The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (37 page)

"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.

Michaela knew she should just get on the freeway
and head home, but someone had murdered her friend, and the ache she felt in
her body every time she thought about what had happened to Audrey compelled her
to find the answers.
And
, she had an inkling that the answers might lie
somewhere amongst this strange crew of individuals Audrey had been associated
with.

MICHAELA PULLED INTO HUGH BOWEN'S ESTATE and
training facility up in the hills of Malibu. Although her ranch was not shabby
in the least—her uncle had built up quite an estate—it paled in comparison to
Hugh's place. After ringing the button on the security gate and responding to
what she guessed had been Hugh's wife, Bridgette, on the other end, the gate
opened. She wondered if Bridgette realized who she was. Doubtful.

The road up to the house, if it could be called a
house—more of a mansion…no, a villa, actually—was cobblestone. Off to one side
was a large pasture filled with grazing mares and their foals, the moms busy
eating, their babies romping, some nursing. Pretty picture. Michaela sighed and
rolled down her window, taking in the sweetness of the leftover marine layer
wafting up from the coast only a few miles away. Off to the other side was a
racetrack. Straight ahead she could see an indoor arena, and next to it,
holding what she figured was up to a hundred horses, a large barn built of
light wood and trimmed in teal and yellow—Bowen's ranch colors. All of his
jockeys' silks were in these colors. Amazingly artistic looking. Farther back
up on a hill stood the villa, replete with that old-world Italian look: arches
and large paned windows, brightly boxed flowers hanging off balconies, and on
one side of the house, ivy entwined from the ground on up. The place truly
looked like it should be set amid the rolling hills of Tuscany.