The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  Joe waved a beefy hand at her. "Happens." He looked like an Italian Pillsbury Doughboy, concern furrowing his bushy eyebrows. "I'm sorry we ran out on you like that." Rather than stay to watch her lesson as they usually did, Joe and Marianne had instead dropped Gen off earlier because they'd had some errands to run.

  Michaela felt responsible because she'd insisted they go on ahead and take care of what they needed to with their other four kids. She'd assured them she could handle Gen. What had she been thinking?

  Marianne contrasted Joe, being ramrod thin and almost frail looking. She headed straight to her daughter and turned back to Michaela as she sat down next to Gen, grappling for something in her purse, finally finding a medication bottle. "It's okay, Michaela. This happens from time to time. Do you have a glass of water? I'd like her to take this." Marianne was calm and collected. The premature lines on her face told Michaela that she shoved much of her worry into the recesses of her soul and likely dealt with them late at night, so as not to worry others in her family. She couldn't imagine what she went through day to day to manage her large brood, and Joe on top of it.

  "Sure. No problem. I can't tell you how sorry I am, though." She quickly went to the kitchen for the water. Gen seemed much better when Michaela returned and handed the glass to Marianne. She watched as the woman continued to calm her child. Michaela asked Joey what the medicine was.

  "Some herbal treatment. Marianne is all into these supplements and herbs and things. Next thing you know, we'll be having gurus by the house or she'll be taking the poor kid to yoga or something crazy like that." Marianne shot him a dirty look. "I'm sure they're good for her, but I'd feel better if they was FDA approved."

  Marianne stood and took Gen's hand. "We better get going."

  Michaela nodded.

  "You did the right thing, Michaela. No sorries needed. I'd like to talk with you about what Joe and I have been up to, because it concerns you, but she gets tired after these bouts," Marianne said. "Maybe Joe can tell you while I put Genevieve in the car."

  "Tell me what?"

  "We've gone ahead and recommended you as a therapeutic riding instructor."

  Michaela's jaw dropped.

  Marianne whispered a good-bye as she walked out, and Michaela turned back to Joe. "What is she talking about? I told you I'd think about it. Why would you put in a recommendation without asking me?"

  "We was thinking, Marianne and me, and we got to talking that you've been so good for Gen that we went to her therapist and the center she goes to for treatment and told them you would be perfect for the job. Therapeutic riding helps a lot of autistic kids and we don't have nothing like it out here in the desert. We think you'd be perfect for it."

  "Oh no. No, I can't do that. Look what happened today. And"—She shook a finger at him—"you had no right to do that without running it by me."

  "But you handled it the right way. The way you were supposed to. You love kids. You make my daughter happy. Give this a try. I see how much it does for you, too. After your divorce and then losing your uncle, I know what you've been through, and I see you smiling when you're teaching my daughter. Working with her makes you happy and you're damn good at it, and trust me, after all these years I've seen the good and the bad in this thing, and it takes quite a person to work with these kids. You got what it takes."

  She shook her head vehemently. "Joe…Oh, man, I don't know." She knew that he was right about being happy when she worked with his little girl. But a center? A therapeutic center where she taught more kids? Granted, she now had the facilities to do it after inheriting her uncle's place, but could she do it? Really?

  "Will you at least talk to the gal from the center?"

  "I don't know, Joe. I don't think I'm cut out for it. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

  "No one's gonna get hurt." He raised an eyebrow, then wiggled the other. He knew how to work it. That always got her. For years she'd been trying to figure out how to wiggle just one eyebrow while keeping the other cocked.

  Michaela had known Joey since junior high, when they'd bonded over pimiento loaf sandwiches, which everyone else thought were gross, and a mutual love for Billy Idol. Joe had been teased for his weight and Michaela had been on the shy side, so they'd formed a friendship that stuck over processed meat and eighties music. Joe was also known around town as the man with a million cousins. He came from a large Italian family whose ties were far reaching and, many suggested, of the unsavory nature. All Michaela knew was that Joe was a good guy with a lot of relatives, who knew how to find out information or get things done that other people seemed to have a problem doing. And, she was indebted to him. If not for him and the cousins, it was unlikely that the person who killed her uncle Lou last year would have been caught.

  "Oh God, Joe, why do you do this stuff to me?"

  "I think you should think about it," Jude said.

  Michaela turned to see Jude and Katie standing in the doorway.

  "Sorry," Jude said. "The door was cracked. You were talking. We didn't mean to interrupt."

  Katie stood quietly next to her dad. Jude took her hand. The girl wiped her tears with her other hand. She was a petite thing with wavy, blond hair like her dad's and a splash of freckles across her nose that reminded Michaela of what she had looked like as a kid. Michaela had never lost the freckles across her nose and even sported a few more since childhood.

  Joe went over to Katie. "It's okay, sweetie. She'll be fine."

  Jude shook his hand. "She didn't mean to frighten her. She was excited and…"

  "Hey, I got a handful of kids, and a lot of cousins." He laughed. "I know she didn't mean no harm and Michaela handled it. You talk to her, see if you can get her to agree to running a center.

  "Think about it," he said as he walked out.

  She walked over and pulled Katie into her. "You didn't mean to upset Gen. We all know that."

  "Why did she scream like that?"

  "She's autistic, honey, which means she doesn't react the same way you and I do. She actually hears and sees everything going on around her. Like, listen quietly for a minute. Really listen." They fell quiet. "Did you hear the birds outside? What about the pool running from out back? Can you hear the grandfather clock ticking from the library? And, if a horse got out, I bet we'd hear all the horses go crazy calling out to him. Gen doesn't filter out the noises in the way that we do. She hears all of them together at once and it's very loud to her. So, she kind of shuts down to keep the noises out as much as possible. To you, it probably seems like she's not friendly or she's weird. But to her, it's the only way she can handle life."

  "So, when I started yelling, it scared her and on top of all the regular noises she hears it made her really scared, so she started screaming out."

  "Exactly. You're a smart kid. What do we say we go have that lesson now? I didn't know you'd be early, but it works out great because I'm going to the horse races tomorrow in Orange County and I need to be at my friend Audrey's house early in the morning."

  "Okay, let's go!"

  Katie ran up ahead of them. Jude walked back to the barn with Michaela. "You're headed to the races tomorrow, huh? Sounds like fun," he said.

  She sensed a slight hesitation in his voice. Detective Jude Davis and his daughter, Katie, had come into Michaela's life while the detective investigated her uncle's murder. Since that time they'd shared coffee dates, lots of phone calls, even a lunch and a glass of wine one night while Katie scoped out the trophies Michaela had won over the years showing horses. There was something between Michaela and Jude. That much she knew, but what it was exactly, she wasn't sure. "I am. My friend Audrey Pratt is taking me. We go every year. She used to work with racehorses and has a lot of friends in the industry, plus she manages a young woman who is an up-and-coming country western singer and the girl will be entertaining before the races start. I thought it would be a good time."

  "Sounds like it." He cleared his throat. "Anyone else going with you?"

  "
Nope, just me and Audrey."

  "Oh. Well, you'll be back tomorrow night, won't you?"

  Michaela looked at him, her expression amused. His light blue eyes had darkened, and he palmed his hand through his hair, something he did whenever he seemed nervous. "Actually, no. I'm going on up to Malibu with Audrey to stay with the girl's mother, another friend of Audrey's. There are some horses we want to check out. I'm thinking about purchasing a few more, possibly a better lesson horse for Katie since Booger isn't much of a challenge for her. Audrey takes in animals off the track to let them retire in peace."

  "Ah."

  "Why do I get the feeling that you aren't too keen on me going?"

  "Oh no. I think you'll have a great time."

  She stopped and looked at him. "Jude? What's up?"

  He sighed. "Actually…well, I wanted to ask you to dinner. That's all. I thought it was time we had dinner together. You and me. A real date. Candles, wine, flowers."

  "Oh. A real date."

  He nodded.

  "That would be nice. Can you wait a few days?"

  He smiled. "I think so." He squeezed her hand and then let it go.

  Michaela's stomach dropped. She hadn't had a real date in years. Life was ever changing, though. She'd learned that for sure, and although she'd lost quite a bit in the past few years, it made her realize that maybe it was time to live again.

  TWO

  IT WAS DUSK WHEN MICHAELA WALKED BACK OUT to the barn. She figured that she'd run into Dwayne and give him a ration about the tack room. As she headed into the breezeway, she heard Hawaiian music echoing off the walls. Ah, yes, Dwayne was close by. One thing she loved about having a Hawaiian around was that he listened to such beautiful music. She closed her eyes and could almost smell plumeria instead of horse manure. Okay, so maybe not, but she wanted to.

  "Michaela, Michaela!"

  Her roommate, Camden, hurried toward her. Not Dwayne. Camden, in all her redheaded glory, wearing a too tight T-shirt and jeans. Wait a minute. Something was wrong with this picture. First off, Camden wasn't wearing expensive high heels. No. She was wearing boots. Cowboy boots. Working cowboy boots, and furthermore, she was in the barn. Michaela eyed her curiously.

  "It's Rocky. Dwayne sent me to get you."

  Rocky was Michaela's six-year-old stallion. "What's wrong?"

  "I don't know," Camden said, a frantic edge to her tone.

  Michaela didn't jump to any horrible conclusions, because she knew that Camden could be quite the drama queen. She hurried to the stallion's stall. Dwayne was inside. Rocky's sorrel coat gleamed with sweat. "What is it?" she asked.

  "I don't know. He seem better now, but I work him on a lead line a bit ago. Didn't ride him because I notice yesterday when I did that he get tired too quick."

  "He was worried about him last night," Camden interjected.

  Michaela glanced from one to the other. "Last night?"

  "I was coming back from shopping and saw Dwayne out here, so I stopped to say hi. He told me then that he was worried." Camden seemed flustered.

  Michaela closed her eyes for a second, trying to wrap her mind around this. She held up a hand. "Okay, so Rocky was having problems last night?" She'd deal with the horse first, her friend's strange behavior later. "Why didn't anyone say anything to me?"

  "No, it not like that, you know? I just thinking he be tired is all. I never say worry to her. He just being kinda slow for Rocky. Sluggish; but you know, they have moods and I figure he in one."

  "Well, right now? What's going on?" Michaela placed a hand on Rocky's neck.

  "His heart rate get up high and he seem…I don't know, different," Dwayne said.

  "Antsy," Camden interrupted.

  They both gave her a dirty look. As if the queen of Gucci and Charles David would know when a horse was antsy.

  Camden seemed to get it. "You know, I think I'll go blend up some margaritas. Dwayne, you want to join us?"

  He didn't answer. Michaela said, "We're going to take care of Rocky first. You do what you need to." She waved her off. For as much as she loved her longtime friend, she could be a royal pain in the ass.

  Camden sulked away. Michaela asked Dwayne, "Did you call Ethan?"

  "He be out of town."

  "Oh," Michaela replied, surprised to hear that.

  "The vet on call is gonna stop on by."

  Michaela took the horse's pulse, which was normal. The sweat that had soaked him a few minutes earlier was beginning to dry. "He might have some kind of virus. Damn, I hate to leave him for a day."

  "No. No. He be fine. I call you if there is a problem."

  "No. I don't think it's a good idea. I can't leave him if he's sick. No way. I'll go crazy thinking about him. I better call Audrey and let her know that I won't make it."

  "You being plain silly now, girl. You go, have fun with Audrey. Everything gonna be good. You see."

  "I'll see what the vet has to say before I make a decision." She sighed and stroked the horse's neck. Looked into his eyes. "Hey, bud, what's wrong? You not feeling so good?"

  The horse rubbed his face against her shoulder, wiping his wet mouth on her, smudging a mixture of dirt and hay across her navy blue T-shirt, already dirty from the day's work. She laughed. "Thanks."

  "He love you. They all love you. He be fine. The vet gonna figure it out."

  "Looks like the vet is here now." Michaela peered out the stall and could see a tall woman getting out of a truck.

  She came over and introduced herself. "Dr. Burton," she said, hand outstretched. Michaela shook it. "Let's see what you got here." Dr. Burton certainly didn't have much of a bedside manner. She must've been new to the clinic, because Michaela had never met her before.

  Dr. Burton had short brunette hair that skimmed her ears, and looked to be somewhere between forty and fifty. Hard to tell, because she had quite a bit of sun damage and deep crow's feet framing her light green eyes. She did seem to know what she was doing as she went about examining Rocky, going through every detail and checklist, after getting Dwayne's story. "I'd like to run a blood test on him."

  Michaela nodded. "What are you thinking?"

  "Don't know. No fever, pulse is fine, pressure is fine. Everything I'm looking at screams healthy horse. But I like to take precautions and it sounds to me like he had some type of episode. I think the best method here is to do some lab workups. I'll take a look or have Dr. Slater look and get back with you."

  "Okay. Well…" She looked at Dwayne, "I think my plans for the races are a bust."

  Dr. Burton looked up from her clipboard where she was making notes. "La Catalina races?"

  Michaela nodded. La Catalina was a new track bordering Orange County and Los Angeles.

  "No, you don't need to miss the races. The horse looks great. He might have had some kind of anxiety attack. He's fine. I won't have anything back for a day or two anyway, so if you have plans, go."

  Dwayne agreed. "I tol' you, he be in good hands. Go to the races with Audrey."

  "I need to draw some blood," Dr. Burton said, and walked to her truck.

  "Friendly lady," Dwayne whispered.

  Michaela smiled. "Listen, you really don't need to handle all of this. I'll just stay home."

  "Jeez, woman, you be worse than a mother hen. No. You going. I be calling if he feeling bad. And that's that. You deserve some fun. You go, have fun. Done deal. Got it?"

  She frowned. "Got it."

  When Dr. Burton was finished, Michaela gave Rocky a last pat and headed down to the house. Dwayne walked toward the guest house where he resided. She called back to him, "Hey, you want that margarita?"

  He jogged toward her. "You think she got them made?"

  "Please. You obviously don't know Camden that well."

  They walked into the two-story, stone-type cottage. It had been built English-country style, and that essence was captured throughout the house. Too much of a house for Michaela. She'd been grateful that Camden didn't have any plans of moving in with
a new boyfriend or getting married to another rich guy who treated her like crap. Okay, she did wish that she shared the place with someone she loved. Not that she didn't love Camden, but a husband would be nice—one who didn't cheat on her, like her ex. What she really craved was to fill up the house with a bunch of children. She'd always wanted kids. But it did not look to be in her future. She hadn't been able to conceive during her marriage, even after several attempts at various fertility treatments. Now, there was no husband, no man even to be a dad to any kids, and there certainly was no sex going on in her house. At least, she wasn't having any. She eyed Camden standing in the huge kitchen with its dark cherrywood cabinets, oversized refrigerator with matching wood panels, a stove and oven fit for a chef, and a granite slab in the center where a pitcher held Camden's famous blended margaritas.

  When Camden spotted them, she clapped her hands. "Oh goody, happy hour can commence. I am so excited. Oh, sorry. How's the horse? I didn't mean to be insensitive."

  "We don't know," Michaela said. "Hopefully, it's a short-lived virus of some sort or an isolated case of anxiety that he'll work through."

  Camden handed Dwayne and Michaela each a drink. They toasted. "To Rocky," Camden said.

  Michaela nodded and silently prayed that her gorgeous stallion would be as fine as Dwayne had assured her.

  THREE

  THE NEXT MORNING MICHAELA PULLED INTO AUDREY'S ranch, Sampson's Corner, which was only ten minutes down the road. It was quite a bit smaller than her own place, but pristine. Audrey had worked alongside her husband, Charlie Sampson, for years, racing quarter horses. After Charlie died, Audrey ran the place on her own. Charlie had left her with a substantial insurance policy that kept her self-sufficient and able to take care of the horses. Money wasn't a problem, but time was. Audrey found herself needing to keep busy. That was when she'd gone back to her roots—music; she'd become a small-time entertainment manager and went back to using her maiden name, Pratt, for business purposes. She'd made a little here and there with new talent who usually wound up succeeding to a certain point with Audrey, then jumping ship to find someone bigger and better and located in Hollywood. The little money she made from her the management gig went back into her ranch and charity distributions. She took great pleasure in purchasing retired racehorses and providing them a home where they could live out their days in peace and solitude.