The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (68 page)

He nodded. "I wish I could be more help. You know I'm in your corner. Whatever you need."

"Thanks. One more thing: Tommy Liggett was also on your team. Do you know him at all?"

"He's okay. Kind of walks in Sterling's shadow. You know the type—not as good-looking as his friend, not as rich, not all the girls hanging on him, so he's kind of the wing man. But the guy is nice enough. I never had an issue with him. I know he doesn't come from money and he puts most of what he makes into his horse and his lessons with Robert, so he's really into the polo. That's about it."

Michaela thanked Lance and walked back down the hill to her truck. She'd doubted he had anything to do with killing Sterling. It didn't fit. But she couldn't shake having seen the spot of blood on his shirt. Was it Sterling's blood? It was the same shirt he'd worn at the event. It was light colored, so even if he'd washed it, blood would've stained. But why would a killer be wearing the same shirt he'd killed someone in? And he was adamant about his wife and daughter being with him afterward. The only hole she could see with Lance was his
alibi
: Was it for real? Would his wife lie for him, and could his daughter not have a concept of the timing, being fairly young? She hoped not.

An altercation between Lance and Sterling had been something that Lance supposedly had been able to laugh off and then go home with his family. She really wanted to believe him. She liked Lance Watkins, and Ethan had told her that he couldn't see Lance hurting anyone. It was all super damn confusing.

On top of it, what Lance had told her about Juliet and Zach added to the mix that they could somehow be involved with Sterling's murder. Whatever they had argued about with Sterling seemed far more emotionally charged than the issue between Sterling and Lance, and Michaela aimed to find out if it had driven one of the two of them to murder.

LUNCHTIME: ABOUT TIME TO LOCATE ONE LUCIA Sorvino. Michaela was suddenly famous, but not with the kind of fame that anyone cares to have. As she walked down the steps into Sorvino's, all eyes fell on her. The women with their glasses of white wine, rows of pearls across their necks, and fine designer wear scowled at her. The men, on the other hand, seemed to be looking at her with a sort of awe. She wanted to scream, "I didn't kill him!" but decided that would garner even more attention, and the last thing she wanted was any more of that. This was either the ballsiest thing she'd ever done or one of the stupidest. But dammit, she was innocent.

Sorvino's at the polo lounge had a classic Italian feel, with crystal chandeliers, hunter green and cream décor, and photos from a bygone era of Palm Springs and the surrounding desert. It was kind of Frank Sinatra-ish, which fit, since Frank liked to hang out thirty minutes away in Palm Springs back in the Rat Pack days.

Michaela asked a busboy where Lucia Sorvino might be. He told her in the office. She asked him to show her the way. He did, also wearing that expression of awe. Michaela's stomach clenched. The busboy tapped on the door.

"Who's there?" a woman's voice asked.

"Uh, Miss Sorvino, there is someone here to see you."

"Yeah? Who?"

Michaela held a finger to her lips and shook her head, then shooed the busboy away. His eyes grew wide, as if she scared the hell out of him.

"Gino? Who is it?" Lucia demanded and swung open the door. She gasped when she saw who stood on the other side. Michaela quickly shoved her foot in the door and held her hand out to prevent Lucia from shutting it. It didn't stop her from trying, and they played push and shove for a few seconds until Michaela's strength won out and she was able to open the door all the way, storm inside the small office, and shut it behind her.

"I'm gonna scream!" Lucia said. "You better get out of here now, or I'll scream."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Michaela took a threatening step toward her. "You lied about me and I want to know why."

"Get out! Get out!"

"Why did you tell the police that I was sleeping with Sterling? That's a bald-faced lie."

"You killed Sterling. Everyone knows you did it. You need to get outta here because my papa will come in here and have a heart attack if he sees you."

Michaela took another step forward. "Spare me the drama. Someone told you to say that. You're just a stupid kid, and if I had to guess, I'd say you were sleeping with Sterling and you don't want your papa to find out about it. What do you think your brother would say? Or wait, maybe they already knew and killed him themselves for
tainting
you! You know that I didn't kill Sterling. What I want to know is why did you tell the police that I was sleeping with him?"

"Get the hell out of here, you screwed-up bitch!"

Michaela was getting right under the girl's skin. She could see panic in her eyes and felt pretty sure she was on the right track as far as something going on between her and Sterling.

"I'm only curious as to what a twenty-six-year-old hotshot polo player has in common with a what, twenty-year-old chef's daughter? Wait, maybe Sterling started to feel the same way and blew you off, so
you
killed him. Now you're trying to cover your tracks by making up stories about me. Maybe you're not as dumb as you look. You got into my office, you used my mallet, and now you can tell everyone I was sleeping with him. I think you need to start talking."

"Get out! I told you to get the hell out of here! Papa! Mario!" she screamed.

"The cops may be fooled by your big green eyes and crazy lies, but I'm no fool. And when your family sees you for who you are…well, I think you've got yourself in some hot water."

The door flew open and Pepe Sorvino thundered into the office, nearly knocking Michaela over. "You get outta here. We don't want you here."

"Thank you, Papa, she was harassing me. She scared me."

"
Harassing
you? Oh my God. You are one lying little—" Michaela blurted.

"Out!" Pepe screamed.

"Fine. I'll leave, but I am going to find out why you're lying about me, Lucia. And if it's what I think the reason is, your life will be turned upside down like you've done to mine."

"Go!"

"I will find out what you're hiding." Michaela turned on her heel, nearly running into Mario Sorvino.

Mario followed Michaela to the front door until she turned to him and said, "I'm leaving."

"Hey, between you and me, that prick deserved what he got."

"What?"

"Yeah. Taber. Man was nothing but trouble," Mario said.

"Really? And you knew him?" Her hands shook.

"Who didn't know him? Hotshot dude, come in here and never pay his tab. I wasn't surprised that someone killed him." Mario crossed his arms. "I want to give you some advice. You may want to be careful around my sister and my father. They got hot tempers. I'm only letting you know."

"Mario!" Pepe approached the front door.

He winked at her and retreated into the restaurant. "Be careful, Michaela. It's that simple. Be careful."

She got back into her truck feeling as if the Sorvino family had more ties to Sterling Taber than just Lucia Sorvino being his
friend
, and that Mario Sorvino was more than making small talk with her. If she was right, Mario had subtly threatened her with the "stay away from my father and sister" line. And he'd already warned her about making threats toward his family. She couldn't help wondering how Mario Sorvino tied into this and if she was spot-on when she'd told Lucia that maybe her big brother had done away with Sterling to protect her. He seemed the type to do something like that. And how about running into him right after finding Sterling dead on the office floor? He was on the kitchen staff. He had had the opportunity.

Did he also have motive?

WHY WOULD PEPE'S SON EVEN COME AFTER Michaela? What was his point? She would have to see what Joe might find out about the Sorvinos' ties with Sterling, but right now she had another stop to make. Her stomach sank as she parked her truck next to the stalls at the polo fields. This was not a conversation she wanted to have, but it was necessary. She had every intention to fess up to reading the invoice that had caught her eye and confront Robert Nightingale about it. This was her life she was dealing with and there were some obvious issues between him and Sterling.

She tapped on the office door, which swung open almost immediately. To Michaela's surprise Paige, Robert's sweet but eccentric wife, answered the door. Her eyes looked red, as if she'd been crying. Michaela noticed that the back of her hand had a smudge of black, likely from mascara that she'd wiped off her tearstained face. Paige tried to smile, her brown eyes taking Michaela in. She had cropped blonde hair, which framed her round face. She was on the heavy side and tended to wear drapey, flowy kinds of clothing. Today she had on a purple billowy blouse and black pants.

"Oh, Michaela, hello. Did you come for a lesson?"

Had Paige been the only one to not hear that Michaela was a murder suspect? "No. I wanted to talk to Robert. About Sterling."

"He's not here." She sniffled. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I don't know if he's coming back." She started to cry. "Oh yes, Sterling. Oh dear, I'm sorry that you're having so many troubles over his murder. Goodness knows you would never do such a thing. It's just so horrible. An outrage."

Michaela took a step back. Whoa, this was unexpected. "I'm okay. I'm sure that this will all work out and the police will get to the bottom of it."

"It's not that. It's not you."

Now Michaela was really confused. "Oh, okay. Um…"

"Oh no, I don't mean to sound insensitive, but of course the police will exonerate you, it's not that, it's…" She wiped her tears and sat down on the sofa. "Nothing. Nothing at all. How selfish of me to carry on when you're obviously having problems of your own. Forgive me."

"You don't need to apologize, Paige. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Paige looked up at her, the tears starting again.

"People don't cry over nothing." Michaela reached into her purse and dug through it. She knew she had tissues somewhere in her bag. She found a packet and handed one to Paige.

The woman blew her nose. "Robert is leaving me. Actually, he's left me."

"What?"

Paige shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't know."

Michaela sat down next to her. "Do you want to talk?" She didn't know Paige all that well, but she couldn't leave her here like this.

Paige put her face in her hands. "I've lost so much in the last few years. First Justin, and now this with Robert, and of course Sterling."

"Sterling? You were close with him?" Michaela now felt certain by the way Paige was talking that it had been her who'd hurried away from the polo field grounds after getting out of Sterling's car.

"Oh, yes. He was Justin's best friend."

"Justin? I'm sorry, Paige; I don't know what you're talking about."

"We don't talk about it much. Only people in our small circle ever even whisper about it. I hear them sometimes and see the looks on their faces. The ones that say they feel sorry for me."

Michaela suddenly understood. Paige was talking about her son, who'd been killed in a car accident. She'd never known his name, but she'd heard about the tragedy.

Paige blew her nose. "Justin was our son. I'm sure you know that he died five years ago in a drunk-driving accident after a party. He'd had too much to drink and hit a tree. He was twenty."

"Oh, I am so sorry. I had heard, but I knew it wasn't something to ever discuss with you."

"I know, dear. It's kind of an unspoken rule that no one talks about it, but it's not my rule. Robert won't talk about it. People tiptoe around him all the time. I think he's lost it. He left me a note this morning that said we were through and he was leaving."

"And you don't know why?"

"I have an idea. It has to do with Sterling." She started to cry again.

Michaela waited patiently for a few seconds and then asked her, "What about Sterling?"

"Robert found out that I have been giving him money."

She would have to be careful here. Paige was giving Sterling money? Odd. From everything that she had ascertained about the man, he appeared to have plenty of money of his own and he was doing just fine with that, along with the money he earned with his modeling gigs. "Um, I hate to pry, but why would you give Sterling money?"

Paige smiled, her eyes reflecting nothing but sadness. "I told you that Sterling had been Justin's best friend. It was how Sterling started riding polo. Justin got him into it. And yes, he does come from a wealthy family in Santa Barbara, but they recently stopped providing him with money. Not the kind of money he needed to live on, anyway. I think he'd gotten himself into debt by overextending. He had been receiving twenty thousand dollars a month from his family and then they cut that in half. You can imagine how difficult that would be if you're used to having more."

How much did he need?
Ten thousand dollars a month for a single guy sure sounded like plenty. "Why did the family decide to do that? Do you know?"

Paige shook her head. "He wouldn't talk about it. He said that it was too painful. All I know is that last summer he went back home, then he returned, and within a few months his family had sort of disowned him. And, because he was a link to my son, I didn't want him to suffer."

"You became a mother to him."

"Yes. He filled the gap in my heart that was missing my son…and now they're both gone!"

"Robert didn't feel the same way about Sterling as you did?" Michaela assumed this.

"No. He liked Sterling fine, but I think he might've blamed him for Justin's death. They were at the party together and Robert feels that Sterling should have stopped him from driving home that night. But Sterling was with a date and claims he didn't realize that Justin was intoxicated."

"Did Robert tell you that he blamed Sterling?"

"No."

"Oh. So you were giving Sterling money? I assume that Robert didn't know about it?"

"Not until Sterling told him."