The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (57 page)

"You know it. I take it you're on your way
now."

"I just pulled into the parking garage, so
I'll see you soon. I'm looking forward to it."

He laughed. "We're going to have a great
time. Did you get a gown?"

"I have one." She'd stopped at one of
the million malls along Interstate 5, quickly deciding on a simple long silk
lavender gown, one of the classic types. Nothing fancy in the least, but she figured
it would be appropriate.

"I have a surprise waiting for you inside the
apartment," he said.

"You do? What is it?"

"I can't tell you, or it wouldn't be a surprise.
I'll pick you up at six."

Michaela unlocked the door to the apartment and
was stunned by its opulence. She knew walking through the front courtyard with
its water fountains and immaculate garden that it would be nice, but this
surpassed
nice
. Her nerves were buzzing. A decorator had done the
apartment up beautifully. It was about 1,500 square feet of amazing views of
Century City from all angles. The living room area was done in metallic colors
of gold, bronze, and olive, with the sofa done in a gold-and-bronze damask
pattern. Two matching leather chairs faced a fireplace in front of ceiling-high
windows. A vase with a dozen red roses stood on the long mahogany dining room
table with a card attached that had her name on it. The flowers were beautiful.

She opened the card. It was from Drake, saying
that there would be many surprises tonight.

Michaela headed to the bedroom. She walked with
trepidation; what she found sitting on the gold sateen bedspread of a
four-poster bed was an amazing gown, its color a perfect shade of pink rose,
with a long
V
down the back outlined with small beads and sequins. The
front was a scoop neck with folds of silk that looked as though they would lie
delicately across a woman's chest. Michaela picked it up. It was the right
size—a six. On the bed next to the dress was a pair of shoes the same color of
the dress with thin straps and high heels. Looked like Hudson Drake was out to
romance her.

Michaela showered, and then slipped the gorgeous
gown over her head, smiling as the fabric fell gracefully along the
still-youthful curves of her body. After stepping into the heels and adjusting
the straps, she arranged her hair into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck,
and applied more makeup than usual, going dramatic on the eyes and trying hard
not to mess up. She was looking at herself in the mirror, applying the last
touches of her makeup, adding the simple gold earrings she'd brought with her,
when the doorbell rang. Her hands shook.

She opened it to see Hudson standing there.
"Amazing," he said. "I knew it would be, though."

"Thank you…for all of it. You didn't have to
buy a dress for me or the shoes, or even the roses. You've been way too
kind."

"All for a beautiful woman. I have one more
gift."

"Oh no. I couldn't accept anything
else."

He smiled as he brought a small bag out from
behind his back and handed it to her. "Open it," he said.

She took out a small handbag, silver with pink
roses appliquéd onto it. "This is beautiful. It matches perfectly."

"That was the plan. Now, put whatever you
need in it and let's get going. The limo is waiting and I have a bottle of
champagne chilling."

The event was held at the Beverly Hills Hotel, the
utmost in old Hollywood prestige and money. The red carpet was laid out for all
attending. Once inside they saw about three hundred guests milling around,
drinking champagne and chatting each other up, all in their diamonds and
pearls.

Michaela spotted Olivia walk in, Hugh on one side
of her and Josh on the other. She looked sober. She approached them as Hudson
was busy speaking with some business associates. Hugh smiled at her. "I
heard about what you did for my daughter."

Michaela didn't know what to say.

"I told my dad. Josh convinced me that it was
a good idea."

"We're here for you." Josh rubbed
Olivia's arm. "I want to thank you, too," he told Michaela.

"I'm going to rehab next week," Olivia
said.

"That's good to hear. How about your
riding?"

"One day at a time," Hugh said.
"But I want her to pursue her dreams. Audrey wanted that for her,
too."

Michaela nodded. "She did."

"I've arranged for her service to be next Wednesday.
It'll be in Indio."

"Thank you. I wish you would've leaned on me for
some help," Michaela said.

"I think it would be appropriate for you to
speak."

"I'd love to do that. Oh, about my trailer
and Geyser: I told Josh that I would have my assistant, Dwayne, take care of
it."

"Of course."

"Well, I should probably get back to my
date," she said.

Hugh kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you again,"
he whispered in her ear.

Michaela smiled and started to return to Hudson,
when she spotted none less than the spectacle of Bridgette Bowen sauntering up
to the bar flanked by Frederick Callahan, who wore a second ornament on his
other arm—a striking, tall blonde. Michaela shook her head.
Some people
never learn
. She buzzed by the spectacle, saying, "Bridgette, how are
you? I heard about your split from Hugh. It's terrible. So sorry."

Bridgette scooted in tighter next to Callahan.
"Some moves are strategic. Some just smart. You think I didn't plan my
most recent maneuver?"

Callahan rolled his eyes and grinned.

"I think that you plan everything out very
carefully," Michaela said. "Nice to see you, Freddie. How's your
heart?"

She left knowing that her slight would make
Bridgette's blood boil.

Steve Benz was setting up on the stage. Michaela
walked up to him. "Hey Steve, how's it going?"

Benz glared at her. "Great. The psycho-bitch
is here."

"Right. Takes one to know one." She
smiled, knowing it was a childish remark, but wanting to continue getting under
his skin, which she obviously did. He was such an ass. She really hoped that
Smith had sold those photos of Benz and Bridgette to a rag magazine.

Oh yes, all the usual suspects were here,
including Kathleen Bowen, who sat next to Marshall Friedman, lots of bling
around her neck. Hmmm. Michaela sat down next to them. "How was New York?
Nice shopping spree?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking
about," Kathleen said aghast.

"Really?"

"What kind of question is that? You know this
wacko?" Friedman asked Kathleen.

"I'd rather be a wacko than a jackass,"
she told him and got up from the table.

"Well, I never," she heard Kathleen say
as she walked to her own table.

Sitting down, she heard someone behind her say,
"Champagne?" She turned around and smiled.

"Don't mind if I do."

Joe smiled and winked at her. "Told you we
had your back," he said in a low voice. "This place is crawling with
cousins."

As the evening wore on and patrons went through
the scrumptious buffet line, Michaela grew nervous. She knew that the time was
fast approaching when their plan would go down. Could she really do it? Maybe
she should have another glass of champagne. No, she needed to think clearly.

"Are you all right?" Hudson asked.
"You've gotten kind of quiet in the last half hour."

"I'm fine. Tired. That's all." She
looked around the table. Hugh, Olivia, and Josh sat at their table along with
another couple that Michaela didn't know but who apparently owned a slew of
racehorses. Mr. and Mrs. Black—older, sophisticated, and obviously quite
wealthy.

Michaela turned to Mr. Black. "Do you use Eq
Tech supplements on your racehorses?"

"Of course," he said. "It's a great
product. I'm thinking of investing some money in the company." He smiled
at Hudson.

"I'm looking forward to it," Hudson
said. "I think we can grow this company tenfold and really make a
difference around the world in the performance of athletic equines."

The waitstaff was walking around, changing out the
cutlery in preparations for the filet mignon about to be served.

"Here, here," Mr. Black said, raising
his glass to toast.

Everyone around the table raised their glasses in
response. Michaela was slow on the uptake. When they finished, Hudson stood.
"I better get up to the microphone and get this auction rolling."

Michaela grabbed his arm. "Wait. I'm sorry,
but could I say something? Can I make an announcement?"

Hudson sat back down. "What is it?"

"I think I told you that I'm planning to open
up a therapeutic riding center for autistic kids."

"Yes."

"Well," she lowered her voice as the
others at the table began talking amongst themselves, "there are a lot of
wealthy people here who might be interested in contributing to the center for
autism. It's a worthy charity. But I don't want to steal your thunder."

"Oh no, not at all. Please, make your
announcement." Hudson stood up with Michaela and escorted her to the
stage.

Her hands trembled when she took the microphone.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Michaela Bancroft and I'm here to
make a very important announcement." She paused. The crowd's eyes were on
her, and once again she didn't know if she could go through with this, until
she spotted Joe in the corner. "You see, I lost a very dear friend this week
to the hands of a killer."

She spotted Hudson, who had been walking back to
their table, stop and turn around, a smile still on his face, but looking at
her oddly.

"And the killer is here, in this room."

"She's a nut," Marshall Friedman shouted.
"Get her off the stage."

"Michaela? What's this about?" Hugh said,
standing.

"Trust me, Hugh; you will want to hear what I
have to say. I couldn't figure out why anyone would kill my friend Audrey
Pratt. She was one of the sweetest people that I've ever known. The tragedy
about the way she lost her life is that she probably had no idea why she was
being murdered when it happened. She was killed because someone wanted to hide
something. Something he thought that she knew about. But she didn't."

"What are you doing, Michaela?" Hudson
asked,

"Good question. I've had an interesting
conversation with the Blacks this evening about how highly they value Eq Tech
supplements." She eyed the Blacks. "I'm sure many of you here use the
product and think it's wonderful. But what would you say if I told you that
those supplements can kill your horses?"

The room, which had grown silent now, made a
collective gasping sound.

"I told you that she was crazy,"
Friedman said.

"Psycho-bitch!" Benz yelled out.

"Michaela, maybe you need to have a
seat." Callahan stood and started walking toward her. She spotted Joe
moving.

"I guess I didn't realize that my date was
also the entertainment for the evening. She's had too much to drink. Michaela,
come down from there," Hudson said.

She pointed at him. "You orchestrated Bob
Pratt's disappearance because he knew the chemicals in your supplements could
be deadly. He reported his findings to you and told you that if you didn't take
the product off the market, he'd reveal what you were doing." Her words
came out in rapid fire now.

"This is insane." Hudson moved closer to
the stage.

"No.
You're
insane. When you hired
Enrique and Juan Perez to kidnap Bob and take him to Mexico to kill him, you
had already learned that Bob had sent a file to his sister that you didn't want
anyone to see. A file that proved his findings about the supplements. You
stalked her at the races and murdered her when the opportunity was there. You
murdered her hired hand Francisco, too, when you surprised him at her ranch
while searching for the file. The thing is, what you didn't know is that I
ultimately wound up with the file."

"Get down from there! This is all
bullshit." Hudson's face was turning red.

Joe made his way to the front of the room. He set
a tray down on one of the tables.

"She's telling the truth." The crowd
turned to see a man hobbling in, his right eye heavily bandaged. He'd been
badly beat up.

"Bob!" Bridgette Bowen exclaimed.

"Oh my God," Hugh said.

A murmur floated through the banquet room. With
all eyes on Bob Pratt, Michaela and the rest of the crowd failed to see Hudson
grab a steak knife from one of the server's trays. Moving quickly, he lunged at
her. She felt the knife strike her leg as she stumbled. Joe and the cousins
hadn't been able to move fast enough and Michaela found herself being dragged
down off the stage by Hudson, the knife to her throat, blood seeping from her
leg.

"You blew it," Hudson said into her ear.
"You're coming with me."

She watched Joe and a half dozen other men
approaching them.

"Get the fuck back!" Hudson yelled.
"I will kill her. I will! Let us walk out of here and she might have a
chance to live. Anyone else comes any closer and she dies. Her blood will be on
all of your hands."

The men froze as Hudson, his arm still around her
neck, backed out of the banquet room. Blood rushed through Michaela's insides,
turning them ice cold as she realized these were likely her last moments alive.

HUDSON DRAGGED MICHAELA UP ONTO THE HOTEL roof. The
knife had sliced through her skin on her throat, and she noticed a trickle of
blood falling onto her bare arm. He'd manhandled her up the stairs and she'd
torn the dress. When she'd spoken with him earlier, then seen the dress and all
of the gifts he'd left for her in the apartment, it had taken everything she
had to muster up the courage to play out the role of his happy date. The last
thing she wanted to do was alert him that she knew Bob Pratt was alive, and
that the truth about everything was about to come out.