"Oh come on, that's absurd. They can't believe that, and you can't go around trying to figure this out, Mick. The last time you got yourself involved in something like this, you nearly got yourself killed."
She pulled away from him and threw her arms in the air. "I don't know what else to do."
He shook his head. "The police have to be looking at other folks. I know that guy was popular with the women, but he also seemed to have enemies, or at least I know that there were some people who didn't care much for him."
"Did you know him?"
"No. Other than playing that match with him. I met him a few times before that and never thought much of him. He was an ass; you know that and so do I. Look at the way he acted out on the field with the other players."
"What do you mean though, about enemies?"
"I don't know if you'd actually call them enemies, but the day I was out there I overheard some of the grooms grumbling about him, and we both know that Lance couldn't stand him. Remember yesterday after the match the way Sterling was talking trash about him?"
"I couldn't blame Lance for saying what he did about him."
"Yeah, well, before the match I was talking with Lance and he said that he couldn't wait until the charity event was over. He said that Taber was a miserable SOB to ride with. That the guy was always doing stupid stuff on the field, like cutting him off when it was unnecessary and just being a real ass to him. Then he caught him trying to flirt with his wife, who Lance said blew him off, but he wasn't real happy about it. The wife was pretty offended, too."
"I imagine. I think their dislike for one another went both ways."
"Right, no love lost there, huh? But that's what I mean; this Taber guy wasn't well loved by everyone."
"Do you think Lance Watkins might have killed him?"
Ethan shook his head. "You know, I've known Lance for a long time. The guy doesn't strike me as having an evil bone in him. He's always low-key. He's kind to his animals. His wife and daughter are really sweet people. I can't see it. But you never really know someone enough, do you? People will surprise you. I only know him through treating his horses and we've had a few beers together over the years, but no, I don't think so. Lance is a good guy. I'm only telling you this because if Taber could've gotten under someone's skin like Lance's, who knows who else he's pissed off. I think the police have their heads up their asses."
"Join the club."
"Tell me what you need, anything."
She smiled. "I appreciate it, but your plate is full." She pointed to Josh and bent down. "Hey, bubba, what you doing besides growing?" She picked him up and kissed the top of his head. "I've missed you. Ethan, why don't you take Summer out for dinner this weekend and I'll watch him." She wanted to try and divert him. She knew that his desire to help her would probably cause a rift between him and Summer, and she didn't want that for the baby's sake…or Ethan's. He'd made a commitment to Summer, and Michaela wouldn't come between that.
"No. You've got plenty going on. You don't need to be babysitting for me. That's the thing with you: You always try and help other people out and all it does is add more pressure for you. You've got to stop it."
"It'll help me take my mind off of everything." But she knew the real reason Ethan wouldn't have her watch Josh likely had more to do with Summer's feelings toward her than anything else.
"Maybe. But you do have to start thinking about yourself."
"I am. Honestly. I'm thinking about how in the heck I'm going to prove that I didn't kill Sterling Taber."
"And I want to help. I want you to keep me in the loop and tell me what I can do." He rubbed his eye. "Damn. Something in there. Been bugging me all afternoon."
"Let me see. Sit down on the couch, and I'll take a look." She set Josh back down on his blanket and handed him a set of plastic baby keys, which he eagerly went back to playing with. She leaned over Ethan, who lay his head back on the couch. "Whoop, yep, there it is. Eyelash." She gently removed the lash and then brushed it off his face. She went to back away but nearly tripped over the baby, who had rolled over next to them.
To avoid hurting Josh, she fell forward onto Ethan. Right into his lap. "Oops. Sorry." She scrambled to get up, her face burning. Ethan was looking at her in a way that he hadn't before. At first there was a slight curve on his lips and then as a second passed, the look in his eyes became one of intensity, almost as if were looking directly into her heart and soul, as if he knew her at her very core. Another second slipped by. Michaela shifted uncomfortably. She lifted herself and braced her hands against the couch trying to get all the way back up. They both started to laugh. The tension eased.
Ethan quickly reached down and picked up the baby. "That's okay. Better than falling on you." He poked Josh's chest and tickled him. The baby giggled. Ethan stood. "Promise you'll keep me in the loop."
Uh-huh. She believed that Ethan was there to support her, but Summer might not have too much of a problem with her being locked away. "I will. Thank you." She kissed both of them on the cheek and helped Ethan put the baby toys back in the bag.
Once they were gone, she went back out to the barn to take care of Rocky. Now, here was a male who understood her. She leaned her head against his neck and sighed, her mind spinning at not only the prospect of being a murder suspect, but also at the fact that something had just happened between her and Ethan. She couldn't deny it. It was something that had never happened before. When they'd looked into each other's eyes for that second, a powerful surge of electricity had shot through her—straight to her heart. It had been nothing like she'd ever felt before, and she knew Ethan had felt it, too.
THIRTEEN
MICHAELA WENT TO BED WITH HER MIND IN A jumbled mess. Between Sterling's murder and her confused feelings over Jude…And then—dammit—Ethan had once again messed up her head. That slight but intense moment they'd shared had her wondering about her feelings for him. They were feelings she could never act on, and she knew they were futile. It was silly, really. So, she'd kind of fallen on him and he'd looked at her in the way a man looks at a woman he wants to touch, to kiss—to love—but none of that mattered. She wiped the thoughts from her mind.
Not unhappy to see the sun rise, she made an organized list in her mind as to the order in which she planned to see people today. She figured that no one would be at Sorvino's until closer to the lunch hour, so Lance Watkins was up first. Even though she'd overheard that odd conversation between Ed Mitchell and Pepe, she couldn't get out of her mind the animosity that existed between Lance and Sterling. Ethan's conversation with her yesterday had only disturbed her further and made her more curious as to what the real situation between the two of them had been.
Michaela pulled up to the exquisite facility that Lance Watkins owned and operated. She got out and looked around. There was a dressage ring to her left, marked in the shape of a square and surrounded by trimmed date palms. Beyond that was a large green pasture where a handful of horses grazed and soaked up the sun, not to mention eating plenty of grass. She watched one lie down and roll. It was always a sight to see such large beasts rolling around in the grass, maybe scratching their backs, but more than likely doing it because it felt good. Not all horses took the pleasure in rolling, but many did and it brought a smile to her face to see a horse just being a horse.
There was a row of stalls and a barn to her right, painted a traditional brick red and trimmed in white. Adjacent to them were sets of pipe corrals, likely for people who boarded their horses. Michaela knew that Lance earned a nice income by simply setting up a boarding facility. As far as training with him, that was expensive and only the cream of the crop fit into that category. His facility was traditional and well kept.
She walked up a small embankment to the jumping arena and saw that Lance was working a strong and forward-looking Hanoverian over a 3'6" grid. The horse stood over seventeen hands high and was a gorgeous dapple gray. Lance handled him beautifully, his patience and connection with the animal obvious. T
ogether the horse and trainer moved elegantly, with the rider in perfect balance as the animal bent and worked his way through the training session, seemingly to want to please his rider, which is what every trainer desires.
Lance worked the gray a few times over the grid and then did some flat work to finish him out. He gave him a pat on his neck and let his reins hang loose, allowing him to stretch his neck after working those muscles so intensely.
Lance spotted Michaela. "Hey, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked.
"Thought I'd pay a visit. Great horse."
He rode the gray over to the side of the arena. "He's a sweetheart." Lance nodded. "Hey, sorry I was so rude at the polo field, then after what happened to that guy I felt really bad. I also heard about the cops arresting you. What a crock."
"Yeah, well." She shoved her hand into her jeans pockets. "About those ruffians and the polo grounds…"
"Uh-oh. I don't like the sound of that." He slid his right leg over the horse, dropped lightly to the ground, and loosened the buckle on his Charles Owen helmet.
She mustered a smile. "Sterling didn't make it easy for many people to like him."
"Ah. No, he didn't."
She noticed he wore the polo shirt from the event. She squinted. There was a dark reddish-brown spot on the sleeve. Before she thought, she blurted out, "Is that blood on your shirt?"
Lance pulled the sleeve up slightly off his arm and looked to where she was pointing. "Yeah, it is. How the hell did that get there? Oh, yeah." He bent down and undid a wrap around his horse's front leg. "He's got a nasty gash here, which I cleaned earlier. He clipped himself yesterday on something, I'm not sure what. I must've smeared some of the blood on my shirt when I was cleaning his wound."
"Oh." The cut was clean but it could have bled quite a bit. Michaela still couldn't help but notice that her mind was heading down a track she didn't like. She was here, so she needed to do what she came for. "Hey, so I wanted to ask you about Sunday. As you said, I'm no killer and I'm trying to see what I can find out. Not to put you on the spot, but I got the sense from Sterling that there was an issue between the two of you."
He chuckled again. "I didn't care for him, no. But, if you drove out here to ask me if I killed him, I can tell you that I didn't."
"No. That's not what I'm implying at all. I'm only trying to gather information. You were there. I wanted to know if you saw or heard anything."
"I wasn't at the show when he was killed. I'd taken off right after the match. Actually the guy pissed me off even more so after I rode away from you and Ethan. I won't deny that. He came right up to me afterward and told me that I played like a girl with my hands tied behind my back."
"Ouch."
"Yes. Ouch. You know, it irked me, but the thing that really bugged me was that it wasn't like we were playing some huge tournament for cash and prizes. We were playing for charity. A charity I believe in." He twirled his horse's mane around his fingers, his other hand holding the reins loosely. "You know, I hope the police find who did this. It's not fair that you've had to close your center. That money could do a lot of good. My wife's good friend's son is autistic. I know that he's involved with horses down in San Diego and it's been great for him."
"Don't worry, we'll be up and running again. I am sure of it. If the police don't find out who did it, then I will."
"Like I said, I'm not your man. In fact, if it would make you feel better you can ask my wife and daughter. They were both there on Sunday and once I was done the three of us took off, right after the confrontation with Sterling. My family was standing there when he went off on me like that, which I thought was classless. Hell, my eleven-year-old daughter was standing right there listening to this guy rag on me. I've got to tell you, I'm not surprised he's six feet under. Not that anyone deserves that kind of death. But I heard him being horrible to Juliet Mitchell right before the match."
"You did?"
"Oh yeah. He was giving her a hard time. Something about how she needed to listen to him because she was wrong and didn't know what the hell she was talking about. She kept insisting that her dad was going to find out about it and she told him to leave her alone. He grabbed her then, and I started toward them. So did Zach, who pushed Sterling off of her."
"No kidding?"
Lance nodded.
"What happened after that?"
"Juliet walked away and went back to her horse. Zach started talking real low to Sterling and didn't look too happy with him. I thought I heard him say that he didn't want anything more to do with him. That he was only playing nice for the day because of the event, but when it was all said and done they'd need to talk some more."
"Wow."
Lance shook his head. "Make anything of that?"
"Maybe. I thought those three were good friends."
"Yeah, well, one never knows what goes on behind closed doors. Juliet Mitchell seemed to know something ugly about her boyfriend and she knew her father would go nuts when he found out about it. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Juliet walk away from him, and from what I could tell, Zach, too."
"Okay. That's food for fodder, isn't it?"
He nodded. "I wish I could be more help. You know I'm in your corner. Whatever you need."
"Thanks. One more thing: Tommy Liggett was also on your team. Do you know him at all?"
"He's okay. Kind of walks in Sterling's shadow. You know the type—not as good-looking as his friend, not as rich, not all the girls hanging on him, so he's kind of the wing man. But the guy is nice enough. I never had an issue with him. I know he doesn't come from money and he puts most of what he makes into his horse and his lessons with Robert, so he's really into the polo. That's about it."
Michaela thanked Lance and walked back down the hill to her truck. She'd doubted he had anything to do with killing Sterling. It didn't fit. But she couldn't shake having seen the spot of blood on his shirt. Was it Sterling's blood? It was the same shirt he'd worn at the event. It was light colored, so even if he'd washed it, blood would've stained. But why would a killer be wearing the same shirt he'd killed someone in? And he was adamant about his wife and daughter being with him afterward. The only hole she could see with Lance was his alibi: Was it for real? Would his wife lie for him, and could his daughter not have a concept of the timing, being fairly young? She hoped not.
An altercation between Lance and Sterling had been something that Lance supposedly had been able to laugh off and then go home with his family. She really wanted to believe him. She liked Lance Watkins, and Ethan had told her that he couldn't see Lance hurting anyone. It was all super damn confusing.
On top of it, what Lance had told her about Juliet and Zach added to the mix that they could somehow be involved with Sterling's murder. Whatever they had argued about with Sterling seemed far more emotionally charged than the issue between Sterling and Lance, and Michaela aimed to find out if it had driven one of the two of them to murder.
FOURTEEN
LUNCHTIME: ABOUT TIME TO LOCATE ONE LUCIA Sorvino. Michaela was suddenly famous, but not with the kind of fame that anyone cares to have. As she walked down the steps into Sorvino's, all eyes fell on her. The women with their glasses of white wine, rows of pearls across their necks, and fine designer wear scowled at her. The men, on the other hand, seemed to be looking at her with a sort of awe. She wanted to scream, "I didn't kill him!" but decided that would garner even more attention, and the last thing she wanted was any more of that. This was either the ballsiest thing she'd ever done or one of the stupidest. But dammit, she was innocent.
Sorvino's at the polo lounge had a classic Italian feel, with crystal chandeliers, hunter green and cream décor, and photos from a bygone era of Palm Springs and the surrounding desert. It was kind of Frank Sinatra-ish, which fit, since Frank liked to hang out thirty minutes away in Palm Springs back in the Rat Pack days.
Michaela asked a busboy where Lucia Sorvino might be. He told her in the office. She asked him to show her the way. H
e did, also wearing that expression of awe. Michaela's stomach clenched. The busboy tapped on the door.
"Who's there?" a woman's voice asked.
"Uh, Miss Sorvino, there is someone here to see you."
"Yeah? Who?"
Michaela held a finger to her lips and shook her head, then shooed the busboy away. His eyes grew wide, as if she scared the hell out of him.
"Gino? Who is it?" Lucia demanded and swung open the door. She gasped when she saw who stood on the other side. Michaela quickly shoved her foot in the door and held her hand out to prevent Lucia from shutting it. It didn't stop her from trying, and they played push and shove for a few seconds until Michaela's strength won out and she was able to open the door all the way, storm inside the small office, and shut it behind her.
"I'm gonna scream!" Lucia said. "You better get out of here now, or I'll scream."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Michaela took a threatening step toward her. "You lied about me and I want to know why."
"Get out! Get out!"
"Why did you tell the police that I was sleeping with Sterling? That's a bald-faced lie."
"You killed Sterling. Everyone knows you did it. You need to get outta here because my papa will come in here and have a heart attack if he sees you."
Michaela took another step forward. "Spare me the drama. Someone told you to say that. You're just a stupid kid, and if I had to guess, I'd say you were sleeping with Sterling and you don't want your papa to find out about it. What do you think your brother would say? Or wait, maybe they already knew and killed him themselves for tainting you! You know that I didn't kill Sterling. What I want to know is why did you tell the police that I was sleeping with him?"
"Get the hell out of here, you screwed-up bitch!"
Michaela was getting right under the girl's skin. She could see panic in her eyes and felt pretty sure she was on the right track as far as something going on between her and Sterling.
The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 Page 51
