Horse of a Different Killer (9 page)

I retrieved the dress, returning to find she'd finished blow-drying and had moved into her closet to peruse the dozens of pairs of shoes lining one wall.

“It's too bad you murdered my Louboutins.” She shot me a weighty glance as she pulled a pair of deep burgundy boots out of a box.

“Um . . .”

It had been an accident. Fancy footwear and I do not mix.

The doorbell rang, Moss let out a deep, bark-howl-bark, heralding the arrival of an unescorted visitor and warning said visitor that the area was under his protection.

It's okay. It's Hugh!

Moss didn't care.

Having met Hugh, and knowing he was my friend, didn't stop my dog from maintaining the Prime Directive. Which was, basically, to jealously guard whatever he believed was his.

Males and their territory—what can I say?

“Tell him I'll be two minutes,” Emma said.

I glanced in at Moss and Voodoo as I passed my room.

Be nice
, I ordered and continued to the front door.

I pulled open the door and gaped at the man before me.

He wore a deep olive button-down dress shirt tucked into a nicely tailored pair of black slacks. I felt my eyebrows shoot to my hairline when I saw the loafers.

“Clean up good, don't I?” Hugh asked.

“I never would've guessed,” I said, opening the door and ushering him in.

“And just think, all of this could have been yours.”

He was teasing, of course, so I ignored the comment. It had taken me a while to get my head around the idea that Hugh's flirtations were his way of showing he cared. I wouldn't call the way he acted harmless, but he wasn't the lecherous jerk I'd once believed him to be.

Moss trotted out of the hall, slowed as he angled toward the entry, then stopped a few feet from us. He stood stock-still—fierce wolf-eyes locked on Hugh.

Hugh, being a man with a good deal of experience with large predators, froze.

Moss let out a low growl.

“Stop it, Moss.”

Guard.
He insisted.

Guard who? From what?

The answer came a moment later when a blur of black fur the size of a large grapefruit came tumbling into view.

Voodoo slid over the tile, scrambled to gain purchase, then scampered to Moss. The kitten leapt onto my dog's hind leg and began to climb him like a lemur scaling a baobab tree.

Moss's kitty
,
he declared.

Oh, good grief. No one wants to take your kitty.

“Hey!” Emma emerged from the hallway with a smile bright enough to light the Gator Bowl. It hardly flickered when she noticed Moss, who was stubbornly playing sentinel.

“Move, you beast,” she said, and nudged his flank with her thigh. With a low grumble, he allowed her to push past.

“Brave,” Hugh said, with open admiration. For all the times he'd made suggestive comments or given me a roguish smile, I'd never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at Emma.

“He can't hurt me,” my sister said, brushing white fur off the skirt of her dress. “Grace wouldn't let him.”

I made a rude noise, but neither Emma nor Hugh seemed to notice. They were both too involved in checking each other out.

I couldn't blame them. They made a cosmically good-looking couple.

“You got with Kendall, right?” my sister asked as she lifted her purse from its spot next to mine on the entry table.

“Yep.”

“See? I knew you could do it.” Emma gave me a hug and murmured against my ear, “Don't wait up.” She pulled back with a wink, looped her arm through Hugh's, and sauntered out the door. It closed quietly in my face.

“No, I didn't have anything I wanted to tell you,” I said to the closed door, suddenly a little disappointed.

Moss came to stand at my side and nudged my hand with his muzzle.

Okay?

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just kind of wanted to—”

Before I could finish my thought, he caught the scent of lingering barn odors wafting in the air around me and became fixated on sniffing.

“I guess that means I need to shower,” I said.

It was probably too late to call Kai and ask him over for dinner. What would I make, anyway?

“Maybe I could order pizza,” I said to Moss.

Pizza.
He swished his tail in agreement. Moss always appreciated pizza.

If I timed it right, I could call for a pizza, text an invite to Kai, and be in and out of the shower before either arrived. Thanks to the new waterproof supercase Emma had gotten me, I could even text Kai while I was in the shower.

Grabbing my phone from my purse, I ordered a large half veggie and cheese, half supreme. Refilling my wineglass, and ignoring my dog's continued sniffing, I was just turning down the hall when there was a knock at the door.

Moss let out a distracted half bark and zeroed in on something on the toe of my shoe.

As I often did, I paused to consider answering the door. It couldn't be the pizza already and Emma had a key. I shrugged. Whoever it was could come back.

In my room, I took off my shoes and socks, kicking them into the corner to encourage Moss to sniff them somewhere out of the way. I had dropped my T-shirt on the floor when I heard the knock again. Then the doorbell rang. Growling, I snatched the shirt off the floor, yanked it back on, and stomped through the condo to the front door to pull it open with a scowl.

It was Kai.

“Oh—I, um . . .”

“Sorry to just drop by,” he said.

“It's okay. I was getting in the shower. But I was going to text you.”

“You were going to text me while you were in the shower?”

“Well, yeah. I smell like farm animals and I ordered pizza, so . . . That came out wrong. Come in.”

“You sure?” he asked as he stepped into the foyer. “You seem a little annoyed.”

“I am. But not with you,” I added hastily. “My sister went on a date with Hugh.”

“And that bothers you?”

“I wanted to talk to her about some stuff and she goes out to have fun.” I stopped. Frowned. “Wow, that sounded really bratty, didn't it?”

“A little,” he said with a teasing smile.

I led him into the kitchen and held up the bottle of wine.

“Deblubles?” I massacred the name.

“Can't. I'm on call. I'll take a Coke if you've got one.”

“Sure.” As I was poking my head in the fridge to grab the soda, I noticed my shirt was inside out.

And backward.

“Um . . . here.” I handed him the can of Coke and walked out of the kitchen. “I'll be right back.”

Zipping back into my room, I yanked off the shirt, turned it right-side out with a snap, and tugged it back on.

I was glad Kai had decided he wanted to date me before he'd realized what a bobblehead I could be.

Spotting my glass of wine where I'd left it on the dresser, I snatched it up and took a deep swig. With a forced sigh, I squared my shoulders and walked back to the kitchen.

Moss had decided to harass Kai and was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, glaring at him.

Cut it out, Moss.

I nudged him on the rump and moved past.

“Why does he do that?” Kai asked. “Does he want something?”

“Yes. To prove he's manlier than you.”

“No contest—I've seen his teeth.”

“Just ignore him and he'll stop.”

“What if I give him a treat or something?”

Treat? Treat!

Moss sidled up to nudge under my hand.

“Because,” I said to Kai, “giving positive reinforcement for negative behavior is a no-no.” I said the last part looking pointedly at my dog.

Please, treat?

When I ignored his request, he tacked on an image of Kai giving him the treat.
Friends
.

“You are so full of it,” I told him.

“What?” Kai asked, looking from me to my dog.

Before I could answer, Moss stepped up to Kai, tail swishing gently, sat at perfect attention, and cocked his head.

Brows arched, Kai looked down at Moss then up at me. A slow grin pulled one corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile.

I shook my head.

Just to drive it home, Moss placed one giant wolf-paw on Kai's knee and made what I like to call the Hopeful, Hero-Worship Face.

“Am I supposed to resist this?” Kai asked, gesturing with his can of Coke.

“No, you're not.” I let out a belly breath and leaned against the counter.

Treat!
Moss repositioned his paw, gently tapping Kai's leg twice before letting it drop to the ground. He cocked his head to the other side and let out a pitiful whine.

“Come on, Grace.”

“Oh, good grief,” I said, giving in. “Top shelf of the pantry.”

Kai found the treats, opened the box, and handed one to Moss, who took it gently and trotted into the living room to enjoy his victory.

Voodoo, who'd been crouched near the base of the cabinets, leapt out at Moss as he passed.

Ha! Mine!
The kitten clasped her claws in the fur of Moss's tail and hung on for the ride.

“I was being manipulated, wasn't I?” Kai asked when I turned back to him.

“Don't feel bad,” I told him. “Happens to me all the time.”

I took another sip of wine, nearly polishing off the glass. Kai noticed, picked up the bottle, and gave me a refill.

“So,” he said. “You were saying something about farm animals.”

“To be clear, I tried to ask the humans about Heart—that's Jasmine's horse—first. But the kid I talked to didn't know anything and when I tried to ask another guy, Cappy fainted, which distracted me.”

“Who fainted?”

“Sorry, Cappy's a myotonic goat.”

“A what?”

“A goat. They're called fainting goats or stiff-leg goats. They don't really faint though, it's a type of muscle malfunction. Their muscles are hyperexcitable. You know how if you're startled, your muscles will tense up right before you react?”

He nodded.

“Well, these guys tense up but they can't relax.”

“And they fall over?”

“Sometimes. Depends on the goat.” I shrugged. “This one did. I thought I'd given him a heart attack before I realized what was going on. By that time, the other guy who might've had information on Jasmine's horse was gone. But I did have a chance to talk to Minerva, and she told me she definitely remembered a solid black horse being in the stables recently.”

“Minerva would be?”

“A calico. She also said some other weird things. I'm not sure what they mean, if anything. But I'm definitely on the right track.” I raised my wineglass in a self-salute. “I'm going to prove Heart is in the country and I can't wait to see the look on Detective Boyle's face when I do.”

“Actually, that's why I came by,” Kai said.

I waited.

“I need to explain a few things about Detective Boyle. She and I have been friends for a long time.”

“Friends? She wasn't being very friendly with you yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, Tammy's sort of pissed at me right now.”

“Tammy? Really? She seems—I don't know—more like a Maleficent or a Bellatrix.”

“She's really not like that.”

“Like what?” I asked, my temper stirring. “Like a woman who bullies and lies to people? Because in my experience, that's exactly what she's like.”

“Okay.” He held his hands up in surrender. “Just listen for a minute.”

I raised my brows and waited.

“Have you ever heard of Occam's razor?”

“Ocular what?”

“Occam's razor. It's the theory that the simplest solution to a problem is usually the correct one.”

“Oh, right.” I hadn't been aware it had a name.

“Detective Boyle is a fan.”

“You're not?”

“When it comes to certain scientific theories, no. But in regards to investigations and police work, I'd say the rule often applies.”

“So because Emma was at the crime scene and because she's Ortega's ex-wife, Boyle is willing to believe she killed him, without looking at anyone else? That's not just simple it's
lazy
.”

“Tammy's not lazy. She's a good cop.”

The fact that he was defending her rankled.

A little voice in my head reminded me that Kai hadn't been at Ortega's house and hadn't witnessed Boyle's callous and dismissive actions.

He heaved out a sigh.

“I'm not explaining this very well.”

I had to agree with him there.

“Occam's razor is just part of it. She's also tends to be a little hyperfocused and suspicious.

“Four years ago when Charles Sartori was put away for fraud, it came out that he had some connections in the sheriff's office.”

“Not surprising.”

“Well, Tammy and her partner were both under investigation.”

“Like you were?” I asked, feeling a little spear of guilt poke my gut at the thought. Kai had gotten involved with the mob boss because I had asked for help.

He nodded. “When it turned out her partner was in Sartori's pocket, they really put the screws to her.”

“Guilt by association.”

“Right. The heat on me is nothing like what she went through.”

I took a moment to think about his words. “I thought you were done with all that.”

He blinked at me, brows drawing together.

“You said, ‘is' not ‘was,' implying there's still something going on,” I explained.

He shrugged off my concern. “It's not,” he said. “But Tammy thinks . . .”

“What?” I asked when he didn't continue. “Not that you're involved with Sartori?”

He shook his head slowly. The wine must have been making me slow, because it took me a while to get what he was implying.

“She thinks
I'm
involved with Sartori,” I said, slowly. “Doesn't she know I helped catch the bad guys?”