Tacked to Death (13 page)

"She's weird."

Michaela nodded. "Oh, speaking of lost.
Look what I found in one of the stalls at the polo field." She took
the bracelet she'd picked out of Rebel's shavings from her
purse.

"Oh my God."

"I know. Someone has to be missing
this. Can you post a sign up about it, and place a classified ad or
something, maybe even call the police and see if anything like this
has been reported missing?"

"Sure. Someone has to be missing it.
One of my exes gave me one of those once. They cost
thousands."

"That would bum me out, if it was mine.
I'll hang on to it, and if anyone calls about it, let me
know."

"Well, how do we know if they're
telling the truth?" Camden said.

"Good point." Michaela looked it over
closely to see if there was any way someone could distinguish it.
"The only thing I can think of is to take it down to Ed Mitchell's
jewelry store and have them tell me what size the diamonds are, and
the clarity. That kind of thing. I'll try and get by there and see
what it's worth. Whoever owns it should have all of that
information on hand, I would think."

"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.

Eighteen

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."

Nineteen

“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."