Saddled With Trouble Read online

  It might seem crazy, but Michaela was inclined to believe that someone was bringing in a mare to the dairy farm while in season, then taking a back trail in to get Rocky out. The barn was far enough away from the house that someone could do this. Leading him to the barn, using him to “breed,” and then returning him. If this were the case, there was quite a bit of nasty business going on. Not the least of which was that someone was stealing her animal time and again. Boy, if she got her hands on that person, she’d . . . well, she’d kill him! How dare someone do that to poor Rocky! Okay, so Rocky probably didn’t mind too much. But, still, it was wrong. Very, very wrong!

  Horse owners were being scammed into thinking that they were going to be getting foals with Loco’s pedigree, not Rocky’s. Now, Rocky was no dumpy animal. He boasted those great breeding lines, too. However, Loco had won several championships and earned a wad of cash, and the titles helped to drive his stud fees up.

  The question was, if this were true, it had been going on for some time now. She would first have to find out if her theory was correct. Rocky had never been typed with the AQHA because he wasn’t being used to stand stud. She took the letter and the hair specimen down to the Postal Annex and sent it via overnight mail. She’d gone online last night to find out who she should send it to, and she planned to make a follow-up call either later that afternoon or early tomorrow morning. She’d probably sound like a loon, but it made sense to her. Michaela’s gut told her that this was a possibility, and she had to pursue it. Her gut also told her that Brad could very well be the one who had been working the scam. He would have still been living in the house when the initial contracts were signed with the breeders. He could have gotten Rocky in and out of the dairy farm in about two hours’ time. But she would have woken up if he’d gotten out of bed. Maybe it all took place after she’d kicked him out. She’d have to go back and look at the dates. Plus, she wanted to go over the contracts and lawsuits to see if she could learn anything from them. She had a full plate waiting for her after working the horses.

  By the time she returned from the Postal Annex, Rocky was finished with breakfast. She got him out and readied him for his morning workout.

  The beauty of being in the arena with her horse during those forty minutes was that she forgot all her worries . . . everything. She only focused on what she and her horse were doing. They became one together.

  “Poetry in motion.”

  She brought Rocky to a stop and looked up to see none other than Detective Jude Davis. Oh, no. What now? Why did this guy have the knack for showing up at the worst possible time? “Hello, Detective. What can I do for you? I believe we discussed all we needed to yesterday.”

  “Yeah, we did.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground, then back up at her. “I don’t believe you had anything to do with your uncle’s murder.”

  She patted Rocky’s neck. “You don’t?”

  “No. And, well . . .” he paused, “I’m sorry about bringing up that you and your ex were

  trying to have a baby. I’m sure that hurt and it was why you were so resentful and defensive.”

  She stared at him, not knowing what to say. He did look apologetic, but he’d fooled her before when he’d been all nicey-nice while questioning her in her home and then “coming to the rescue,” the other night. Then, he’d turned around and showed up at her folks’ place asking all sorts of questions about her marriage. And yesterday? Well, that had blown her initial impression of him. Was he really sorry?

  “Look, I’m going to do something way out of line here. So if you say no, it’s fine, but . . . I was wondering if we could have coffee sometime.”

  She almost started laughing. “Coffee?”

  “Uh-huh.” He waved his arms in front of him. “I know I was tough on you yesterday. I was, but I’m a good judge of character and the way you reacted, in all honesty, put any doubts I had about you and what happened with your uncle to rest. Not that I ever really thought you might have murdered him, but I have to look at all the possibilities.”

  “So now you want to have coffee with me?”

  “Okay and a muffin, too, or you know, a croissant.”

  Wait a minute. Was he asking her out? Wasn’t there some policy within the police force that made that against the rules? He shouldn’t be asking her out. Should he? Could he? Well, he did preface it by saying that he was out of line. And, he was. Wasn’t he? Heat rose to her cheeks. “Detective, can you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Ask me for coffee?”

  He smiled. “It’s not like a date. It’s more of an apology coffee meeting kind of thing. I told you that I feel badly that I was a bit rough on you yesterday. Granted I was doing my job.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back at him. She sure did want him to be sorry. She’d been fooled before, but there was also a part of her that wanted to stay angry at him. “An apology coffee meeting thing? Hmmm. And, so what, we go out for coffee and you say that you’re sorry, which you already did anyway, and there you go.”

  “Kind of.”

  “Kind of. Okay, Detective Davis, you know your apology, the one you just gave me is pretty sufficient. But I have to ask you, you seemed, uh, fairly suspect of me. Why the change of heart?”

  “I told you, I can read people. Gut feeling. You know what I’m thinking, let’s forget it. I’ll be in touch about the case.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his front jacket pocket and all of a sudden looked very TV cop-like. And, it made him even more attractive.

  “Coffee is good. When? Where?”

  “Do you know the bakery on Third? The Honey Bear Cottage?”

  “Know it well. Best lattes in town.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Good. Then that’s where, and why don’t we say day after tomorrow? I know that tomorrow will be a rough one for you, so if you want to wait until next week, I understand.” His voice turned far more serious than it had been.

  “Tomorrow? What are you talking about? What’s going on tomorrow?”

  “Didn’t your uncle’s wife tell you? The coroner’s office released his body and she’s decided to have his services as soon as possible.”

  Michaela shook her head, totally confused. “No she didn’t tell me. I assumed it would be the end of the week. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll give her a call.”

  “I’m sure she’s planning on letting everyone know today.”

  Michaela nodded.

  “Would four o’ clock work, then, on Thursday?”

  “Four it is.”

  “Also, if you need anything tomorrow, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “Thanks.”

  She watched as he walked down the hill. Why was she feeling so weird about him? Okay, one minute he was nice, the next he was not, and then he was again. Did he really believe that she had nothing to do with her uncle’s murder, or was this some ploy he used to get people “to talk?” Not like she had much to say. Okay, so she did have some interesting theories at this juncture, like someone had killed Uncle Lou because he discovered who was substituting Loco’s sperm with another stud’s— possibly Rocky’s. And why, even with all this horrible business going on, did Michaela hope that his desire to meet her for coffee meant more than some simple apology or the need to drag further information from her? Men!

  And, what was going on with Cynthia? Why hadn’t she called to let her know about Uncle Lou’s services, and why the rush? Sure, she could understand wanting to get it over with, let him rest in peace . . . but why hadn’t she asked Michaela to help her with the plans?

  She dismounted and led Rocky out of the arena and down to the crossties, where she was reminded of yesterday’s incidents. Should she have told Davis about the mare and the dairy farm, and what she thought was going on? Probably. But he might think she was losing it, and she’d been so caught up in the moment when he’d been there. He had that knack about him. Mesmerizing. Sort of. Also, she needed confirm
ation from the AQHA before she went further with her hunch. She had a feeling the contracts, the AI program, and the missing money had something to do with her uncle’s murder. She decided she would tell Davis over coffee.

  After sponging Rocky down, she put him away. She worked two more horses and then headed to the house. Camden was out. She’d never come home last night. God, she hated distrusting her friend. It was so damn uncomfortable. But she couldn’t help it.

  She showered quickly and headed out. Since Joey ruled out the possibility of the mob putting a hit on Lou because of her dad, there were others she needed to talk to. People who may have had a reason to want her uncle gone. She needed to start by looking into the lawsuits filed against her uncle, and as much as she didn’t want to, she needed to go see her father and call him on the floor about his gambling. She also had to go see Cynthia. Her uncle’s wife owed her some answers. She would find out why Cynthia was in such a rush to bury Uncle Lou. Michaela also planned to tell Cynthia that she knew Cynthia was pregnant.

  TWENTY-ONE

  MICHAELA CALLED CYNTHIA’S HOUSE A COUPLE of times, with no luck. She didn’t answer her cell phone either. Michaela had a sinking feeling in her gut, because the last time no one answered a phone at Lou’s . . . well, she couldn’t even think about it.

  She decided to take care of her next item for the day and then find Cynthia. Calling her parents’ house, she learned from her mom that her dad wasn’t there.

  After dropping by a few local spots where she thought he might be, she found her dad at Roger’s Sports Bar. He wasn’t there to drink. That wasn’t his vice. In fact, she’d put money on it that he was drinking a seltzer with lime. He’d come to watch the football game he’d bet on; he’d done it for years. Old habits die hard.

  She sat down across from him. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes remaining on the screen. “I’m only watching, Mickey. That’s all.”

  “Dad, you’ve never been able to lie well. Besides, I already know. I know how much you’re in for, and to who.”

  “Oh.” He still didn’t look at her. “You going to tell your mom?”

  “She also has a pretty good idea, Dad. She just doesn’t know the amount.”

  Benjamin Bancroft finally gazed at his daughter. His eyes were the same hazel color as hers. But, she recognized the look of shame suddenly covering his. “How did you find out?”

  “Does it matter? I did, and I know you’re in trouble. Quite a bit.”

  “Did someone come to you? Were you threatened by anyone?” He reached for her hand.

  “No, Dad, nothing like that.” She noticed he wore a fresh bandage on his right hand.

  “I’m sorry.” He looked back at her, his eyes watering.

  She squeezed his good hand. “Oh, Daddy.” He nodded, reminding her of a scared child, not the disciplinarian she’d grown up with. “How long have you been into this again?”

  “I don’t know, a few months, maybe.”

  “A few months? And, you’ve gone through a hundred thousand dollars?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t say anything. I don’t know how it started. The way it always does. I get down about something, obsess about it, and then I make one small bet and that leads to another then another and it gets out of control before I know it. I kept thinking I can make it back. I can make it work.”

  Michaela could never really understand that thinking. To her it was insane. How do you not know when you’re out of control? How does one bet lead to another and another? Her stomach churned. She wanted to scream these questions at him. But she’d done that years ago while home on spring break and exhausted from working and going to school— resentful that she had to go above and beyond most of the other kids at Cal Poly, where she studied animal husbandry. He’d just kept apologizing until she finally felt guilty for her own anger.

  What she’d read and learned over the years did at least convince her that gambling was an addiction, like drugs or alcohol, and it wasn’t about the gambling itself, or even the money. It was the momentary thrill, the possibilities. It took gamblers out of the realities of their world and placed them into a fantasy. Gambling gave them a high similar to drugs or alcohol and fed them tons of endorphins while in the process. But the crashes were huge, as harsh realities set in when these people lost their homes, their livelihoods, and ultimately their families.

  “Okay, well, Dad, what’s done is done. I’m going to help you, but you are going to have kick this thing for good. I know I’m enabling you by taking care of this debt, but I can’t stand to see Mom hurt by this. It’ll tear her up. And, you can’t lose your place.”

  “I know. I need help.”

  “Fine.”

  “How are you dealing with the money? You don’t have that kind of money.”

  “I know a relative of your bookie. He’s looking into what he can do for me . . . I mean for you.”

  “Oh honey. No. I can’t let you do that. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “You have to let me do it. And, I promise I won’t get hurt, but here’s the deal: You find a daily meeting with Gambler’s Anonymous, get a sponsor again, and stay straight. In fact, for the next month or however long it takes, I am going to personally escort you to those meetings. I also will have my friend report in regularly to see if you’ve gone to borrow money from anyone, because this guy knows all the shady characters around. You’re a good man, you’re a great dad and husband; you can beat this thing. You are bigger than it is. Do it for me, for Mom, but really Dad, do it for yourself. Because I am certain you do not want to die a lonely old man. And, I can almost guarantee that if this continues, that is exactly what will happen. Mom will leave you, and I don’t think I could stand by and watch you destroy yourself any more. It’s too painful.”

  The tears were coming down his face now. God, she hated talking to him like that. But she had no choice. She had to have some kind of leverage over him, and when it came down to it, she knew that family meant everything to him.

  “What do I tell your mom, about the meetings?”

  “I think you have to tell her the truth. I know it’s going to hurt her. I’ve got to leave that up to you. Tell her that you’re going back to GA and you’re turning the books over to either me or a bookkeeper. We both know that Mom doesn’t like to handle the finances, but it’s obviously not a good idea for you to run them. Not at this point.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know what to say. I love you. That’s pretty much all I can say, kid. And, I am sorry for putting you through this, especially now. I’m weak.”

  “No you’re not.”

  He shook his head. “I feel rotten over this, over Lou. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

  She watched his face twist into anguish. “Dad, what do you mean?” She got the feeling by the way he was talking that it was more than the gambling, and more than her uncle dying.

  “The police have been talking to me.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been talking to me, too.”

  “Honey, I think they have me listed as a suspect.”

  She squirmed in her chair. “Why?”

  He held up his hand. “I went to see Lou the morning he was killed. My fingerprints . . . are on the pitchfork.”

  “What?”

  He nodded.

  “Dad, what are you saying?”

  He sighed. “That morning, early, I went to Lou and Cynthia’s place. I hadn’t slept the night before because we’d talked and it didn’t go well. I’d told him what was going on with me and the gambling, and he said that he’d think about helping me out. He said that I needed to talk with your mother, and I told him that I couldn’t do that. He hung up on me.” He took a sip of seltzer. “I couldn’t sleep that night and I knew he’d be up by six, so I headed over to see him. I found him in Loco’s stall. We . . . had words. He said that he wasn’t going to bail me out. That he had his own problems to deal with and that I needed to come clean with you and your
mother. He was right. But I reacted badly and I grabbed the pitchfork and threw it, then punched the wall. That’s how I hurt my hand. Stupid, I know.”

  “Yes it was, Dad. What were you thinking? Don’t you see how this addiction eats you up? You could have hurt Uncle Lou, and you did hurt yourself! Now, the police think you could have done this?” She paused and choked back emotion. “Your addiction turns you into someone you’re not. Someone I don’t know and don’t want to know.”

  Where was the dad she grew up with? The one who’d take her on trail rides and play cowboys and cowgirls with her and her friends? Sometimes they’d pretend to be the posse after the bad guys, or sometimes they were the horse thieves trying to outrun the posse. Those were great days and good fun. That was the father she remembered. Not this man, reduced to heated arguments with a brother he adored— someone who hid from the world through an addiction that caused nothing but pain.

  “You’re right. I don’t want to be this man any longer. I don’t. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll tell your mom everything. I’ll be honest and we’ll get through it. But you should know that I think the police might arrest me. I think they’re already looking into the gambling and they know I was at Lou’s place the morning he died. You know, that was the last time I saw him. That morning.” He choked on a sob and broke down.

  She scooted her chair up and put an arm around him. She let her father cry for several minutes. She noticed a few people glancing over at them, but it didn’t matter. He needed her and she would be there for him. “It’s going to be all right, Daddy. It is. And, I know Uncle Lou is watching us, and he loves you. You have to forgive yourself. You have to. He would have. I’m sure he did. Do this for him. And, as far as the police go, I know you didn’t kill him. I know it.

  “And, Dad, I’m going to find out who did.”