The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3

by Michele Scott

  "I get it. Okay, let's figure this thing out. What do we need to do?"

  "We need to find out exactly what happened last summer and how those two are connected. I want to know why his parents weren't here today, and see if we can find out who else knew about the affair."

  "I'm on it. I've got some friends in the jet-set circle in Santa Barbara. Maybe I can call around, see what the gossip is. I need to head over to the shop. Are you going to the polo lounge?"

  "I don't want to, but I think I will." The polo team had gotten together and planned a celebration of life after the service. Michaela thought it would be a decent idea to continue poking around.

  THE EVENT LOOKED TO HAVE MORE PEOPLE AT IT than the actual funeral service. The Sorvinos were milling around, of course. Michaela caught Lucia's eye as she served slices of gourmet pizzas to guests and Mario poured drinks. Lucia shook her head at Michaela and rolled her eyes. If there weren't a hundred people milling around, she'd consider strangling the brat. Michaela didn't see Pepe but assumed he was in the kitchen.

  Robert and Paige sat at one of the tables with their food and wine. Michaela was beyond caring much what they might think of her. She wanted to know about that invoice, and also how the two of them had made nice with each other. She walked over and sat down with them. No time to be shy. "Nice turnout."

  "Yes," Paige said.

  "It's also good to see that you two have obviously worked things out."

  Robert looked at Paige and then Michaela.

  Paige's eyed widened like a deer caught in the headlights. "I…told Michaela what was going on between us," she said.

  "Oh," Robert muttered. He took a sip of his wine, then set it down as he searched for the right words. "I needed to blow off steam, that's all, and sometimes I lose my temper. I didn't think Paige would take it seriously. I sure didn't think she'd tell anyone."

  "I was upset, honey—"

  "Anyway, it is nice that you are working it out," Michaela interrupted. So, Paige had not told Robert that she'd been discussing the state of their marriage with anyone. "I can understand why you would have been upset, Robert."

  Paige eyed her.

  "I think that I would have been upset, too, if my spouse was secretly giving money to a man I thought responsible in some way for my own son's death."

  "Michaela!" Paige exclaimed.

  Michaela felt bad about saying it. It certainly wasn't her finest moment, but these two had been acting strange and, dammit, she needed to get to the truth here.

  Robert sighed. "No, it's fine. I never talk about Justin. Ever. And today, burying Sterling, it has stirred up memories. I understand why my wife did what she did. At first when she told me, I struggled with it. But knowing Paige, she didn't do it out of maliciousness. She wanted to help Sterling and he'd been a link to Justin."

  Michaela nodded, encouraging him to continue. God, she really did not enjoy taking Robert on a walk down memory lane. It had to be painful, but maybe through that pain the truth would be revealed.

  "What Paige didn't understand was that I had seen the manipulative side of Sterling and, yes, I did blame him in part for Justin's death. But that wasn't Paige's fault, and I don't want to lose her now either."

  "Oh honey." Paige took Robert's hand.

  Michaela actually believed him. His emotion and sentiment were too real. He did love his wife, but that didn't mean he hadn't murdered Sterling. "I'm sorry to be so nosy, but I have to ask you something, Robert."

  "Sure. I think you will anyway."

  Michaela smiled. "The day that Sterling was killed and you went and got my mallet, did you see anyone else around your office?"

  "There were a lot of people all over the grounds that day."

  "I know, but can you think of anyone who stands out? I know that the mallet was wiped clean before I used it. If you didn't have your gloves on before you handed it to me, then your fingerprints would have been on there, too."

  "You're not saying that Robert did this?" Paige asked.

  "No. I'm asking him if he saw anyone around that might have stood out. That's what I'm thinking."

  Robert swirled his wine around and frowned. "There was one gal who bumped into me and asked if I knew where to get a program. I thought it was kind of odd because they'd been handing them out as people came in. She didn't exactly fit the profile of somebody who would watch a polo match, if you know what I mean."

  "No. What do you mean?" Michaela asked.

  He shrugged. "She had tattoos and ears full of earrings, lots of dark makeup. That kind of thing."

  "Purple, kind of magenta or hot pink–colored hair?" Michaela asked.

  "Yes. You know her?"

  "Erin Hornersberg."

  "Who?"

  "No one." She waved her hand dismissively. "Um, I don't know how to bring this up, so I am just going to do so. There was an invoice: one to Sterling, on your desk. I saw it. It was there that day, the day he was murdered. It had some not-so-nice words scrawled across it and a letter opener stabbed through it."

  "Yes," Robert replied. "What about it?"

  "Did you write 'Screw you' across it, or did Sterling?"

  "I did," Paige replied.

  "Why?" Michaela asked. She hadn't expected that answer.

  "Robert and I had just had an argument about Sterling. He didn't know at that point that I was giving him any money."

  Robert nodded. "I was upset because Sterling had come into the office and told me that he wasn't able to pay his bill for another week. He was already late. I felt he was taking my generosity for granted. I told him that since that was the case, the event that day would be his last. I didn't know that I was speaking the literal truth." Robert squeezed Paige's hand.

  "When Robert told me what he'd said to Sterling, I became upset. In a way, I did see Sterling as a replacement for Justin, although now I see how crazy that was. I suppose I've never allowed myself to truly grieve over my son. Robert and I argued. He left and went to do something with the horses. I wrote it across the invoice and left."

  "I found her at the charity event a little while later. Remember I told you that I didn't plan to go, but I changed my mind because I felt bad about our fight and I wanted to make it up to her. She told me that she was sorry for the note."

  Michaela weighed their story. The two of them were looking at each other with tears in their eyes. She had the gut feeling that neither one had murdered Sterling. They were two sad and hurt people who truly needed each other and not any type of replacement to work through the void in their hearts.

  She apologized for her questions and stood up. Turning, she saw Ed Mitchell walking toward her. He had two wineglasses in his hands. Giving one to Michaela, he said, "I understand that you think I'm a killer."

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  "I DON'T THINK YOU'RE A KILLER. I NEVER REALLY did, but…I had suspicions to go on." Michaela knew it sounded lame, but this was so awkward. Why didn't she just come right out and accuse him?

  "Suspicions or not, you know me. If you had questions about me or my family, you should've come straight to me. I have nothing to hide. My daughter is distraught by your accusations and your sending the police my way. It's no trouble for me. I can handle Peters. However, Juliet is far more delicate and this situation is troubling her."

  "Did Juliet tell you that she broke into my house?"

  Ed frowned.

  Michaela glanced over Ed's shoulder and saw Juliet and Zach whispering at a table in the corner. She sighed. "Did Juliet tell you anything at all about last night? That she threatened me with a gun?" She noticed Ed flinch.

  "I think that maybe we should discuss this outside."

  She thought about this for a moment. "On the patio then."

  Ed gestured for her to lead the way. Once outside they sat down at a small table. Ed leaned in. "Taber was a piece of shit and I don't care that he's dead." He shook a finger at her. "But I didn't kill the SOB. I didn't hire a hit man either, if that's what is going on in your cur
ious mind. What I did was scare him away from my daughter. At least I tried to. Someone performed a service when they did away with him. Do I think you did it? No. I even told Peters that this morning when he rousted me at seven and quizzed me about that ridiculous letter my daughter wrote. Look, I had the guy followed. He was up to no good, screwing around on Juliet with anything that walked. Hell, Sorvino's little brat was on that list. I told Pepe he better keep an eye on his daughter, or else she could also wind up like that girl Juliet and Zach told me about in Santa Barbara."

  "Rebecca Woodson."

  "Yes. I know Taber got off on that rap, but he was one shady guy and I wouldn't doubt there was foul play involved. The last thing I wanted was to have Juliet carrying on with him."

  Michaela didn't know what to say.

  "My daughter doesn't always use common sense. I apologize for last night. I'm not pleased with what she and Zach did. I know you're no killer. My daughter should also know that I'm no killer. Saying that she was trying to protect me is ludicrous. I don't need any protection. I was with two other couples the day that Taber was murdered. She didn't know that because she was busy with the fashion show. But that is a fact."

  "You say that you had Sterling followed?"

  He nodded. "A private investigator."

  "And Sterling and Lucia Sorvino were friends?"

  "More than that. My guy followed them to the polo grounds, where they were messing around in a stall."

  "Really? Do you know, then, why Lucia would finger me as someone who was screwing around with Sterling?"

  "She did that?" He laughed. "She's a strange kid, and trouble, too. I have no idea."

  "What about Pepe Sorvino?"

  He shrugged. "What about him? Good man. Caters all of our parties. I respect his business and his family."

  She nodded. "I see. Are you also friends?"

  "We do business together."

  "What kind of business?"

  "You are one nosy woman. I'll indulge you, though, because I like your ambition. I told you that he caters my parties. He did such a wonderful job at our last party that I gave him a ring he wanted to give his wife for their thirtieth wedding anniversary."

  That must have been what he'd been doing the day Michaela spotted them after Sterling had been murdered. Mitchell was paying Pepe in jewelry for a job he'd done.

  "I certainly hope you get this straightened out, Michaela. If you need any help, let me know. Next time you think I might be involved in something sinister, communicate with me. It'll save you a lot of time and stress. Good to talk and air it out. I've got to go now. I need to see Tommy Liggett. We have a shipment due in this afternoon. I need to be sure that he's headed over there."

  Michaela watched him saunter away, reminding her of a character Jack Nicholson might play.

  She had pretty much reached the end of her rope and decided it was time to leave Sterling's memorial, maybe take another trail ride, or at the very least get out with the horses. Once again she needed to clear her mind, and the only way she knew how was by taking time out with her animals.

  She didn't bother to say good-bye to anyone inside Sorvino's but instead walked to the parking lot. She did make a mental note that Tommy Liggett would be at Mitchell's jewelry store later in the day. She wanted to speak with him about last summer and hear his version of the Rebecca Woodson story.

  As she wound down the hill from Sorvino's toward the main road, she spotted a black Ford Explorer at a stop sign in front of her. Sure there was more than one black Explorer around, but her gut told her that this was the same car that had followed her yesterday. She punched it and got right behind the vehicle, but then thought twice. It was the same car, and she knew it was because of the license plate. She'd been able to get the first three numbers and pass them on to Joe; now she read the other numbers and started repeating them out loud to memorize them. It looked to her like she'd found the driver who'd followed her into the shopping center.

  She gave herself enough time to get behind a few cars after they turned out onto the main highway. She did note that whoever was driving did not appear to have long blonde hair. That made her wonder if she was on the right track, but intuition urged her on and she stuck with the car for about ten miles, until the driver turned into a residential area. Now she'd have to be more inconspicuous. She slowed her speed way down and figured that whoever was driving hadn't picked up on the fact that they were being followed, or else they would have made an attempt to lose her. At least that was her guess.

  The vehicle finally stopped, and she pulled up in front of a house about a block away. Typical desert-style, flat-roofed homes lined the streets, their landscape a mixture of cactus, rock, and lawn. The area was a nice one, so people obviously made efforts to run their sprinkler systems and keep the greenery alive.

  A man got out of the car—tall, dark-haired, wearing a suit. She squinted to get a better look at who it was. She knew him. He moved like a man on a mission, holding himself confidently and not really giving a damn what others thought. He shoved one hand into his pocket and headed toward the door. Yeah, she knew the guy—Mario Sorvino.

  He walked up to the front door of the home, which was shrouded by bushes, and a woman came out to greet him. She had long dark hair—not blonde. Interesting. They hugged and kissed, then went inside the house. It had to be a girlfriend. It was the right Explorer, though. Those first three numbers gave it away.

  After about ten minutes sitting in her truck and wondering what she should do, she decided to get out and search around the SUV. Sure it might be risky, but it was broad daylight and she'd scream bloody murder if Mario even came close to her. He was probably "busy" inside the house with the woman. She didn't know what she expected to find by peering into the back of the vehicle, or why she felt the need to do so. But she did, and what she saw on the backseat made her flinch: a blonde wig.

  She hightailed it out of there, thinking, Mario Sorvino with a blonde wig in the back of his car. Mario Sorvino had followed her. Mario Sorvino said that Sterling got what he deserved, which appeared to be the consensus of many. But was Mario Sorvino the killer? Her jaw hurt as she realized she was clenching her teeth. Dammit, if she could tie things together and then take it all to the police, that's exactly what she would do. She needed Joe's help here. She tried to call him but didn't get an answer, so she left a voice mail.

  Her phone rang and she immediately picked it up. It had to be Joe returning her call. To her surprise it was Ethan. "Hey, Mick. How are you?"

  She didn't want to worry him, so she replied with the standard, "Fine. I'm fine."

  "You don't sound fine," he replied. "You sound stressed. Why don't you come by and see your godson and get away for a bit?"

  She sighed. "I would, but I'm just coming back from Sterling Taber's funeral and I'm not in the best of moods." She was trying to find some excuse. As much as Michaela would've loved to see Ethan and Josh, she doubted that Summer would welcome her with open arms. Whenever they did all get together there was a definite uneasiness between the two women.

  "You went to the service? You are a glutton for punishment. All the more reason why you should stop by. Plus, I bought a new horse I want you to see."

  "You did? That's great, but really, isn't Wednesday always your day off? You should hang out with your family."

  "Mick, sometimes you can be so difficult. Stop acting like a pain in the ass and come see my new horse. I'd like to put him in training with you. He's a two-year-old, beautiful sorrel animal. Excellent bloodlines. Plenty of Peppy in him."

  "Really?" She did like the sound of that. Okay, maybe she could deal with Summer for an hour.

  "You're intrigued, I can tell. Come on over."

  What was she thinking? She couldn't go to his place. She needed to track Joe down and find out what Mario Sorvino had been after and if he did Sterling in. Time was running out. Her parents would be returning from their vacation next week, and Jude was due back on Friday. She didn't want them t
o return home to this chaos that her life had rapidly become.

  "You're coming, right? Only an hour. Come on, Joshy wants to see you. Me, too. I want to make sure you're as okay as you say you are."

  She sighed. "Fine. But I don't have long."

  Her stomach sank as she turned into the ranch where Ethan had moved only a little over a year ago. He'd gone from bachelor to husband and father in such a short time. The place belonged to Summer, who like Lance Watkins trained show jumpers. It was an interesting combination, with Ethan's reiners also lining the barn corridor.

  Their place was large with both indoor and outdoor arenas, a small pasture, and several boxed stalls. A hot walker sat out behind the stalls, near a set of wash racks. It wasn't one of the larger facilities, but it compared with Michaela's. Summer had sold off quite a few of her horses since Josh had been born and she wasn't doing much training these days. Ethan had told Michaela that she didn't seem interested in the horses the way she used to be, and he'd wondered about it. Michaela figured that motherhood had replaced some of the need to be around the animals as much as before, but she didn't completely buy it. She'd been around the three of them from time to time and, as bad as it made her feel to think it, she didn't believe Summer was the most attentive and loving mother. From what she could tell, Ethan had taken on the brunt of the parenting. Then again, maybe she was simply judging with some jealousy mixed in there.

  Summer answered the door in her typical state of perfection—long red hair curled at the ends, flawless ivory skin with makeup intact, a pair of navy slacks, and a pressed white blouse. Summer was so very Summer, and Michaela swallowed hard. "Hi, Michaela. Nice to see you." She fidgeted with her watch and checked the time. "Ethan has been talking nonstop about this horse and how great you'll be at working with him, so I suggested he call you and have you over." She touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry about what you've been going through lately."