The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  "Hello." Michaela closed the door and walked over to the bed. "I'm Michaela Bancroft."

  "The nurse told me." Cara slurred her words a little, likely from the pain medications. "You know Bob?"

  "Yes." Michaela wasn't sure how to start this conversation. It would be awkward, to say the least. "I was a friend of Audrey, Bob's sister. I don't know if you're aware, but Audrey was murdered a week ago and Bob has disappeared. I was hoping you could help me piece some missing links together."

  Cara frowned; her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I don't think…I can help you."

  Michaela could hear a tremor in the woman's voice, and she wasn't very convincing. "Please." Dammit. She felt that Cara Klein might actually have some answers. Why did the woman sound scared?

  "Cara," she continued, "there are horses being hurt, maybe even dying. I think you know why and I think that whatever is going on with these animals might have something to do with Bob's disappearance and Audrey's murder."

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "So you do know about this?"

  Tears came to Cara's eyes. She sighed. "I do."

  Michaela sat down and scooted the chair close to Cara's bed in order to better hear her. "Last weekend at the races was where Audrey was killed. We'd gone together to see Olivia Bowen perform and were watching the races from Kathleen Bowen's box."

  "I know them."

  "You do?"

  Cara nodded and started coughing. The horrid barklike cough lasted a while. Cara placed an oxygen mask over her face for a minute. "Sorry," she said, once the coughing was under control.

  "You don't need to apologize."

  "I know the Bowens and that entire circle."

  Michaela wasn't sure what she meant by that. "Entire circle?"

  "The racing scene."

  "Do you mean Frederick Callahan, Marshall Friedman?" Michaela knew that each of them owned racehorses. They also knew the Bowens.

  "I'd say they're…part of that group." She started coughing again. Michaela saw a bottle of water on the table next to her and reached across to give it to her.

  Cara shook her head and put the oxygen back on. After another minute and some deep breaths, she closed her eyes. Michaela's stomach sank. "Cara?"

  The woman opened her eyes. Thank God. "You'll have to…bear with me. It might take some time, but there are some things I…need to tell you."

  FORTY-FOUR

  MICHAELA HAD BEEN RIGHT: CARA KLEIN HAD ANSWERS. At first there were parts to her story that she doubted. But the woman had been very convincing, and the more she thought about it, and allowed the information to settle in, the more she realized that what Cara told her had been the truth. She now knew what had happened to Bob, and had a good idea as to what went down with Audrey. And she was ready to catch a killer, but she would need some help.

  She called Joe and told him what she'd learned. They devised a plan on how she'd trap the killer.

  "It's good, Michaela…but why not just bring in the cops?" Joe asked.

  "The woman who gave me this information made me promise not to go to the police."

  "Why?"

  "She's afraid. She's been burned a few times and doesn't trust many people."

  "She trusted you."

  "I'll fill you in when I see you. Now, can I count on you?"

  "When have you not been able to count on me?" She laughed. "I'm in," he said.

  Michaela spent Friday night at theRocovich Center again, and to everyone's relief Rocky was doing great. Trusting her instincts, the vets had altered his course of treatment and he was perking up nicely. The chemicals in the supplements were still being broken down. The vets had to send them out to a separate group of chemists, who would be able to better determine what compounds made up the product. They wouldn't have results for a couple of days, but Michaela felt that she was right. And now that Rocky looked better, she also felt better. Ethan did not stay the night again as Summer called, full of complaints. Guilt-ridden for leaving her alone for a few days, he went home.

  Saturday morning, Michaela gave Rocky a hug, "You'll be coming home in a couple of days, bud. You're going to get better now." She left her horse behind again, only this time certain that he would make a full recovery.

  She got to Los Angeles late in the afternoon and found the Eq Tech apartment. She called Joe one more time. "We're on it," he reassured her.

  "Good."

  She called Hudson Drake to let him know that she'd made it. "Hey, do you still want that date for tonight?"

  "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 Oliv
ia 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."

&nb
sp; "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.

  FORTY-FIVE

  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.

  "I'm telling you, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," he hissed. "Those morons, Juan and Enrique, if they'd done the job right, Bob would be dead, and you and I would be on our way to my bedroom."

  "I would never go to bed with you!" Michaela spat.