. I don't think anything. I know you love your family and with Lou gone, I figure I need to tell you. Then you could go and talk to your dad. See if you can help him."
"Sorry." She swallowed hard. "But even considering the money my dad owes, that doesn't explain where the money went from the people who filed these lawsuits."
"No. It doesn't."
"Hey, Dwayne." A large man wearing a Hawaiian shirt walked down the breezeway toward them.
"Yeah, Sammy boy, right here. What you need?"
Sam wiped the back of his arm along his forehead, then slicked back his thick, dark hair with his palm. "Phew. Hot out there and I'm working hard. Need a break."
"You not working hard. You just big," Dwayne teased.
"You funny," Sam replied. "Don't go listening to him. Always thinking he the big shot." He smiled, showing a large gap between his teeth. "How you doing, Michaela? Sorry about Lou. Gonna miss him. Thinking I'm going back home. Too sad here, now. When we done at the finals, I'm getting on the plane and going back."
"Can't blame you. I'd go too, if I think I could make a living back home. You know, life much simpler on the islands," Dwayne said.
"And food is better, too." Sam laughed and rubbed his rotund belly, which moved in unison with his laughter. "You come to islands and see some day."
Michaela smiled. "I'd like that."
Sam nodded. He held up his hands. "Okay, cuz. What you need from me? Soon, I gotta go get some lunch."
"Why don't you take out Ginger."
"Ah, good name. Like to cook with it."
"You like to cook with anything."
Sam shook a finger at his cousin. "You watch yourself, little cousin. I take you down."
"Get the mare out. She only a few months from popping a new baby. Gonna be a good one out of her and Loco. That mare be of champion lines herself. Girl need some exercise, though. Too fat. Put her on the hot walker and let her work for twenty/thirty minute. Then, let her go in the pasture. Get some strength before that baby drop."
"Okay, cuz."
"Hey, Sam, where Bean?"
"Don't know. Last I see him, he tell me that he needed to get a soda. Shoot, I the one who needs the soda."
"Bean been acting strange. I think 'cause of Lou. I'll find him."
"If I see him, I'll send him to you. Nice to see you, Michaela. My condolences. I better go take care of Ginger and the baby she gonna pop." He clapped his hands together.
She nodded.
Sam ambled away. Michaela turned back to Dwayne. "Speaking of babies, did Lou or Cynthia ever mention to you about wanting kids?"
"No."
"Huh. Okay."
"Why you ask?"
"I don't know. Kind of random question, I suppose. I was uh, just thinking it's too bad they didn't have any."
He gave her an odd look and she took that as a cue to leave before he started putting anything together, because, Michaela now found herself on a quest to discover just who her uncle's killer was.
FOURTEEN
LEAVING THE BARN, MICHAELA FOUND BEAN SITTING in the passenger side of her truck. She opened her door and got in, looking over at him. He had a Coke in his hand.
He sat up straight. "Hi, Miss Michaela."
She noticed him tighten his grip around the soda can.
"Hello, Bean. What are you doing in my truck?"
"I think it is a pretty truck and you smell good and I wanted to know if the truck smelled like you do."
Michaela wasn't quite sure how to respond to that at first. She pushed some loose strands of hair back into her ponytail. "Thank you, but I don't think the truck smells like I do."
"No, it does not. It smells like a dog."
Michaela laughed, knowing he was right. Cocoa had spent quite a bit of time riding around in the truck with her over the years. It had only been in the past couple of weeks that she hadn't been able to jump into the front seat. "I suppose it does. So, how are you doing?"
He chewed on the side of his lip before answering. "I guess I am okay. Sorry I kind of got mad at you yesterday. I did not want to believe you when you said Mr. Lou was dead. It made me mad and sad, too."
"Oh, Bean, you didn't do anything wrong. My goodness, I certainly wasn't upset with you. It's understandable that you're upset. We all are. Dwayne's looking for you."
"Oh. I'm having a soda right now. And." He paused. "I wanted you to know that I don't like to be mean. I was mean to you and I am sorry, 'cause I know you loved Mr. Lou, too. He was a nice man to me. I miss him."
"I know. We all miss him."
B
ean opened the door and got out of the truck. "I will see you soon, Miss Michaela. Okay?" He crumpled the can in his hand.
"Sure. Be careful and take care of yourself."
Bean spat a wad of chewing tobacco on the ground. She grimaced. "I didn't know you chewed tobacco."
"I don't."
"But... you just spit it out."
"I tried it. I do not like it. Especially don't like it with soda. Doesn't taste real good."
"I imagine that it wouldn't. Where did you get the chew from?"
"Found it."
"Where?"
He shrugged. "I can't remember."
Was he lying to her? She couldn't tell. "You don't remember?"
"No."
"Can I see the container it came in?"
He pulled it from his pocket. It wasn't the brand that Davis found outside her barn last night, but it still made her wonder if Bean had anything to do with scaring her. He acted like a child, but even children had the capacity to frighten people. Some even had it within them to kill. Bean may have been a child inside a man's body. Was he also a killer? "See you later, Bean."
"Sure." He slammed the door of the truck. She winced. That was really odd. Was Bean really as vulnerable and naïve as he seemed, or had he perfected an act that in many ways could have helped him cruise through life? The accident that he'd suffered happened when he was a kid. Could his injuries not be as serious as he'd presented? Was he someone who'd learned it was easier to get by, by victimizing himself more so than need be? It was hard to fathom anyone doing such a thing. An even more disturbing thought was, could Bean be off just enough to murder Uncle Lou? Could they have argued over something and Bean lost his temper, left the ranch, then came back after the police arrived and acted as if he had no idea what had occurred? She hated thinking these thoughts about him. But his behavior just now made her wonder. It also made her wonder if she wasn't simply being plain paranoid. She glanced out her window, seeing Bean wave at her as she drove off, more confused than ever.
Michaela checked her watch. No time to mull this over in her mind right now. There were horses that needed exercising and she was way off with her schedule. One point that Dwayne— and even Cynthia, in a sense— had made was that Uncle Lou would not want her to sink into the misery of the situation. Hard to do, but the reality was that animals in training had to be worked.
She used her cell to try and call her dad. Her mom informed her that he still hadn't returned home.
"Do you have any idea where he is, Mom?"
"No, honey, I don't. I'm hoping that he's only out for a drive."
Doubtful. Michaela had a sick feeling that her father was probably somewhere making a deal with the devil. If he was in as much trouble as Dwayne suggested, he was likely covering his rear. It was also possible that the same question that had crossed Michaela's mind, had crossed her father's: Could someone have murdered her uncle to get back at her father for not paying his debts?
Instead of going home as originally planned, she headed over to Joe Pellegrino's. Joe was a big, slick Italian guy she'd gone to high school with. Joe'd always had a crush on her, which she didn't reciprocate. However, they'd become fast friends after he'd moved from a school at the other end of the valley, where he'd been teased ruthlessly about his size, even though he really wasn't that big. A little pudgy, maybe. After all, Joe did like his pasta. Kids at her high school didn't treat Joe much better when he came over as the newcomer, but she'd befriended him because she was also a bit of an outcast. Riding horses was far more important to her during those years, and still was, than the latest designer jeans or hairdo. Ethan had, as always, been her pal as well at the time, but he'd been quite a bit more popular due to his success on the football field. Joe, though not popular at school, kept her in stitches. He knew how to make a girl laugh.
Her mother did not approve of their friendship or his family, meaning that they didn't see much of each other outside of school. Apparently, his family was noted to have Mafia ties around the country, especially a large connection out of Los Angeles. Supposedly Joe was on the up and up with the hardware store he owned, and Michaela wanted to believe that, but really didn't. If anyone had ideas about who her dad was dealing with, it would be Joe. Dad had to have a bookie, and hopefully Joe could help her find out who it was.
A buzzer sounded as she entered the store. The smell of paint, resins, and metal permeated the air. "Be right with you," a gruff voice from the back called out.
Michaela went to the hammer aisle and grabbed a new one. Last week, while changing out some of the nails that had deteriorated on the saddle racks, she'd snapped the old hammer in two when she'd smashed it down on her thumb and in a fit of pain and anger had thrown it against the wall.
"Well, look what the cat drug in."
Joe Pellegrino approached her. He was at least fifty pounds overweight. The pasta was treating Joe well, or maybe poorly, depending on how you looked at it. He had warm brown eyes with a twinkle in them when he smiled. His chubby, dimpled face made Michaela think of an Italian Pillsbury doughboy. Joe had thick lips, flushed cheeks, and a thick cap of wavy black hair, which always looked shiny and coiffed. All in all Joe looked like the nicest guy in the world. He wiped his hands on his jeans.
"Been mixing some paint back there. How you doing? You look as pretty as always. Sure is nice to see you."
"Thanks, Joe." She waved the hammer at him. "Need a new hammer."
"Came to the right place. You need anything else? Nails, paint, you know I've got all that stuff. Oh, and I've got a great power drill. You want to take a look?" He smiled at her. "Right. I'm sure you don't want to take a look. I get excited over the damndest things, my Marianne tells me, but it's a guy thing." He lowered his voice. "Speaking of men, I heard about you and Brad. That jerk. Sorry, but he is." Michaela nodded and didn't say anything. "We've known each other since we were what, fourteen? You're a good lady. I like you. But you know that. You know, I could make sure your ex gets a little pain in return for all he's caused you. Maybe a little smack upside the head would remind him how to treat a woman."
That did sound like an opportunity not to be passed up. But in all good conscience Michaela wasn't a vindictive woman. "No, Joe. But thank you. Something tells me he's got all the problems he can handle with his new girlfriend."
"Yeah, she's sure full of herself. Came in here the other day, bossing me around, needing a few things. Pain in the ass, that one. Brad deserves her."
"Listen, I don't need you to do any smacking around, but I do need a favor."
"You name it."
"Did you hear about my uncle? Lou Bancroft?"
"Yeah, my friend, sorry. Read about it in the paper. Was gonna send over some flowers and ring you when I got a chance. That's rough."
"Yeah, thanks. This is kind of personal so I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it between us."
"Discretion is my middle name. Whaddya need?"
"It's my dad. He's gambling big-time from what I've heard, and he's in for quite a bit of money. He's got to be working with a bookie. I need to know who the bookie is, and I need to know how much he owes."
Joe frowned. "That don't sound too good to me. You may want to let your pop handle his own problems."
"Joe, he's my father. Just get me a name, and..." She looked out the store window.
"And, what?"
"You don't think my uncle's murder could have anything to do with my dad's gambling?"
Joe waved his hands animatedly. He really could've landed an acting job on The Sopranos. He had the drama thing down. "Come on, you know that would not be a likely scenario. It wasn't your uncle dealing with the cash. Look, from what I know about the families— and I'm not saying I know anything, because I only know this stuff from the TV and movies— but, uh, you know the families, they don't do that kind of thing. You piss them off, they take care of you. Retaliation on a loved one, well, that's not what they do."
Michaela nodded. "Right." She touched Joe's shou
lder. "Could you just ask a few questions, see if I can't help get my dad out of trouble and see if anyone knows anything about my uncle Lou?"
"I got some cousins who might be able to help me out. I'll do what I can. Give me a day. C'mon, let's go ring up your hammer. You still hanging out with that friend of your's, Camden?"
"She's living with me, believe it or not."
"She's a firecracker, that one. I remember meeting her with you, what was that 'bout a year ago at The Dakota House?"
"I think so." The mention of The Dakota House saddened her. She should've had breakfast with Uncle Lou there the day before.
"Hey, if she's not hooked up with anyone, I got a cousin who could use a date. He's a nut like she is. Think they'd have a good time together."
"I'll mention it to her. I better run." She thanked him, but before she could get out the door he stopped her, his large hand grabbing her by the arm. "You be careful, Michaela. You need someone to watch your back, you let me know. You know, old crushes die hard." He smiled and winked at her.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. His face turned the color of the red paint he'd been mixing.
She'd try to find her dad later, but for now she was thankful that Joe Pellegrino had never lost the ache in his heart for her.
FIFTEEN
MICHAELA TOOK LEO A HANDFUL OF SLICED APPLES. The other horses down the breezeway gave her a curious look, and she was sure if they could speak they'd be saying, Um, excuse me, what about the rest of us?
She knew she spoiled Leo, but she couldn't help it. He was her baby, and— if her gut was right— a future champion reining horse, a horse that would make her a household name in the industry. She planned to show him as a three-year-old in the National Reining Horse Association Futurity in Oklahoma City. Leo came from the perfect bloodlines suited for reining... an event designed to show the athletic ability of a ranch-type horse with a little added elegance and finesse. Michaela had not ridden in the futurity before and although she had a little over two years to go, she felt certain that Leo was destined to be a winner.
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