The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (33 page)

"Kir Royal?"

Michaela glanced behind her as she felt a whisper
tickle her ear. "Excuse me?"

"You look like a Kir Royal. I mean, like the
kind of woman who would order one."

The man speaking to her was beautiful. It was that
simple. He had a Robert Redfordesque thing, circa 1980, going on. He was
probably in his forties. Gorgeous blue eyes that took her breath away, blond
hair that dipped into his eyes which he kept brushing back. Skin that looked as
if he'd just come back from some island escape. Camden would definitely approve
of his physique, and especially his attire—had to be Armani or some such
designer.
Divine
was the only word that came to mind. Again she thought
of Camden, who used that adjective on many occasions to describe men she met,
but never had that word crossed Michaela's mind until now. Then, she caught herself,
because that was not how she thought of men. No. She was not one of those women
who went for looks and no substance. But, wait a minute, how did she know this
man had no substance? Anyone who looked as handsome as he did couldn't have any
substance. Obviously! She found herself coyly replying, "Really? And how
does a woman who would order a Kir Royal look?" Now where in the world had
that come from?

"I don't know. Sophisticated, educated,
intelligent, good taste but not materialistic. A good woman. A beautiful
woman."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh. "How often
does that line work for you?"

He smiled. "Often."

"I'm sure."

"Hudson Drake." He shook her hand with a
nice, strong handshake.

"Michaela Bancroft."

"Do you have a horse running?"

She laughed again. "No. I actually train
reining horses. I'm here with a friend of mine."

"A gentleman, I take it."

The man was interested in her. Michaela felt heat
throughout her body. She
was
just like Camden. Put a pretty face in
front of her and it was as if the brain cells suddenly all died and she went
all gaga. Memories of her ex-husband, Brad, ran through her mind. Another
pretty boy—bad news. "No," she said, surprising herself. Why couldn't
she lie, even to a stranger? He smelled good though. Maybe that was why? Oh
boy, the brain cells had definitely exited the brain. His smell. Mmm. Like
cedar and vanilla, maybe some musk thrown in. "An old friend. We're in
Kathleen Bowen's box."

"Really? I'm good friends with her ex,
Hugh."

"Huh," was all Michaela could utter. It was
her turn to order a drink.

Hudson Drake stepped in front of her. "Kir
Royal and a dirty martini, strong."

"Thank you," Michaela said as the
bartender handed them their drinks and Hudson paid. "You didn't have to do
that."

"I wanted to."

"So, you know Hugh?"

He nodded. "And Kathleen and their daughter,
Olivia. The entire crew."

"How do you know them?"

He took a sip from his drink. "I'm the CEO at
Eq Tech. Hugh is one of our major investors; we've been friends for some
time."

"My friend, actually the woman I came here
with, her brother works for you."

"Who is that?"

"Bob Pratt."

Something in Hudson's eyes darkened.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

He didn't answer her right away, taking a sip from
his drink and looking as if he were trying to carefully select his words.
"It's…about Bob. I probably need to speak with your friend."

"What? Why?"

"I didn't know when or how long I should wait
before I called her. I keep thinking that…" He took another sip. Worry
wrinkled his forehead. "Really, I should speak with her."

Hudson Drake had her concerned now. "I've
known Audrey for a long time. And, you are scaring me. I don't like your tone
or what I'm reading from you. Can't you please tell me what's going on?"

He brought the drink to his lips again, taking a gulp.
What in the hell was going on? After a few seconds he nodded. "Okay. Maybe
I should tell you, and see what you think. I might be jumping the gun talking
to his sister. At least that's what I want to believe. Bob hasn't shown up for
work since Tuesday."

"THREE DAYS?" MICHAELA SAID. "YOU
HAVEN'T SEEN Bob in three days?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Today being Saturday means
it's been four days, but it is the weekend, so it's not as if he'd be at work
anyway. I've called his house, his cell phone, even stopped by his place last
night. No one there."

"Have you called the police?"

He sighed. "No. I…listen, how much do you
know about Bob's past?"

"Enough to know that you might be thinking he
fell off the wagon and is out on a bender, and you're trying to maintain status
quo before rushing to the worst possible conclusion," Michaela replied.

He smiled. "I knew I liked you. That's
exactly what I'm thinking. I like Bob. He's a good man, and sometimes things
happen. He mentioned that a woman he was seeing was really sick—I think he said
that she had cancer—and she didn't want to see him any longer. When he didn't
show up on Wednesday, I thought that maybe he wasn't feeling well. I was in and
out of meetings all day. Maybe I missed his call. I don't know. Then, on Thursday,
I started to grow concerned. But I didn't want to alert his family—his
sister—right away because what if all it turned out to be was that he was holed
up somewhere with some booze? Once he came out of it, he'd realize what he'd
done. He's a smart guy. He knows I won't can him over this. I am all about
second chances, and trust me, Bob is a good enough vet and scientist that I
don't want to lose him. I've gone back and forth on calling his sister. I
didn't want to upset her or cause problems."

"I hear you…but he needs to be found. I think
you're probably right. I know he's fought this battle off and on for some time,
but still, he needs help."

"You think I should tell his sister,
then?" Hudson asked.

Michaela shrugged. "Audrey needs to know.
It's that simple. I think I should tell her, though. She doesn't know you, and
it might be better coming from me."

"I agree. Whatever she'd like me to do; I can
call the police or a private investigator if we need one. However she thinks it
should be handled. I was thinking maybe I could visit some of the bars he used
to go to, but I'm not sure what they would be."

"She might know."

"Thank you. You've been a godsend. I can't
tell you how stressed I've been over this. Bob was supposed to vet here today
and I'd hoped he would show up, but so far he hasn't. Maybe he'll come through.
Come to his senses."

"I hope so." Michaela dreaded having to
tell Audrey this news, but she really didn't have a choice. She needed to know
what was going on, and together they could find out where Bob was and what had
happened. She tried to keep thoughts of the worst at bay. She'd dealt with
addictions in her own family with her dad, who had a gambling problem. She knew
the strain it put on a family, and she knew how all-consuming it could be for
the addict. So consuming, in fact, that it could cause someone to fall off the
face of the world and not return for some time. She even doubted that the
police would get too involved if they were aware of Bob's past and his
struggles with alcohol and pills. Still, a nagging sensation in her gut made
her wonder if there was something more to Bob's disappearance. She knew from
Audrey how wonderful he'd been doing, how much he enjoyed his new job. But
Audrey had mentioned to her this morning that she'd been concerned about Bob's
behavior recently. Poor Audrey. On top of her issues with Olivia and the rest
of the Bowen family, the woman didn't need any more stress.

Hudson reached into his coat pocket and pulled out
a couple of business cards, handing them to her. "Those are my numbers.
Maybe one of you could give me a call?"

"Sure."

"Well, I've got a box full of people, I
better get back."

"Okay. It was nice to meet you, and thanks
for the drink."

"I couldn't pass up an opportunity to meet a
Kir Royal girl."

She laughed.

"Hey, would you like to join me in my box?"
Hudson asked.

Her stomach sank again. "I can't. I'm with
Audrey and as I said, we were invited to sit in Kathleen Bowen's box."

"I understand." He paused for a minute.
"You know, I have this benefit to go to next weekend. I hate those things,
but would you like to go with me? That would sure make it less unbearable. It's
a good cause. Some of the same people here today will be there. We're raising money
for handicapped riders."

"I don't live here. I'm from Indio."
Now, why hadn't she simply responded with a
No, thank you
? Them dead
brain cells again. She did like the sound of what the benefit was for,
especially since she was working with Gen and thinking about running her own
therapeutic riding program.

"That's not a problem." He pulled a
handful of keys from his jacket pocket and took one off the ring. "This is
to an apartment I own in Century City. Actually, the company owns it. We let
associates or reps coming in for the weekend that kind of thing, stay there.
Why don't you come and stay for the weekend, go to the benefit? You can do your
own thing: shop, relax, whatever you want."

Michaela looked at the key, stunned. "I don't
shop much. I don't know you. I like you fine. You seem nice and…" He certainly
was handsome. "But, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I just can't." Okay, once again, a
simple
No, thank you,
would have sufficed.

He frowned. "Are you seeing someone?"

A vision of Jude came to mind. "Sort
of."

"In my book a sort of is not a yes or no. All
I'm asking is for you to come to the benefit with me. Not a date. Join me, stay
in the company apartment. We'll have fun and that'll be that. It's for a good
cause."

She looked down at the key in her hand. She
couldn't do that, could she? What about Jude? It
was
a good cause…and
Jude and her weren't dating, not yet, not technically. "Okay. I'll
go."

"Good." He wrote down the address on the
back of his card. "Why don't you call me this week and I'll give you
directions?" He winked at her and walked away.

Talk about blurred boundaries. Now why had she
gone and done that? Here she'd had thoughts of staying far away from men, after
what she'd been through with Brad. But she'd allowed Jude to get close to her,
and now she was accepting a date from a stranger. And, not just a date, but to
stay in his apartment? Well, his company's apartment. What had she just done?
One thing was for certain: Camden would be proud. Yes, indeed, she'd for sure
get the "You go, girl," from her pal. Maybe there
was
something to this blurred boundary thing. Certainty was comfortable. But at
that moment she felt a sense of excitement that she hadn't experienced in quite
some time. Yes, maybe it was time to blur the lines.

WHEN MICHAELA MADE IT TO THE BOX, SHE WAS relieved
to find herself alone for a moment. She scanned the crowd, noticing all the
usual suspects and many not-so-usual suspects. The quarter horse races at La
Catalina were a little different than Thoroughbred racing. More cowboy hats and
less suits, more down-home Americana and less celebrity fare, but still plenty
of folks with champagne tastes, and they'd get what they'd come here for—a run
for their money and
much
more. June, in what could be considered muggy
for the OC; the quarter horses would be running today. Quarters ran shorter,
faster races compared to the Thoroughbred, and "the quarter-mile
race" was how the quarter got its name. Back in the day, the original
cowboys enjoyed racing their ponies for quarter miles, discovering they were
sprinters and had extreme speed from the get-go, but weren't endurance runners
like the Thoroughbred—thus the quarter horse breed was born.

Michaela set down her Kir Royal, now nearly
finished, and smiled. She dug through her purse, locating a rubber band to hold
her blond hair. Thankfully, the box was in the shade.

"Not bad, huh?" Audrey walked into the
box. "The seats. It pays to have friends in high places."

"I can see that. You okay? That scene with
Olivia didn't seem too pleasant."

"Nothing I can't handle. She's having a rough
patch of it right now. We'll get through it. I see you've been to the
bar." She walked around the back of the row of seats and over to a table
where a bottle of champagne chilled. "I don't think Kathleen will mind. It
appears as if she's already begun." She held the bottle up, which was half
empty. Audrey poured herself a glass and refreshed Michaela's. She nodded to
her. "A toast to Olivia today…and Kathleen's horse Halliday. He's a fine
animal. Expected to win. We should definitely go and place a bet on him."

Michaela nodded. "To Olivia and Halliday it
is."

"Here, here," another woman's voice from
behind them rang out. Kathleen Bowen entered the box. "I will second that.
To my daughter and my horse. Shall they both be winners today." She smiled
brightly, her gray eyes—the same color as her pageboy-coiffed hair—lit up,
emphasizing the deep lines around her eyes and mouth. Kathleen was a smoker and
a sun lover, both of which had taken their toll on her face. "Nice to see
you again, Michaela," Kathleen said, stubbing out her cigarette and
blowing the smoke away from Audrey and Michaela. "Good of you to make it.
Hope my horse wins and my daughter breaks a leg." She gave Audrey a hug.
"And, how are you? You look great as always. Have you seen Olivia?"
She asked, and took a sip of champagne from the flute she was holding.

"Just came from there," Audrey said.
"You look great, too. Big day."

"Mmm, yes it is." Kathleen set her
champagne down after taking another long sip.

"What time will Olivia go on?" Michaela asked.