Tacked to Death (12 page)

That must have been what Michaela
witnessed between the two of them the other day. Paige had tried
talking to Sterling about this. "I didn't know he was going to
school."

"He was taking acting classes. It was
his dream to be an actor and he would've been wonderful at it. He
promised me that he'd get caught up with his bills with Robert. He
went to talk to Robert. Things heated up, I guess, and Sterling
lost it and told him that it didn't matter that he owed him money.
Sterling laughed at Robert and told him where the money was coming
from. Robert was so upset. He came to me and asked me what I'd been
doing. I told him. I explained that Sterling was like a son to me
and that I was trying to help him. I got him to calm down after a
bit. Sterling had auditioned for a play and had promised to pay me
back because he'd gotten the part. Robert was still angry, but not
as much. Then this morning I found the letter. I guess he changed
his mind."

Michaela was more than confused. This
would take some time to digest. Sterling had played poor Paige. He
was an actor. She felt sorry for the woman on so many
levels.

She stood and tried to see if the
invoice she'd spotted on Robert's desk was still there. It wasn't.
She sighed.

"I'm sorry to have rambled on. I
shouldn't have troubled you," Paige said.

"No. Not at all. I'm glad I was here
for you." She put a hand on Paige's shoulder.

Paige nodded. Michaela said that she
had to go, as she had a riding lesson to give. She walked out of
the office, her brain twisted in frustration, for she had no real
clue as to what had just taken place, or the significance of any of
it. But if working around animals had taught her one thing, it was
that trusting your intuition usually meant that you were on the
right track. Her intuition told her that Sterling Taber had
maintained some interesting and complicated relationships, and that
more than one person had reasons to want him dead.

Sixteen

Michaela needed a breather and had
about an hour before she had to be back home to give a riding
lesson to Joe's little girl. Thank God that Joey believed in her
innocence and had no plans of removing Gen from the riding
center.

She walked down the stalls at the polo
field to say hi to Rebel. Someone had moved the horse and at first
she couldn't find her. She'd been moved all the way down to the end
of the row. The bay mare walked over to her as soon as she called
to her from the other side of the barred stall. "Hi, gorgeous, how
are you today? Tell you what, I've been better. Why'd they move you
down here?"

The horse's ears popped forward and she
stared at Michaela as if she were listening intently. The beautiful
thing about these animals was that they provided total and complete
therapy, and all for no money down. Well, that wasn't entirely true
when you broke down board, feed, and training, not to mention show
fees, vet bills, horseshoeing bills, etc. No, hardly free, but they
were really good listeners.

Michaela opened Rebel's stall door and
slid through. She stroked the mare's neck and scratched under her
chin, which made her toss her head about. The chin was typically
sensitive and the scratching caused Rebel to bare her teeth with
her top lip turned up, as if she were smiling or laughing at
Michaela. "Oh, so you find my woes amusing. Wish you could talk;
bet you know something about all the strangeness that goes on
around here."

She continued to pet the horse. She
rounded behind the animal and saw that her back leg had been
wrapped. That was not unusual. Horses acquired cuts and scrapes at
times that caused the grooms to have to treat the superficial
wounds and then wrap them to keep the flies away and prevent the
area from getting infected.

Michaela noticed that the wrap was
partially off. She bent down and rewrapped it, uncovering a fairly
deep cut. Looked as if maybe she'd rubbed up against something
sharp. Kind of like what had happened with Lance Watkins's dapple
gray gelding. Rebel had probably gotten the scrape in the other
stall and that was why she'd been moved. Michaela retightened the
binding. As she started to stand, something shiny caught her eye.
She bent back down and brushed away the shavings to get a better
look. She stared for a moment as her mind registered what it was.
Then she picked it up. Oh, wow! Someone would be looking for this:
a tennis bracelet. Each diamond had to be a carat and had obviously
cost someone a lot of money. She started to stand when she heard
voices in the corridor.

Juliet Mitchell sat astride her
chestnut gelding, and Zach Holden walked next to them. Neither
noticed Michaela. "You did good out there," Zach said. "All you
need is to relax. He can tell that you're tense." He gave the horse
a firm pat on the neck. Michaela was about to step out of the stall
and say hello.

"Tense! Of course I'm tense! How the
hell could I not be stressed out?"

Michaela shrank back inside the stall.
Maybe now wasn't the best time to reveal herself. She'd never heard
Juliet so…edgy. The girl was always well mannered, typically
soft-spoken, definitely upper crest. It was possible that, like her
father, the young woman had a hot temper hidden beneath her
polished exterior.

"Think about it, Zach." She slid off
her horse. "We have to get that letter out of Sterling's apartment.
Do you know if the crime scene tape has come down?"

Oh boy. This was mighty interesting. No
way was Michaela going to announce her presence now. What were
these two talking about? A letter? What letter? She ducked back
down, the bracelet gripped in her hand.

"I don't know why you even sent him
that. What was the purpose?"

"Look, I know it was stupid. Really
stupid." She started to cry. "I don't even know if it's there
anymore. I had to send it to him. I was scared of him and I thought
that was the best way to get him to leave me alone. I tried to send
an e-mail but I thought a letter would be more final, more to the
point. I had no idea it would wind up like this."

"It's okay. I understand. It has to
still be at his place. You mailed it on Friday? Maybe he hadn't
gotten it by Saturday. Or maybe he didn't read the letter. It might
still be in his mailbox."

Michaela watched the two through the
stall bars.

"What if the police find it? The things
that I wrote in there…it was bad, Zach."

"The police are focused on Michaela
Bancroft."

Michaela bit down hard on her
lip.

"We both know she didn't do it," Juliet
replied.

"But until we get that letter, we have
to let the police think what they want. We can't tell them
anything. It will ruin your life, our life, and so many others in
your family."

"It feels wrong."

"I know," Zach said. "But we can't
afford not to be protective right now. Not until we know for sure.
And then we can decide what to do."

Michaela watched as he pulled Juliet
into him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Juliet nodded. Zach lifted her face up
and kissed her. "We'll get through this together."

Get through what together? Michaela had
no idea what they were up to. She started to sink down lower in the
stall as she saw Zach turn her way.

"I promise it's going to be okay,
Jules. Trust me." He smiled and brushed a piece of hair out of her
face. She smiled back at him and nodded. "Look, I've got to check
on Rebel. One of the grooms said she had a cut on her leg. Hang on.
I know she likes to try and pull her wraps off."

Rebel. Rebel! Oh shit, he was coming
into Rebel's stall. As he approached, Michaela lifted her head.
Zach jumped back.

"Oh hey," she said. "Didn't know anyone
was here." She knew she didn't sound very convincing. "I came to
visit Rebel and saw that she had a gash on her leg. Silly mare had
her wrap off. I redid it."

"Oh. Yeah, I was going to check on her.
Gosh, we've been here for a little bit." Zach glanced back at
Juliet, who had a wide-eyed look on her. "You didn't hear
us?"

"No. I didn't. I was bent over treating
the horse, and you know, I've been having sinus problems lately. My
ears seem clogged. I don't know…" She shrugged. "Maybe allergies."
Michaela was fairly certain that neither Zach nor Juliet were
buying her story. "I'd better go." She slipped out the stall door.
"I've got a lot going on, you know."

"Yeah, sorry about all that. We heard.
We know you're not a killer." He frowned.

"No I'm not. You two have a good day."
Michaela walked quickly out of there. She knew she wasn't a killer,
but after overhearing those two chat, she wasn't so sure that
either one of them couldn't have murdered Sterling.

Seventeen

Michaela didn’t know what to make of
Zach and Juliet's conversation. What were those two hiding? Of all
the gall for Zach to say that it was okay for the cops to focus on
Michaela when they both knew she hadn't killed Sterling. They were
so certain about it, too, and yet they didn't really know her all
that well. She was pretty sure that, upon first impression, she
didn't come across as a homicidal maniac. But, were they so certain
for some other reason that she hadn't killed Sterling? Was it
because one of them had done it? She recalled Juliet stumbling out
onto the stage and appearing flushed at the time and apparently not
knowing where Sterling was. It had surprised Camden. What did they
not know for sure? What did those two have to make decisions
about?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."