STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery)

by Bev Pettersen

  “Should I let him eat a little grass before he goes back in his stall?” Emily asked.

  “Sure,” Monty said. “He’d love that. He’s a bit of a pain so most of us don’t want to spend any extra time with him.”

  “Okay. Come on, boy. You deserve this.” Emily led the prancing horse outside. He was definitely a handful but it made her feel good to watch horses graze. To hear their contented sounds while they chewed. And it appeared Dan needed time with Anthony before he could leave anyway.

  She paused along the walkway, letting the gelding eat where he pleased. The horse was picky, not wanting to stand still, but Peanut had been like that too. When she’d been younger, it had been frustrating when the pony wouldn’t remain in one spot. Now she could relate. Horses were like people, simply searching for greener grass.

  Other than being incapable of pausing for more than thirty seconds, the gelding behaved perfectly. He did snort near the entrance to the first barn, but she guessed that was related to the possum. Horses had a keen sense of smell. Peanut knew when she had carrots in her pockets and was like a bloodhound sniffing for treats.

  “How are you two getting along?”

  Emily turned toward Dan’s deep voice. He always sounded so composed, despite the demands of his job.

  “Be alert,” he added. “That horse is spooky.” Dan moved closer and she caught the concern in his eyes.

  “He’s behaving,” she said. “We’ve already been out here about ten minutes.”

  “Did Monty ask you to graze him?”

  She shrugged, afraid Monty might get in trouble. However, Dan was waiting as though her answer was important. “No,” she said, “but I asked permission first, and he thought it was okay. We both thought it would be a good reward for the horse.”

  Dan inclined his head as if in total agreement, and it was then she realized he’d only been worried about her safety.

  “Are you in a hurry?” she asked, her voice rather breathy. “Want me to put him in now? Go see Billy?”

  “Give the horse another five minutes. It’s nice of you to give him extra grazing time.”

  He sounded surprised but she didn’t know why it was such a big deal. She gestured at the fence by the barn. “If you’re hungry, I left the box of doughnuts by the second post. That was thoughtful of you. Billy will be happy.”

  “It’s not Billy I’m trying to please,” Dan said. His eyes glinted and his smile turned rather wicked.

  “You pleased me last night.”

  “Good.” He stepped closer and gave her a one-armed hug. “This horse ground ties,” he murmured. “You can drop the lead line and he won’t run off.”

  She tilted her head, studying the restless horse. His ears flicked, and he constantly glanced around, checking their surroundings. He didn’t seem the type that would ground tie.

  “You’re not trying to get me fired?” she asked.

  Dan chuckled. “I trained him last week so we could let him loose in the aisle.”

  She dropped the lead line, expecting the high-strung horse to sidle away. However, he turned stock still, standing better now than when she’d been holding him. “Wow,” she breathed, “I’d love to learn how to train like that.”

  Dan stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe I could teach you,” he said, his voice almost rusty. “And you could learn a little more about wrangling…if you like.”

  “I’d like that.” Her heart beat a delighted staccato. “More than anything. Maybe I could apply for wrangling on your next movie.”

  “Maybe. Don’t you want to know where it’s being shot?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said. And oddly enough, it didn’t.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Dan guided Emily along the tree-lined drive, not that she didn’t know the way to Billy’s cottage, but he liked an excuse to touch her. She truly seemed content to work with horses. At least no actress he’d known had ever preferred to hold a grazing horse rather than brownnose with the director.

  She was loyal too, not the type to disappear with a wave and a kiss. He liked how she’d defended her snooping friend as well as her reluctance to leave the ailing caretaker, even though the old man sounded like a curmudgeon.

  And quite possibly a killer.

  Dan stopped walking, his hand tightening around her arm. “Don’t visit this guy alone again, okay? Not until we sort this out.”

  “I won’t.” Her eyes shadowed. “Do you think it can be sorted out?”

  “If Tracey’s bag is there and Billy doesn’t have a reasonable explanation, I’m sure there will be an investigation.” In fact, Anthony would be delirious with joy. Nothing sold movie tickets faster than a juicy scandal.

  “Billy has a lot of stuff crammed in there,” she said. “We might find some other things.”

  “Like other women’s bags?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Just other items that belonged to Tracey. You think there might be other women missing?”

  “I don’t know. According to the Hamiltons, Billy has always been reclusive. He was raised in that little cottage. Never left. This estate is the center of his existence.”

  She looked a little pale so he pulled her in for a reassuring hug and then couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. She tasted so sweet, her body molding perfectly to his. She’d like Hawaii, his next movie location, and he’d love rubbing coconut oil over her bikini line—

  The ground rocked. His ears throbbed from the concussion. Something smashed on the driveway, ricocheting scant feet away. He yanked Emily behind an oak tree. Smoke rose in a black clump, so close he could smell the acrid burning.

  “Stay here,” he said, pressing her shoulders. “There might be another explosion. Take a picture if any vehicles go by.”

  “But we need to get the horses out…” She peered past him, staring at the rising smoke in disbelief.

  “It’s not the stud barn,” he said grimly. “Stay here, Em.” He pressed a hard kiss on her mouth then ran down the drive, pulling out his phone on the way.

  He rounded the corner and jerked to a stop. The caretaker’s cottage was a mangled frame, marked by a burning pile of wood, glass and debris. He pressed nine-one-one and reported the location, guessing emergency vehicles would be at least thirty minutes away. There didn’t seem to be any need for an ambulance.

  “Oh, no.”

  He turned at Emily’s pained cry.

  “Billy might not be in there,” he said, tugging her back and pressing Anthony’s speed dial with his other hand. He didn’t want her anywhere near the debris field, at least until the fire was under control.

  Anthony answered with an anxious voice. “What happened? I heard the noise. Are you anywhere near the smoke?”

  “Right beside it,” Dan said. “It’s the caretaker’s cottage. Burning fast. Send over our water truck and paramedic.”

  “Anyone in there?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “Okay,” Anthony said. “Don’t be a hero.”

  Dan cut the connection and began snapping pictures, keeping his left arm tightly wrapped around Emily. “Did Billy have a gas stove?” he asked. “Propane? Paint? What about a car?”

  “Gas stove and paint,” Emily said, her voice subdued. “No car. But lots of cans and stuff. I don’t remember seeing a barbecue.”

  “Did he leave the cottage often? Go for walks?”

  “I think he only left to open and close the gate.” She looked up, her eyes dark with despair. “You can let go of me now. I’m not going to run over there. I know it’s way too late.”

  He cautiously lowered his arm, but her devastated expression made his chest ache. It was agonizing to watch, to wonder if anyone was in that burning rubble. And it would be much worse for her. She’d befriended the old man. “Why don’t you go and check the stud barn?” he said. “Maybe Billy’s there. And the horses might need calming.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave the doughnuts here.” She
placed the box on the ground, her hands and voice shaking. “D-do you think you could make sure the fire truck doesn’t run them over? Billy wouldn’t like them if they’re squashed.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dan said gravely. “I’ll keep everything safe.”

  *

  Anthony stared at the smoldering cottage, shaking his head in dismay. “Was the old caretaker inside?”

  “They don’t know yet,” Dan said.

  “If Tracey’s duffle bag was really in there,” Anthony said, “this muddies the water. It could be arson. Possibly murder. Too bad this happened before you could retrieve the bag.”

  “Yes,” Dan said dryly. “It does seem rather coincidental.”

  They both stepped back as a second fire truck left the scene, leaving a skeleton crew to watch for hot spots.

  “Thomas Hamilton is on his way,” Anthony said. “He drove to Louisville this morning.”

  “By himself?”

  “Yes.” Anthony’s voice turned thoughtful. “Maybe he wanted an alibi. He always had an obsessive interest in Shania’s scenes. He remembered the missing groom’s hair, her clothes, even the songs she sang to the horse.”

  Anthony crossed and uncrossed his arms, as if unable to control his energy. “Shania said you asked about a Reckless ball cap. Nothing can be proven with just a hat, but we can definitely milk it. Hamilton is one of our movie backers so for now we’ll look at the old man, enough to stoke questions. The girl can hold the cap, talk to reporters—”

  “Absolutely not,” Dan said. “Emily cared about Billy. And we can’t make insinuations without proof.”

  A firefighter rolling a thick hose stopped and stared. Dan lowered his voice. “Also, assuming this wasn’t an accident, whoever did it is still around. And very ruthless.”

  “Exactly.” Anthony’s head bobbed. “That’s what I’m talking about. You can’t buy this kind of publicity. What’s that girl’s name again? The one who found the cap? The girl who stood in front of the horse?”

  Dan’s mouth tightened. He had a bad feeling about this. But Anthony could unearth her name in two minutes simply by picking up the phone. “Emily,” Dan said reluctantly.

  “And the other background girl? The one who also saw the duffel bag?”

  “Judith.”

  “I want them back on set. Keep them around so we can rev interest. I’ll give them a line or two.”

  “Emily’s still here,” Dan admitted, “but she befriended Billy. This is going to be hard for her.” He paused, warring with himself. “And I don’t want her to have any lines.”

  “Fine. But she can do an interview. Just keep her around and happy.” Anthony slapped Dan on the back. “She’ll look good on TV. She’s the pretty one, right? And it could help her career. It’s a win, win.”

  “Not such a win for Billy,” Dan said.

  A black Bentley rolled up and jerked to a stop. Thomas Hamilton opened the door and stumbled out. Even from thirty feet away, his face looked ashen.

  “Oh, my God.” He pressed a hand to his mouth, staring at the rubble.

  Anthony jabbed Dan in the ribs then rushed over, like a journalist on a story. Dan followed more slowly. Hamilton’s shock seemed genuine but he’d seen Oscar winning performances before. Unlike horses, people could fake emotion.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Anthony said gravely.

  “Billy was in there?” Hamilton’s voice lowered. “You’re certain?”

  “Seems that way.” Anthony made a sympathetic sound deep in his throat but didn’t remain quiet for long. “Did he have any friends? An ex-wife?”

  “No.” Hamilton said, still staring at the rubble in apparent disbelief. “He stuck to himself. Never married.”

  “Did he like girls?” Anthony asked. “Young women always flock around horses, and he did have a private cottage. How well did you know him?”

  Hamilton shook his head. “What exactly are you asking? And why can’t you tell me if he’s in there?”

  “It’ll take a few days before they can sift through the debris,” Dan said.

  “Not much chance Billy wasn’t inside.” Hamilton heaved a sigh. “He rarely left the cottage.”

  “What about his groceries?” Dan asked.

  “The local store delivered them. Health problems kept Billy from doing too much.” Hamilton jabbed a thumb at the open gate. “That gate was his job. And we were all happy with that.”

  “People are going to be curious,” Anthony said. “I’m going to talk to the producer about adding Billy’s character. Just a small appearance. After all, he would have been around when Reckless was here.”

  Hamilton shrugged. “Billy never had much to do with the horses. He looked after the grounds on the west side and monitored traffic to the stud barn.”

  Anthony stiffened, his excitement palpable, at least to Dan.

  “That means he must have known the missing groom,” Anthony said. “Were they friends? Tracey and Billy?”

  “Not that I recall,” Hamilton said. “Billy was always a bit gruff. Rather intimidating, especially to the girls. They tended to avoid him.”

  But not Emily, Dan thought. She’d been brave enough to bring him doughnuts, big-hearted enough to return and clean his cottage. She’d probably been the last person to show Billy any kindness.

  But the girls finding the groom’s bag had revitalized interest. Whether Billy had anything to do with Tracey’s disappearance might always remain a mystery, but it was clear Anthony intended to cover all angles.

  No one seemed too upset that Billy’s body would probably be discovered in the charred cottage. No one but Emily. In fact, the conversation had already shifted to the best way to include Billy’s character in a hastily added scene.

  “I’m going to the stud barn,” Dan said. Anthony merely grunted, his attention locked on Hamilton.

  Dan walked away, relieved to escape the cloud of smoke and dust and suspicion. His throat and nose stung, and he wanted cleaner air. Cleaner emotions. He wanted Emily.

  His stride quickened. It only took a few minutes to reach the blessedly fresh air surrounding the stud barn.

  He stepped inside and scanned the stalls. They were both empty but clean. The aisle was freshly swept, and a huge shiny padlock now hung on the apartment door. Clearly that place was out of bounds.

  He walked outside and rounded the barn. The chestnut grazed in the large paddock, his shiny tail swishing away flies. Emily was in the makeshift paddock with the Reckless lookalike, the bay with the tendon injury. His front legs were neatly wrapped but otherwise he looked happy and healthy. His ears were pricked, his attention locked on Emily. Neither horse looked upset, but they were movie horses, accustomed to commotion and the random explosion.

  The bay’s head abruptly snaked and he grabbed something from Emily’s hand. Her words were too low to hear, but she gave the horse an approving pat. It looked like she was teaching him some sort of trick. And getting results.

  Dan’s tension faded, simply watching her. Obviously she liked working with horses—despite Lizzie’s report to the contrary—and he didn’t want to interfere. But the bay lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as he caught Dan’s scent. Emily turned, following the horse’s gaze.

  She slipped between the rails and rushed toward him. “What’s happening? Did you find him?”

  “Nothing yet.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. She vibrated with anxiety, and he slid a hand beneath her hair, automatically rubbing the back of her neck.

  “It might be awhile before they sift through the rubble,” he said, after a long moment. “But it seems like Billy was in there. I’m sorry, Em.”

  His own heart was beating faster than normal, and his hands tightened around her shoulders, taut with guilty gratitude. Because try as he might, he couldn’t stop agonizing about one inescapable truth. If she hadn’t waited for him this morning, quite likely she’d be tangled with Billy at the bottom of those sad and deadly ruins.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-E
IGHT

  “Guess what! I have a line.” Judith’s voice bubbled with so much excitement, it was barely recognizable. “That means I’ll be back on site. The casting director just called.”

  “You have a speaking role?” Emily leaned over Dan’s kitchen table and checked her phone battery. She didn’t want to leave it on too long. She’d already talked to Judith twice today, updating her about the explosion, but this was wonderful news. No wonder Judith was ecstatic.

  “Yes.” Judith paused to take a breath. “They’re sending a car to pick me up—no more crowded buses. And I’m even doing an interview.”

  “Oh wow, that’s great.” Emily fought an itch of envy. “I’m really happy for you.”

  And she was happy. No one had researched this movie more than Judith. Besides, Emily had stumbled onto something much more important. She smiled across the table at Dan, who watched with an inscrutable expression.

  “I’m glad they were able to recover Billy’s body,” Judith went on. “Is there a chance Tracey’s duffle bag wasn’t destroyed? Maybe we could go over tomorrow and poke around.”

  “The area is still restricted. There’s yellow tape everywhere,” Emily said. “They found his body but not much else. Certainly not a bag.”

  “But the explosion might have thrown it into the trees. I saw on the Internet where a gas stove exploded and a baby’s crib was found fifty feet away, completely intact. And maybe there’s something else.” Judith’s voice turned fervent. “It’s up to us. You have to help me. Help Billy—”

  “I will,” Emily said. Judith had been rather subdued when she’d first learned about the explosion. Now she sounded almost desperate. Emily had been fortunate enough to spend the day with Dan whose caring presence acted like an anchor. But Judith was single, with no family, and this movie seemed to be her only interest.

  “Tell me about your role,” Emily said, trying to distract her. “Do you have the script yet? What do you wear?”