Tacked to Death (5 page)

On her way to check on the silent
auction items, she spotted Robert Nightingale and his wife, glass
of wine in hand, engaged in conversation with Ed Mitchell. Robert
must have changed his mind about coming to the event. Interesting.
She'd be sure to avoid him. She didn't want to answer any questions
about what she'd spotted on his desk. Facts were, it really was
none of her business. Though she did wonder if it had been Sterling
who'd written the unpleasantry across the invoice, or maybe Robert
had written it in anger because the bill hadn't been
paid.

She wound her way through the crowd and
entered the back room of the tack shop. The storage area was a mess
with discarded clothing, purses, and backpacks scattered all about,
the remains of the flurry to dress the models and get them ready to
strut their stuff up on the catwalk.

Michaela headed to the private office
area that she shared with Camden and set her purse and mallet down.
She'd already hung up the outfit she wanted to change into when
she'd gotten there this morning—a teal-colored sheath dress, simple
and casual but also classy. She brought it with her to the bathroom
off to the side of the office and kitchen, and took a quick shower.
Getting out, she thought she heard a door shut. There was no door
to the kitchen, only swinging panels. The only doors were either
the back one or the office. Must've been Camden grabbing
something.

She dressed and headed back to the
office to find her hairbrush and some lip gloss. Placing the key in
the lock, she discovered that the door was already open. Hadn't she
locked it when she showered? She didn't want anyone going in there,
especially with her things around. Maybe in her haste she'd
forgotten.

Michaela opened the door. It took a
second to sink in that what she was looking at wasn't just a pile
of discarded clothes…oh, she was looking at a pile of clothes, all
right, but not just clothes—clothes with someone in them. Blue
jeans, white T-shirt with red sprayed across it. Red. No. Blood!
Everywhere. Michaela looked down again. A polo mallet. Next to the
clothes. Her polo mallet. Oh no. Next to a body. Sterling Taber's
body. And the back of his head all bashed in.

Five

Michaela knew that Sterling was dead
and all she wanted to do was get the hell out of there, but her
conscience made her check just to be sure. She bent down next to
his body. He was not breathing. His eyes were rolled back, showing
the whites. She scrambled backward, ran out of the office and into
the bathroom, where she threw up several times.

She faced the bathroom mirror, blinked
her eyes repeatedly. Was this really happening? Then it hit her:
What if whoever did this was still around? What if they were hiding
in her office or just outside the bathroom door? She had to find
Camden. No, she had to call the police. No, she had to find Camden.
Hell. Security guards. Yes. They'd hired a couple to man the tent
outside. Start there. No. The police. Shit! She stepped out of the
bathroom hesitantly, then ran to the front of the store. They'd
locked the doors when they'd started serving lunch, except the back
door for the waitstaff going in and out of the kitchen. Dammit, why
didn't she just go out the back door? Her mind raced with
confusion. She turned and headed to the back of the store again,
everything she passed a blur of colors.

"Michaela?"

Mario Sorvino was walking through the
back door as she reached it. He looked at her oddly. "Is everything
okay? You look a little pale."

"We have to call the police.
St-Sterling Taber has been…murdered in my office."

"What? No." He shook his
head.

She nodded.

"Stay here," he said. He headed toward
her office.

Michaela suddenly realized that she
wasn't too comfortable staying put. Mario Sorvino hadn't exactly
proven to her that he was a good guy with his earlier remarks. No
way. She was out of there.

Once out through the back door, she
stopped the closest guest walking by. "Do you have a cell phone? I
need to use it. It's an emergency."

The woman, dumbfounded, handed her a
phone and Michaela dialed 911. "There's been a murder," she said,
her voice shaking. The operator took down the details and told her
that help would be on the way. She then went to find Camden, who
was marching models onto the stage.

"Michaela! Have you seen Sterling?
Jeez, I hope that little stunt the makeup girl pulled didn't chase
him away. It's not good. See all those women out there? They are
here to see him," she wailed.

In a sort of fast-forward daze,
Michaela was aware that Camden had pulled back the drapes inside
the tent where the show was going on and pointed to the crowd, but
she couldn't see anything. It was all a blur. Oh God, she thought
she might be sick again.

Camden turned to Juliet, who had just
tripped over one of the acoustic cords, and said, "Hurry up, get
out there. You need to be up there." Then she asked, "Have you seen
Sterling?"

Juliet shook her head. "No, I haven't.
I don't know if I can do this. I've never modeled before! There's a
ton of people out there. I didn't know I'd get so
nervous!"

Zach Holden was just coming off the
stage. He looked at Juliet and asked her if she was okay. She
nodded. "I'm fine."

Camden reached across a table for a
large tequila bottle. She handed it to the girl. "Take a swig of
this and get your ass out there. You'll do great."

Juliet shook her head. "No thanks. I'm
good."

"Great. Never figured that one for
nerves. I mean, hell, she comes from what, one of the wealthiest
families around. She must have done this kind of stuff before. And
I thought for sure that she and Sterling were doing a little…you
know…in the back room, because I couldn't find her for a few
minutes either. I've noticed those two flirting quite a
bit."

Michaela listened to this as if she
were outside of her body, as if time had stood still, and she
wondered if this was what being in shock felt like. Then suddenly,
as if someone slapped her, she blurted, "Sterling is
dead!"

Camden shook her head. "What? What did
you just say?"

She took a deep breath and felt emotion
rise in her throat. Sure, she hadn't cared for Sterling Taber, but
he'd been brutally murdered and no one, not even a jerk-hole
deserved that. "Listen to me." She strained to get the words out.
"The police are on the way. Sterling was murdered in our office. I
found him."

Camden's face drained of color. She
shook her head. "No. Oh no. No, no, no. That can't be. What? What
the hell?" She nearly knocked Michaela down as she raced toward the
tack store and into the back office. Michaela tried to catch up to
her when she realized where Camden was headed and the horror she
was about to see.

Mario, walking down the hallway, tried
to block her, but as big as he was, Camden dodged past him.
"Camden, please stop. It's awful! Don't go in there!" he
yelled.

Camden was at the door, opening it,
when Michaela grabbed her arm. Too late. The door had swung open.
Camden's scream echoed throughout the tack store. She ran to where
Sterling lay, kneeling down by him. Her eyes brimming with tears,
she stroked Sterling's hair. "Oh, no, no, baby, I am so
sorry."

Baby? Michaela placed a hand on her
friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know that you were friends. I wish
you hadn't come in here."

Camden looked up at her, tears
streaming down her face. "I've known him for years and we…we've
been more than friends."

Six

Before a stunned Michaela had the
chance to further question her distraught friend, the police
arrived and asked them to wait outside the office. By this time
word had gotten around, and Dwayne was now at Camden's side. Mario
also lingered. He'd called the police from his cell phone just
before Michaela did. His appearance, so soon after finding
Sterling, bothered her.

Camden rested her head against Dwayne's
chest. Michaela's stomach churned with confusion, shock, and
horror, not only from finding Sterling's body, but from Camden's
comment about her and Sterling being more than friends.

The police separated everyone, and no
one was allowed off the grounds until each person had been
questioned and their contact information recorded. The process
lasted well into the evening, with many people becoming agitated
over being detained for so long.

A forensics team was brought in, and
Michaela was questioned a number of times in a grueling manner by a
detective who was nothing short of a hard-ass. She recognized him
from dropping off lunch to Jude at the station one day. The
detective, Mike Peters, acted as if he'd never seen Michaela
before, until he'd finally closed his notepad and looked at her
with his dark brown eyes. The look in them was not friendly, and
Michaela felt uneasy. He ran a hand through his thinning silver
head of hair. Cracking a grim smile, he shook his head. "Your boy
won't be too happy about this, Ms. Bancroft."

"Excuse me? What? My boy?"

"Yeah. Davis. He isn't going to be too
happy that you found yourself a dead man. Your reputation precedes
you."

"If you're finished with me, I'd like
to lock up when the forensics team is done. From the looks of it,
your crew has pretty much allowed everyone else to go
home."

"I'm done with you for now." He shook
his head. "But don't it seem odd to you that you somehow stumble
across dead carcasses a little too often for comfort?"

Michaela didn't reply. His insinuation
was unsettling and insulting. "Again, if we're finished here, I'd
like to start locking up."

He held the palms of his hands toward
her. "Sure. For now."

She clenched her jaw. As the police
left, she started to lock up. Camden and Dwayne had already gone
home. Michaela really needed to talk with her friend.

A handful of police were wrapping
things up outside as she headed toward her truck and unlocked the
door. A crescent moon hung in the sky, surrounded by bright stars
lighting up what on any other occasion would be a peaceful night. A
cool breeze had dropped the evening temperature along the desert
floor and Michaela wished she'd grabbed her poncho from the shop.
Then she realized she'd left it in the office. Well, it wasn't
really a poncho, the old-school kind with the drawstring around the
neck. It had been a gift from Camden; it was cashmere and so soft,
a pretty rose kind of beige color, and every time Michaela put it
on, she felt good. But in all of the craziness, she'd left it in
her office and she wasn't about to go back in there. Not right now
anyway. She just wanted to get home. Then, just feet away from her
maroon-colored truck, she heard someone approaching.

"Excuse me, Ms. Bancroft?"

She swung around to see a sullen Erin
Hornersberg, makeup box in hand. Michaela brought her hands up to
her neck in surprise. "You scared me!"

"Sorry. Hey look, I left some of my
brushes in the back room where I was doing the makeup. Can you set
them aside for me and I'll pick them up later?"

"I can just unlock the door and we can
get them now."

"No. That's okay. I just want to get
home and I have extras at the shop. I'll call you tomorrow and see
when it's good to swing by."

Her attitude had softened in light of
the events. "It's horrible about Sterling."

"Whatever. Good riddance," Erin said
dismissively.

Michaela took a step back. "I know he
wasn't the greatest guy in the world, but don't you have any
feelings? I mean, at least show some respect. The man was brutally
murdered."

"Like I said, whatever. I'll be by for
my things."

Michaela watched Erin drive off. So
much for a softer attitude.

* * *

Michaela made it home and ran a tub of
water for a hot bath. When she'd pulled in, the lights had been off
in the guest house where Dwayne and Camden lived, and she decided
that their conversation would have to wait until the morning. She
contemplated walking out to the barn to say good night to her
horses but found herself too tired. Dwayne would've fed them. Poor
kids, though; they had to have been starving even by the time he
got there, since the police had kept everyone for so
long.

She lay in bed going back over the day,
from Sterling acting so slimy when buying the ropes, which he
really didn't buy since his card hadn't cleared; her confrontation
with the Sorvinos; to Paige tearing off the grounds and then
showing up later at the fashion show all smiles, with Robert on her
arm. There was the polo match, where Sterling was more than rude to
Lance Watkins, and also toward her. And what was the deal with the
way Zach had looked at Sterling when the game was over? Had they
had a falling-out? Then there was the invoice with the
not-so-pleasant note written across it in Robert's office. Finally,
the discovery of Sterling's body. Who had done that to him? And now
Michaela could not help the guilt feelings welling inside her over
her distaste for Sterling. Maybe she hadn't given him a chance. Was
she simply too judgmental? What was it about Sterling that she
hadn't liked? For one, it was his poor sense of sportsmanship. In
the sport of reining and working cow horses, other riders were
typically supportive of one another. Sure, men dominated the field
and they had their own feelings about a woman doing well at the
sport, but most of them had been taught respect for women while
growing up. They typically kept their feelings either to themselves
or within their tight circle of friends. Michaela had been able to
gain a lot of respect from the men in her sport. But Sterling came
across as a chauvinist with superiority issues.