The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  One thing was for certain, there was a letter that Juliet Mitchell had written to Sterling Taber and it was damning to her in some way—which meant that Michaela had to find the letter before they did.

  She needed to make a stop at the tack shop and see if a new helmet she'd ordered for Gen had arrived. The girl's birthday was only four days away, on Saturday, and she'd promised to get some things together for Joe and Marianne to give Gen. She couldn't let them down. As much as Joe and Marianne had done for her, she had to come through for them. They were like family.

  Camden was helping a customer with a pair of boots. Boy, she'd come a long way form the hopeless shopaholic who didn't care much for anything other than designer clothes and cocktails shared with a good-looking guy. She'd always been a good friend to Michaela though, and it was a delight to see her making such positive changes.

  She checked the back room and found that the helmet had been delivered, but not the charm that Marianne had asked her to get for Gen. When Camden was finished with her customer, Michaela asked her if she'd signed for any jewelry that might have come in.

  "No jewelry. Some clothes, a box of horse wraps, those leg wraps."

  "Sports medicine boots?"

  "Yeah, the Professional's Choice ones everyone's asking for. How are you today? I tried to get online this morning to see what I could find out about Sterling, but the Internet is down. I called the cable people."

  "Thanks. I'm okay. I'm trying to get through this, figure it out. So far, all I can determine is that I'm not the only one who didn't think much of Sterling."

  Camden frowned.

  "I'm sorry. I don't want to speak badly of him, especially considering the circumstances, and I know you didn't feel that way about him, but try to understand where I'm coming from."

  "I know. I do. I'll get online as soon as I can. I've got several things to do around here as well."

  "You do what you need to here first. I'm weeding through what I've found out."

  She didn't go into what she'd overheard and seen in the past couple of days, because Camden had a propensity to worry, and she had enough on her plate in trying to manage the new store. They'd made the decision to go ahead and open their doors on Monday once the crime scene investigators had cleared the scene, because they didn't really see another option. "How's business so far?"

  "Not too bad. I didn't know what to expect after what happened. I think there are some people who have stopped by just to see where a murder took place, but most of the people coming in are buying things. You know who did stop by?"

  "Who?"

  "That Erin Hornersberg, still as rude as ever. She said that she wanted her makeup brushes. I didn't know what she was talking about. She insisted they were in the storage room, but I checked and didn't see anything. Then she wanted to go back and look herself. At first I wouldn't let her, but finally I went back there with her and stood over her shoulder, but we still didn't find them. She says we'll have to pay for them. She wrote down her address for us to send her a check." Camden handed it to her. "I told her she had to be joking. She says she left four brushes here and she wants more than two hundred dollars for them."

  "I don't think so. Give me a break! Since when did makeup brushes cost fifty bucks each?"

  "Actually, if you buy the good ones, like the professional ones, they can be expensive."

  "Fifty bucks?" Camden nodded. "Like I said, I don't think so. I'll stop by her place and see if we can't work this out. I have a few things to ask her about anyway. Maybe her brushes will turn up."

  "She's weird."

  Michaela nodded. "Oh, speaking of lost. Look what I found in one of the stalls at the polo field." She took the bracelet she'd picked out of Rebel's shavings from her purse.

  "Oh my God."

  "I know. Someone has to be missing this. Can you post a sign up about it, and place a classified ad or something, maybe even call the police and see if anything like this has been reported missing?"

  "Sure. Someone has to be missing it. One of my exes gave me one of those once. They cost thousands."

  "That would bum me out, if it was mine. I'll hang on to it, and if anyone calls about it, let me know."

  "Well, how do we know if they're telling the truth?" Camden said.

  "Good point." Michaela looked it over closely to see if there was any way someone could distinguish it. "The only thing I can think of is to take it down to Ed Mitchell's jewelry store and have them tell me what size the diamonds are, and the clarity. That kind of thing. I'll try and get by there and see what it's worth. Whoever owns it should have all of that information on hand, I would think."

  "I'd think so, too."

  "Good, then that's what we'll ask if anyone comes by or calls saying that it's theirs. And let me know when a box from Horse Jewels gets delivered. I need to get it to Joe for his daughter's birthday."

  "Sure. I'll get that sign up and see you at home. I promise I haven't stopped thinking about how to help you out of this mess. As soon as I can get online, I'll start surfing around and see what I can find out."

  Michaela needed to get back to her place for Gen's riding lesson. She hadn't cancelled it, because in addition to owing Joe a great deal, she also wanted to try and keep something normal in her life.

  Michaela glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes. An uneasiness floated over her. What was this? If she didn't know any better, she'd say that someone driving a black Ford Explorer was following her.

  She had two choices: punch it and try and get away from the Explorer, or pull into a strip mall and see if she was right. Was someone watching her, and if so, who? The whys she could kind of assume. She'd take her chances. She turned into the first Jamba Juice/Starbucks/drugstore parking lot she could find. Not too difficult. Even out here in the desert, they seemed to be going up on every corner. She dashed into the Starbucks and peered out the window. The black Explorer was there, parked down the way. From what she could tell, a woman sat inside. She ordered a coffee and then walked out; the SUV was still there. This was not the time to be anything less than ballsy, so she took a big drink of the coffee, hoping to get a good head of steam going. Maybe she'd go kung fu on her friend.

  She walked briskly toward the car. The driver had sunk down in her seat, but Michaela could still see that someone was inside. Suddenly, whoever was behind the wheel figured out what her intentions were, and before she reached the Explorer the driver cranked the engine, backed out, and tore off. Michaela stood there, coffee in hand, bewildered.

  EIGHTEEN

  MICHAELA FELT PRETTY SHAKEN UP ON THE drive home. Why would anyone be following her? She couldn't see the person well enough to recognize who it was. Not all was lost though, because she'd been able read a part of the license plate. Maybe, with Joe's connections, he'd be able to find out who owned the SUV.

  She sped home, certain that Joe and his daughter would be waiting for her. Relief swept through her when she saw him getting out of his minivan. After pulling up she walked over to the van and helped Gen out. The girl smiled slightly upon seeing Michaela. Through Gen, she had found many new reasons to see life in a different and special way. The girl's autism had taught Michaela to slow down and feel with all of her senses. And she knew from Joe's feedback and watching his daughter do a little better each week around the horses that she was teaching her something in return. She reveled in working with the ten-year-old.

  "Hi. Are you ready to get Booger out and ride?"

  "Yes. Yes. Ride Booger."

  Michaela smiled. It came easy around this kid; even though things were crashing down around her, she couldn't help but see how precious life could be. When they'd first started working together, Gen rarely ever said a word. But she'd started talking a lot more in the last month, and Booger—Michaela's old gelding—brought the best out in Gen.

  "Is she ready? I think she said his name fifty times on the way over." Joe laughed. "How you doin'? Things okay?" he asked.

  "No, they're not oka
y. Now that you two are here though, it's a little better."

  "Talk to me. Come on."

  Michaela took Gen's hand and the three of them walked to the barn. She told Joe everything that had happened over the course of the last couple of hours.

  "Not good. Okay, we put the Nightingales on the back burner. They're trouble soundin', but let's take care of this license plate you got first and then the letter you heard Juliet and Zach talking about. You got an address on this Sterling dude?"

  "No."

  "Okay, sit tight. I'm gonna see what I can do. It's probably gonna take some time before I can put the license plate thing together with the owner. A partial plate is a starting point. I'll see what I can do, and I'll locate an address on Taber. Right now, why don't you give my pumpkin here her lesson and I'll make some calls. I'm also working on the Sorvino chick. My cousin told me what she said. That was in confidence, you know, but when you took off after her yesterday, I figured I'd better check some things out myself. What I know so far is the girl is a clubber. Sneaks out past her pop and her brothers and heads into Palm Springs for the nightlife when she can. She's trouble."

  "That much I am sure of," Michaela replied. She told him about her confrontation with Lucia and Pepe, and how Mario had followed her out of Sorvino's. She also brought up what she'd seen and heard with Ed Mitchell and Pepe.

  "I don't like the sound of any of this. They're all trouble and you're wrapped up in it. We gotta take this thing step by step, 'cause one of these loony toons offed Sterling and they have an inkling that you're on the hunt, which you've made no bones about. Well, Mick, you're putting yourself in a risky situation. It's possible that whoever was following you is connected to Sterling's murder. I say you lay low a bit, let me see what I can find out, and then we'll go from there."

  "That's easier said than done."

  "I know you're antsy and I can't blame you, but you gotta listen to me."

  He was probably right. "Deal."

  Michaela spent the next hour with Gen and life suddenly felt normal again. The child smiled. The horse did everything asked of him and for a little while Michaela felt a semblance of balance. Then it was over.

  With Booger put away and Gen feeding him his treats, Michaela found Joe inside her office on the phone. "Uh-huh. Interesting. Thanks." Joe hung up.

  "What was that about?" she asked.

  "I put in some calls about the license plate; nothing yet, but I'm not surprised. I'm working on Taber's address. But check this one out: I wrote down a list of all the people you mentioned to me, wanted to see what else I could find out about any of them, and I did."

  "You did? What?"

  "One of them killed somebody and spent some time in jail."

  NINETEEN

  "WHAT? WHO? HOW?"

  "The makeup artist."

  "Erin Hornersberg?"

  Joe nodded and leaned back in Michaela's swivel chair, looking pretty darn proud of himself.

  "What are the details?"

  Michaela sat down slowly on her sofa, taking this new piece of information in. She didn't even bother to ask how he'd found it out. She knew his answer would be something like one of his cousins who works for the parole board or something like that. It didn't matter. Joe knew how to get information and, even better, how to process it.

  "What I know so far is, the makeup girly was at a rock concert. A punk rock thing. Word is she was in the bathroom and another girl started giving her some problems, you know, makin' waves kinda thing, and this Hornersberg chick punched her so hard that she fell back and hit her head on the concrete wall and it killed her."

  Michaela brought her hand to her mouth.

  "She got time for manslaughter and assault and battery. She was supposed to do fifteen years, but her case went back on appeal and the defense was able to produce a couple of witnesses who said that the woman who died provoked Erin and hit her. Turned out it was a case of self-defense. The victim had a rap sheet, and Erin was out after spending nine months in the can."

  "Provoked, huh? Self-defense? Even so, I don't know a lot of people who have it in them to kill anyone even in self-defense." Michaela let this jell in her brain. "If she's the kind of person who loses it easily, maybe she lost it just enough with Sterling the other day that she did him in. I need to talk to her. She came by the shop today looking for some makeup brushes she left. When Camden couldn't find them, she said that we needed to pay for them. I've got her address in my purse."

  "Hold off and we'll go there together. I can't today. My oldest, Joe, has a concert tonight. Lead saxophone. Kid is awesome." Joe beamed. "Otherwise, I'd say let's do it today. Maybe I could meet Marianne and the kids at the school."

  "No way. You need to be with your family. I can drop in on Erin myself."

  "Mickey, this is a woman who does seem like a loose cannon. We don't know all the details of what went on with her case, so you know, I think you better hold off on confronting her. You told me she was a strange bird. I don't want you going there alone."

  "Fine."

  Gen walked into the office and sat down next to Michaela, who said, "Did you like riding today? Did you have fun?"

  The girl nodded. "Fun. I had fun. Booger is fun."

  Michaela gently touched her shoulder. Gen tensed under her touch. "Good."

  "Mick, I hate to go right now, but the family and all."

  "Don't be silly." Michaela waved a hand at him. "You do what you need to do."

  "I'll be calling in a bit and checkin' in with you."

  "Thank you. And, thank you," she said to Gen.

  She turned Rocky out into the pasture to play and get some exercise. Then she took out her two-year-old stallion, Leo, and led him up to the arena, where she attached a lunge line onto his halter. Letting the rope out as she trailed to the side of her horse with a long whip in her right hand and the line in her left, she asked him for the trot and then onto a canter, where he was able to get his energy out. She continued to lunge the young horse for several minutes and then she let him off the line so he could romp and play, tearing around the ring. After that she took her older mare, Macy, out and worked her for a good forty minutes, putting her through her paces and enjoying riding an animal who knew how to move and seemed to almost anticipate every move right before Michaela asked her for them. God, it felt good just to get out and be with her horses again. For a while, she'd forgotten about Sterling and this big huge mess she'd become wrapped up in.

  AFTER PUTTING THE HORSES UP, SHE WENT down the row of stalls, making sure that everything was locked up and then fed each one with care, measuring out needed vitamins and supplements and saying good night to each one—her kids.

  It was nearly five, and what Joe had told her about Erin nagged at her. She knew what she'd promised him. Maybe she could get Camden to go with her. She'd seen Camden's BMW pull in during Gen's lesson. If she took Camden, she wouldn't be going alone. That made sense to her. What could happen with the two of them together? If Erin were trouble, they'd be double the trouble.

  She knocked on the door of the guesthouse, where Camden and Dwayne lived. Her friend opened it. "Want to go see if we can get into some trouble?" Michaela asked.

  Camden closed the door behind her. "Since when did you ever have to ask me that?"

  A few minutes later, they were turning out onto the highway. "Can you get my purse? There's an address in it," Michaela said.

  Camden found it; Michaela could see out of the corner of her eye that her friend was looking at her funny. "This is what you call going and getting into trouble? Come on. This is Erin Hornersberg's address."

  "I know." Michaela gripped the steering wheel. "Hear me out." She filled her in on what Joe had told her about Erin.

  "You need to turn around and go back home because Joe is right on this one! What are you thinking?"

  "I'm thinking that Erin might slip up and say something about Sterling, and if you're with me, we can go to the police and tell them."

  "No." Cam
den shook a finger at her. "You're not thinking. That is so stupid. Do you hear yourself?"

  "Okay, I agree, it doesn't rank up there in the intellect department. But, come on, I don't know what else to do."

  "Wait for Joe. His muscle is enough to make anyone quiver. Besides, think about it: Do you really think Erin is going to slip up and say, 'Oh yeah, I took the dude out'? I don't think so."

  "All right." Maybe bringing Camden along wasn't such a good idea, but she wasn't convinced yet that going to see Erin was so dangerous. "Bear with me. We'll see if she's even home and if so, we'll handle the makeup brush thing. That's it. Let's go and see how she acts."

  "Ridiculous, but you're not going to let me out of this, are you?"

  "No."

  "Fine. For this, I may pick one of those ugly bridesmaids' dresses."

  "You wouldn't. And I thought I was the maid of honor."

  "I would. Hot pink with frills and puffy sleeves à la 1990. And maybe I'll demote you."

  "You're a bitch."

  "Oh so true, so true."

  They started laughing. "You know, I got some snooping done for you," Camden said.

  "You did?"

  "Told you I would. And I found out some interesting things about Sterling."

  "Want to elaborate?"

  "Looks like you were right and I am easily snowed. Sterling had some trouble with the law back home in Santa Barbara. I found a newspaper clipping from last summer. All about big money, parties, and a dead girl. She supposedly was one of Sterling's girlfriends."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. And there's more." Camden sucked in a deep breath. "Guess who's in the photo with Sterling? His polo mates—Zach Holden and Tommy Liggett."

  "So, those guys went to Santa Barbara with Sterling last summer. I talked to Paige Nightingale earlier and she told me Sterling's family tightened up the purse strings with him last summer."