The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (30 page)

"Will you at least talk to the gal from the
center?"

"I don't know, Joe. I don't think I'm cut out
for it. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

"No one's gonna get hurt." He raised an
eyebrow, then wiggled the other. He knew how to work it. That always got her.
For years she'd been trying to figure out how to wiggle just one eyebrow while
keeping the other cocked.

Michaela had known Joey since junior high, when
they'd bonded over pimiento loaf sandwiches, which everyone else thought were
gross, and a mutual love for Billy Idol. Joe had been teased for his weight and
Michaela had been on the shy side, so they'd formed a friendship that stuck
over processed meat and eighties music. Joe was also known around town as the
man with a million cousins. He came from a large Italian family whose ties were
far reaching and, many suggested, of the unsavory nature. All Michaela knew was
that Joe was a good guy with a lot of relatives, who knew how to find out
information or get things done that other people seemed to have a problem
doing.
And
, she was indebted to him. If not for him and the cousins, it
was unlikely that the person who killed her uncle Lou last year would have been
caught.

"Oh God, Joe, why do you do this stuff to
me?"

"I think you should think about it,"
Jude said.

Michaela turned to see Jude and Katie standing in
the doorway.

"Sorry," Jude said. "The door was
cracked. You were talking. We didn't mean to interrupt."

Katie stood quietly next to her dad. Jude took her
hand. The girl wiped her tears with her other hand. She was a petite thing with
wavy, blond hair like her dad's and a splash of freckles across her nose that
reminded Michaela of what she had looked like as a kid. Michaela had never lost
the freckles across her nose and even sported a few more since childhood.

Joe went over to Katie. "It's okay, sweetie.
She'll be fine."

Jude shook his hand. "She didn't mean to
frighten her. She was excited and…"

"Hey, I got a handful of kids, and a lot of
cousins." He laughed. "I know she didn't mean no harm and Michaela
handled it. You talk to her, see if you can get her to agree to running a
center.

"Think about it," he said as he walked out.

She walked over and pulled Katie into her.
"You didn't mean to upset Gen. We all know that."

"Why did she scream like that?"

"She's autistic, honey, which means she
doesn't react the same way you and I do. She actually hears and sees everything
going on around her. Like, listen quietly for a minute. Really listen."
They fell quiet. "Did you hear the birds outside? What about the pool
running from out back? Can you hear the grandfather clock ticking from the
library? And, if a horse got out, I bet we'd hear all the horses go crazy
calling out to him. Gen doesn't filter out the noises in the way that we do.
She hears all of them together at once and it's very loud to her. So, she kind
of shuts down to keep the noises out as much as possible. To you, it probably
seems like she's not friendly or she's weird. But to her, it's the only way she
can handle life."

"So, when I started yelling, it scared her
and on top of all the regular noises she hears it made her really scared, so
she started screaming out."

"Exactly. You're a smart kid. What do we say
we go have that lesson now? I didn't know you'd be early, but it works out
great because I'm going to the horse races tomorrow in Orange County and I need
to be at my friend Audrey's house early in the morning."

"Okay, let's go!"

Katie ran up ahead of them. Jude walked back to
the barn with Michaela. "You're headed to the races tomorrow, huh? Sounds
like fun," he said.

She sensed a slight hesitation in his voice.
Detective Jude Davis and his daughter, Katie, had come into Michaela's life
while the detective investigated her uncle's murder. Since that time they'd
shared coffee dates, lots of phone calls, even a lunch and a glass of wine one
night while Katie scoped out the trophies Michaela had won over the years showing
horses. There was
something
between Michaela and Jude. That much she
knew, but what it was exactly, she wasn't sure. "I am. My friend Audrey
Pratt is taking me. We go every year. She used to work with racehorses and has
a lot of friends in the industry, plus she manages a young woman who is an
up-and-coming country western singer and the girl will be entertaining before
the races start. I thought it would be a good time."

"Sounds like it." He cleared his throat.
"Anyone else going with you?"

"Nope, just me and Audrey."

"Oh. Well, you'll be back tomorrow night,
won't you?"

Michaela looked at him, her expression amused. His
light blue eyes had darkened, and he palmed his hand through his hair,
something he did whenever he seemed nervous. "Actually, no. I'm going on
up to Malibu with Audrey to stay with the girl's mother, another friend of
Audrey's. There are some horses we want to check out. I'm thinking about
purchasing a few more, possibly a better lesson horse for Katie since Booger
isn't much of a challenge for her. Audrey takes in animals off the track to let
them retire in peace."

"Ah."

"Why do I get the feeling that you aren't too
keen on me going?"

"Oh no. I think you'll have a great
time."

She stopped and looked at him. "Jude? What's
up?"

He sighed. "Actually…well, I wanted to ask
you to dinner. That's all. I thought it was time we had dinner together. You
and me. A real date. Candles, wine, flowers."

"Oh. A real date."

He nodded.

"That would be nice. Can you wait a few
days?"

He smiled. "I think so." He squeezed her
hand and then let it go.

Michaela's stomach dropped. She hadn't had a
real
date in years. Life was ever changing, though. She'd learned that for sure, and
although she'd lost quite a bit in the past few years, it made her realize that
maybe it was time to live again.

IT WAS DUSK WHEN MICHAELA WALKED BACK OUT to the
barn. She figured that she'd run into Dwayne and give him a ration about the
tack room. As she headed into the breezeway, she heard Hawaiian music echoing
off the walls. Ah, yes, Dwayne was close by. One thing she loved about having a
Hawaiian around was that he listened to such beautiful music. She closed her
eyes and could almost smell plumeria instead of horse manure. Okay, so maybe
not, but she wanted to.

"Michaela, Michaela!"

Her roommate, Camden, hurried toward her. Not
Dwayne. Camden, in all her redheaded glory, wearing a too tight T-shirt and
jeans. Wait a minute. Something was wrong with this picture. First off, Camden
wasn't wearing expensive high heels. No. She was wearing boots. Cowboy boots.
Working cowboy boots, and furthermore, she was in the barn. Michaela eyed her
curiously.

"It's Rocky. Dwayne sent me to get you."

Rocky was Michaela's six-year-old stallion.
"What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Camden said, a frantic
edge to her tone.

Michaela didn't jump to any horrible conclusions,
because she knew that Camden could be quite the drama queen. She hurried to the
stallion's stall. Dwayne was inside. Rocky's sorrel coat gleamed with sweat.
"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know. He seem better now, but I work
him on a lead line a bit ago. Didn't ride him because I notice yesterday when I
did that he get tired too quick."

"He was worried about him last night,"
Camden interjected.

Michaela glanced from one to the other. "Last
night?"

"I was coming back from shopping and saw
Dwayne out here, so I stopped to say hi. He told me then that he was
worried." Camden seemed flustered.

Michaela closed her eyes for a second, trying to
wrap her mind around this. She held up a hand. "Okay, so Rocky was having
problems last night?" She'd deal with the horse first, her friend's
strange behavior later. "Why didn't anyone say anything to me?"

"No, it not like that, you know? I just
thinking he be tired is all. I never say worry to her. He just being kinda slow
for Rocky. Sluggish; but you know, they have moods and I figure he in
one."

"Well, right now? What's going on?"
Michaela placed a hand on Rocky's neck.

"His heart rate get up high and he seem…I
don't know, different," Dwayne said.

"Antsy," Camden interrupted.

They both gave her a dirty look. As if the queen
of Gucci and Charles David would know when a horse was
antsy
.

Camden seemed to get it. "You know, I think
I'll go blend up some margaritas. Dwayne, you want to join us?"

He didn't answer. Michaela said, "We're going
to take care of Rocky first. You do what you need to." She waved her off.
For as much as she loved her longtime friend, she could be a royal pain in the
ass.

Camden sulked away. Michaela asked Dwayne,
"Did you call Ethan?"

"He be out of town."

"Oh," Michaela replied, surprised to
hear that.

"The vet on call is gonna stop on by."

Michaela took the horse's pulse, which was normal.
The sweat that had soaked him a few minutes earlier was beginning to dry.
"He might have some kind of virus. Damn, I hate to leave him for a
day."

"No. No. He be fine. I call you if there is a
problem."

"No. I don't think it's a good idea. I can't
leave him if he's sick. No way. I'll go crazy thinking about him. I better call
Audrey and let her know that I won't make it."

"You being plain silly now, girl. You go,
have fun with Audrey. Everything gonna be good. You see."

"I'll see what the vet has to say before I
make a decision." She sighed and stroked the horse's neck. Looked into his
eyes. "Hey, bud, what's wrong? You not feeling so good?"

The horse rubbed his face against her shoulder,
wiping his wet mouth on her, smudging a mixture of dirt and hay across her navy
blue T-shirt, already dirty from the day's work. She laughed.
"Thanks."

"He love you. They all love you. He be fine.
The vet gonna figure it out."

"Looks like the vet is here now."
Michaela peered out the stall and could see a tall woman getting out of a
truck.

She came over and introduced herself. "Dr.
Burton," she said, hand outstretched. Michaela shook it. "Let's see
what you got here." Dr. Burton certainly didn't have much of a bedside
manner. She must've been new to the clinic, because Michaela had never met her
before.

Dr. Burton had short brunette hair that skimmed
her ears, and looked to be somewhere between forty and fifty. Hard to tell,
because she had quite a bit of sun damage and deep crow's feet framing her
light green eyes. She did seem to know what she was doing as she went about
examining Rocky, going through every detail and checklist, after getting
Dwayne's story. "I'd like to run a blood test on him."

Michaela nodded. "What are you thinking?"

"Don't know. No fever, pulse is fine,
pressure is fine. Everything I'm looking at screams healthy horse. But I like
to take precautions and it sounds to me like he had some type of episode. I
think the best method here is to do some lab workups. I'll take a look or have
Dr. Slater look and get back with you."

"Okay. Well…" She looked at Dwayne,
"I think my plans for the races are a bust."

Dr. Burton looked up from her clipboard where she
was making notes. "La Catalina races?"

Michaela nodded. La Catalina was a new track
bordering Orange County and Los Angeles.

"No, you don't need to miss the races. The
horse looks great. He might have had some kind of anxiety attack. He's fine. I
won't have anything back for a day or two anyway, so if you have plans,
go."

Dwayne agreed. "I tol' you, he be in good
hands. Go to the races with Audrey."

"I need to draw some blood," Dr. Burton said,
and walked to her truck.

"Friendly lady," Dwayne whispered.

Michaela smiled. "Listen, you really don't
need to handle all of this. I'll just stay home."

"Jeez, woman, you be worse than a mother hen.
No. You going. I be calling if he feeling bad. And that's that. You deserve
some fun. You go, have fun. Done deal. Got it?"

She frowned. "Got it."

When Dr. Burton was finished, Michaela gave Rocky
a last pat and headed down to the house. Dwayne walked toward the guest house
where he resided. She called back to him, "Hey, you want that
margarita?"

He jogged toward her. "You think she got them
made?"

"Please. You obviously don't know Camden
that
well."

They walked into the two-story, stone-type
cottage. It had been built English-country style, and that essence was captured
throughout the house. Too much of a house for Michaela. She'd been grateful
that Camden didn't have any plans of moving in with a new boyfriend or getting
married to another rich guy who treated her like crap. Okay, she did wish that
she shared the place with someone she loved. Not that she didn't love Camden,
but a husband would be nice—one who didn't cheat on her, like her ex. What she
really craved was to fill up the house with a bunch of children. She'd always
wanted kids. But it did not look to be in her future. She hadn't been able to
conceive during her marriage, even after several attempts at various fertility
treatments. Now, there was no husband, no man even to be a dad to any kids, and
there certainly was no sex going on in her house. At least,
she
wasn't
having any. She eyed Camden standing in the huge kitchen with its dark
cherrywood cabinets, oversized refrigerator with matching wood panels, a stove
and oven fit for a chef, and a granite slab in the center where a pitcher held
Camden's famous blended margaritas.

When Camden spotted them, she clapped her hands.
"Oh goody, happy hour can commence. I am so excited. Oh, sorry. How's the
horse? I didn't mean to be insensitive."