Horse of a Different Killer (20 page)

Wes had already set plates on the dining table and was pulling cartons out of the paper bags.

I fetched napkins and a couple of glasses of iced tea.

“You'll be glad to know I wasn't followed,” he told me after taking a few bites of fried rice. “At least not that I could see.”

“Ha!” I said around a mouthful of Vegetarian Delight. “I knew that's why you wanted to take my car.”

“I have to keep one of my girls out of trouble.” His tone had become very un-Wes-like.

The food seemed to solidify in my throat and I had to swallow hard to get it down.

“You're worried.”

“I don't like the vehemence with which the police are pursuing Emma.”

“Boyle.” I said the name with enough asperity to elicit a barely audible growl from Moss.

Wes gave me a questioning look and I told him what had happened at Happy Asses. It was a testament to our friendship that rather than asking about Boris, Wes focused on Boyle and Margulies.

“Are you sure Margulies was tipped off?”

“You should have seen how fast she pounced on Emma.”

“Reporters can be pretty quick on the rebound.”

I thought about it. It had all happened in a blur. One second, I was tuned in to tiger-TV, the next, Boyle and her deputies were leading Emma away in handcuffs.

“Even if someone did leak the story,” Wes added. “It might not have been Boyle.”

“Who else could it have been?”

“Actually, there are quite a few people involved in processing an arrest warrant. Any of them could've tipped off Anita Margulies.”

“It was Boyle, Wes, I'm telling you. The woman has a screw loose.”

“Let's move on to the JSO. What did you tell her?”

“Nothing,” I said, defensively. “I exercised my right to remain silent.”

Wes gave me a look.

“Mostly,” I amended.

He waited.

“I didn't say anything about Emma. I just told Boyle she was a biased twit.”

“Tell me everything.”

I did.

Wes listened then took a few minutes to mull over what I'd said. “I think Boyle might want Emma to confess by saying she acted in self-defense.”

“Because of her and Tony's history?”

Wes nodded.

“How would she even know about Emma's past with Tony?”

“Mary knows. She could have told Boyle.”

“Mary?” I hadn't realized Tony's housekeeper had been privy to what had happened to Emma. I'd been away at school and had never gotten the full story.

“She agreed not to talk about it,” Wes said. “But that was before Tony died. She'd have no reason to protect his reputation now.”

“Or she's trying to lay the blame on Emma to cover her own guilt.”

“What makes you think Mary had anything to do with Tony's death?”

“I don't know. It's just a feeling.” I couldn't put my finger on why, but I was suspicious of Mary.

“I'm not sure Mary could have done it,” Wes said. “When Boyle asked you about spiral fractures did she tell you Tony's arm was broken?”

“No.”

“Did she mention a cause of death?”

I shook my head.

“Commotio cordis.”

It took a minute for me to remember where I'd heard the term. “Like the little boy who got hit in the chest with a baseball a couple of years ago?”

“I'm still waiting on a copy of the report from the medical examiner, but from what I understand, cause of death is listed as heart failure due to a blow from an unknown object.”

“How can that be ruled a homicide?”

“Boyle is basing her case against Emma on her history with Tony and her experience as a martial artist.”

“She thinks Emma twisted Tony's arm with enough torque to break it, then what?”

“She hit him in the chest with something that stopped his heart.”

“This isn't
Kill Bill.
No jury would buy that Emma killed him with some mystical death-punch.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not Emma knows how to do it.”

The warmth and stillness of the air made it feel more like the start of a muggy June day rather than an autumn morning. Little droplets of moisture had gathered on Moss's coat, making his fur look like it was covered in dozens of tiny, dull crystal balls.

A crystal ball would have been nice to have or, better yet, a magic wand.

Where the heck was Dumbledore when you needed him? Oh yeah—he was dead.

“Man, I need some coffee and a shot of Prozac.”

Moss was feeling sluggish, too. I couldn't tell if he was mirroring my gloominess or paying the price for eating one too many wontons. Either way, he was happy to cut our run short.

Voodoo trotted down the hall toward us as soon as we walked inside. She squeaked out little complaints at our absence as she approached. When she reached him, she head-butted Moss's legs then moved on to me.

Hold!
She asked me to pick her up. I was happy to oblige.

I made coffee, cuddled the kitten, and felt better.

The pocket of my shorts started singing “I'm Too Sexy.”

Right Said Fred? That was a new one.

How did my sister manage to mess with my ring tones? She was the ring tone ninja. A rinja.

I fished the phone out of my pocket and smiled when I saw the caller ID.

Hugh.

Of course.

“Hey.”

“You up?”

“Mostly.”

“Want a bagel?”

I hadn't until he said the word. “Yes.”

“I'll be there in twenty.”

Luckily, I'm low maintenance. I hurried into my bedroom, set Voodoo on the bed, then darted into the bath to take a quick shower.

My hair was still wet, but it was combed and I was dressed when Hugh arrived.

We headed into the kitchen and I poured Hugh a cup of coffee while he took the deli paper–wrapped bagels out of the bag.

By some unspoken signal, we agreed to eat standing at the counter.

Moss came into the kitchen to beg for a bite of bagel before I'd had a chance to unwrap it.

Anticipating this, I'd already secured my mental shield and was able to ignore my dog. Mostly.

He whined.

I turned my back to him and said to Hugh, “If he gives you the sad face, just ignore him.”

“You're the boss.” He grinned and took a bite of his bagel.

“Sorry about last night. I should have called.” I'd thought about it when I didn't see him on the way out of the JSO, but let myself zone out in the town car and had completely forgotten about it by the time I went to bed.

“It's okay,” Hugh said after a sip of coffee. “I ran into Wes. He brought me up to speed.”

“Then you didn't come by to ask about Emma.”

“I talked to Ozeal last night. She's worried about Boris. These outbursts aren't like him. She's afraid he has some sort of neurological disorder. I wanted to get your opinion.”

“Boris is fine.” I hesitated, not sure what to say. I needed to tell Hugh the truth about my ability.

I remembered what Sonja had told me a few months ago when we'd talked about Hugh. The man wasn't blind and he wasn't a fool. If I told him the truth he would believe me.

Still, the words wouldn't come. Hugh had started talking again about Boris, outlining a couple of theories explaining the tiger's abnormal behavior. But I was too busy psyching myself up to listen.

“It wasn't Boris,” I spoke over Hugh's hypothesizing. “Yesterday was my fault.”

“Okay.” He waited for me to explain.

“Boris got upset because of me.”

“I didn't see you do anything.”

“It's not what I did. It's what I thought.”
Spit it out, Grace.
“I have that ability.”

“To do what?”

“Communicate with them, you know . . .”

“You mean—” He made a vague indication toward his temple.

I caught myself before I could wince.

“Yeah, like that.”

“Well,” he said philosophically. “That explains a lot.”

I waited.

“You don't think it's crazy?”

He let out a quick laugh. “No. I've seen what you can do. You think I'm stupid?”

“Sometimes.”

“I still don't get what happened with Boris.”

I sighed. “Basically, when I saw what was happening with my sister, I whammied him with a big dose of anger.”

“You can do that?”

“It wasn't on purpose.”

“Whatever, Beast Master.”

I rolled my eyes. “See? This is why I never told you. I knew you'd come up with something ridiculous like Beast Master.”

“Beast Mistress?”

“I swear to God if you start calling me Beast Mistress, I'll make Boris eat you.”

“You wouldn't do that. I'm too pretty.”

I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

The insult rolled off him like water off a beaver's butt. “Emma thinks so.”

I thought about the ring tone she'd programmed for Hugh and laughed. “You're right about that.”

Suddenly, the levity and banter felt wrong.

“I'm worried about her, Hugh.”

He sobered and studied me for a long moment before saying, “The first time I saw your sister, I remember thinking it must have driven your daddy crazy, having two beautiful daughters to worry about. I mean, I knew how you were.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're”—he hitched a shoulder—“you know.”

“No.” I crossed my arms. “How am I?”

“Well, not very approachable. Not that it's a bad thing,” he added hastily. “That's my point. You're guarded.”

“So?”

Funny how I had managed to tell him my biggest secret and was suddenly feeling defensive about my lack of social prowess.

“I thought Emma would be, too.”

“Emma? Guarded?” I scoffed.

“What I'm trying to say is she's tough. Not in the same way you're tough and maybe not for the same reasons, but you shouldn't worry about her.”

“Did she tell you? About Tony, I mean.”

“Only a little, but it was enough.” Hugh's expression changed as he spoke. A flash of flint-hard ferocity lit his hazel eyes.

His magnetism was not diminished. If anything, the intensity made him more appealing.

The thought sparked an idea.

“Do you have any contacts at the port?”

The change of subject threw him for a moment. “Where, here?”

“Miami.” Jacksonville's port, though busy, didn't allow the import of animals.

“I've dealt with a few people, why?”

“Tony Ortega was having a horse brought into the country. A Friesian named Heart.”

“Emma mentioned it. He was stolen, right?”

I nodded. “I think it has something to do with Tony's murder. The cops have blown it off because there's not really a paper trail on the horse.”

“There has to be, if he was shipped here.”

“Tony was supposedly keeping everything under wraps to surprise his fiancée, but now, I'm thinking there's more to it.”

“What's Heart's registered name?”

Crap!

“I forgot to call and ask. Hang on.” I grabbed my phone and found Jasmine's number. The call went straight to voice mail. I left a message about Heart's registered name and asked that she leave a message or send a text when she could.

“Boyle said she'd had one of her investigators check it out,” I said to Hugh. “But I'm thinking someone with substantial veterinary experience might find out more, or think of alternative questions to ask.”

Hugh's excessive charm didn't hurt, either. Someone who might not be candid with the cops would talk to Hugh.

“I'll see what I can find out about Heart. I've got to go talk to Ozeal before I head into work.”

“Um, Hugh, what I told you about my ability. I don't tell many people.”

“I shouldn't mention it to Ozeal?”

“If you don't mind.” It seemed silly, especially considering how many people now knew. Sometimes I felt like my life was one of those giant, intricate domino patterns. Every swirl and line precisely built and perfectly aligned. It felt like someone had knocked over the first domino. It was only a matter of time before the chain reaction got going to topple what had taken so long to build.

“I'd rather tell her myself, I guess.”

“Sure.”

“When are you going to talk to Emma?”

I glanced at the clock on the stove. “Soon. Wes is sending a car for me.”

“A car? Like with a driver?”

“It's how he does things.” I was so accustomed to Wes's penchant for being chauffeured around, I never gave it much thought.

“Must be a decent lawyer,” Hugh said as I walked him to the front door.

“Wes is a spectacular lawyer.”