Tacked to Death (25 page)

"Joe! Joe! He's getting
away!"

"What?" Joe approached her, clearly
aware that something horrible had just happened. He sprinted past
her and out the back door. Michaela stood, rubbing the side of her
head. She could now see what the killer had initially swung to
knock her down—a twisted snaffle bit. Her hands shook and her body
felt numb. She tried to get up but could only sink back to the
floor, stunned.

A minute later, Joe came back in and
knelt by her. "You okay?"

"I…think so. What happened? Did you see
him?"

"I'm sorry, Mick. The bastard got
away."

Thirty-Seven

“
Let me get you some ice” Joe
bent down. Looks like you got a bruise there across your cheek.
That ain't so good. You got some in the freezer, don't
you?"

"Yes—wait, don't leave me!" Oh no.
Michaela didn't like sounding so needy. She prided herself on her
independence and, yes, even courage. But right now the last thing
she felt was courageous.

"Don't worry, Mick. No one is gonna
hurt you. I'll kick the shit out of 'em."

She smiled at his retort. He was right.
One look at Joey P. and the bad guy would be off and
running.

A minute later, Joe brought back a
small bag of ice and placed it on the rapidly swelling lump on her
face. "That jerk say anything? Take any money?
Anything?"

"No. He was here to kill
me."

"What?"

"Yeah. I offered cash, but he chased me
through the store, swung that metal bit at my face, and then tried
to bash my head in with the mallet. Thank God you showed up when
you did."

"You sure it was a man?"

"Seemed like it, I mean whoever it was,
was pretty athletic."

"Yeah, but not a big guy. I got a good
look at the physique; we can't assume it was a guy yet, but we
gotta call the police, Mickey."

"What? No way, Joe. The last thing I
want to do is call the police. I've had enough of them. I don't
want to answer any more of their questions."

"What about Jude?"

"Not even Jude." She didn't want to say
especially Jude. He was the real reason she didn't want to call the
police. She knew that he'd come unglued.

"Don't be stupid here. Someone tried to
swing that thing at you and you don't want to bring in the police?"
He pointed to the mallet.

She shook her head. "Okay, okay, but
look, you've got to go and be with your family. Next thing I know
it'll be Marianne swinging a mallet at me and I wouldn't blame
her."

"Ah, Marianne knows you're like a
sister to me. She loves what you do for our kid. Don't go worrying
about that. Let's call the police."

"Okay."

Joe made the call and within ten
minutes a black-and-white arrived. Shortly after, Jude rolled in,
his face strained with worry.

Michaela sat on the sofa in her office
drinking the water Joe had gotten her. After Joe told the police
what had happened from his perspective, Michaela insisted that he
go on home. She told him where Gen's gifts were, and one of the
officers helped him carry them to the minivan, while Jude sat down
next to her. "You're going to give me an ulcer," he
said.

"It's not as if I ask for this stuff to
happen."

"I know." He reached for her hand. "Let
me ask you, what do you think this was all about? You say it wasn't
a robbery. Do you think this was some kind of copycat
killer?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like Sterling Taber's
killer."

"That was no copycat killer. That was
the killer."

He shook his head. "No, Michaela.
Peters is certain that Carolyn Taber hired someone to murder
Sterling, if she didn't do it herself. She was found at the
Marriott. She hung herself. She left a note for her husband,
apologizing for the grief she'd caused, and for Sterling. Her
husband says that last Saturday she told him she was going to a
weekend yoga retreat, but we checked, and she never went
there."

"I don't think Carolyn killed him. She
came to see me about the tapes."

"What? You didn't tell me this." He let
go of her hand.

"I know I didn't."

"Why?"

"I didn't think it was important. I
gave you the tapes and I figured that was enough."

"No. That's not enough. That's you
keeping important information from the police. From me. When are
you going to stop playing detective? When are you going to trust
me?"

She didn't reply.

He sighed. "What else? Is there
anything you want to tell me about when Carolyn Taber came to see
you about the tapes?"

"She tried to pay me for them. I told
her that the police had them."

"Did you ever think that might be why
she killed herself?"

Michaela sat up. "Wait a minute. You're
not blaming me for Carolyn Taber's death, are you? I had nothing to
do with that. She…she tried to threaten me. That woman didn't kill
herself. There was another set of tapes somewhere, and whoever had
them, that's your killer."

He stood and again reached for her
hand. She didn't take it. "Come on, let me take you home," he
said.

"No. I have a little girl's birthday
party to go to. Do you need anything else from me?"

"Yes, I do. I need you to be honest
with me. I need you to be a civilian, not a cop. I'm the cop. My
guys are still dusting for prints. Now, let me take you
home."

She tossed him the keys to the shop.
"Lock it up for me. I have to go." She reached her truck and
brushed away tears, wincing at the bruise on her cheek.

Thirty-Eight

Joe’s family doted on Michaela.
Marianne and Joe had five kids, and they weren't without their
tribulations—Gen dealt with autism, little Joe with anger
management issues. Vincent, who was thirteen, seemed well behaved
and mild mannered, and the twins, Giorgio and Isabel, were
rambunctious toddlers who kept their mother hopping. But there was
a lot of love inside this home, and Michaela enjoyed being there
eating birthday cake with them while Gen opened her presents, with
Vincent's help.

Gen smiled widely when Vincent took out
the therapeutic riding saddle for her. "That's your very own
saddle," Michaela said.

"It's just for you." Marianne stood
behind Gen, placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders, and
winked at Michaela.

Marianne mouthed "thank you" to her.
Michaela nodded and smiled. Her head still ached, but being around
the Pellegrino family helped. Their house was one of the newer
tract homes and had that Southern California feel combined with
Mediterranean flair that so many contractors were trying to emulate
in the area. It looked like Marianne probably needed help with the
housecleaning. There were toys pretty much everywhere, and the
twins appeared to be messy marvins, as they were busy strewing the
wrapping paper all over the floor.

The adults steered clear of discussing
Sterling's murder and anything related to it while the kids were
around and instead talked about horses, TV shows they liked, and
even the weather—anything light. They took special care in avoiding
what had happened earlier. Marianne had taken Michaela into the
kitchen and given her an earful when she arrived.

"You and Joe been getting into some
trouble. He's worried about you. I'm worried about you. He told me
what happened and that's not good. Are you okay?" Marianne rested
her hands on her hips. She was a thin, petite woman, but Michaela
knew that when Marianne Pellegrino meant business, she wasn't one
to mess with.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry. I know I've been
a pain, and I'll leave Joe out of this from now on."

"Oh no you won't. You'll get yourself
killed if Joey isn't around. But I don't need my Joey getting
himself killed either. Promise me you'll start carrying some pepper
spray or something. Joey makes me carry it. No more dead bodies
either. This business of you and murder…well, it's not good for
anyone. You need to be teaching my kid and the other kids how to
ride, and settling down."

"You're right." As if she really
enjoyed coming across dead bodies. But she wasn't about to argue
with Marianne, who at that moment played the part of a perfect
mother hen.

"Of course I'm right. Now go and have
some cake."

But once Marianne suggested that the
kids get ready for bed and they all told her good night, Joe
clapped his hands together and said, "What do you think? Should we
put our heads together on this?"

"What do you mean?" Michaela
asked.

"I mean, you know and I know the cops
don't have this thing figured out. Someone tried to kill you
tonight and we gotta find out who it was."

"I don't think that's such a great
idea," Michaela replied.

"Why not?"

"Marianne had a little talk with me and
I don't want to step on any toes."

He waved a hand at her. "Mare is all
bark, no bite. I gotta help you and she knows it."

"No, you don't. Why do you want to
anyway?"

He yawned and stretched. "Makes me feel
kind of like that dude on that old TV show—Magnum P.I."

Michaela laughed. It made her head
hurt, but she couldn't help it. "Tom Selleck? Oh Joe, you'd have to
lose some weight and grow some more hair."

He touched the top of his head. "You
cut so low sometimes. You noticed I'm losing hair, too, huh?
Marianne said something about it the other day. Used to have a ton
of it only what, last year or so. Shit, this getting old stuff
sucks."

"I'm sorry. So, if you're Magnum, that
means I must be the pain in the butt Higgins."

He pointed at her. "Ain't that the
truth. Wanna beer?"

"No. I have to get home."

"Uh-uh. Marianne and I talked and you
need to stay the night until we get this all resolved."

"I can't do that. The horses need me
and your family doesn't need the intrusion."

"Mickey, you are family and you got
Dwayne and Camden to take care of the animals."

"That's right, which means they're
there with me and I'll be fine."

Joe smiled. "Them two are too busy
these days from what you say, being holed up in the love
shack."

"True."

"So you'll stay."

Marianne walked into the family room.
"Of course she'll stay. And I know you two are up to no good, so
you are going to deal me in. If you're going to do your little
private investigating then you better include me."

"Ah, Mare, come on. You wouldn't be any
good at this."

She shook a finger at him. "Joey, I'm
in and there's nothing you can do about it. I think three heads are
better than two, so you two start from square one and fill me in.
It's obvious by the bruise on your face, Michaela, that you're in
trouble. So talk."

She looked from Marianne to Joe and
nodded. Joe shook his head. "Women."

"I don't think you're going to win this
one, Joe."

"I never win."

Michaela started from the beginning,
going over the day of the match, what happened before it, after,
and then the days following.

Marianne raised her brows when she
revealed that she and Joe had broken into Sterling's place. She
shot her husband a dirty look. He shrugged and looked chagrined.
"You think that maybe this makeup artist had a set of tapes? Or
that her friend Sheila had the tape she was in?" Marianne
asked.

"It's possible, but it doesn't make
sense that she would kill Carolyn Taber," Michaela
replied.

"No, but we don't know for sure that
the woman didn't kill herself," Joe said.

"She didn't."

"You still got that bracelet you
mentioned?" Marianne asked.

"Yes, it's in my purse. No one's
claimed it yet." She took out the bracelet and handed it to
Marianne.

"Pretty. Looks real. I have some of
these fake diamonds, the cubic zirconium like this, and no one
knows the difference. You mentioned the Sorvinos." She looked at
Joe. "You know that the Sorvinos are related to Diamante
Pizzini."

"The Pez?" Joe asked.

Marianne nodded.

"Where did you hear that?"

"You're not the only one who has
cousins." She smiled.

"Can I ask who the Pez is?" Michaela
said.

"He's a low-life thug. He's been in and
out of jail for stolen goods. Last time he got out, I heard he went
into business with some wealthy guy in Palm Springs. He runs that
Sinners and Saints club."

"The place that Lucia likes to hang out
at?" Michaela asked.

"That's the one, but I didn't know they
were related. You sure about that, Mare?" Joe asked.

"Sure I'm sure. I ran into my cousin
Nancy last year who knows Diamante's ex-wife's brother and she said
that the Pez is a bastard son of Pepe Sorvino's
brother."