Promise Her (3 page)

Another shook her head. “She was too pale. And she had a seizure.” She shivered as her voice hitched. “Tell us Tempest is going to be all right.”

It was evident no one had given them any information. Nor had anyone questioned them yet. That was good. Their observations would be fresh. “I’m Lisa Kane, a friend of Tempest’s. I don’t know a thing right now.” Tear-stained eyes stared at her. Lisa knew just how they felt. “I promise to let you know her condition the minute I find out anything. Meanwhile, whatever you remember about how she was before the performance could be a big help.”

They introduced themselves as Jane, Mavis, and Hallie.

“She wasn’t herself tonight,” Jane said.

“What do you mean?” Lisa had seen it too. The jerky way Tempest’s hand held her drink; the breathless way she spoke. At the time, Lisa had explained it away as pre-performance jitters. Now she thought different. Why hadn’t she stopped her from performing? If Tempest had hit her head when she'd fallen and died, Lisa would consider herself responsible for not doing something when she'd had the chance.

“Tempest was the one who always kept us calm before a show. Tonight, she needed valium,” Hallie said.

“Did she take one?”

“Figure of speech,” Hallie said. “I don’t think Tempest took drugs of any kind.”

“Did anyone ask her what was wrong?”

“I did,” Jane volunteered. “She just looked away and said she didn’t feel up to par.”

“What did you think when she couldn’t hold up her end of the act?”

“I thought she might be drunk,” Hallie said. “But I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Was it normal for her to drink before a performance?”

Hallie shook her head. “No. She wasn’t a drinker.” She glanced over at the other performers. “At least, we never saw her drink.” Tears filled her eyes. “She was our inspiration. She was the one who put the act together. We can’t do it without her.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“If you thought something was wrong and she wasn’t herself, wouldn’t that be a reason to either stop the act or at least keep her from performing?” But Lisa had tried to stop her and hadn’t succeeded. How did she expect anyone else to? But had she tried hard enough? Had anyone? No. They hadn’t.

“I didn’t think she was in such a bad state,” Hallie said. “I was wrong. Was she hurt bad from the fall?”

“Don’t be stupid, Hallie. It’s a lot more serious than being drunk and falling off a horse,” Jane said.

“How do you know?” Lisa asked as she pushed aside her thoughts for a moment and came to her feet.

“I work at St. Luke’s. I’ve seen people having seizures and it’s never good.”

“Don’t say that,” Mavis cried, putting her hands to her face. “She’s our age, and in perfect health. She only had a spill. She wasn’t trampled or anything.”

They cried again, both for Tempest and for themselves.

“Would you mind giving me your phone numbers? I’ll let you know if I find out anything.” If Tempest was seriously injured, the cops would be here any minute and Lisa wouldn’t get another chance to talk to them. At least not today.

Digging in her bag, she hauled out a notebook, took down their names and cell numbers.

“When do you think you’ll know something?” Mavis asked.

“Could be any minute. Why don’t you get dressed and hang loose for a while?” She didn’t want to tell them they were facing a grilling if this was as bad as she was afraid it might be.

She looked at her watch. “I’ll be in touch,” she said as she hugged each woman and handed out her business card. “Call me if you need to talk.”

She was almost to the door when she turned back to ask one final question. “Was Tempest’s husband here tonight? Did he come in before the performance?”

They shook their heads. “Didn’t see him.”

“Okay then. Just hang loose.”

She shut the door behind her and hurried down the hall.

“Hey!” Bailey yelled, trying to keep up.

“Get a move on. I have to meet Douglas.”

They entered the skybox a few minutes later. The crowd had thinned. Most of the dignitaries had left to find out what had happened to Tempest. Those who remained were milling around with drinks in hand, rehashing their own perceptions about what they'd witnessed.

Her gaze swept the area. Where was Douglas?

She caught him as he opened the door. And couldn’t stop the hitch in her heart. He had on his lawyer clothes: suit and tie. The tie matched his eyes, making them an even brighter green. Unsmiling, he searched faces until he found her.

Douglas’ hair was slightly darker than that of his brothers Darin and Dugan. Donovan’s was ink black. Douglas, Darin, and Dugan were the bachelors in the family. So far. Darn her luck that she'd fallen for the Callahan who loved the ladies. All of them.

She studied him, let her wayward heart feast.

For one swift moment she saw herself as he must have seen her. As a young college student, she’d loved him from that first meeting. She'd tried, in her immature way, to get his attention. She wore tight jeans, low-necked T-shirts and skimpy bikinis. But Douglas had only smiled and dodged. Thankfully, she’d stopped her juvenile tactics before she graduated college

In his eyes, was she still that silly teen? Surely, he could see her as she was today. A full-grown woman.

“What’s going on, Lisa? You scared the heck out of me.”

She introduced him to Bailey Monahan and tried to explain. “Tempest Wheatley, a client and friend, fell from her horse, had a seizure, and was taken to the hospital. Her husband is the Rodeo’s Committee Coordinator. I don’t know how she is. Right now, I want to know if something was in the drink she had when she came into the skybox—something that shouldn’t have been there.” This might be their first clue about the what. The why would have to be answered later.

“What makes you suspect foul play?” Douglas asked with a frown.

“It’s more than a feeling. Tempest asked the company to investigate her husband. She thinks he’s dipping into her trust fund and having an affair. But that’s not all. Harold was nervous tonight—more than nervous. Guilty nervous.”

The food smells were making her nauseous.

The bartenders restlessly waited for the show to be over so they could clean up and leave. The food servers were only a little busier. Several men hovered near the window to watch the action on the floor.

Lisa went to the table where she’d been seated earlier. It was clean. No glasses. No nothing.

She whirled around, went to the bar.

“What are we doing, Lisa?” Douglas asked, his voice low and controlled.

“Can I help you?” One of the bartenders asked.

“See that table over there?” She pointed a finger to the table.

He nodded.

“Who cleaned it?”

“Ma’am?”

“Who took the glasses off the table and what did you do with them?”

The three young men hired to tend bar exchanged glances that said the lady was nuts.

She put her hands on the bar, leaned close. “Where are the glasses from that table?”

The oldest of the trio stepped forward. “I’m sorry you’re having a problem. But as you can see we keep the place picked up. It’s part of our job.”

She wanted to take that bow tie he was wearing, wrap it around his scrawny neck and pull tight. Instead, she took a calming breath. “It’s important that I find a particular glass that was there earlier. Please.”

She turned to Douglas. He pulled out his card. “Now,” he said.

“The glasses are under the bar. It’s where we keep them until the show is over. Then we take them to the dishwasher downstairs.”

Lisa went weak with relief. At least they hadn’t been washed.

“Thanks, Douglas.”

He stepped aside, pulled out his cell phone. In seconds he was back.

“I think we need Darin here before we do anything. I saw at least fifty glasses. You and I can’t do a thing with them. Maybe Darin can. He’s the cop in the family.”

She was an idiot. Why didn’t she call Darin to begin with? Because Douglas was the first person she'd thought of. Because he was the person she wanted beside her. Now she’d called him out unnecessarily.

“I’m sorry, Douglas. I should have thought of that myself.”

He grinned that grin that made her heart flutter, gave her a playful hug. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. You know I’m here if you need me.”

She did know. All the Callahans were there for the family. But she didn’t want the role of adopted sister where Douglas was concerned.

“How long will it take him to get here?” she asked.

“Not long. We’ll wait here and make sure they don’t take off with those glasses.”

They stood guard until Darin showed up.

“What’s going on?”

“Wasn’t that my line?” Douglas grinned.

Lisa briefly explained the situation. “I want you to take these glasses to the lab and have them checked. If someone put something in Tempest’s glass that caused her accident, we need to know.”

“Do you realize how much time it will take to check each glass for fingerprints, again for content? Do you know what a stink it’s going to cause if there’s nothing in there but a regular drink?”

“I know, Darin. But I can’t help but think this is important. Besides, I can weed out a big portion of them. It’s not a wine glass, or one of the small square ones, but a taller one. More like a water glass. That’s why you’re here. If we called 911, the cops wouldn’t understand.”

“Lisa, I
am
a cop. And
I
don’t understand. Regardless of her husband’s demeanor, it’s likely he’s completely innocent of any wrongdoing. For all we know, Tempest is fine right now. Besides, we have no probable cause to take these glasses into evidence.”

“Trust me on this, Darin. I hope I’m wrong, that Tempest fell because she had a seizure brought on by something other than what could have been in that glass, that she is fine right now. But she wasn’t acting right minutes before her performance, and she looked terrible when they put her in the ambulance. Her husband wasn’t acting right either. I can’t help but be suspicious. Besides, this is part of an AAF investigation.”

“Okay,” he said in resignation. “This is what we’ll do. If these guys or someone higher up agrees, I’ll sort through the glasses, take those back to headquarters that fit your description, check them in at the lab where we’ll hold them until we see where this goes. If we have to wait for a warrant, we can forget it. A judge would never sign one under these circumstances.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After a quick conversation with the bartenders and wait-staff, he turned to Lisa. “They don’t care what we take as long as the boss knows what’s going down.” He looked at Bailey. “I could use a little help,” he said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves and handing a pair to Bailey. Taking a rack of glasses, he set them on the bar and started separating them.

“Thanks, Darin. And thank you, Douglas. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“You’ll never be a bother, Lisa. You should know that by now.”

She turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Douglas asked.

“I want to talk to a couple of people before I go to the hospital.”

“Then I’ll get over to the jail. My client probably thinks I’ve bailed on him.”

He leaned over, gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead and left. Having him so near, inhaling his scent, made her want him all the more. But Douglas couldn’t see her as anyone other than his little sister.

One of these days
, she promised with a sigh.

A roar came up from the crowd. Lisa’s gaze flew to the window. Coming onto the floor was George Strait in a white Cadillac convertible. He cut quite a figure in his black western duds, Clorox-white shirt and big black Stetson.

If this hadn’t happened, she could sit back and enjoy his performance. Lisa thanked Darin again and left. Before the cops got here, and she was sure they would, there were people she needed to talk to.

When she reached the floor, she realized the cops were already there. True, they made a visible statement during every performance. Not like now.

Wanting to stay out of their way, she went to find her buddies; the guys who had known her dad, and had taken her under their wing after he died. They had been good friends of her parents and were now her cowboy buds.

“Hey, Mike,” she yelled.

Mike Patterson turned and waved. She motioned for him to wait. Mike had been a bull rider most of his fifty-odd years and it showed. He was tough as nails on the outside, soft as a marshmallow inside. And he’d been her dad’s best friend. After the accident, Mike had promised to always be there for her. He’d kept his promise.

“Whatcha doin’, Cowgirl?”

All of the cowboys on the rodeo circuit had called her Cowgirl since she had showed up at her first rodeo at the age of six, decked from head to toe in pink western wear. At first they’d called her Little Cowgirl. Now that she was nearly as tall as they were, they left off the
little
.

“We need to talk.”

He leaned against the fence that held a number of horses and waited for her.

“Lookin’ good,” he said with admiration.

“Wish I had on my jeans,” she complained.

“What do you think of the accident?”

“Are you sure it was an accident?” she asked, watching him closely. Mike was as smart as they came, but didn’t advertise it. The look in his eyes told her he was as confused as she.“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Mike nodded in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what happened?”

“Not a clue. Wish I did. She’s a pretty lady who put on one helluva performance. Plus, she’s real nice.”

“Yeah. Everybody likes Tempest.” Not necessarily her husband. Lisa left that unsaid. “Did you see her before her performance?”

He nodded. “She didn’t look good, way too pale, pasty even. I wanted to stop her, but by the time it registered something was wrong, she was on the arena floor.”

“I know. I had the same thought. What about Harold? Did you see him? Was he around the dressing area? Her horse? Anywhere close to her that you saw?”

“You investigating, Cowgirl?”

“Maybe.”

“Be careful.”