The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  "Yeah. I had a beer, maybe two. I don't know. It's kind of a blur now. We were talking and then Benz said he'd grab a few beers. Friedman hung with me while Benz got the drinks and then when he came back we downed them and took off."

  Those moments that Benz went to get the drinks: He had the opportunity to spike Olivia's beer then. He also might have had opportunity to kill Audrey. He had threatened her only a couple of hours before with Olivia changing management camps. The timing seemed right to Michaela for Benz to have done it. Maybe Josh had good reason to distrust Benz. Not only was he trying to scam the girl he cared about, but could Josh have a gut feeling that Benz was even slimier than what he put out there. Could Josh suspect that the guy was evil enough to kill? "Josh seems to be pretty protective over you."

  She nodded. "Yeah, so? He's cool. I know he has a thing for me." She shrugged. "I kind of like him, too, but my mom would freak, and I don't know what my dad would say."

  "You are an adult."

  "Right."

  "You are, Olivia. Maybe you should try acting like one."

  "What the hell does that mean? Oh forget it." She looked at her watch again. "I have to go. Thanks for the coffee."

  "You hardly drank any."

  "I know. But I need to get back." She stood, her demeanor changing.

  Olivia obviously did not want to talk about the prospect of being a jockey, or acting like an adult, and she'd begun fidgeting again. Her cell rang. She took it out of her purse and answered, waving good-bye to Michaela as she walked out. Michaela shook her head in bewilderment. The young woman certainly was confused, and confusing. She sat there and sipped her coffee. The waitress came over with her bill.

  "Oh, hon, looks like your friend forgot something; maybe it dropped out of her purse." The waitress reached across the booth and handed her a tiny envelope, the kind that typically holds a card attached to flowers.

  "Thank you." Michaela took the envelope and couldn't help but look inside. No card, but there was something. Crushed chalk? No. Flour? Powder? Oh damn. A sickened feeling struck Michaela, for she doubted that the substance was anything of a legal nature. She felt pretty sure that what was inside the tiny envelope was cocaine.

  TWENTY

  "YOU LOOK LIKE HELL," CAMDEN SAID WHEN SHE walked into the kitchen the following morning and found Michaela trying to jump-start herself with a strong cup of coffee.

  She hadn't been able to get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning and then it wasn't exactly restful, as nightmares invaded her dreams. "Thanks. Not all of us get to sleep in the arms of a loved one, all warm and cozy. I am still mad at you, you know." Michaela poured herself another cup from the carafe. She had to hit the road if she wanted to reach Los Angeles early and get out before the late afternoon traffic kicked in. She took a bag of bread from the cupboard. "Toast?"

  "No. I'll have some cereal, though."

  Michaela served up her friend's favorite cereal—Fruit Loops. How fitting. By the time she finished waiting on Camden, her toast was ready. She slathered it with peanut butter and sat down. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

  Camden set her spoon down and shrugged. "Look, I knew that you would discourage me from a relationship with Dwayne. And I know what you're thinking, that I'll dump him, leave him brokenhearted and he'll hightail it back to the islands."

  "You got it," Michaela replied.

  Camden reached across the table and took Michaela's hand. "I know I've been a flake. I know I've been unlucky in love and that's why I'm here with you. You always warned me with each guy I've brought around that it wouldn't work, that he wasn't good enough. That he was some superficial moron. And that's what's different this time. You know as well as I do that superficial is the last thing Dwayne is. He's unlike all the men I've fallen for in the past. There isn't a phony thing about him, and material gain isn't what he wants."

  "You're right. And that's what worries me. I don't want Dwayne to be the flavor of the month or year because he is different. Camden, you like material things, and you can be phony." At that comment, her friend scowled. "You can and you know it."

  Camden nodded. "I love him." She looked up at Michaela, tears in her eyes. "I can honestly say for the first time in my life that I am in love with a man and he loves me. It's not about anything else but that, and I want your blessing. Please."

  Michaela squeezed her hand. "Okay then. But don't ever keep something like that from me again. I feel like an idiot. I can't believe that I didn't notice."

  "I won't. Thank you. It's not hard to believe that you didn't notice, though. You've been busy with the horses, running this place, Joe's kid, and that hot detective's daughter. Hell, I feel like I haven't seen you much these past few months."

  Camden was right. She had been busy. They hadn't spent much time together lately like they used to. "We need to change that, don't we?"

  "We'd better, considering we'll be planning a wedding together."

  Michaela smiled. "Should be a good distraction for me."

  "What do you mean?" Camden asked between bites of cereal.

  Michaela sighed. "Dwayne didn't tell you about Audrey?"

  "No."

  She began the sordid tale. "Oh my God." Camden brought her hand up to her mouth. She stood and wrapped her arms around Michaela. "I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

  "I don't know. Last night after finding Francisco, I asked Olivia to have coffee. She was acting really strange. Then she took off and left something behind. It must've fallen out of her purse."

  "What?"

  "A small envelope of cocaine."

  "Ah, jeez. Not good."

  "Poor Hugh. I should tell him."

  "Oh no. You need to stay out of this. None of this sounds good at all. I know how obsessed you became when Lou was murdered, and you almost got yourself killed. Promise me you're not off trying to piece it together. Let that family unravel without you being stuck in the middle. You're a good person, you don't need outside hassles getting in the way of running your life. That's your problem: you're always trying to solve everyone else's problems. Take care of yourself for a change."

  "All I'm doing is trying to find some answers."

  "Michaela," Camden implored. "Run as far away as you can from those people."

  "Joe is checking into a few things for me and that's it. Then I'll drop it. I even promised him."

  Camden shook her head. "Stubborn. Very stubborn. Now you got Joey Pellegrino involved. I knew it, and I bet your cute detective is aware of your activities and he probably is not too happy about it."

  Michaela looked up at the clock. "Oh, would you look at that, gotta run. I have a horse to pick up."

  "Michaela."

  "I'll be back tonight."

  "Michaela!" Camden yelled. "Stay out of it. Please. You have a lot of people who love you."

  "I love you, too. Thanks for caring. Have a good day."

  With that she shut the door behind her. Camden was right. Leave all the dysfunctionals back in Hollywood. She'd do that tomorrow, she promised herself. Today she had to go and pick up Geyser. So asking a few more questions couldn't hurt, now could it?

  TWENTY-ONE

  BEFORE HEADING OUT, MICHAELA STOPPED OFF AT Audrey's place to make sure the animals were all okay. Jude had left a message to call him. She was going to give that some time. She wasn't ready for the third degree. At Audrey's, she found Deputy Garcia holding down the fort. She sat on her porch swing looking beat tired and bored out of her mind. She eyed Michaela up and down.

  "You know, technically you're not supposed to be here. I do know that Ms. Pratt was a friend, but I have my orders, straight from Detective Davis," she said as she glared at Michaela. Maybe it was her imagination, but did Garcia have a bone to pick?

  "I understand. I only came by to feed the animals."

  "The animals will be fine. Arrangements have been made for the Humane Society to pick them up. That's why I'm still here. I was off two hours ago, but they send in the r
ookie to do this shit."

  "Oh, no! Not the Humane Society. I have room for the horses. Please give me a day."

  "You'll have to take it up with the Humane Society. Or maybe your boyfriend." Garcia stood up from the porch swing and crossed her arms.

  Something about her intimidated Michaela. Maybe it was the fact that she carried a gun. That might have been it. But her comment was way off base. "I don't know what you mean."

  "You and Detective Davis. I saw the way you were looking at him. You two do know each other."

  "Yes, but we don't have anything going on."

  "Can't blame you. He's a hottie. That's for sure. More power to you, girl. But let me just say that you've got all the women around the station a little peeved at you. They've all been competing to spend some time with Davis."

  "Peeved about me?"

  "Word is that you and Davis have a thing. It's the gossip around the station. I'd be careful if I were you. He's got the womanizer thing down. You can ask anyone in a skirt back at the station. He and I have even spent some time together." Garcia winked at her.

  "You can go back to the station and tell the ladies there that Detective Davis is more than available," Michaela said.

  "You sure about that?"

  "I'm sure. Now, can I go and check on the animals? Feed them? They have to be hungry and it's best if I turn some of them out to pasture."

  "Why not?"

  "Thanks." Michaela stormed off and could have sworn she heard Garcia chuckle under her breath. What was that all about? She did not like being the subject of gossip. And to even have become that subject, Jude must've told someone that they were seeing each other, or something like that. Whatever. And what was that comment that he and Garcia had spent time together? Was Jude different from what she'd thought? Could he be another womanizer? God knew she had a knack for picking them, and then getting blindsided like a deer caught up in headlights. Had she fallen into another man's trap? No, she had not. She wouldn't let Jude get the best of her. If he wanted to chase the skirts back at the station that was just fine. But she wasn't about to allow him to get under her skin and feed her lies. No way.

  She made her way to the barn and started feeding the horses. Then she went out to the pasture and brought the roving ones to their stalls and fed them. Audrey had about twenty head. By the time she was finished, it had taken nearly forty-five minutes. As she was locking up, her cell phone rang.

  "Mick, it's me, Joe. I got some info for you on that Bob Pratt dude. Seems he had a girlfriend named Cara Klein. She lives in San Diego. That's all I've been able to get so far. I'm still working that angle." Michaela made a mental note of the information. "Also, he liked to hang at this bar up in Malibu. Place serves good fish and chips, my cousin told me. Anyhow, he was in there a couple of weeks ago."

  "Drinking?"

  "Only Cokes, according to the bartender."

  "Was he by himself?"

  "No. Says he was with a couple of younger men, both Hispanic. He said that one didn't seem as friendly as the other, was kind of an ass to the bartender and it made Pratt nervous. The other guy seemed okay. The bartender also said that guy was a short dude."

  "Interesting. We've got to find out who those men were that he was talking to. Can you do that?"

  "You're getting sucked into this, Mick."

  "Joe, do it. And I know you will. You know why?"

  "Cause you're working with my kid."

  "Nope. Well, maybe that, but it's also because you love this cloak-and-dagger stuff."

  He didn't comment for a few seconds. "I'll call you back. Be careful."

  "Always."

  Michaela went into Audrey's office to see if she could find a pen and something to write on. She wanted to jot down Cara Klein's name. She doubted she'd forget it, but she wanted to be certain.

  She opened the top drawer and found a pen but no paper. The third drawer down, she located a stack of legal pads as well as an 8×10 envelope addressed to Audrey. But what caught her eye was the return address: that of her brother, Bob.

  TWENTY-TWO

  OKAY, SO SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE IT. IT WAS impulsive. Michaela knew she should not have done it. But she had. She'd walked out of the barn with the large envelope, keeping an eye out for Garcia, hoping the deputy wouldn't spot her and ask her what the envelope was about. She knew she was taking something that didn't belong to her. Maybe she should've passed it on to Garcia. Heck no. Why do her any favors? She set the envelope in the backseat and headed west. Besides she had a feeling that this was the envelope Audrey had mentioned the other day. The one that she was to give to Ethan. It didn't belong to the police or her. It belonged to Ethan. Right? That is, if it was the right envelope. Michaela could not be sure about that without opening it. And, she didn't know how she felt about opening it. But she certainly couldn't give it to Ethan to open and then have it be something he would have no clue about. She'd have to ask him if he'd gotten Audrey's message about it. She'd also have to tell him about Audrey, if he hadn't already heard. Detective Merrill had told her that he would be needing to speak with Ethan and ask if he'd spotted Audrey on the track after Halliday had broken his leg.

  Over lunch: Maybe that's when she'd take a look at what was in the envelope. She would have to eat lunch today. And she'd be in Los Angeles at lunchtime. Hudson Drake came to mind. But she was pulling a horse trailer. It might be nice to have lunch with him, her treat. Ah, who was she kidding? She was irritated that Jude might be talking about the two of them as if they were a thing. They were not a thing. And she didn't like feeling suspicious that he might be playing her and another woman, or women. That she did not like at all. She recalled his almost egotistical attitude about coming out the winner yesterday when he'd kissed her. Was he like that with all women? She'd discovered that the kind of man who exuded the kind of self-confidence Jude did around women indicated he'd traveled the path to a woman's heart or bed more than a few times. But did she have a right to feel that way?

  She picked through her wallet where she'd put Hudson's card and gave him a call. He told her that he'd love to have lunch with her, and since she was pulling a trailer they could meet at Duke's, a nearby restaurant. "It's laid-back there. Not the jet set in and out, and the parking lot is huge. They've seen trailers come in there before," he said.

  "Great. Noon work for you?"

  "Sure does."

  She wondered if he'd had any luck with the private investigator he'd said that he hired to look into Bob's disappearance and intended to ask him about it. Lost in thought, Michaela at first didn't see the flashing lights in her rearview mirror. When she did, it took her another second to realize that she was being pulled over. What had she done? She wasn't speeding. She hadn't cut anyone off, had she? Oh brother! She didn't have time for this right now. She pulled off to the side of the road and cut the engine. A highway patrolman approached the truck. "Hi, Officer," Michaela said. "I'm not certain why you pulled me over."

  He faced her, eyes covered in dark sunglasses, a serious expression on his face. This could not be good. "Can I see your driver's license, ma'am?"

  She removed her wallet from her purse. "Sure, but can you tell me what I did wrong?"

  He opened up his ticket pad and took the license from her. "I'm going to have to write you a fix-it ticket. Did you know that the lights are out on your trailer?"

  "Oh no." She sighed, relived that it wasn't anything more than that. That sounded like an easy fix. "Are you sure?" He frowned. Stupid question. "I will definitely have that fixed." He finished writing the ticket and tore it off. "Have a nice day," she said taking the ticket. He walked back to his car. Damn. She was only thirty minutes from Hugh Bowen's place. She'd have to get the trailer fixed. There wasn't a way out of it. She couldn't haul a horse back without those brake lights working.

  She called ahead to the Bowen ranch. Hugh told her that someone should be around who could fix them, that she should just pull on in and either find Josh or Enrique. "I have some er
rands to take care of. I don't think I'll be around by the time you get here. Hopefully you can get the trailer fixed quickly and be back on your way. I know it's quite a drive."

  "True. I'm sorry that I won't see you."

  "Me, too, but you'll be at the charity event on Saturday. We'll catch up there. I'd actually stay and wait here for you, but I need to find out when Audrey's body might be released. We have to plan a proper service for her."

  Michaela recognized the emotion in his voice. How had she not thought of a service for her friend? Of course, something needed to be arranged. She thanked Hugh for his willingness to take care of it and offered her help in any way that she could.

  When she pulled into the ranch, the gate was open. She parked the truck and trailer near the main stables. She looked around but didn't see anyone at first. Then a Hispanic man in jeans, T-shirt, and leather gloves came toward her. "Hey," he said. "I'm Juan Perez. You Ms. Bancroft?"

  "Yes."

  "Yeah. Okay, Mr. Bowen said you would be by. He said that your trailer's light are out."

  "They are." She frowned.

  "I'll unhook it for you and see what's going on, okay?"

  "Thank you. That would be great. Quiet around here this morning?" she said as Juan started unhooking the trailer.

  He nodded. "Josh and my brother, Enrique, had to take care of some business with the American Quarter Horse Association. I think they're in the office on the phone or something."

  "Oh."

  "And most of the grooms are on break, but I'm trying to get ahead, you know. Mr. Bowen, he just give me this job, so I'm doing the best I can."

  Michaela couldn't help but remember what Hugh had said about Juan—something to the effect of him having been in some trouble. She also couldn't help wondering who it was that Bobby Pratt had been talking to at the fish and chips bar in Malibu a few weeks ago. She suddenly wondered if it was possible that the two Hispanic men he'd been hanging out with were Juan and Enrique Perez.