by Lee Hollis
“Whoa, Lightning! Whoa!”
But her commands fell on deaf ears.
This horse was not going to listen.
She contemplated jumping. But the horse was running so fast now she knew it would be impossible for her to land without at least a few broken bones.
She just held on to the reins with all her might and hoped for the best.
Lightning neighed and kept galloping—dust from the dirt path kicking up like a cloud cover—before veering off into a wooded area toward a pond.
When they reached the edge of the pond, the horse seized up, stopping abruptly, and Hayley found herself thrown out of the saddle and sailing through the air before splashing down in the pond face first. Her nose and mouth filled with water, and for a brief second she felt as if she was drowning before flapping her arms and emerging above the surface, sputtering and coughing and finally able to find some footing.
Lightning was a few feet away, calmly grazing on some grass, oblivious to the fact he had just nearly killed her.
Hayley dragged herself out of the pond, picking weeds from her hair and spitting out pond scum as she crawled over to a dry patch of land spotted with sweet white violets.
She wiped her mouth.
She heard the sound of horse hooves trotting up the carriage trail in her direction and lifted her head to see Thorsten Brandt, confidently astride his loyal horse Thunder, approaching.
“Are you all right?” Thorsten said, unsuccessful in his attempt to pretend he wasn’t thoroughly enjoying this moment.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Hayley said defiantly, climbing to her feet and brushing off the dirt. “I can’t imagine what could have spooked him so much.”
Thorsten shrugged. “He usually responds to an experienced rider.”
He was calling her on her lie.
He knew she wasn’t experienced.
He was teaching her a lesson.
“Perhaps Lightning has a sixth sense. Most animals do,” Thorsten said, his superior German accent dripping in judgment.
“About what?”
“They know on some level when someone is lying, when someone is not being upfront and honest.”
“I really don’t know what you mean.”
Thorsten ran his hand down the black mane of his steed Thunder, and then casually and quietly said, “It might be in your best interest to stop lying about your intentions and stop poking your nose in private matters that don’t concern you. You obviously can’t handle Lightening so I would suggest you walk him back to the stables.”
And with that, Thorsten slapped the reins against Thunder’s back and the horse shot off down the carriage trail, leaving Hayley soaked and shivering and utterly humiliated.
After four attempts at grabbing Lightning’s reins, Hayley finally managed to get a good grip on the leather strap, and then she walked the rebellious and unruly horse back to the Wildwood Stables.
She was more than happy to hand him off to the stable boy, who offered his sincere apologies.
She thanked him and was about to hobble back to her car, still sore from being shot like a cannonball into the pond, when she heard the stable boy gasp.
“How did this get here?”
She turned around. “What?”
“There’s a burr in his saddle.”
Hayley walked over and the stable boy held out a prickly round object.
A burr.
Planted right underneath Lightning’s saddle.
“No wonder he was so unruly. The second you mounted him he felt a sharp jolt of pain.”
“How did it get there?”
The stable boy shook his head, a perplexed look on his face. “I don’t know. I put his saddle on myself before I brought him out. I swear it wasn’t there.”
Hayley didn’t have to press him any further because she knew how it got there.
Thorsten Brandt.
He’d slipped it under the saddle right before Hayley mounted Lightning.
She was sure of it.
He was hell-bent on teaching Hayley a lesson.
Or worse.
He was trying to kill her.
Chapter 24
“This is the tastiest spaghetti carbonara I’ve ever had in my life,” Aaron said, twirling the pasta around his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. “What’s your secret?”
“I’m just very generous with the parmesan and bacon,” Hayley said. “Seriously. It’s one of the easiest dishes to make.”
She lifted the bottle of Chardonnay and refilled his glass and then handed him a plate with a lone piece of crispy garlic bread.
He waved it away. “No, thanks. I’m getting full and I don’t want to leave anything on my plate. I want to wipe it clean.”
There was no danger of that not happening. There were just a few strands of spaghetti and some bacon bits left on it.
Hayley had been surprised when Aaron had called her as she drove home from the stables and told her he was free for dinner.
It was very last minute and he suggested they go out, but Hayley was in the mood to cook for him, and she preferred spending time with him alone at home instead of in a crowded restaurant where they would barely hear each other above the din of the other diners.
She also wanted him relaxed, in a quiet environment, where he might feel comfortable getting off his chest whatever it was that was on his mind.
Aaron set his fork down. “That’s it. No more. It was delicious, Hayley.”
“Thank you. Why don’t you go into the living room and I’ll bring in dessert and coffee and we can have a chat,” she said, starting to clear the table.
“About what?” he asked curiously.
“Whatever it is you want to talk about.”
They had made it through the whole dinner just making small talk. How busy his vet practice had gotten. How he was thinking about bringing in a partner to help alleviate the workload. A little about her appearance on The Chat and what a lovely time she had in New York.
A bit about how the kids were doing in their various exciting endeavors, but how she missed them and looked forward to Dustin coming home and Gemma visiting during her next college break.
Aaron seemed to be consciously avoiding what he had begun to say at the restaurant before he was interrupted by Nacho and Red’s violent brawl.
She didn’t want to pressure him, but she also couldn’t take the suspense for much longer.
She had to know.
Her life seemed to be on hold, just waiting for him to work up the courage.
Aaron sighed, wiped the sides of his mouth with a cloth napkin, and set it down on the table. “Okay. I wasn’t expecting to do this tonight. I’m not prepared. But I guess now is as good a time as any.”
The doorbell rang.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hayley groaned.
“Saved by the bell,” Aaron said with a smile.
And he obviously meant it.
Hayley wagged a finger at him. “You’re not off the hook. I’m getting rid of whoever that is.”
“I’ll go make the coffee,” Aaron said, standing up, a relieved look on his face. He quickly made his escape into the kitchen.
Frustrated, Hayley marched to the front door. She had to slow down halfway there. Her muscles ached and her back was still sore from the fall off the horse earlier that day. She was going to be in pain for some time.
When she reached the door, she flung it open to discover Mona standing on the porch.
At least it looked like Mona.
The woman in front of Hayley was much better dressed. She wore a lavender cashmere sweater and black pants and had a pearl necklace around her neck. If not for the pageboy haircut and the permanent scowl, Hayley might not have recognized her.
“Mona, what on earth . . . ?”
“What? Have I got something on my face?”
“No . . . you look . . . nice.”
“Thank you.”
“And what’s that scent? Are you wear
ing . . . perfume?”
“Yeah. It’s Beyoncé Heat. My daughter had some in her room she let me borrow. Smells nice, huh? So are you going to let me come in or what?”
The rehearsed speech Hayley had mentally prepared on her way to answer the door about how this was a bad time was completely lost. She was too stunned by Mona’s sharp and attractive appearance to object as her friend pushed her way inside.
“You busy?” Mona said, looking around, noticing the dirty dinner plates Hayley had set back down on the table and the two half-empty wineglasses.
“Kind of. Aaron’s here and we were just about to—”
Aaron walked in from the kitchen with two piping hot cups of coffee.
“Oh, hi, Aaron. Thanks,” Mona said, snatching one of the cups out of his hands so aggressively some coffee almost splashed all over his shirt.
“You’re welcome. Good to see you, Mona,” Aaron said.
Of course it was good to see her.
Her arrival was the perfect excuse to avoid proposing to Hayley.
Or dumping her.
At this stage, it was a fifty-fifty chance of going either way.
“Yeah, Aaron. Been a long time. Hayley tells me you’ve been in hiding. She never sees you. Makes us all wonder what the hell is going on.”
“Mona, did you just drop by to say hello or was there something you wanted?” Hayley interjected, trying to regain control of the conversation.
“Of course there’s a reason I’m here. I’m not like Liddy. I don’t just drop in unannounced. That’s downright rude, if you ask me. You always call first.”
But she hadn’t called.
Hayley decided to let that one slide by.
“I’m sure you’ll want to hear this one. Rhonda and I got together tonight for dinner. . . .”
“I’m sorry. Rhonda?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah. Rhonda Franklin. I’m sure you’ve heard of her,” Mona said, annoyed she had to fill in the details for Aaron, who was unfamiliar with the backstory.
“The TV star Rhonda Franklin?”
“Yes! How many frigging Rhonda Franklins do you think there are, Aaron? Anyway, we were having cocktails in her hotel room—”
“In her hotel room?” Aaron asked, stupefied.
“Have you been treating a lot of sick parrots at your vet practice lately, Aaron? Because you’re starting to sound like one.”
“Forgive me. I’m just a little surprised you spent the evening in Rhonda Franklin’s hotel room. Isn’t she a . . . ?”
“Lesbian. The word’s lesbian. And yes, she is. We decided to dine in her room tonight since the paparazzi was camped outside the hotel and we didn’t want to deal with all the cameras flashing and those nasty reporters screaming questions at her all night.”
“It’s just that you look so nice, like you were out on a date with your husband tonight.”
“My husband hasn’t left the house after the local news since 1998. I don’t see what the big deal is. Liddy’s always squawking at me to dress better. I just thought I’d make an effort, that’s all. And can’t a straight woman and a lesbian be friends without them being secret lovers? Rhonda and I are friends, okay? Is that against the law now?”
“I totally get it. My apologies. I won’t say another word,” Aaron said.
“Mona, I think it’s wonderful that you’ve made a new friend, but I’m just concerned about Rhonda,” Hayley said gently.
“Why?”
“Well, have you made it clear that your friendship is strictly platonic?”
“No, not in so many words. But she knows I’m not gay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Mona screamed before stopping herself and thinking about it. “I mean, pretty sure.”
Hayley folded her arms and stared at Mona.
“Okay, I haven’t exactly been up front about not being attracted to her in that way, but I’m having so much fun. She’s a real hoot to hang out with, and I’m afraid if she finds out we’ll never wind up in the sack together, she’ll stop seeing me, and that would really bum me out.”
“You have to tell her, Mona,” Hayley said.
“I know. I know. Tonight after we chowed down on room service and were having a nightcap, she put a hand on my knee as she was making a point and left it there, and I was about to say something, but the yelling in the next room started and I got distracted.”
“Who was yelling?”
“That’s why I came over here. I knew you’d want to know. I know you’re supposed to be the detective around here, Hayley, but you’ve got to step up your game. I’m the one who has been coming up with all the clues lately. First I see that two-bit floozy sneaking around with the German, and now I overhear a shouting match between her and her hippie boyfriend.”
“Red? They’re staying in the room next door?”
“Yeah. Rhonda told me they moved into the hotel to get away from Olivia’s husband, Nacho, until the estate is settled and they get the house and can kick him out.”
“Did Red find out she was cheating with Thorsten Brandt?”
“Oh yeah. There was a lot of banging and screaming, and I heard him tell her to get the hell out. They were done, over, kaput! She said she wasn’t going anywhere and he threatened to call the cops. When she wouldn’t budge, he actually did, and a few minutes later we heard Officer Donnie at the door and there was more yelling and crying. And Officer Donnie said the room was registered to Red so if he wanted her to go she had to go, and she still refused, so he had to escort her out by force. We heard her screaming all the way down the hall until he got her on the elevator and the door closed. And then it got real quiet and the hippie didn’t make another sound until I left.”
“Thorsten clearly had an agenda. He wanted Olivia out of the way to clear the path for his expansion plans with the company. He could have been in cahoots with Peggy, who had an influence over Red,” Hayley said.
“Listen, Hayley. I know we were going to have a talk tonight, but I have an early appointment tomorrow and really should go home and get some sleep.”
“No, Aaron, I can call Mona later. . . .”
“It’s all good. You stay, Mona. I’ll call you tomorrow, Hayley.”
Before Hayley could say another word, Aaron’s jacket was in his hand and he was heading out the door past Mona.
“By the way, you look real nice tonight, Mona,” he said, and then he was gone.
“He never said anything about how I look and he was here for two hours,” Hayley said, shaking her head, not sure what to make of his strange behavior.
“Damn, Hayley. I busted up your date. I’m real sorry.”
“It’s fine, Mona. I get the feeling he didn’t want to have any kind of serious discussion about our relationship.”
“You still think he’s going to propose?”
“I don’t know. If he was, he obviously chickened out. Or he’s having serious second thoughts.”
Chapter 25
Hayley knew Sergio couldn’t resist her bacon potato soup. She had also thrown in some crusty bread to dip in it and then drove straight over to the police station.
Sergio wasn’t surprised to see her walk through the door bearing comfort food. In fact, he looked as if he had been expecting her.
It was a quiet Sunday night. The station was empty except for Officer Earl, one of Sergio’s junior patrolmen, who sat behind his desk pretending to be filing a report, but Hayley could tell he was playing a video game on his computer. Her son, Dustin, had that same focused expression, quick flashes reflecting off his reading glasses, whenever he was wrapped up in Arkham Knight, zipping around in the Batmobile and taking down the bad guys.
Sergio waved Hayley into his office and she gave him a quick hug before making a beeline for his desk and unpacking the goodies she had brought.
“Randy said you were working late tonight, so I didn’t want you to go hungry,” Hayley said, pulling the lid off her Tupperware container and spo
oning the soup into a ceramic bowl.
The mouthwatering aroma wafted over to Sergio, who couldn’t resist. He sat behind his desk, anxiously waiting to be served.
“Well, wasn’t that nice of him. Did he tell you anything else?” Sergio said, eyeing her suspiciously.
“No,” Hayley said innocently, presenting Sergio with her homemade soup.
He scooped up a spoonful and ate it.
His eyes closed.
He was obviously in a state of euphoria.
He savored the taste for a few more seconds before putting his spoon down. “You mean he didn’t tell you I arrested Thorsten Brandt tonight?”
“Oh, that. He may have mentioned it. I plumb forgot.”
“I bet you did. You couldn’t get over here fast enough, could you?”
“I’ll admit I have a passing interest in Mr. Brandt given his connection to Olivia Redmond and the trouble he was having with her and my run-in with him at the Wildwood Stables. But I came here because I love you, Sergio, and I know you work hard, and I just want to make sure you’re eating properly. Now, is that a crime?”
“All right. We will pretend that’s why you are here and I will tell you why I arrested Mr. Brandt.”
“I assume you found some evidence linking him to Olivia Redmond’s murder,” Hayley said, inching closer, curious to know the truth.
“I have come across some evidence. But it does not connect him to Ms. Redmond’s murder.”
“Then what did he do?”
“I have cement proof—”
“Concrete.”
“What?”
“It’s ‘concrete proof.’ Not ‘cement proof.’”
“Are they not the same thing?”
“Well, yes. But the saying is ‘concrete proof.’”
“Why can’t you Americans make anything easy? Fine! Concrete proof. I have concrete proof that he put that burr underneath the saddle of the horse that threw you and nearly broke your spine yesterday.”
“What? Did a witness come forward?”
“Better than that. I have digital photos.”
