Horse of a Different Killer (22 page)

“Did she say how they knew one another?”

“No, I assumed it was from work, but that wouldn't make sense, if Emma got Kendall a job. Did you ask Emma about Kendall?” I asked as the driver glided onto A1A.

“No, but I will.” Wes opened the little cooler built into the town car's side panel and pulled out a small bottle of Perrier.

I shook my head when he offered me one.

All the talk about Kendall and parties made me realize something with a start.

“Holy crappoly! Today's Thursday.” Emma worked events Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. “The weekend's almost here.”

Wes saw the panic in my eyes and patted my knee. “It's okay. I'm having Emma's calls forwarded to Claudio. He's delegating.”

“Oh, thank God.” I sank back into the plush leather seat. Wes's assistant, Claudio, was superhuman. I was pretty sure he could juggle the scariest things on the planet. Swords, chainsaws, flaming batons, weddings . . .

“Which reminds me, have you heard of the Sanctuary of Saint Giles?”

“No, why?”

“They called asking to speak with Emma.”

“What is it, a church or something?”

“I thought so, too. Maybe related to a wedding, but when Claudio asked for details, they refused to give any.”

“Did you ask Emma?”

“She said it was a charity she'd given to, but . . .”

“What?”

“I don't know.” Wes looked out the window for a moment then back to me. “Something about the way she brushed it off seemed strange.”

“Like she didn't want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “It's probably nothing. There's something more important I wanted to tell you before your visit with Emma.”

“Okay, what's up?”

“When I saw her earlier, she was”—he appeared to be searching for the right word—“down.”

“She's in jail.”

“It seems to be more than that.”

“Did you tell her Claudio is handling the events for her?”

“Yes, and she was grateful but”—he sighed and rubbed his eyes—“I don't know how to explain it. She wasn't herself. I wanted to tell you for two reasons. One, I don't want you to be taken aback when you talk to her.”

“What's the other reason?”

“I want you to make sure she knows I'm on her side.”

•   •   •

Wes had been right about Emma—she wasn't herself.

I asked her if there was anything she needed or something I could do to help but she just shook her head.

I tried to come up with a way to at least let her know I still had the USB stick but knew Boyle would be watching and listening to everything we said.

“Wes is working on getting you out of here.”

She nodded.

“I know you didn't kill Tony. You wouldn't have been there if he hadn't been trying to contact me.”

“Grace.” She reached over to clasp my hand, and the handcuffs scraped over the tabletop as she moved. I stared down at the shining metal and felt a lump clog my throat.

“Look at me.”

I did.

“This is not your fault.”

“It's crazy,” I said with more despair than I'd intended. “That's what it is. Crazy and stupid. And the cops are crazy and stupid to think you did it.”

“Not really.”

My mouth dropped open in shock.

She smiled and I got a glimpse of my sister peeking through the stoic veneer.

“They're looking at the easiest, most logical target. It's what they do. And with good reason.”

“Occam's razor,” I muttered.

“Exactly.”

I arched my brows.

Her smile widened; she loved surprising people. “I hoped once the police started peeling layers away from Tony's life they would find a more viable suspect, but it seems that's not the case.”

“You don't seem very upset.”

“Oh, I'm upset. But it won't do me much good. I figure you and Wes will be doing enough stewing for all of us.”

“He's doing all he can, you know.”

“Of course. He needs to get some rest. So do you.”

“Your boyfriend called me at the crack of dawn.” I told her, knowing she'd know I was talking about Hugh. “He wanted to come over and talk about how great you are.”

“Did he?”

“We talked about Boris, too.”

Emma's eyes widened as she got my meaning. “Well, I'm glad you talked about it. It's been a long time coming.”

“He said he's going to visit you later.”

“That will be nice.” Her face softened and I was struck again by the realization of how much she liked him.

Anger bloomed through me in an unexpected wave.

My sister had dated plenty of guys. Men fell all over themselves to talk to her. But Hugh was different. They'd connected.

The thought of her missing out on a second of that connection pissed me off.

“Grace?”

“Sorry, what?”

“How's the hunt for Heart going?”

My anger fizzled out at the mention of Heart.

“Slowly.” I told her everything I'd learned, then said, “I feel like I'm letting him down, Em. All I know for sure is he's not with Jasmine, which means he's not where he should be. I don't even understand why anyone would steal him in the first place.”

“Why don't you ask Sonja? The ASPCA keeps information on stuff like that, don't they?”

They did. “Emma, you're a genius.”

“I have my moments.” Her smile was almost as brilliant as usual.

I detected the sound of muffled voices in the outer corridor. A glance at the clock confirmed our visit was almost over.

“Gracie.” My sister squeezed my hand so I'd meet her gaze. “I think it's time to call Mom and Dad.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

•   •   •

The visit was over more quickly than I'd have liked. But rules were rules. Wes needed to stay and go over some things with my sister so I headed out to find the town car and catch a ride home.

I was enveloped by the scent of roasting coffee as soon as I stepped outside.

A half a block away, the Maxwell House plant must have been making a giant batch of hazelnut. It smelled amazing. I paused, drew in a breath, and, despite the growing warmth of the day, immediately wished I had a steaming cup in my hand.

Maybe I needed to cut back.

I rejected the idea before it had fully formed and turned to walk toward the parking area.

Jasmine called while I was standing at the curb waiting for my ride.

“I'm sorry for the delay getting back,” she said. “I'm at the airport on my way to Texas to help Tony's family make arrangements.”

“Of course.” I knew the Ortegas were from somewhere in Texas, so it stood to reason his funeral would be there. “Thanks for getting back to me.”

“Heart's registered name is Heart of Midnight. Though I believe his paperwork lists the name in French. Which would be
Coeur de Minuit
.”

I asked her to text it to me so I'd be sure to get the spelling right.

“Have you found anything?” she asked.

“No, but I have a friend who's going to make some calls.”

“I'll be on a flight soon and have some obligations later but if you find anything . . . I could really use some good news.”

“If I get any, I promise to call.”

A few seconds after hanging up, the text with Heart's French name appeared. I forwarded it to Hugh and hoped he'd make headway with the info.

Just as the town car pulled to a stop at the curb, I heard, “Grace, you got a sec?”

It was Jake.

Wes's driver had gotten out of the car to open the door for me, but I motioned for him to wait and turned to the detective.

I started to ask “What's up?” but remembered what Wes had said about how many people would have been privy to Emma's imminent arrest. The question I ended up asking was: “Did you know? When I talked to you yesterday morning, did you know about Emma?”

“You mean did I know your sister was going to be arrested? Yes.”

I don't know why, but I was surprised he admitted it. Jake, being a detective, noticed.

“You expect me to lie?”

“I expected you to feel bad about it.”

“How I feel ain't gonna change things, Grace. But if it makes a difference, I'm sorry.”

“There was a news team there. They recorded the whole thing.”

“I heard.” He paused, jowls drooping in a frown. “That's not how I would have done it, but it wasn't my call.”

I just looked at him.

“Listen, you asked me to look into the missing horse. I did.”

“And?”

“Boyle
did
have one of our guys check to see if any horses like the one you're trying to find came through the Port of Miami. I double-checked with him, and he's gonna get me a copy of the paperwork. I'll let you know as soon as I get it.”

“Thank you.” I turned to go.

“Grace.” I waited. “I heard about the tiger getting a little out of control.”

I shot him a frigid look. If he was insinuating Boris was vicious, I was going to hurt him, friend or not.

He raised his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. “I just wanted to tell you, I'm glad you're okay.”

I inclined my head and walked to the idling town car.

During the ride home, I sent Sonja a text message asking her if she had plans for lunch. She still hadn't responded when the car dropped me at the condo, but it was well before noon.

Moss didn't bother to get off the couch when I walked inside. He offered a sleepy greeting and went back to sleep.

Lazy dog
,
I chided. But he'd already dozed off.

I couldn't blame him. Voodoo had reached the stage of kittendom where the wee hours of the morning seemed like the ideal time to play. Moss hadn't had a good night's sleep in a week; I'd let him be.

With I sigh, I took my phone from my purse and looked at the screen. It was almost eleven. My parents were early risers, no matter what the time zone. Unless the Winnebago had sprouted wings and flown over the Pacific, they'd be up. If they were close to a cell tower, they'd answer.

I pulled in a fortifying breath and called.

It was a difficult conversation. For one thing, my parents were on the fringe of an area with no cell service so I had to repeat everything twice before they made it over a mountain and suddenly had good reception. I told them not to worry. They told me they would be home in three days. At first, they played with the idea of Mom catching a flight out of the nearest airport but finally decided it would be safer to have two drivers working in shifts.

I love my parents. Sure, they fought and squabbled from time to time like any couple, but in the end, when it mattered, they stuck together.

I found myself wondering if I'd find someone who'd be willing to be stuck with me, no matter what, then shook off the thought.

Sonja had texted me back while I'd been on the phone with my parents. It was her day off and she suggested we meet for Mexican.

Just after twelve I slid into the booth across from her.

She grinned, “I ordered you a margarita.”

A waiter brought the obligatory chips and salsa and a moment later two margaritas the size of aquariums were placed in front of us.

I blinked at the colossal drink. “I guess you heard about Emma.”

“No, what?”

I took a giant sip of my margarita and I gave her the shortest version I could.

Sonja's brow furrowed even as her eyes widened in alarm.

“I can't believe it. What did Kai say?”

“He's not on the case. The woman running the investigation is a real piece of work, though.”

“What can I do?”

“Actually, I need help finding a horse.” I explained and brought up one of the photos of Heart I had on my phone.

“And you said this was Tony's horse? Is that what the thing at the auction was all about?”

She had been standing next to me at the auction when Tony's winning bid had been announced.

“I can't think of another reason he'd want to hire me.”

Sonja looked back at the photo of Heart before handing the phone back to me. “He's handsome,” she said.

“Do you think someone would take him because of that?”

“People take horses for all sorts of reasons. Just like people will steal a dog or a bike or anything else. Thieves are thieves. They want what you got—they figure, why not?”

“Yeah, but a horse?”

“You'd be surprised.”

The waiter came to take our order. I hadn't even looked at the menu so went with the standby cheese quesadilla.

“Have you shown his picture around the equestrian center?”

“No, but I will. It's weird,” I said after another tangy sip of my margarita. “The people after him aren't horse people.” At least according to Lily Earl, and I trusted her judgment.

Sonja's face went grim. “You don't have to be a horse person to work for a slaughterhouse.”

I would not go there. “That doesn't add up, either. The delivery driver, Lily Earl, said two men followed her all the way from Miami. I think they're the same men who were arguing at R-n-R the night Heart was taken.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Minerva saw them.”

“Minerva?” she asked.

“R-n-R's resident barn cat. She heard men arguing the same night Heart went missing.”

“How do you know it's the same men who followed the driver?”

“Shiny bells.”

“What?”

“That's what Minerva said—‘shiny bells.' She was associating that with the men arguing. At first, I thought she'd been talking about bells that were shiny, but maybe they're two separate things. Lily Earl said one of the men who followed Heart wore noticeably polished shoes.”

Much faster than seemed possible, two scalding-hot plates were set in front of us.