The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (70 page)

"I'd think so, too."

"Good, then that's what we'll ask if anyone comes by or calls saying that it's theirs. And let me know when a box from Horse Jewels gets delivered. I need to get it to Joe for his daughter's birthday."

"Sure. I'll get that sign up and see you at home. I promise I haven't stopped thinking about how to help you out of this mess. As soon as I can get online, I'll start surfing around and see what I can find out."

Michaela needed to get back to her place for Gen's riding lesson. She hadn't cancelled it, because in addition to owing Joe a great deal, she also wanted to try and keep something normal in her life.

Michaela glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes. An uneasiness floated over her. What was this? If she didn't know any better, she'd say that someone driving a black Ford Explorer was following her.

She had two choices: punch it and try and get away from the Explorer, or pull into a strip mall and see if she was right.
Was
someone watching her, and if so, who? The
whys
she could kind of assume. She'd take her chances. She turned into the first Jamba Juice/Starbucks/drugstore parking lot she could find. Not too difficult. Even out here in the desert, they seemed to be going up on every corner. She dashed into the Starbucks and peered out the window. The black Explorer was there, parked down the way. From what she could tell, a woman sat inside. She ordered a coffee and then walked out; the SUV was still there. This was not the time to be anything less than ballsy, so she took a big drink of the coffee, hoping to get a good head of steam going. Maybe she'd go kung fu on her
friend.

She walked briskly toward the car. The driver had sunk down in her seat, but Michaela could still see that someone was inside. Suddenly, whoever was behind the wheel figured out what her intentions were, and before she reached the Explorer the driver cranked the engine, backed out, and tore off. Michaela stood there, coffee in hand, bewildered.

MICHAELA FELT PRETTY SHAKEN UP ON THE drive home. Why would anyone be following her? She couldn't see the person well enough to recognize who it was. Not all was lost though, because she'd been able read a part of the license plate. Maybe, with Joe's connections, he'd be able to find out who owned the SUV.

She sped home, certain that Joe and his daughter would be waiting for her. Relief swept through her when she saw him getting out of his minivan. After pulling up she walked over to the van and helped Gen out. The girl smiled slightly upon seeing Michaela. Through Gen, she had found many new reasons to see life in a different and special way. The girl's autism had taught Michaela to slow down and feel with all of her senses. And she knew from Joe's feedback and watching his daughter do a little better each week around the horses that she was teaching her something in return. She reveled in working with the ten-year-old.

"Hi. Are you ready to get Booger out and ride?"

"Yes. Yes. Ride Booger."

Michaela smiled. It came easy around this kid; even though things were crashing down around her, she couldn't help but see how precious life could be. When they'd first started working together, Gen rarely ever said a word. But she'd started talking a lot more in the last month, and Booger—Michaela's old gelding—brought the best out in Gen.

"Is she ready? I think she said his name fifty times on the way over." Joe laughed. "How you doin'? Things okay?" he asked.

"No, they're not okay. Now that you two are here though, it's a little better."

"Talk to me. Come on."

Michaela took Gen's hand and the three of them walked to the barn. She told Joe everything that had happened over the course of the last couple of hours.

"Not good. Okay, we put the Nightingales on the back burner. They're trouble soundin', but let's take care of this license plate you got first and then the letter you heard Juliet and Zach talking about. You got an address on this Sterling dude?"

"No."

"Okay, sit tight. I'm gonna see what I can do. It's probably gonna take some time before I can put the license plate thing together with the owner. A partial plate is a starting point. I'll see what I can do, and I'll locate an address on Taber. Right now, why don't you give my pumpkin here her lesson and I'll make some calls. I'm also working on the Sorvino chick. My cousin told me what she said. That was in confidence, you know, but when you took off after her yesterday, I figured I'd better check some things out myself. What I know so far is the girl is a clubber. Sneaks out past her pop and her brothers and heads into Palm Springs for the nightlife when she can. She's trouble."

"That much I am sure of," Michaela replied. She told him about her confrontation with Lucia and Pepe, and how Mario had followed her out of Sorvino's. She also brought up what she'd seen and heard with Ed Mitchell and Pepe.

"I don't like the sound of any of this. They're all trouble and you're wrapped up in it. We gotta take this thing step by step, 'cause one of these loony toons offed Sterling and they have an inkling that you're on the hunt, which you've made no bones about. Well, Mick, you're putting yourself in a risky situation. It's possible that whoever was following you is connected to Sterling's murder. I say you lay low a bit, let me see what I can find out, and then we'll go from there."

"That's easier said than done."

"I know you're antsy and I can't blame you, but you gotta listen to me."

He was probably right. "Deal."

Michaela spent the next hour with Gen and life suddenly felt normal again. The child smiled. The horse did everything asked of him and for a little while Michaela felt a semblance of balance. Then it was over.

With Booger put away and Gen feeding him his treats, Michaela found Joe inside her office on the phone. "Uh-huh. Interesting. Thanks." Joe hung up.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"I put in some calls about the license plate; nothing yet, but I'm not surprised. I'm working on Taber's address. But check this one out: I wrote down a list of all the people you mentioned to me, wanted to see what else I could find out about any of them, and I did."

"You did? What?"

"One of them killed somebody and spent some time in jail."

"WHAT? WHO? HOW?"

"The makeup artist."

"Erin Hornersberg?"

Joe nodded and leaned back in Michaela's swivel chair, looking pretty darn proud of himself.

"What are the details?"

Michaela sat down slowly on her sofa, taking this new piece of information in. She didn't even bother to ask how he'd found it out. She knew his answer would be something like one of his cousins who works for the parole board or something like that. It didn't matter. Joe knew how to get information and, even better, how to process it.

"What I know so far is, the makeup girly was at a rock concert. A punk rock thing. Word is she was in the bathroom and another girl started giving her some problems, you know, makin' waves kinda thing, and this Hornersberg chick punched her so hard that she fell back and hit her head on the concrete wall and it killed her."

Michaela brought her hand to her mouth.

"She got time for manslaughter and assault and battery. She was supposed to do fifteen years, but her case went back on appeal and the defense was able to produce a couple of witnesses who said that the woman who died provoked Erin and hit her. Turned out it was a case of self-defense. The victim had a rap sheet, and Erin was out after spending nine months in the can."

"Provoked, huh? Self-defense? Even so, I don't know a lot of people who have it in them to kill anyone even in self-defense." Michaela let this jell in her brain. "If she's the kind of person who loses it easily, maybe she lost it just enough with Sterling the other day that she did him in. I need to talk to her. She came by the shop today looking for some makeup brushes she left. When Camden couldn't find them, she said that we needed to pay for them. I've got her address in my purse."

"Hold off and we'll go there together. I can't today. My oldest, Joe, has a concert tonight. Lead saxophone. Kid is awesome." Joe beamed. "Otherwise, I'd say let's do it today. Maybe I could meet Marianne and the kids at the school."

"No way. You need to be with your family. I can drop in on Erin myself."

"Mickey, this is a woman who
does
seem like a loose cannon. We don't know all the details of what went on with her case, so you know, I think you better hold off on confronting her. You told me she was a strange bird. I don't want you going there alone."

"Fine."

Gen walked into the office and sat down next to Michaela, who said, "Did you like riding today? Did you have fun?"

The girl nodded. "Fun. I had fun. Booger is fun."

Michaela gently touched her shoulder. Gen tensed under her touch. "Good."

"Mick, I hate to go right now, but the family and all."

"Don't be silly." Michaela waved a hand at him. "You do what you need to do."

"I'll be calling in a bit and checkin' in with you."

"Thank you. And, thank
you
," she said to Gen.

She turned Rocky out into the pasture to play and get some exercise. Then she took out her two-year-old stallion, Leo, and led him up to the arena, where she attached a lunge line onto his halter. Letting the rope out as she trailed to the side of her horse with a long whip in her right hand and the line in her left, she asked him for the trot and then onto a canter, where he was able to get his energy out. She continued to lunge the young horse for several minutes and then she let him off the line so he could romp and play, tearing around the ring. After that she took her older mare, Macy, out and worked her for a good forty minutes, putting her through her paces and enjoying riding an animal who knew how to move and seemed to almost anticipate every move right before Michaela asked her for them. God, it felt good just to get out and be with her horses again. For a while, she'd forgotten about Sterling and this big huge mess she'd become wrapped up in.

AFTER PUTTING THE HORSES UP, SHE WENT down the row of stalls, making sure that everything was locked up and then fed each one with care, measuring out needed vitamins and supplements and saying good night to each one—her kids.

It was nearly five, and what Joe had told her about Erin nagged at her. She knew what she'd promised him. Maybe she could get Camden to go with her. She'd seen Camden's BMW pull in during Gen's lesson. If she took Camden, she wouldn't be going alone. That made sense to her. What could happen with the two of them together? If Erin were trouble, they'd be double the trouble.

She knocked on the door of the guesthouse, where Camden and Dwayne lived. Her friend opened it. "Want to go see if we can get into some trouble?" Michaela asked.

Camden closed the door behind her. "Since when did you ever have to ask me that?"

A few minutes later, they were turning out onto the highway. "Can you get my purse? There's an address in it," Michaela said.

Camden found it; Michaela could see out of the corner of her eye that her friend was looking at her funny. "This is what you call going and getting into trouble? Come on. This is Erin Hornersberg's address."

"I know." Michaela gripped the steering wheel. "Hear me out." She filled her in on what Joe had told her about Erin.

"You need to turn around and go back home because Joe is right on this one! What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that Erin might slip up and say something about Sterling, and if you're with me, we can go to the police and tell them."

"No." Camden shook a finger at her. "You're
not
thinking. That is so stupid. Do you hear yourself?"

"Okay, I agree, it doesn't rank up there in the intellect department. But, come on, I don't know what else to do."

"Wait for Joe. His muscle is enough to make anyone quiver. Besides, think about it: Do you really think Erin is going to slip up and say, 'Oh yeah, I took the dude out'? I don't think so."

"All right." Maybe bringing Camden along wasn't such a good idea, but she wasn't convinced yet that going to see Erin was so dangerous. "Bear with me. We'll see if she's even home and if so, we'll handle the makeup brush thing. That's it. Let's go and see how she acts."

"Ridiculous, but you're not going to let me out of this, are you?"

"No."

"Fine. For this, I may pick one of those ugly bridesmaids' dresses."

"You wouldn't. And I thought I was the maid of honor."

"I would. Hot pink with frills and puffy sleeves à la 1990. And maybe I'll demote you."

"You're a bitch."

"Oh so true, so true."

They started laughing. "You know, I got some snooping done for you," Camden said.

"You did?"

"Told you I would. And I found out some interesting things about Sterling."

"Want to elaborate?"

"Looks like you were right and I am easily snowed. Sterling had some trouble with the law back home in Santa Barbara. I found a newspaper clipping from last summer. All about big money, parties, and a dead girl. She supposedly was one of Sterling's girlfriends."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And there's more." Camden sucked in a deep breath. "Guess who's in the photo with Sterling? His polo mates—Zach Holden and Tommy Liggett."

"So, those guys went to Santa Barbara with Sterling last summer. I talked to Paige Nightingale earlier and she told me Sterling's family tightened up the purse strings with him last summer."

"That's about all I could find. The story seemed to die out. The articles were vague. The dead girl's name is Rebecca Woodson. She drowned after being at a party with Sterling; the article names him as her boyfriend. It also said that the two of them had been arguing and that this young gal left the party, while Sterling stayed and hung out there with his friends. There were conflicting reports. I guess that some partygoers said Sterling followed Rebecca out. Some said they saw him leave with a buddy."

"Wonder if that was Zach or Tommy? It only said
a
friend, or did it say
friends
?"

"I'll give you the articles when we get back, but I'm pretty sure it said
a
friend. Then I found an article from a few weeks after this girl's death; she drowned by falling off a nearby pier. Her family didn't buy it when Sterling was cleared of any wrongdoing, and they filed a civil suit. I can't find anything about it after that."