Blood and Roses (Holly Jennings Thriller) (4 page)

Staleness and the smell of copper and death wafted throughout. It was all too familiar. A cross between burned rubber, melting iron, and decay. The kind of smell that came with violent death.

The family room where they wound up looked out over an infinity pool and the canyon. Houses were sporadically fanned out along the hillside, and depending on what time of the day the killer had come into the home, it was doubtful anyone would have been able to see what had taken place.

The first image to catch Holly’s eye inside the large living space was a massive flat screen mounted onto a wall. Amar began speaking almost as quickly as he walked. “Marvin Tieg. Hollywood producer, lived alone after a divorce three years ago, liked lots of women and parties. No kids. Forty-three years of age. Made a lot of money in the entertainment industry. He also liked the ponies and owned a half a dozen, from what I can figure out at this point, but I will be digging deeper into that. I present Mr. Tieg to you.”
Amar took a new pair of latex gloves out from a case he carried and slid them on. Placing his hand on the leather revolving recliner, he turned the chair around.

There sat the dead Marvin Tieg with a carrot in his mouth. His pants were rolled up past his knees. Dried blood had caked on his legs over what appeared to be pinholes, as if made from a needle. Around the blood, his legs were badly bruised. Rigor mortis had set in, and the stiffened body looked more like something at one of those creepy haunted mansions on Halloween that Holly refused to take Chloe to, than what was once, probably less than twelve hours earlier, a living human being.

Holly stood speechless for a few seconds as she tried to make sense of the sight in front of her. She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “What in hell are we looking at, Detective? What was done to his legs?”

4

The first time Elena Purdue uttered the name “Karma’s Revenge,” the words carried just a tad of bitter sweetness. Elena loved the filly in a way she hadn’t loved many horses. She’d always loved horses, always had them from the time she was a little girl, but she didn’t love them all equally, and Karma was the horse she loved above all.

For more than one reason.

Elena had nine horses in training at Purdue & Co. Stables out in her own quiet corner of the world: Ramona, California. The “Co.” had at one time been her longtime lover, Carter, but then Carter decided that he
was not
the marrying kind. So he left and married someone else—the ex-wife of one of the owners with a horse in Elena’s stable. Elena in turn screwed the owner, as if that was going to make anything better. The owner—a guy named Raymond Scarborough—decided that mixing sex and business was a bad plan. Elena agreed. Bedsides, the guy sucked in bed, and all he wanted to do was talk about how his wife, Patty, had run off with Carter.

The thing that hurt the most for Elena was that Carter had a little girl—Sophia. Elena adored the child, whom Carter, of course, had out of wedlock—because he
was not
the marrying kind. Six years spent with Sophia and Carter because Mom was in and out of the picture. And then, Carter left and took Sophia, who at the time had been seven. Elena’s heart had nearly broken.

The filly had saved her from total despair.

Karma had been born on one of the colder nights in January three years ago to one of Elena’s favorite mares—a daughter of the ever-controversial Big Brown. The night of the filly’s birth something went very wrong, and the mare died. Karma had not had an easy beginning, to say the least. Because the filly had been orphaned, Elena had to work quickly and diligently to supply the foal with the mare’s colostrum. Born without any antibodies—and without that vital colostrum to provide the necessary antibodies—her chances for survival were slim from the get-go.

However, Elena had poured everything into the filly. Because foals nurse up to seventeen times per hour during the first week of life, Elena jacked herself up on caffeine and vigilantly nursed her when others told her it was likely to no avail. But there was grit in Karma’s eyes. There was desire—desire to live, desire to race. These animals were born to run—running was what they knew. Elena had grown up around racehorses and she understood them. And Elena sensed that Karma knew it was her destiny to fly on the track.

She was going to see that the horse fulfilled her destiny.

The “Co.” in the stable’s name now stood for the horses. Especially her girl Karma, whom Carter had the gall to call about one night after hearing that Elena was working herself to the bone to see that the filly survived. “It’s a waste, Elena. Look, I still care about you. It just wasn’t meant to be between us, but I certainly don’t want to see you make yourself sick over some horse.”

All Elena had said back was, “Can I see Sophia?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s finally bonding with Patty.”

“Don’t ever call me again. I’m fine.” She’d hung up the phone, wiped the tears that had sprung to her eyes with the memory of Sophia’s sweet face and the times spent with her. That was the night
when she cemented her determination to see her filly become one of the greats.

And the night she gave the filly her name.

Karma was rapidly becoming America’s sweetheart. Her story was the kind that people loved. Made them feel good. The only dark cloud in Elena’s and Karma’s lives had been the horrendous murder of Karma’s jockey, Tommy Lyons. The kid had been a bright and shining star. A good guy. A good rider. A jockey who loved his job and the horses. Elena missed him. She’d thought of him as a little brother. Tommy had been so grateful when she’d given him the ride on Karma at her maiden race a year ago. They continued on together after that, until Tommy was murdered a month ago in San Diego. Karma was burning up the tracks up and down the West Coast, and had been back east twice now—all successful meets.

Both Tommy and Elena had agreed that the filly had more talent than any animal they’d seen in a long time. Whispers of the next Zenyatta were springing up across tracks around the country, and the fact that they had been invited to the Infinity—with a good chance of crossing the finish line first—was causing a lot of interest in her once-sickly girl. But the void Tommy had left remained deep in Elena’s heart, and she prayed daily that his and Katarina’s killer be caught. Tommy should have been the one to ride Karma in the big race.

Elena had to find a quick replacement for Karma’s jockey—painful as it had been, it had been necessary. She’d hired Juan Perez. Perez had come into the picture right after the murders, and Juan and Karma seemed to have a connection that was making them a winning team. Juan was a pro. He’d been around for a long time and knew how to get horses across the finish line in top placements.

Elena could hear Juan coming down through the barn aisle before she could she see him. Perez was a whistler. The Oakwood
meet would finish up that week, and then they were headed to Vegas for the Infinity. Today was Karma’s last go at Oakwood.

“Morning, Señorita Purdue.” Juan approached her, stick in hand. He twirled it around like an acrobat.

Elena stood outside Karma’s stall forking over the carrots and drinking down her third coffee of the morning, and it was not quite ten o’clock. She ran on caffeine. “Juan. You ready for today?” Today they would be running in a stakes race. Nice purse. All eyes were on her horse.

“I am. I am.” He ran his hand down the bay filly’s snip. Her big brown eyes shone softly in the light of the morning.

“Natalie took her out for a short exercise at daybreak.”

“Good. Good. Big stuff, this filly. And I like the bug,” he replied, referring to Karma’s exercise rider.

“Be careful with the
bug
. Those young, pretty girl jockeys can get someone like you into a heap of trouble. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Don’t go robbing any cradles.” Elena raised her eyebrows.

Juan waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. I’m her mentor. That’s it. Natalie…she’s just a bug to me with a lot to learn, but the horse likes her, which makes me like her. I like the filly better.” He winked at her. “Besides, you know I like you, Elena.”

Elena shook her head. “Juan. That was one night, and we’d both had too much to drink, and I’m sorry. As I told you after, we need to be strictly business. I don’t want to mix that up with something we don’t need to be mixing it up with.”

Damn
. How could she have been so stupid? Not long after she’d hired Perez, they’d wound up having dinner at her place to go over some things. They drank too much, and she’d been lonely. Perez was smooth and handsome. And now she felt like a slut, but what was done was done. She didn’t want to change jockeys again. He was doing a great job with the horse, and he was one of the best.
She’d been trying to remain mature about the entire thing, but he wasn’t letting it go. “Just ride my horse, Perez. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Okay, señorita. As you wish. I love the filly. Don’t doubt that.”

“Yeah. She’s a good mare.” Elena smiled. “Did you see this morning’s paper?” Switching the topic to focus on the horse made her happy.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Sports section. Tells our story. And they’re betting that Karma will be first across the finish line at the Infinity.” Elena smiled broadly. “She’s making a name for herself.”

“That colt of Farooq’s, he’s nice, too. And with Laugherty training…” He shrugged and flipped the crop in the air. “We got some competition, lady.”

Elena now frowned. “Of course he’s nice. The sheikh has a lot of nice horses. The colt is fast, I’m not going to argue that. Laugherty is one of the best trainers out there, but don’t discount my efforts.” She swallowed more caffeine and regretted her words. In this sport, a lot of money spent on a horse didn’t necessarily mean much, but sometimes a thousand dollars spent on a horse with so-so breeding could mean the world. It was a bit of a crapshoot.

“Sorry,” Perez said. “I would never discount your efforts. It’s gonna be a good race.”

Elena shook her head. “It will be. But the girl and I here aren’t feeling threatened. Are we?” She ran her long manicured nails—her one real indulgence for herself—through the mare’s wiry, black mane. “I’d better get on with it. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I have a few more rides to watch right now.” She held her coffee cup up high, first to Karma. “Looks like a good day for the winner’s circle, sweet girl.” Then she held it up to Perez. “Ready to kick some ass out there?”

“Always, señorita.”

Elena smiled and headed down the row and out toward the track, where the morning workouts were almost finished.

On her way she passed an old friend. Pete O’Leary. He’d actually been more than a friend at one time, over a dozen years ago when she had been barely twenty-one and he’d been thirty. The romance had been short but oh so sweet, until O’Leary had decided she was too young for him and that his schedule running all over the country wasn’t fair to her.

Of course, there’d been a lot more to it than that.

Elena had always suspected her father had his hand in making sure the romance didn’t go any further. Dillion Purdue never admitted it, and O’Leary had denied it, but one thing Elena knew about her father: if he didn’t want you around either of his daughters, then you weren’t going to be around his daughters. Dillion Purdue had been a respected big-time attorney out of Los Angeles back in the day and also owned some of the finest horses on the track. Elena felt traded in when O’Leary began riding some of her dad’s top horses. She knew exactly what deal had been cut.

She’d cried to her sister Leann, who tried to help, but she was living in the UK at the time, and didn’t want to get between Elena and their father. That was understandable. Most people never got in Dillion Purdue’s way. Their dad was gone now. He’d passed away two years ago, and their mother had moved down to Florida to be near some of her longtime friends.

The funny thing about O’Leary was—unlike Carter, whom Elena could never forgive—her heart still skipped a beat every time she saw him. Even though his life had taken a dark turn. He’d been her first love, and that was something one didn’t ever forget.

“Hey, El.” He was obviously headed back to the barns, atop a horse.

“O’Leary.” God damn! Why did her stomach sink and fill with butterflies when she looked into his crystal-blue eyes? “How are things?”

“Oh you know. Comme ci, comme ça,” he replied.

“Right.” She looked down at her feet, hiding her smile from him, and shook her head. “Good luck today.”

“You, too, El.”

She continued to walk past him and the dappled gray horse he rode.

“Hey, El?”

She turned around. He’d stopped the horse, who danced in place anxiously. “Yeah?”

“We should grab a beer sometime.”

She thought about it for a minute. “How about coffee?”

He smiled that old familiar smile—the one that had convinced her to go to bed with him when she was a girl. “Okay. Coffee it is. When?”

“Oh God. You’re serious?” she said.

“Yeah.”

She looked toward the track, seeing dirt fly through the air behind a horse, clipping the time away. She tucked a loose piece of her auburn-colored hair into her ponytail. “I don’t know. I’ve got to get ready for the Invitational. We’re traveling in two days.”

“Good. We can have coffee tomorrow morning and dinner in Vegas.”

“You’re going to Vegas?” she asked.

“I am. I may not be riding, but I will be watching. I wouldn’t miss the biggest race in the world now, would I?”

“I guess you wouldn’t.”

“Coffee tomorrow, then dinner in Vegas.” He smiled.

“I didn’t say anything to you about dinner,” she replied. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes you will. See you in the morning.”

Elena turned back around, trying to force the smile off her face. How was it that O’Leary could still do that to her after a dozen years?

5

“There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.”
—Winston Churchill

What goes on behind the eyes of a horse? Is it all a lot of nothing in the brain? Eat, sleep, respond nicely to good care, suck it up when humans don’t care? Is there feeling, emotion? Is there a thought process there?