Delicious Torment Read online

  “I’m so sorry.” Miranda glanced back at the barn. Police stood barring the entrance, refusing to answer the questions the desperate onlookers and reporters were shouting at them.

  The woman in the stall had been kicked in the head by a horse. How could the guy dressed like a dessert parfait have caused that? “It looked like a freak accident to me.”

  “This was no accident,” Delta insisted, darkly. “Ever since that man came into Desirée’s life, he’s caused her nothing but pain. It was because of him she drank too much. He got her into using drugs. Oh, my poor, poor Desirée.”

  Whoa. This was way too much information. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you understand, Ms. Steele.”

  “Me?”

  “That story in the newspaper. I read about your courage. Your own ex-husband. How did you face him? What nerve that took.”

  Miranda rubbed her arms. Yeah, she’d faced her ex, that vicious, abusive jackass. She wanted to tell Ms. Langford it was nothing, but that was far from the truth.

  She’d had nightmares about it. The knife blade flashing through the air. The pain of its slash across her skin. The taste of her own blood. She had a new memory to replace the day he’d put her daughter up for adoption and tossed Miranda out in the snow. Parker was pushing her to go into therapy, but she didn’t need a shrink. She knew where Leon Groth really was. Lying in a hospital room on life support, waiting to die.

  “Look, lady—”

  “Ms. Steele, I want you on this case.” She said it more like a command than a request.

  What case? Miranda shook her head. “I appreciate the compliment, but I don’t take work for the Agency.”

  “You’re turning me down?”

  Miranda wasn’t convinced it was murder. Besides, she couldn’t take on a case by herself. She’d gotten in enough hot water for going out on her own the last time. “If you want the Agency’s help, you need to contact Wade Parker,” she told the distraught woman as gently as she could.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  A funny look came over her face as she uttered an odd half-laugh. “Wade Parker’s a man. He wouldn’t understand. Not the way you do.”

  That was different. Most people would jump at the chance to have Atlanta’s top detective on their case. Most women would jump through a hoop of fire to be in the same room with Parker.

  “Please, Ms. Steele.” The woman’s green catlike eyes pleaded with her, pulled on her heartstrings.

  “Uh.” Miranda shifted her weight and glanced toward the stall where Parker had disappeared. Snooping around a little was one thing, taking on a client was a different matter. She wasn’t a full-fledged investigator yet. She couldn’t speak for the Agency. Parker would have her head.

  Once more, Delta Langford reached for her arm. “Ms. Steele, I need you to bring Desirée’s killer to justice.”

  Justice. The word evoked powerful urges. The same impulses she’d felt on her last case. The need to act. To do something. To set things straight. What if Delta Langford was right? What if Ferraro Usher had killed her sister? If it were true, Miranda would love to be the one to put him away.

  She looked back at the stall, considering the idea. At that moment Parker stepped out of the opening. His gaze went straight to her. He gestured for her to join him.

  Saved by the boss. She turned to the woman. “Sorry, Ms. Langford. I gotta go.” She hurried away as fast as she could.

  “Ms. Steele,” Miranda heard her cry out. “Is there a way to get in touch with you?”

  “You can contact me at the Agency,” she called back over her shoulder. Then she was out of earshot.

  Whew, that was close. But deep down, Miranda hoped Delta Langford would phone her.

  Chapter Three

  Desirée Langford’s bizarre death turned what should have been a festive afternoon into something eerier than a scene from a Greek tragedy.

  When the Northwinds Steeplechase officials announced the afternoon races were canceled, shock and anger rumbled through the throng on the field like an impending earthquake. Several of the stunned spectators shouted blind accusations, blaming anybody they could think of for the terrible mishap. The trainers, the coordinating committee, the security staff. It got so tense, Miranda was glad there was an army of security guards and cops around.

  The only folks who weren’t upset were the reporters. They had a nice, juicy story for the evening news. Wealthy Heiress Killed in Bizarre Horse Accident.

  But was it really an accident?

  Miranda leaned back against the plush leather passenger seat of Parker’s Lamborghini, glad to finally be heading home. Parker had been pleased with the evidence she’d gathered for the Simmons case, especially when she’d told him about Lover-Number-Two, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about what was now the main event—the body in the stall.

  As they sped past rolling green fields, Miranda stared out the window thinking of Delta Langford. “Did you and Erskine have a nice reunion in the barn?” she said finally. Parker’s relationship with the police Lieutenant could be strained at times.

  Parker shot her a wary look. “After Witherspoon left the grounds, I was heading toward the barns to find you when the Lieutenant spotted me and told me what happened. I offered to help.”

  Uh huh. “Why didn’t you want me in the stall?”

  He sighed, his gaze steady on the Interstate traffic, which was lighter than usual. “I thought it was too soon for you. It was an ugly sight, to put it mildly.”

  Damn straight, it was. “So you think I’m too much of a wuss to handle it?”

  Parker stiffened. “‘Wuss’ is the last word I’d use to describe you, Miranda.”

  “If it had been anyone else from the Agency,” she said, letting her annoyance show, “even another trainee, you’d be glad to get them involved. You’d say it was good experience.”

  Parker tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Miranda Steele was the most defiantly stubborn woman he had ever met. “We’ve already been over this, Miranda. I don’t want you near any violent cases until some time has passed.”

  With a grunt, she glared out the window. Parker could be so damned irritating when he was trying to protect her. But he didn’t know she’d paid her respects in the stall before he got there. If she kept it that way, maybe this could turn into a case, after all. He wouldn’t keep her off it if Delta Langford called the Agency and asked for her specifically, would he?

  She cleared her throat and forced a calm tone into her voice. “So you and Erskine examined the scene. What do you think happened?”

  He gave her a suspicious glance as he slowed to let a pickup truck pass him. “At first sight, it appeared to be an accident. The deceased had been kicked by her horse. Then we noticed the body smelled strongly of alcohol.”

  She remembered that. A couple in a Fiat convertible passed them. Parker didn’t change his speed. The Lamborghini could make mincemeat out of that Fiat. He was stretching out their time together. Two could play that game. She’d make him talk.

  “Alcohol?” she asked innocently.

  “Ms. Langford has a history of alcohol and substance abuse. The swelling around her eyes and the color of her skin indicated recent drug use. The coroner will be able to determine more details. But right now, Lieutenant Erskine believes cause of death is suicide.”

  Really. Miranda sipped at the soda Parker had bought her before they left. “Not an accident, then.”

  “No.”

  “Are you still involved in the investigation?”

  “No. Erskine merely wanted temporary backup due to the crowd. He’s been asked to work with the local police.”

  She took in what he’d just told her. After several minutes, they neared the city and the scenery grew dense with subdivisions, office buildings and strip malls.

  Delta Langford insisted Usher had influenced her sister to use drugs. Had they made her want to kill herself? “Erskine t
hinks it was a suicide just because Langford was a user?”

  Parker shook his head. “There was a note.”

  The corner of white she’d seen in the hay. She’d thought it looked like a piece of paper. “Under her hat.”

  The centrifugal force tugged at her stomach as he cruised along the interstate’s off-ramp. Glass structures towered over the trees. He glanced at her with that piercing look of his. “How did you know that?”

  She shrugged. “I have my ways.” His own line didn’t sound so smooth coming from her lips. “What did the note say?”

  He shot her another suspicious glance. “It appeared to be handwritten by Desirée. It implied she was tired of living. She wanted to die beside her beloved horses.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That’s weird.”

  “Not so strange. Though horses and steeplechase racing were her passion, Desirée Langford was given to depression.”

  “Her passion?”

  “Her family owns Aquitaine Farms. She was one of the top thoroughbred breeders in the country.” He changed lanes as they merged onto Peachtree Road and headed toward her apartment building. “Her loss is a blow to the racing community.”

  “Even more strange to do it today,” she murmured.

  Traffic grew heavy. Parker slowed. “She may have wanted to make a statement. The woman was moody. She had a bizarre personal life. She was known for her peculiarities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Wild parties, experimenting with drugs, and a bad temper.”

  Just like Delta told her. “How do you know so much about her personal life?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’ve known the Langfords since boyhood.”

  Okay. She’d wondered if Delta Langford was in Parker’s social circle. So why was she so hesitant to talk to him about her suspicions? Miranda decided not to pursue that line of questioning. “According to Erskine, then, it wasn’t the kick from the horse that killed Desirée, it was the drugs she’d taken.”

  “That’s what he suspects. The coroner’s exam will confirm it. Or not.”

  Miranda shook her head. “The woman shoots up, guzzles down some booze, writes a suicide note, then goes out to her favorite horse’s stall and waits for him to kick her in the head to finish the job? On the day of the Steeplechase?” Didn’t seem right, even if she were depressed.

  She watched Parker staring at the car in front of him. He didn’t buy it either. “According to the trainer, Calypso is a spirited animal. But something provoked him.”

  “What?”

  “Anything could set off a nervous horse. The unfamiliar surroundings, the crowd, a child. The kicks might have been pure coincidence.”

  “Why did she stand behind the horse? Wouldn’t she know better?”

  “Good question. But if the drugs were hallucinogenic, as Erskine suspects, she might not have even realized where she was.”

  “Too buzzed to duck when a hoof was heading for your face.” If she were lucky, too numb to feel the hit.

  “They’ll know more when they do the autopsy.” He came to a stop at a light, turned and gazed at her keenly with those sexy, steel-gray eyes of his. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  She titled her head. “What question?”

  His eyes narrowed. “How did you see the suicide note?”

  She shifted in her seat.

  “Miranda?”

  Man, he was pushy. “What was I supposed to do, Parker? Right after I got those shots of Simmons and Lover-Number-Two, the commotion started in the barn. It was only natural to go and have a look-see. When I saw the body, I thought I could revive her. But when I ducked into the stall, I saw she was dead. That’s when I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under the hat.”

  Parker inhaled as he gazed at the obstinate woman in his passenger seat. It was just like her to step right into the thick of trouble. If he didn’t love her so much…he wasn’t sure what he’d do with her.

  Her red-and-white surveillance hat lay in her lap. Her dark curls had come down and fallen around her shoulders the way he liked. As always, her deep blue eyes with their sharp, black lashes spoke volumes to him. She was still fragile after her ordeal a few weeks ago, though she wouldn’t admit it.

  Today’s incident was a tragedy. He had wanted to protect her from it, shield her from any more pain than she’d already suffered, but her independent spirit made that difficult. Yet, her stubborn tenacity was one of the traits he admired most about her. One of the traits that made him care so deeply for her. One of the traits they shared.

  He studied her quietly. “What else did you see?”

  Miranda pursed her lips. Parker’s look went straight through her. He could get anything out of her with that look. But there wasn’t much to tell. “I saw the body,” she murmured. “Like you said. It wasn’t pretty.”

  “Anything else?”

  A honk came from behind them. Miranda pointed up. “The light’s green.”

  He stiffened. “I see that.” He moved through the intersection. “Go on.”

  She raised her hands innocently. “A weird-looking dude. Desirée’s ex-husband.”

  He nodded. “Ferraro Usher. He’s an upcoming artist. What was he doing in the stall?”

  “Same thing I was. Looking at the body.”

  Parker drove in silence until the Colonial Towers building rose before them. He turned into the parking lot. “How did Usher seem?”

  Seem? How could she explain that dazed glare in the strange man’s eyes? “Confused. Shocked. The security guard pushed us out before we could get acquainted. You know Usher, too?”

  “Slightly. I’ve been to a few of his shows downtown.” Frowning, he pulled into a space and stopped the car. “How did you know his name?”

  God, he was persistent. She ran a finger along the edge of the window. Might as well fess up. He’d find out sooner or later. “Delta Langford told me.”

  His brow rose. “The deceased’s sister?”

  “Yeah. She recognized me from the newspaper and approached me. In her opinion, what happened to Desirée wasn’t an accident. She thinks Usher did it.”

  He leaned forward with interest. “Oh? And why does Delta suspect him?”

  Miranda stared down at her hat. Good thing she’d stopped the tape after she got kicked out of the stall. Wait a minute. Why had she been holding back? If she told Parker the details, he’d want to take the case.

  She turned to him, excitedly. “Delta said her sister was unhappy with Usher. It sounded like they had a pretty rocky relationship. According to Delta, it was because of Usher that Desirée drank and took drugs.” She played with the hat in her lap a moment, watched Parker’s face grow thoughtful from the corner of her eye. “She, uh, asked me to take the case.”

  He inhaled with surprise. “What did you tell her?”

  Miranda chewed on her lip in irritated frustration. It wasn’t such a crazy idea. “I told her to contact the Agency.”

  He nodded curtly. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks.” She shot him a half-sneering smile, sat back, stared out at the lawn. A thin man strutted by with a white poodle on a leash. Must be one of her neighbors. She waited a beat. “I think it’s worth looking into,” she said tightly.

  His face grew grim as he turned off the ignition. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Simple. She hasn’t hired us.”

  “She sort of hired me,” she countered. Sure, it was a stretch. There was no money and no contract. Not even a verbal agreement. But Miranda wasn’t the type to be bound by details. “What if I paid Mr. Ferraro Usher a little visit? You know, on my own. Just to feel him out, and—”

  “Unless Delta Langford comes to the office and signs the requisite paperwork, there is no case.” Parker’s deep Southern voice was firm as Gibraltar.

  Folding her arms in disgust, Miranda watched the eager poodle pull her neighbor by the leash to a side road that ran behind the building, nose to
the ground. Yeah, always something holding you back. “Why not?” she said through gritted teeth.

  His broad shoulders stiffened. “Investigating on your own wouldn’t do any good. Without a client, nothing you discovered would be admissible in court. You know that.”

  She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “It’s more than that.”

  He sighed. “Delta and Desirée’s father is Eli Langford. He’s one of the city’s top real estate developers.”

  She thought back to a night when Parker had taken her to dinner. From a view overlooking the city, he had pointed out his father’s many projects. Wade Parker, junior was a local real estate mogul. “Eli Langford is your dad’s rival?”

  He nodded. “My father’s chief competitor. Though we’ve known each other all our lives, our families have never been close.”

  Miranda knew Parker’s gift for understatement. “Not close” probably meant a long-standing feud between the wealthy families. But even that wouldn’t keep the Wade Parker she knew from investigating a murder like this one. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

  She watched his jaw twitch uncomfortably. A rare occurrence for Parker. “Let’s just say Delta Langford and I have an unpleasant history.”

  An unexpected rush of jealousy shot through her. Parker was a heartbreaker, after all. So that was why the woman didn’t want to ask Parker to take the case. But she still wanted Miranda. The jealousy turned to a flush of pride.

  “We’ll have to let the police handle this one,” Parker said sternly. “Besides, it’s too soon for you.”

  “What do you mean, too soon?”

  “You know very well what I mean.”

  Her ordeal with her ex.

  Now he was being overprotective. That was for her to decide. Hadn’t Parker admitted that she’d solved a high-profile murder? Hadn’t he offered her a promotion under his supervision? She stared out the window. The thin man and his dog were two small specks under the far trees. She’d better go before she slapped her sexy boss. But she didn’t move.

  Her gaze wandered to the tall red brick building that had been her home for a little over two months now. If you didn’t count the time Parker made her so mad, she’d moved out and been on her way to another state. She’d been lucky to get her apartment back.