The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  Merrill sat down on the other side of Kathleen. She turned to look at him. "Is this true?"

  "I am afraid so, ma'am. Mrs. Pratt was found murdered."

  Kathleen began to shake violently. "I don't believe this. I don't, I don't!"

  "I need to ask you some questions." He glanced over at Michaela.

  She took it as a suggestion for her to leave, and stood. "Where are you going?" Kathleen asked. "Stay. Please stay."

  "Miss Bancroft, why don't you have the car brought around for Mrs. Bowen? I'll escort her down."

  "She can't stay?"

  "Police procedure, ma'am."

  Kathleen nodded. "Use my cell phone to call the driver. All you have to do is press the number five and enter." Kathleen handed her the phone.

  Michaela did as instructed. She didn't want to get into Merrill's way. He seemed pretty uptight. She had to wonder what types of questions he was asking Kathleen. She had a few herself. She wondered if she'd really remained inside her box the entire time, other than to get drinks. She'd insisted that Michaela go down to the track with Audrey, but it didn't look as if Audrey had gone down to the track at all. Could Kathleen have followed her? Could she have actually killed her friend? Is that what the detective was also thinking? Audrey had mentioned that Kathleen wasn't herself lately. And, she was insistent that Michaela not mention her continued friendship with Hugh, for fear of it troubling Kathleen. What if she found out that Audrey was still good pals with Hugh? Maybe she had even seen her chatting with him when she and Michaela went to place a bet. Could that have set the woman off? She didn't come across as the most stable of people. Then, when Halliday broke his leg, the crying jag: Had it been for real? Michaela didn't know. It seemed real. Of course it was real. She wouldn't have killed Audrey. No. That was ridiculous. Michaela knew she was being paranoid. The two women had been friends for years. This was ludicrous.

  As she walked away she pressed the number five on Kathleen's cell. A man answered. "Kathleen?"

  Michaela could hear loud music in the background. "No. This is a friend. Can you please bring the car around?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Yes, the car?" she shouted into the phone. Maybe he couldn't hear her. He obviously had the stereo cranked. "Can you turn down the music? Ms. Bowen needs the car brought around."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Aren't you the chauffeur?"

  He laughed. "Hardly."

  Michaela apologized and got off the phone. Why would Kathleen give her the wrong number? Must be stress. She hit the number five again out of curiosity to see if a name came up. The initials MF did. Hmm. She decided to try number six, and found the chauffeur. He told her that he'd be around momentarily.

  When he pulled up, Michaela explained that Ms. Bowen would be there soon. "No problem," he said.

  Several minutes later, as she stood lost in thought, Detective Merrill escorted Kathleen to the car. He told Michaela he'd be in touch with both of them soon. She thanked him.

  Kathleen slid into the backseat and instructed the driver to take her home. "Get in," she told Michaela.

  "My truck is here. I really should head out."

  "No," she whined. "You can't go home. I need someone to stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone. Please."

  Michaela cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was stay with Kathleen. Granted, that had been the initial plan, but now everything had changed. After Audrey and Halliday, she couldn't help but want to return to her safe harbor. She wanted to see Rocky and her other animals, make sure they were all okay.

  Kathleen poured herself a drink from the limo's bar. "Wait, please. Have a drink with me." She took something from her purse and put it in her mouth

  "What was that?" Michaela asked.

  "Valium, for my nerves."

  "You've been drinking. You really shouldn't take that on top of alcohol. Put the drink down, Kathleen. It's not a good idea."

  She waved a hand at her. "If I die, then so be it. Look at all that's happened today. My friend, my horse, and my child. Lord only knows where she is. You know that she never came to the box to see me. I doubt anyone would miss me."

  Oh no. Michaela shut her eyes for a brief moment. Think, think. She sighed. "Okay, I'll follow you home."

  "You will?" Kathleen looked at her through drunken eyes.

  Michaela nodded.

  "Thank you. You're a good person." She patted her hand. "I have to ask you first about my horse. Did he suffer?"

  "He's alive. I told them to do whatever they needed to try and save him. Now, hand me the drink."

  Her eyes brightened; she ignored Michaela's request. "Oh God, thank you. He's going to make it?"

  "Hopefully.

  She sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking, though. Trying to save him. I mean really, I can't afford to save him."

  "Excuse me?" Michaela asked. How did she figure? The woman rolled in diamonds and spent cash like she'd picked it from trees.

  She shook her head. "Nope. No money. I'm bankrupt."

  "Bankrupt?"

  "Yesiree. Broke." She leaned back and closed her eyes, her drink sliding from her hand. Michaela caught it before it hit the floorboard and set it aside. She started to ask Kathleen how that could be, but the woman had passed out.

  ELEVEN

  "MICHAELA, I CAN'T LET YOU DO IT! WHAT ARE YOU thinking, anyway? Kathleen Bowen can pay this horse's bill. She's got more money than she knows what to do with," Ethan said to her on the other end of the phone.

  Michaela stood facing the bay windows watching the tide roll in. She'd been sitting on Kathleen's balcony outside her room, which overlooked the ocean, since before the sun came up. Listening to the ocean's sounds had likely been what kept her sane that morning, after seeing Audrey's body, dead—murdered—the day before. She'd hated coming to Kathleen's house, especially without Audrey, but the serenity of the Pacific gave her some sense of peace where she'd thought there would be none. "I don't know about that," she finally answered.

  "Michaela, you are talking nonsense. Do you hear me? That's nuts. You may have inherited some money from Lou, but trust me, Mick, do not pay for this horse's surgery and medical care. It'll likely be in the hundreds of thousands. I can't believe that Kathleen doesn't have any kind of medical coverage on the horse. I'm sure the insurance company would keep this animal alive no matter what the diagnosis is, anyhow. They do their damndest to wait until the last straw. Too many of these animals suffer, all in the name of money, so the insurance companies want to hang on for as long as possible, hoping that they won't have to make a million-dollar payout."

  "How is he, anyway?"

  "The good news is, I wouldn't—and neither would the other vets—recommend putting him down. The break was a condylar fracture above the ankle. That is fairly easy to repair. The bad news is, he also has a fracture below the ankle in the pastern. Very similar to what happened with Barbaro at the Preakness Stakes a few years ago. It's not as bad, and with a lot of care, possibly more surgery, he'll likely grow old grazing in a pasture somewhere. I don't think he'll ever see a track again, though. He's been kept comfortable through the night, and now we're prepared to take him into surgery, but we need signed paperwork from Kathleen. Do you have the fax number there? She can sign it and fax it back to us."

  "I don't know. Hang on. Actually, you know what, I'll see if I can find it and call you back." It was half past seven and she didn't know if she should wake Kathleen. She decided to check things out on her own first.

  "Don't be too long. We'd like to get him into surgery before eight. The anesthesiologist is here and so is Dr. Laube and his team."

  "I won't be long. I have to ask you though, how did you get involved in this? I mean, what were you doing vetting at the track?"

  "It's a long story. I'll fill you in at the barbecue this weekend. You're still coming, aren't you? Friday night."

  Oh no. She'd forgotten about the barbecue–baby shower thing that he and
Summer were throwing. Summer had insisted on it being a get-together for everyone. Great. She sighed. How had Ethan wound up with someone like her?

  "You're bringing that detective, right? Jude? Nice guy."

  "Um, yeah. I mean, I'll be there. I don't know if Jude can make it,' she said, almost choking on her words and remembering Hudson Drake and the date she'd made with him for Saturday. That would be awkward, wouldn't it? Jude at Ethan and Summer's house with her, then the next night a date with a man she really didn't know at all. She'd have to call that one off, especially after everything that had happened. She'd mail him back his key. Surely he'd understand. And, she hadn't even asked Jude to go to Ethan and Summer's. Ethan was obviously assuming they were seeing each other.

  "You have to be there. My wife and I are counting on you."

  My wife. "Okay, well, I'll see what I can do about finding a fax machine and getting Kathleen up." If she found a fax, then she could wake Kathleen and have her fill out the paperwork after Ethan sent it. Poor woman was sleeping off a mixture of heartache, alcohol, and God only knew what else. Bad combination. A few times throughout the sleepless night, she'd gone in to check on Kathleen to make sure she was breathing. She tried to keep the images of Audrey at bay, and focus on Halliday and what needed to be done for him, but it was difficult.

  She found Kathleen's office and went in. It was decorated like rest of the beach house—in white. There was a lot of it: bleached hardwood floors, antique white, modern white, white sofas, white chairs; different shades of white, but pretty much everything in white, except for the paintings on the wall, which were mainly watercolor seascapes.

  Michaela found the fax machine next to Kathleen's computer and copied the number taped on it. Good. Okay, time to wake her up. First she'd call Ethan back.

  She walked over to a white chaise lounge by the window; a phone sat on the table next to it. She called Ethan and gave him the number. Hanging up the phone, she noticed that the drawer on the table was askew. She bent down to fix it and place it back on the rollers. She tugged on it and the drawer came flying out, knocking her on her butt. Pens, a box of tacks and Post-its came flying out, along with a 5 x 7 envelope. "Oh shit," she muttered, hoping she hadn't woken Kathleen. She started to clean up the mess. She picked up the envelope, which had a photo partially sticking out of it. She pulled out the picture: Olivia on a racehorse…Flashing Chico. Hugh's horse. There were other photos in the envelope, which Michaela thumbed through. More of Olivia on the horse, Olivia with Audrey next to the horse, Olivia with Hugh's trainer, Josh, Olivia on the track running Chico in what looked like a practice session, then a lone picture of Audrey watching Olivia on Chico. All of the photos were candid. None of them looked as if Olivia, Audrey, or Josh knew they were being shot. In fact, they looked like the kind of photos a private investigator might take. Oh boy. Was Kathleen watching her daughter's every move? She turned around, thinking she heard someone in the kitchen. Shoving the photos back into the envelope, she quickly stuffed everything else back in the drawer and put the contents back together, then grabbed the faxed forms, which had just arrived, and joined Kathleen, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  "Good morning," she said to Michaela, her hands trembling.

  She looked terrible and didn't appear to have heard the ruckus Michaela had caused back in the office. At least, she hoped that was the case. God forbid Kathleen find out she had snooped through photos of Olivia, Audrey, and the horse. She didn't know what it all meant, but she did know it wasn't good. Not at all. "Hi." Michaela tried to smile at her. "I hate to bother you with this right now, but the vets want to take Halliday in for surgery and they need your consent." She handed the forms to Kathleen. "I, uh, went into your office to see if you had a fax machine. Sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

  "It's fine." She nodded. "I know what I said last night about saving him, but…"

  "You have to try. I spoke with the vet and he said that it can be done, that he can survive this." She didn't want to go into the cost or rehabilitation time. Michaela's stomach knotted, feeling sick that Kathleen might change her mind.

  "I know I told you last night about my financial situation. I said too much, I remember, and I don't have any insurance on him. I couldn't keep it up. I've been stupid with my money."

  "I'll take care of the bill."

  Kathleen looked at her. "What?"

  "I'll loan you the money until you get back on your feet. Let me take care of the expenses for now. I can cover them."

  "No. I can't let you do that."

  "You have to. You can't let him go without giving this a try. I insist."

  Kathleen walked over to the window. She stood, staring out at the expansive ocean in front of her. "Why would you do this for me?"

  "Honestly, it's not for you. It's for the horse. He's an amazing animal. I've followed his career, seen the heart he has, and I can't bear to have him destroyed without giving him a chance. Don't have him put down. You can still stud him out with the use of AI," Michaela said, referring to artificial insemination, which was quite popular amongst quarter horse breeders, "You'll be happy you did it. Let me do this. You'll pay me back when you can."

  Kathleen slowly nodded and signed the consent form. Michaela faxed the paperwork back to Ethan, and Halliday was on his way to surgery. When Michaela returned, Kathleen was crying again. "Thank you. Thank you so much. After Audrey's death last night, the thought of destroying Hal…I can't; as much as I feel ashamed about letting you front the cost, I agree with you."

  "Can I ask you something?"

  "Yes."

  Michaela wanted to ask her why she was in a financial bind, even though part of her felt like it really wasn't her business. The flip side of her told her that at this stage of the game, with her paying the medical expenses on Hal, she did have a right to know why Kathleen was broke. Then, Olivia walked in.

  "Mom! Mom!" Olivia cried out. "I heard about Audrey. I came right over. Oh God, how did this happen? I'm sorry I wasn't there." Olivia put her arms around her mother, who pulled away, her face drawn as she looked past Olivia. Josh Torrey stood behind her.

  "Have you been with Josh at your father's place, celebrating the win? How could you? Do you even know what I've been through? What happened? I was worried about you. I didn't hear from you. I called your apartment, your cell phone. I had no idea where you were. Nothing. Dammit, Olivia. I am tired of this with you. It's time you move back home. I've let you play grown-up long enough, but it's obvious that you can't handle it." Kathleen's hands were on her hips, her face twisted in anger. Prior to Olivia's arrival, Kathleen had seemed so sad, desperate almost, but something about her daughter being with Josh set her off. Michaela remembered the photos in Kathleen's office.

  "Josh picked me up and brought me home. I needed a ride. That's it. End of story." She looked at Michaela. "Hi."

  "Hi," Michaela replied. Olivia looked as if she'd been through the wringer—makeup smeared across her usually flawless ivory face, long blond hair totally disheveled, and she wasn't wearing the cute blouse and jeans she'd had on for the concert the day before. She did have jeans on, and what looked to be a man's T-shirt.

  "That is the truth," Josh replied. "She was not celebrating with us. In fact, we weren't exactly in a celebratory mood, Kathleen."

  He didn't look as unkempt as Olivia. He looked ready to be out with the horses—breeches, paddock boots, and tucked-in T-shirt. He did, however, appear exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and a lack of color in his face. Had he been as worried about Olivia as her mother claimed to be? He certainly seemed disturbed yesterday at the mention of Olivia sneaking off with Steve Benz and the mystery man. Benz was really the man toward whom Kathleen should be directing her anger.

  "And, where did you pick her up from?" Kathleen squared up with Josh, who didn't answer. She stepped away from him and yelled at Olivia, "Where were you?"

  "You know what, Mother? It's none of your business." She walked past Michaela and
down the hall. "I'm going to have a smoke." A few seconds later a door slammed in the back of the house.

  Kathleen fumed at Josh. "You had something to do with this. It's obvious, and I know—I know all about what you and Audrey have been up to with Olivia. Letting her ride those damn horses of Hugh's."

  So, she had been spying on her daughter. What a tangled web of deceit. Who knew these people would have so much to hide. Why, why had Audrey gotten herself mixed up in all of this crazy business?

  "I don't need this. I brought her home safely. I gave her a ride, and that's it. I don't believe you. Your horse is suffering, and now with Audrey? You're really disturbed."

  "Stay away from my daughter. Do you hear me? Stay away from her!"

  "You might be able to control Olivia, but you can't control me. Why don't you let her grow up and live the life she wants to live, not the life you want her to." Josh flicked back a lock of his brown hair that had fallen down over his eyes and walked out.

  Kathleen stormed into the back of the house to find Olivia. Michaela heard them shouting back and forth. She couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she knew one thing for sure: She needed to get the hell out of there. Luckily because of last night's events, she hadn't even unpacked her overnight bag. When they'd arrived at Kathleen's place, Michaela had put the woman to bed with the help of the driver, then changed into a T-shirt and jeans and stayed awake through night.

  She scribbled a note to Kathleen telling her that she'd be in touch, and then she hightailed it out of there. Before heading back to Indio, she decided to have a talk with Josh. She'd see if he was at Hugh's place. He'd been in those photos with Audrey, and they looked chummy. Audrey hadn't mentioned Josh to her, but that didn't mean anything. And, now he was closely linked to Olivia, whose unstable mother kept tabs on her as if she were five and not twenty. And, Josh had behaved oddly last night when he'd learned that Olivia was with Steve Benz. Had she really wound up with Josh? What was that all about?

  Plus, what about Bob Pratt? Maybe Josh knew him. Hugh did. It was a small community within the horse-racing world and it was likely that Josh might have known him. Or maybe, just maybe, Audrey had mentioned something to Josh about Bob that, although it had seemed like nothing at the time, could lead to something. No matter what, Michaela couldn't shake the tug inside of her telling her that Bob Pratt's disappearance and his sister's murder were somehow linked. It made sense. But when she'd mentioned it to Detective Merrill last night, he didn't seem too concerned. Then again, the detective appeared to be holding his cards close. Maybe he also thought there was a link. What a mess.