The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  What wasn't making her smile and was also making her crazy was Audrey's murder, and she wondered if the police had made any headway at all in the investigation, other than focusing on Bob as the killer. She hesitated to pick up the phone and call Detective Merrill. What kind of questions could she ask him anyway? She did want to know if they had discovered anything new. It probably wasn't such a good idea to call Merrill, and she knew she should drop it anyway. She was doing what she could by asking Joe to help her out, and he'd promised to give her a call if he found out anything.

  The sun was going down, which meant it was time to feed the animals and make herself some dinner. She'd let Dwayne have the night off since he'd covered for her while she was in L.A. Funny, she hadn't seen Camden or Dwayne since the riding lesson. She couldn't wait to quiz Camden about her newfound interest. Where had they disappeared to?

  She filled the wheelbarrow with several flakes of hay and distributed it to her "kids." She then went back into the feed room and filled buckets with supplements for the handful she fed them to. Rocky nickered as she came to his stall with his bucket of treats. She dumped the contents into his feeder and he immediately dove in. "It's the good stuff you like, isn't it?" She laughed, and then stopped as she thought she heard someone else laugh. Where was that coming from? There it was again. Definitely laughter.

  It was coming from the tack room.

  Michaela walked into the tack room and the words slipped out at the spectacle she saw. "Oh, my God."

  Camden immediately started buttoning her shirt. Dwayne pulled his shirt back over his head. He turned crimson. "Oh, oh. I'm sorry. We uh, well, we uh…"

  Michaela held up a hand. "That's okay. I think I know what you were doing." She turned and started to walk away.

  "Wait, Michaela. Stop," Camden called out. "You were going to find out one way or another. We planned to tell you."

  "What in the hell is going on?" Michaela asked.

  "We're in love," Camden said, beaming. "And I'm moving in with Dwayne. Look." She held out her left hand; on it she wore a ring with a small diamond.

  "Is that what I think it is?"

  Camden jumped up. Dwayne put his arm around her. "Cammy girl and I, we be gonna get married, island style, you know. We thinking a wedding on the big island. My home and all."

  "It'll be beautiful," Camden gushed. "And, we're going to have a margarita bar, doesn't that sound great? And you have to be my maid of honor!"

  "Cammy girl?" Oh boy, these two were intimate. "That's great. A real wedding, huh?" That would be a first for Camden, whose first three marriages were by elopement. She could not believe what she was hearing. Her friend and employee were not only getting it on together, they were getting married! "So, tell me, how long have you two been keeping this from me?"

  Michaela looked at Dwayne. He smiled. "You know, it be like three or four months."

  "Three or four months! Jeez, I must be blind."

  "No. We were just good at hiding it," Camden said.

  "We are in love. I feel it in my heart. Never met no one like my Cammy girl."

  "Oh, I'm sure of that. I suppose that's what the riding lessons are all about. I figured you were dating someone new and didn't want to tell me because I'm always lecturing you on your poor choice in men, but I can't think of a bad thing to say about this guy." She pointed at Dwayne.

  No, actually in this situation it was Dwayne who Michaela might have to worry about. Camden could be a heartbreaker when she wanted, and the last thing Michaela needed was a heartbroken horse trainer. Not to mention she wouldn't want to lose Dwayne. He was the best, and if it didn't work out between him and Camden he could very well quit his job. She cringed at the thought, but when she eyed the two of them, she could honestly say that she'd never seen Camden look at anyone the way she was looking at Dwayne, and vice versa. Maybe it was true love, and they'd gotten away with it right under her nose. She started to laugh.

  "You aren't mad?" Dwayne asked.

  "No, I'm not mad. I'm not your mother. You two are weird. Why would you think I'd be mad? I love you both. I want you to be happy and if you're happy together, I think it's great. A little strange, but great."

  "I certainly never expected it," Camden said.

  "You. What about me?" Dwayne laughed.

  "Why don't you come have margaritas with us? We'll celebrate and make wedding plans."

  "I've got to get the horses fed, so I'll take a rain check. Go back to what you were doing, but maybe take it over to Dwayne's—or can I now call it your place, too?"

  "Not officially. We'll go the traditional route and I'll move in after the wedding. I mean if it's okay with you, considering it is your property."

  "I may have to raise the rent, you know."

  "You do that," Camden said.

  "If it were anyone else but you, I would."

  "Come on, honey, let's go to your place. Our place." Camden took Dwayne's hand.

  "Have fun," Michaela yelled after them.

  She watched them walk away hand in hand. She shook her head. Compatibility. Who knew those two would wind up together? Strange combination. Michaela prayed that it would work between them. She'd wondered how Summer and Ethan would work out, too. They didn't exactly seem compatible, but she was no one to judge. They were expecting their first child, and Michaela could not believe that she would be taking Jude with her to the baby shower. That thought reminded her that she needed to call Hudson Drake. She'd thank him for the roses but explain to him that Saturday was out. Maybe she could meet him for lunch when she went to Los Angeles tomorrow to pick up Geyser. No. That wasn't a good idea. Well, she would have to give him back the key. "Ugh," she said aloud as she went back to taking care of the horses. Now that was something she could do, do it well, and have it all make sense—take care of the animals.

  Humans made no sense, while animals made perfect sense.

  As she finished feeding and started back to the house, a horrible realization hit her. She could not believe that she hadn't thought of it earlier. Oh no. Francisco. Audrey's ranch hand. Had he heard what happened to Audrey? She knew how much Audrey thought of the man. He needed to be told.

  Instead of going into the house, she got into her truck and drove to Audrey's place.

  As she pulled in to the ranch, everything seemed quiet, until she got out of the truck and heard whinnies from the barn. She walked over to the stalls, which looked like they'd recently had a fresh coat of paint applied. The horses grew further agitated seeing her. She quickly realized that they hadn't been fed. She looked at her watch. It was past seven. Where was Francisco? She tossed them each a flake of hay, not knowing what else Audrey fed them. She walked over to the house and used the spare key that Audrey had given her to the back door. She stopped. There were voices. "Francisco?" she called out. She realized that the voices were coming from a TV upstairs. The guest room. Maybe Francisco had dozed off watching a show earlier. She'd better wake him and let him know about Audrey. Plans would have to be made for the animals. "Francisco?" she called out again as she climbed the stairs.

  The door to the guest room was cracked. Francisco appeared to be asleep on the bed. "Francisco? Hello?" She went into the room, irritated that he hadn't woken up and bummed that he hadn't been taking care of the animals the way he was supposed to. "Francisco," she said, this time louder. She stepped toward the bed. Paint. Next to the bed. Different color from the barn. Red paint, not beige. Michaela touched Francisco's shoulder. Cold. Really cold. She shook it and realized, as his body turned and he stared blankly up at her, with dried blood on his chest, that he was dead. She backed out of the room and ran down the stairs, nearly stumbling at the bottom. As she picked herself up, someone reached out for her and she screamed.

  NINETEEN

  MICHAELA FELL BACK ONTO THE BOTTOM STAIR, terrified. She picked herself up, still screaming. "Michaela? It's me. It's me!"

  "Olivia!" she yelled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Olivia took a
step back. "I…I came here to feel close to Audrey. I wanted to get away from my mom, too. I thought it would help me feel better."

  Michaela grabbed her arm. "We have to get out of here now!"

  "What?" Olivia shook her head. "What is wrong with you?"

  She tugged on the girl's arm. "Come on. We have to call the police!"

  "You're scaring me."

  Michaela stopped, looked at her and said, "There is a dead man upstairs. I think he's been murdered and we have to get out of this house and call the police."

  "Oh shit!"

  They ran outside. "Get in," Michaela told Olivia as they approached her truck.

  "You think that the killer is still here?" Olivia asked.

  "I don't know what to think." Michaela grabbed her purse from the floorboard, retrieved her cell phone, and dialed 911.

  The operator asked her some questions and told her to stay put and on the line as the police were dispatched to the ranch. In a matter of minutes the sheriffs' cars started pulling in.

  Michaela and Olivia got out of the truck as men and women in uniform quickly swarmed the place. Two deputies approached them. One was a young, pretty woman, her dark hair pulled back, brown eyes trained on them. The man next to her was older and stocky with a graying mustache. He looked as serious as the woman did.

  "I'm Deputy Garcia," the woman said. "This is Deputy McDaniels. We're going to take your statements. We have officers securing the grounds."

  Michaela introduced herself, then Olivia, who fidgeted nervously. The police had a way of amplifying an unnerving situation, but Michaela couldn't help wonder if there was more to Olivia's reaction than the situation at hand. Had she really come out to Audrey's ranch to feel close to her?

  Garcia asked Michaela to come with her so she could take her statement. McDaniels stayed with Olivia. After half an hour of going over her story twice, Garcia looked up from her notes. Something caught her eye because her demeanor changed almost abruptly from questioning, hard-line cop to…mmm, what was that…womanly? Michaela turned around to see Jude approaching. Oh no.

  "Detective Davis, this is Ms. Bancroft," Garcia said.

  "Yes. I know, we've met." Jude crossed his arms.

  Garcia looked from one to the other, then stepped aside. "Okay, well, I just finished taking her statement—"

  Jude cut her off. "Thank you, Deputy. I'll take it from here."

  "Of course." Garcia stepped away.

  Wait a minute. She batted her eyelashes. No she did not. Oh yeah. Yeah, she did. Michaela stood up straighter. What was that all about?

  Jude lowered his voice. "What is going on, Michaela? What are you doing here?"

  She sighed. "It's not what you think."

  "Oh, you don't know what I'm thinking."

  "Okay, well you better not be thinking that I had anything to do with Francisco's death, murder, whatever."

  "He was murdered, all right. A gunshot through the chest."

  Michaela winced. "Oh no. He was a good guy. Audrey cared about him."

  "Speaking of…you did not tell me that you knew Audrey Pratt."

  "No, I guess I didn't. I know a lot of people."

  "Michaela, I was just at your place earlier today. Why didn't you tell me about your friend being killed? I've only received sketchy details at this point, but what were you thinking?"

  "Huh? What was I thinking? I don't know, Jude. You didn't give me a lot of time to think. If I remember right, you kind of took my breath away." She glanced behind him and noticed Garcia eyeing them. The deputy quickly went back to jotting something down in her notepad.

  Jude blushed. "Took your breath away?"

  "Jude!"

  "Davis, need you in the house," one of the detectives called. "Looks like one of the rooms has been torn apart. May have been a robbery gone bad."

  Michaela didn't buy that theory. It all seemed way too coincidental that Audrey had been killed the day before. Someone had been looking for something.

  "We're not done with this. I know you. I know how you think, and I don't want you getting mixed up in this investigation. I don't want you hurt. Please."

  She didn't comment.

  "Davis!"

  "I'm coming," he yelled back to the other detective. "I mean it, Michaela. We're not finished."

  "Can I go now?"

  He shook a finger at her. "Garcia, you finished with your statement?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He nodded and looked back at Michaela. "I'll see you later."

  She found Olivia, who had just finished with McDaniels. "Oh my God, I was like totally bombarded by that cop. I told him like five hundred times that I just got here. I didn't even know there was anyone dead."

  "Would you like to go have a cup of coffee or a bite to eat?" Michaela asked. She wasn't sure she felt like eating but she didn't feel like being alone either, and she had some questions she wanted to ask the girl.

  Olivia looked down at her watch. "Uh, sure, okay. But I don't have a lot of time."

  "Didn't you just drive a couple of hours to be around Audrey's things, her house?"

  "Yeah. I did. But a friend just called me and wants to get together tonight, so I figured if I can't stay here, I might as well head back."

  "It's almost nine."

  "Right." She shrugged and didn't offer up any other answers. "So, coffee? Where?"

  Michaela told her to follow her to the coffee hut she liked—The Honeybear. Once seated with a cup of decaf and Olivia fidgeting in front of her with some kind of fancy specialty coffee, she couldn't help herself any longer. She set her cup down and leaned in. "I'm kind of confused, Olivia. Maybe you can help me here. You drove out here to feel close to Audrey?"

  "That's what I told you. Look, it may sound crazy to you. I know that cop was thinking I was full of crap, but I'm not." Tears filled her eyes. "I wanted to be here. I thought maybe if I drove out to her place that I'd feel close to her, like she was still here."

  Michaela softened at the sight of Olivia crying. Maybe she was simply hurting over the loss of Audrey and was telling the truth. "Are you okay?"

  "I don't know. No. Not really. My mom told me about Halliday, and with Audrey being killed…" She sobbed. "I can't believe it. I loved her so much and she would know what to do right now. I don't know what to do. I want everyone to leave me alone."

  "To do about what, Olivia?"

  "That stupid Callahan guy is leaving me messages on my voice mail."

  "Frederick Callahan?"

  "Yep."

  "The guy who runs that men's magazine Pleasures?" Michaela recalled Callahan standing next to Bridgette Bowen, over Audrey's body. The thought caused a shiver to snake down her back.

  "That's the one," Olivia replied.

  "What does he want?"

  "He's been bugging me to do a spread in his magazine. Says I can be dressed, just a transparent blouse. He wants me to wear a pair of breeches and—this is the best part…" She wiped her face. "He tells me a crop in my hand would look good, kind of do a jockey thing."

  "Creep."

  "I've told him no way, but he still keeps calling. Then Marshall Friedman, Steve Benz's manager, suggests I do the magazine and that Steve would like to do the photos with me, and together he thinks we would make a great pair."

  "Jerks."

  "Yep. But wait, the biggest jerk of all is my mother. I told her what they proposed and she said that I should do it. It would be good for my career. She says that as much as she loved Audrey and as hard as it is that she's gone, I have to think about moving on, and Audrey was holding me back. Can you believe that?"

  "Oh my God. That is so cold. What the hell is wrong with your mother?" she blurted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

  "No. You're right. My own mother wants to sell me out. Wants me to pose half naked with some asshole pop star in hopes of me making it huge for her."

  It looked like Josh was right about Kathleen likely being the one to set up the meeting between Olivia, Frie
dman, and Benz after the races. She'd kept it from both Audrey and Olivia, maybe fearing that they would veto the queen and her ideas. "What did you tell her?"

  Michaela also couldn't help wondering if Olivia was aware of her mother's financial troubles. Michaela had dealt with her own difficulties when it came to finances, but when it had happened in her life after her ex left and stuck her with thousands of dollars in medical bills incurred from failed in vitro fertilization attempts, Michaela had changed her lifestyle—slowed things way down. Not that she ever really lived beyond her means anyway, but she knew how to tighten up when necessary. That was clearly something Kathleen Bowen was unable to do, even while going down the tubes. Appearances meant more to her than honesty and reality.

  "Nothing. I left. You don't tell my mom anything. It's not worth the fight. She'll wear you down."

  "Is that why you haven't told her that you want to be a jockey?"

  "You know about that?"

  "I do. Audrey told me."

  "Ah." Olivia crossed her arms. She looked paler tonight than she had the other day. Granted, she had ivory skin, but she appeared more gaunt and unhealthy. "That would be nice. Dreams are nice but they're bullshit."

  "Is that why you left the races with Benz and Friedman? Why you were willing to discuss a contract with them?"

  "Look, I did that because I was mad at Josh. He'd been a jerk to me earlier and I didn't want to be around him or my mom. Benz and Friedman came to see me after the show in my dressing room. We started talking and decided to go party somewhere else."

  "Did you have anything to drink?" Michaela remembered Josh telling her that according to Olivia she'd only had a couple of drinks and they'd been before she'd left the races. He'd suspected that Benz might have spiked the drink.