When she reached ground level, she couldn't get past security. "I'm sorry miss, you're not allowed out there."
"You don't understand, I'm with Kathleen Bowen, the horse's owner. She asked me to speak with the vets." The guard eyed her up and down. "I'm not some gawker; I am with Mrs. Bowen and she has requested I speak with the veterinarian. Let me through or lose your job."
He asked for her name, then spoke into his walkie-talkie, muttering under his breath as if she were some kind of criminal. After about fifteen seconds of this bull, Michaela was ready to push him aside. He finally set the walkie-talkie back in its holder and motioned her on through. "You're lucky you know the vet. This isn't typical protocol, but he says you're his assistant," he snapped as she bolted past him.
She wanted to question him but didn't have time. Her heels caught on the divots of the track as she stumbled out to where the ambulance was parked. Damn, she should have worn paddock boots. Sure. To the races. This had been the last thing she expected. She rounded the ambulance, where the vets and handlers were with Halliday, and saw the reason she'd been allowed onto the track: Ethan Slater. He glanced in her direction, his blue eyes filled with an intensity she'd rarely seen in him. He was injecting something into Halliday's neck.
NINE
"NO!" MICHAELA CRIED OUT. THE GROUP, ALL MEN, turned and looked at her. Ethan motioned her over. "You can't put him down! You're not euthanizing him, are you?"
"No, I can't. I'm waiting to hear from the owner. Word is that you're representing her?" He looked confused.
She shot him an equally curious expression, not clear as to what he was doing at the track almost two hours from home and his own veterinary practice. "I'll explain later. I didn't know you were vetting here."
He shrugged. "No time for details. Guys, let's get him into the ambulance and off the track. The Sedivet is starting to work. Manny, you and Gordon stay with him. Give me a minute and then I'll be on board. Michaela, let me help these guys first, then I've only got about thirty seconds to fill you in on the situation."
She nodded and stood back as six men lifted the injured horse into the ambulance. The poor animal still wanted to get back on the track and run, his coat glistening from sweat and probably some pain as the initial injury was likely being felt by him right about now. Halliday tossed his head from side to side and let out a sharp whinny. Michaela's heart beat hard against her chest. She brought her hand up to her mouth to keep from crying as she watched the animal suffer.
Ethan came back out, sweat causing brown waves of hair to stick to the sides of his face. "Okay, so I've called ahead. If Mrs. Bowen wants us to try and save him we can take him to the Rocovich Center Center down in San Diego. If we can save him through surgery, then that's the best and closest facility to do it at."
"Yes, that's what she wants. Chances?"
"Right now, I'm not certain how bad the fracture is. I need to set the splint, get him on an IV for fluids, and shoot him full of some more painkillers. His head is still in the race. He's a strong animal. Once we get him down there, and get the X-rays on him, I'll have a better idea as to where things stand."
"Okay, thank you. Notify me as soon as you can."
"Mrs. Bowen needs to be aware that even if the break can be fixed, it'll be touch and go for a while, and after that a long period of rehab. There's the possibility of infection. It will be a long haul. I've already called in the best surgeon I know. I'll be in there with him, but Dr. Laube is top-notch."
Ethan started to climb in the ambulance.
"Hey, do you know where Dr. Pratt is?" She was hoping that Bob had at least communicated with the track vets.
Ethan shrugged. "Didn't show. Partly why I'm here."
"Call me?" Michaela asked.
Ethan nodded and closed the doors. The ambulance pulled away.
Michaela watched as they sped from the grounds. She felt on the verge of tears again. The poor animal…and Ethan. What was he really doing here? Ethan lived only miles from her in Indio. Memories of growing up with him interrupted her focus for a minute: hanging out with him as a teenager, holding his hand through his first heartbreak over Summer when she left him the day before their wedding, and then standing by as Summer worked her way back into Ethan's life. She couldn't help wondering if Ethan and Summer would wind up the way she and Brad had. But now Summer was due to have Ethan's baby soon. He wanted badly to be a father to the baby, insisting on solidifying his and Summer's relationship only days after she told him she was pregnant. That was eight months ago, and since then Summer had done her damndest—and had done it quite well—to purposely drive a wedge between Michaela and Ethan.
She shook off her thoughts, knowing she needed to find Audrey and tell her about Bob, and then they could go find Kathleen. The day at the races had turned quite horrible. She went looking for Audrey. Hadn't she headed down this way? Michaela glanced around, suddenly realizing she was still on the track. Turning to get off, she spotted Hugh and his trainer leading Flashing Chico back to the stalls. She called out to him.
"Michaela, I saw you on the track with the vet. What did he say?"
She briefly told him what she knew.
"Damn. He's a good horse. The last anniversary present I gave to Kathleen—for our twenty-fifth." He shook his head. "I know it won't mean anything to her, but when you see Kathleen, tell her how sorry I am."
"Sure. Congratulations." She nodded at the horse.
"Yes; bittersweet win, though. I would rather Chico had lost and have Halliday be okay than this."
She nodded. "By the way, have you seen Audrey? I thought she was going down to the track to check on Halliday, but I can't find her."
"No. Jeez, everyone seems to be disappearing. I hear Bobby didn't show up to vet today. I don't know what to think. The Eq Tech folks won't be happy about it. Hell, I'm not happy about it. I helped get him that job there as a favor to Audrey. He's a good man, but I sure in hell hope he hasn't gone off the wagon. I can't find my wife either. She was heading out to get a bottle of champagne. Took my jockey with her. And, I haven't seen my daughter since she was on stage."
Michaela remembered Olivia running out with Steve Benz and wondered if she should tell Hugh. Probably; but the girl was not a kid. She was an adult. Still, Hugh was her dad and she knew how much her own parents worried about her, and she was in her thirties. She'd already had misgivings about not telling Audrey about Bob, and knew it was a mistake not to have told her yet. "Uh, I saw Olivia."
"You did?"
"Yes. I saw her leaving with Steve Benz and another guy. Tall, bald, skinny."
"What?" both Hugh and his trainer said in unison.
Michaela caught the trainer's expression as his hazel eyes darkened. He was also tall; Michaela had noticed a slight limp in his left leg. He had shaggy brown hair, and some scars from the result of what had likely been aggravating acne during his teenage years. He brushed his hand through his hair and quickly introduced himself when he realized that Michaela was looking at him. "Josh Torrey. I train Mr. Bowen's horses."
"Right. Oh sorry, Josh," Hugh said. "What do you mean, Olivia was leaving with that Benz character? And who was the other man?"
"I have no idea."
"Marshall Friedman," Josh said. "I bet that's who it was. Benz's manager; they've been trying for weeks to track down Olivia. I told Audrey about it. They were really bothering her. They probably dragged her out of here to get her away from Audrey."
Michaela hadn't gotten the impression that Olivia was being dragged anywhere. Yes, they had seemed to be in a rush but it didn't look to be against anyone's will. Granted, she hadn't clearly seen Olivia's face.
"When did you see this?" Josh asked. Now he had Hugh's attention. 'I'm only asking for you, sir."
"Yes, when did you see her leaving?"
"When I was running down to the track, I'm pretty sure it was them."
"That Benz guy is such an ass," Josh said.
"He's not exactly who I want my da
ughter with. Let's get this fellow back to the stall." Hugh patted Flashing Chico's neck. "Then I'll try Olivia's cell phone."
They rounded the corner to the stalls. Grooms, trainers, and owners were busy with their horses. Horses' whinnies resounded, along with the strains of Spanish music being played in some of the tack rooms.
Josh handed Flashing Chico off to one of the grooms. He went inside the tack room and returned with cell phone in hand. "You can use my phone to call her," he said, handing it to Hugh.
"Thanks." He started to dial when a shrill scream rang out. The screaming didn't stop; it grew louder. "What the hell?" He handed the phone back to Josh and along with Michaela and a few other people, hurried toward the source, out past the stalls near where the massive horse trailers and semis were parked. Approaching the scene, Michaela gasped. Was that Bridgette, Hugh's wife? Yes. What was she standing over, screaming bloody murder about?
She walked closer, and…Oh, no! No! No! She started running. Hugh got there first. He knelt down while Bridgette continued to scream. A man stood next to her, his mouth agape. Hugh yelled at her to shut the hell up. She did. The other man stepped back. This could not be happening. Michaela stared as Hugh picked up the hand of her friend—Audrey's hand. Then pulled her body in close to him. Blood everywhere. Somewhere behind her she heard someone calling 911. She couldn't move. Paralysis shrouded her as reality hit. A pair of reins encircled Audrey's neck; her face was ashen, eyes bulging out in shock and pain. A terrified look on her face—again not real—like a mask. Couldn't it just be a mask? Please God.
But as Hugh looked back up, tears on his face, she knew it was no mask. Audrey had been strangled to death and the blood…the blood was coming from her head. She must have fought. That was who she was—a fighter—and, whoever had done this was evil, pure evil. The killer had finished her off with a deep blow to the head. Michaela knew her friend was dead.
TEN
AFTER AUDREY'S BODY WAS TAKEN AWAY, THE POLICE questioned the nearest group, particularly Bridgette and the man who had been standing next to her, Frederick Callahan. Michaela thought she'd recognized him, but in all the chaos had not been able to place him. The bad toupee should have tipped her off. It didn't even match the gray it was attached to: He'd chosen a golden blond. It was hard for people not to discuss his rug when talking about media mogul Callahan. Owner of Pleasures magazine for men, he was also an avid racehorse fan and owned several of them.
Michaela caught bits and pieces as to why he was with Bridgette Bowen and how they'd discovered Audrey. Callahan had been checking to see if his horse, which was running in the seventh race, had passed the vet check, claiming he was concerned about a leg. It had looked a bit lame to him that morning. He heard the scream first and ran to where Bridgette stood over Audrey.
"I-I was going to the limo." Bridgette glanced at Hugh.
Michaela studied her as she explained how she'd found Audrey. Still in shock, Michaela didn't know how to react. She wanted to fall apart, but knew this wasn't the place to do so with all the police around. She'd teared up a few times as reality came in waves. Focusing on the others around her helped keep the horrific reality at bay.
After the cops were done interviewing her, Bridgette continued explaining to her husband: "I really wanted some champagne. I decided to come out here and get it myself, what with you being busy with Flashing Chico and everything. I figured I'd make myself useful."
"Couldn't you have ordered champagne from your box?" Michaela asked, not able to help herself. She heard a tremor in Bridgette's voice; was the woman lying?
Bridgette glared at her. "I could have." She rubbed Hugh's arm. "But Hugh knew we would win today and I brought a special bottle for the occasion."
"Why not have it on ice in your box?" Michaela asked again, recalling the champagne that Kathleen had in hers.
"Who are you again? I know we met earlier and I know you're not the police. I've already answered these questions." Bridgette's eyes narrowed like a hawk readying for the kill.
"I'm not the police; I was Audrey's friend."
"I didn't kill her, if that's what you're insinuating. I found her is all. I think it's interesting, you being her friend that you weren't with her. If you had been, maybe she wouldn't have been killed…unless, of course you had a reason to see her dead."
Michaela took a step toward her. "Excuse me? What did you just say?" Rage boiled in her gut as tears stung her eyes. "How dare you! I would never harm Audrey!" Her entire body shook with gut-wrenching agony. "I loved her. She was my friend, you bitch!" Bridgette's eyes widened. "I want to know why in the hell you were standing over her…" Michaela put her face in her palms and sobbed.
Hugh put an arm around her. "I'm so sorry, honey. We're all shaken up. Bridgette didn't mean anything by it. We all need to cool off. This won't help bring Audrey back. Let's all settle down. I don't think the police would take kindly to a scene right now."
Michaela nodded and pulled away from Hugh. He was right. She didn't need one of the cops arresting her for assaulting Bridgette, though she still wanted to.
He whispered something in Bridgette's ear and then smiled sadly at Michaela. Taking Bridgette's arm, he led her over to their limousine. Her anger started to fade as sadness and shock continued to weave through her. She waited for the police to question the rest of the group. When they got to her, she told them that she and Audrey had driven there from Indio that morning. She went on to relate the events as she remembered them, from Steve Benz's subtle threat to Audrey in Olivia's dressing room, to the fact that she'd learned Audrey's brother had not shown up for work for the past three days, nor at the track that day to vet the horses. The officer in charge, Detective Merrill, asked her where Ms. Bowen was at that moment.
"Do you mean Olivia, or her mother, Kathleen?"
"I'll start with Kathleen Bowen. My partner is trying to track down the daughter," he said, his paper-thin lips tightening with each word he spoke. It made him look ghoulish. He jotted something down in his notebook. Michaela noticed the yellow on his fingers, probably from nicotine. As he stepped closer, she decided that it definitely was nicotine. Merrill smelled like one big, stale cigarette. He wore his dark hair slicked straight back, and from the lines on his face, she couldn't help the odd thought that maybe the man used Grecian Formula to keep his hair coal black. He looked back up at her with ice-blue eyes, as if expecting something. "Ms. Bowen? Where is she?"
"I left her in her box. Her horse sustained a major injury in the opening race and Audrey was going down to the track to talk to the vet. I followed, but when I reached the track I didn't see her anywhere." She told the rest of the story to the detective about walking back to the stalls with Hugh and Josh, and how it wasn't long before they'd heard Bridgette screaming. When he finished taking her statement, Merrill asked her if she had the vet's number. He wanted to find out if Audrey had ever made it to the track. Michaela wanted to know, too, but also knew that Ethan was tied up with Halliday.
Michaela watched as Audrey's body, now covered, was loaded into the back of the coroner's van. Her stomach ached and a lump caught in her throat. She couldn't speak or even cry. For a moment she wondered if she was even breathing as the pain in her chest tightened. How could this have happened? Why had Audrey charged out of the box? Dammit! She should have gone with her. If she had, maybe she'd be alive.
Merrill asked Michaela to show him to Mrs. Bowen's box. She agreed. She had to get out of there anyway; she didn't think she could watch as the van with Audrey's body drove away, or see the onlookers and the investigators. All she wanted to do was escape from there. It took about ten minutes to walk back to Kathleen's box. Merrill didn't say much. Michaela tried to ask him about his initial impressions, but all he did was nod occasionally, which made no sense to her. "Do you think it was someone she knew?" she asked.
The detective grunted. She gave up.
Kathleen sat in her box, staring off into space, her face stained with mascara. She looked up at
them. "I know," she muttered.
"Know what?" Michaela asked.
"You're going to tell me they had to put him down, aren't you? That's why you and Audrey have been gone for so long," she said, slurring her words.
Kathleen appeared to have been drinking—heavily.
"I waited and I waited. Audrey didn't come back, my daughter never came to see me, and you didn't show up. I finally got up and had a drink. I was starting to think that maybe you all had left me here. I was going to call my driver. I didn't know what to do, who to call. I could see people on the track, people everywhere. They were running horses, even after Halliday, and then no one came to tell me what was going on. Who is that man?" She tried to stand.
Merrill stepped forward, steadied her, and helped her sit back down. "Ma'am, I'm Detective Tom Merrill and I need to ask you a few questions."
"About Halliday? Since when do they send in the police to ask about a racehorse breaking his leg?"
"It's not about your horse, ma'am. It's about Mrs. Pratt."
"Audrey? I don't understand."
Michaela looked at the detective. "Can I…?"
He nodded. Ah, he had a heart after all.
She sat down next to Kathleen and took her hands. Kathleen's eyes widened and she pulled back a bit, but Michaela didn't let go. "This is very difficult." She felt her throat tighten. "Um, it's Audrey. She…she was killed earlier." The words came out, but it didn't feel or even sound like she was saying them. She'd had to do it quickly, or she didn't think she could do it at all.
"What?" Kathleen pulled her hands away.
The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 Page 27
