Horse of a Different Killer Read online

  “And the party is to raise money for his medical bills?”

  “Sort of. Tyler will be teaching guests how to paint one of his original designs.”

  “Like an art class?”

  Emma shook her head. “It’s a painting party. We serve champagne then heavy hors d’oeuvres, everyone paints, there are breaks so there’s time to chat and have a glass of wine. Tyler’s work will be on display and many of the guests own galleries or are influential in the art scene. We’re hoping to get him a gallery show from this event.”

  I blinked at her.

  “It’s easy. All you have to do is welcome the guests, introduce Tyler, then make sure everyone is having a good time.”

  I could feel my eyes bulging out as she spoke.

  “Grace? Are you breathing?”

  “No.”

  My sister canted her head and studied me. “Okay. On second thought, I have a better idea. I know the events coordinator for the Ritz. Call the hotel and ask for Kendall. She owes me a favor.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Tell her you’re my sister and you need help with an event. She’ll likely be busy but that’s the nature of the party business. Kendall’s good. She’ll be able to get the ball rolling once you get her the file.”

  “File?”

  “On my laptop. It’s labeled ‘Painting Party’ with the date. You’ll see it. Transfer it to the yellow flash drive—it’s in the zipper pocket of my briefcase. Okay?”

  “The flash what?”

  “You know, a portable USB stick.”

  “Right—the little rectangle thingy.”

  “Make sure you use the yellow one.”

  “Yellow USB stick. Got it.”

  “Get the file to Kendall and she’ll handle it.”

  “So, I won’t have to go to the party?”

  “That will be up to Kendall. Just follow her lead, do what she says, and you’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I hit the first snag before I made it out of the sheriff’s office. Jake informed me that he and Detective Boyle would be coming to the condo to take possession of Emma’s computers. I tried to explain to Jake that I needed one of her work files but he just shook his head.

  I thought I could get around it by beating them home, until I realized they were my ride back to Bluebell. I assumed they would drop me off in the lot and follow me home.

  Sometimes I hated being right.

  After depositing me next to my SUV, they waited, then escorted me all the way back to my sister’s beachfront condo. I muttered a quick plea to the heavens that I’d be able to copy the file before they took Emma’s stuff. Or, even better, that Wes would somehow get Emma out of the pokey in time for the party.

  I looked at the dashboard clock as I pulled into the condo’s parking lot. It was after four, which didn’t give me much hope. I was going to need that file.

  Maybe they would let me print a copy of it?

  With a bit of renewed hope, I climbed out of Bluebell and turned to the detectives.

  “Emma asked me to fill in for her tonight at an event she’s supposed to be handling. I need the file from her computer.”

  “We can’t let you have access to the computer,” Detective Boyle said. “It’s being taken into evidence.”

  “I understand. But I really need the information on that file. Maybe I can print it? Or, hell, you can read it to me and I’ll take notes.”

  “I can’t allow that, Miss Wilde. I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding at all sorry.

  “Look, she ain’t askin’ for much.” Jake tried to intercede but Boyle was having none of it.

  “She’s asking to violate chain of custody.”

  He made a derisive noise. “Come on, Boyle . . .”

  She ignored his intended meaning and motioned toward the condo building. “After you, Detective Nocera.”

  In that moment, I kind of wanted to strangle Detective Boyle. Actually, I knew a tiger who owed me a favor . . . Maybe a good maiming would teach her to be a little less obdurate.

  The look on my face must have been broadcasting my feelings loud and clear because Jake stepped toward me and said, “Let’s go, Grace.”

  I followed him to the building and up the stairs. Detective Boyle stayed close on my heels until we reached the top.

  “Where’s Yamada?” she asked, looking around.

  I assumed she was talking about Charlie Yamada, an investigator with the Jacksonville CSU. He was one of Kai’s friends and, apparently, his replacement on this case.

  “He’s supposed to be here,” Jake said.

  With a scowl, Boyle pulled her phone out of her pocket and paced away from us.

  As soon as she was out of earshot Jake asked, “What about your dog?”

  “Moss? What about him?”

  “Don’t you need to put ’im up?”

  “You afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”

  “Nope.” He cast a meaningful glance toward Detective Boyle, who had ended her phone call and was on her way to join us.

  Being slow on the uptake, it took me a second to realize Jake was trying to give me the time I needed to snag the file off Emma’s computer before it was confiscated.

  “Um . . .” I turned my attention to Detective Boyle and said, “I need a minute to get my dog.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I could feel Moss’s presence on the other side of the door. Roused from a nap by the sound of my key in the lock, he was ready for dinner and a potty break.

  “He’s cranky,” I said, at the same time urging Moss to bark. He growled in protest, not in the mood for games.

  Hungry, he told me, then added a howl for emphasis.

  Not what I was aiming for but, whatever works.

  Boyle took a step away from the door. “That sounded like a wolf.”

  “Yes it did. No wonder you’re a detective.”

  “You can’t keep wolves in Florida,” she said.

  “Actually, you can. Florida Fish and Wildlife categorizes wolves as a Class II animal and thus legal to own. Though, to be honest, most people probably shouldn’t.”

  “And you’re the exception?”

  Jake snorted at that, earning a quick glare from Boyle.

  Unlike Jake, Boyle had no idea how much of an exception I was, and I had no desire to enlighten her.

  “Yep. Even so, Moss can get ornery. So I’d like to go in and put him in another room so you can get what you need and leave in one piece. He’s only part wolf, but he doesn’t like strangers.”

  It was all a load of hooey.

  Moss can be a willful and stubborn beast, even a bit territorial around some people, namely Kai, but he was never vicious. The exception being when in the presence of sociopaths and people who mean me harm.

  In truth, Moss would wag his tail in greeting, give the two visitors a quick once-over before demanding to go out and be given food. But I needed to buy time and I was willing to resort to slander to get it.

  Boyle’s eyes narrowed. “You have two minutes.”

  It took me three. First, I had to contend with Voodoo, our new kitten and resident nutcase who’d begun to climb my bare leg as soon as I stood still long enough.

  Up!

  “Okay, crazy.” I scooped her up and held her in the crook of my arm, letting her bat and play with a strand of ponytail that had fallen over my shoulder.

  Most of my time, however, was spent blocking Moss’s insistent nudges as I placed Emma’s briefcase on the kitchen counter, pulled out her laptop, and began searching for the yellow flash drive.

  Hungry.

  I know, buddy. I urged him to be patient.

  Hungry.

  Nudge.

  “Hang on,” I muttered.

  Out.

/>   Nudge-nudge.

  “Stop that,” I whispered as I fished around the pockets of the briefcase for the USB stick.

  “Got it.” I smiled when I spotted the bright yellow rectangle.

  Out! Moss insisted.

  Just a second. “Hey!” My dog shoved his head under my forearm, causing the flash drive I’d been trying to plug into the laptop to go flying from my hand. I heard it bounce off something in the kitchen behind me as it skittered off to who knew where.

  When I turned and scanned the room, the thing was out of sight.

  “Crap!”

  I started to look for it when a trio of knocks sounded on the front door. Loud and authoritative.

  No time. I decided to send myself an e-mail with the file as an attachment. Charlie or whoever checked over Emma’s mail would see what I’d done but I couldn’t worry about that now.

  A few keystrokes and mental reprimands to my canine later, I was turning off the laptop and had just shut the lid when the front door opened and Detective Boyle came striding into view.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  I tried to took innocent when I turned to her. Holding Voodoo up in one hand, I said, “Had to grab this little girl. Moss is very protective.”

  To emphasize my point, I kept a firm grip on Moss’s collar. Not that I could have kept him from doing something if he’d wanted to—my dog outweighs me by at least twenty pounds—but I was still trying to make him seem dangerous.

  “I was just trying to find his leash,” I added.

  “Really? Does it look like this?” She held up Moss’s leash, which she must have spotted on the foyer table as she walked in.

  “That’s it! Thanks. He really has to pee.”

  I took the leash from her as Moss and I passed, then paused when Charlie Yamada stepped through the front door.

  He didn’t seem to notice Detective Boyle’s disapproving look when he greeted me with a smile and said, turning his full attention to Moss, “Hey. So this is the famous wolf-dog?”

  “Yep. Moss this is Charlie. Charlie, Moss.” I patted my dog and clipped on his leash.

  “Wow,” Charlie said, his face alight with admiration. “He’s beautiful.”

  Moss, beautiful. Moss agreed with a slow swish of his tail.

  “Thanks,” I said, ignoring my dog’s self-affirmation.

  A lot of people would be apprehensive around a dog like Moss. Not Charlie. When we’d met, I’d learned Charlie was a big dog person. Meaning he liked dogs a lot and big ones even more.

  “Can I pet him?” he asked, finally tearing his eyes off Moss to look at me hopefully.

  “Sure.”

  “Yamada,” Boyle snapped. “You’re not here to play with the dog.”

  “Right. Sorry, Detective.”

  “Here,” I said, handing him Voodoo, who had started squirming against my grip. “Can you hold her a minute so she doesn’t try to escape when we go out?”

  I didn’t wait for Boyle’s veto, just turned and slipped out the door.

  Moss watered his favorite bush with relief and we were back inside in less than a minute. We came back in to find Charlie standing right where he’d been, still holding Voodoo, who was trying to wriggle up the short sleeve of his polo shirt.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking back the kitten, who promptly hung a claw in Charlie’s shirt and squeaked out a plaintive meow at being removed from her new “toy.”

  Mine!

  No, I tried to scold her mentally while I untangled her kitty claw from Charlie’s sleeve.

  Voodoo voiced her complaint again. Ignoring me entirely.

  Mine!

  I distracted her by pulling out the Saint Francis medal I always wore from where it hung under my shirt and dangled it in the kitten’s line of sight. She lunged for the pendant and I captured her against my chest.

  “Sorry,” I said to the room at large.

  Charlie was grinning at the kitten, who really is a rather adorable black fluff-ball.

  Boyle, on the other hand, was looking at Voodoo like she was something that belonged in a toilet bowl.

  Jake had ignored us and, holding up my sister’s laptop, stepped from the kitchen.

  “I’ve got this. Yamada, you need help with the other computer?”

  “I’m on it. Just might need you to get the door.” He looked at me. “Grace?”

  It took me a second to realize he was asking where he could find Emma’s office.

  “It’s this way.” I led them down the hall, pausing to deposit Voodoo and Moss in my bedroom as we passed.

  I opened the door to my sister’s office and clicked on the light.

  Like evil laser scanners in a sci-fi flick, Detective Boyle’s gaze tracked over every inch of the room when we entered. She shot a glance at Charlie, then nodded at my sister’s sleek, new iMac.

  Taking his cue, Charlie unhooked the computer and carried it out of the room. Jake followed to manage the door and I was left alone with Boyle, who continued her perusal until her focus homed in on the large antique wardrobe Emma used to stash her gift-wrapping supplies and other random clutter best kept out of sight.

  She squinted at it as if wishing she had X-ray vision.

  “It leads to Narnia,” I told her, deadpan.

  Boyle didn’t react for a moment, and when she finally turned to me, her eyes were hard, her mouth pressed into a thin, closed-lipped smile. “Cute.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be here all week.”

  “You and your sister seem to find this amusing. I don’t.”

  “You’re wrong, Boyle.”

  Jake’s large form filled the doorway.

  “We’re done here,” he said, though I couldn’t be sure whom he was addressing. I hadn’t taken my eyes off Boyle long enough to notice anything more than Jake’s dark shape materialize in my periphery.

  We filed out of the room and I led the way to the front door, holding it open as the detectives passed.

  Jake paused and turned to me before following Boyle down the stairs. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I know Boyle seems—”

  “Like a constipated Chihuahua with hemorrhoids?” I supplied.

  His lips twitched with humor at the description. “Call her what you want. She’s a hard-ass, true enough, but she’s a good cop. Let us run this down. If Emma’s got nothin’ to hide, you got nothin’ to worry about.”

  CHAPTER 4

  My sister had recently upgraded to the newest iPhone, insisting I take her old one. It was a huge improvement over the prehistoric Nokia I’d been using, but after a month, I still had almost no clue how to use it apart from a couple of apps, making phone calls, and snapping the occasional photo.

  Emma had always enjoyed taking advantage of my techneptitude, as she called it, by programming “fitting” ring tones for different people.

  Sometimes, I longed for my phone to emit a simple ring, but that didn’t stop me from lunging for it when it began playing the familiar salsa tune she’d programmed for Wes.

  “Wes?”

  “You want the good news or bad news?”

  “There’s bad news?”

  “I’m pulling off of I-95 onto Union Street now. That’s the good news. Unfortunately, the only bail bondsman I’ve been able to get in contact with is asking for cash and it’s Sunday.”

  “So, Emma’s stuck in jail.”

  “Just for the night.”

  “Crap. That means I’ll have to do this party gig.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you, Grace, always thinking of others,” he teased.

  “At least I got the file before they took Emma’s stuff.”

  “Before who took Emma’s stuff?”

  “T
he cops—” I had a sudden sinking feeling.

  “Grace, tell me they had a warrant.”

  “I don’t—I just assumed . . . Did I screw up?”

  There was a brief pause. “No. But the cops have if they think they’re going to get away with conducting an illegal search before I get to town.”

  “Jake told me if Emma had nothing to hide I shouldn’t worry.”

  “He’s right. You shouldn’t. Warrant or no warrant, I’ll handle it,” he promised before hanging up.

  I knew he would, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to throttle Jake.

  A glance at the clock told me throttling would have to wait. I needed to get in touch with this Kendall chick if I didn’t want to be hosting a painting party by myself. The thought brought on a wave of queasiness.

  Social occasions made me uncomfortable. Being the person responsible for a social occasion was going to require a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and, quite possibly, a few cc’s of bear tranquilizer.

  I took a fortifying breath, looked up the Ritz-Carlton, and dialed the number listed for special events.

  “I’m sorry, it’s Kendall’s day off,” the woman told me, making my stomach clinch.

  “Is there any way you can get a message to her? It’s kind of urgent. My sister, Emma, has an event scheduled for tonight and she can’t”—my insides burbled—“make it.”

  “Emma? You mean Emma from E Squared?” The woman’s words got noticeably higher when she said the name of my sister’s company.

  “The one and only.”

  “Oh!” The woman let out an excited gasp. “We just love Emma. She’s such a doll. Everything’s okay?”

  We? Who was we?

  “Just a scheduling conflict,” I said.

  “Well, let me see if I can get ahold of Kendall for you. What’s your number?”

  I gave it to her and made a beeline for my bathroom to find the Pink Stuff. I took a giant, chalky swig and was thinking about locating the bear tranquilizer—I had a vial of it, by the way—when my phone rang.

  “Hi, I’m trying to reach Grace Wilde.”

  “Kendall?”