Caprice had heard horror stories about those nails, but even besides that, with her hands in water as much as they were, they just didn’t seem practical. If and when she polished her nails, it was for an evening out and that was it.
“So what was your overall impression of Louise?” she asked the redhead.
Judy shrugged. “She was a woman who knew what she wanted. Yet she seemed so insecure sometimes.”
Instead of jumping on that comment as she wanted to, she let it sit for a few moments, then asked, “Insecure? How so?”
Judy studied Caprice as if thinking about what she wanted to say. Then realizing they’d both known Louise, she revealed, “Oh, she let little things slip.”
“What kind of little things?”
As Judy hesitated again, Caprice waited. She knew this was where her relationship to Nikki paid off. If Judy liked Nikki, it meant she was more likely to trust Caprice.
She buffed Caprice’s nail with the sanding block. “I don’t usually talk about my clients with other clients.”
“I understand that, but I am investigating, trying to get at the reason for the murder. She was my mom’s best friend, and my mom is really torn up about this. I’d like to help her put it to rest.”
Judy thoughtfully brushed Caprice’s nails with a buffer, then nodded. “Maybe it was just because Louise was older, but I think she felt her husband didn’t notice her anymore. She changed her hairstyle last year, waited for him to say something about it, and he never did.”
“Sometimes men don’t notice things like that.”
Judy screwed up her face. “Well, husbands should, and he didn’t, and she felt bad about her hair. She even talked about dyeing it, but she didn’t. She also told me she joined town organizations, not because she wanted to, but to help her husband in his business visibility.”
Had Louise’s life been all about Chet’s? Caprice thought she’d joined boards and charities and bridge clubs because she’d enjoyed being with other people.
“Gardening was her hobby. I’m sure she liked being part of the Garden Club,” Caprice prompted.
“When the women weren’t being snotty.” Judy gave her a knowing look. “She told me stories about some of the disagreements there.”
Maybe Caprice’s mom would know about that because she didn’t.
“She did tell me once that she loved roses because her mother grew them,” Judy said.
That was something Caprice hadn’t heard before—something about Louise’s life before she came to Kismet. “Did she mention anything else about her parents?”
Judy shook her head.
“Anything about a first marriage?”
Judy responded, “Nope. Nothing about that. She mostly talked about her husband and places they went together.” As the manicurist started on Caprice’s other hand, she added, “She was a worrier, though.”
Caprice knew Louise had been worried about downsizing and what her life and Chet’s would be after he retired. But what else had she worried about?
“Can you explain her worries?”
“Something about prices on her husband’s pretzel snacks going up. He was concerned about that because there was such a competitive market right here in Pennsylvania. She said a family name wasn’t enough anymore to succeed in business.”
That was certainly true. Was Chet selling the company because he didn’t want to deal with the whole mess anymore? Maybe he wanted to turn it over to someone younger with more energy, who could make a real niche in the business. Of course, why would he care if he was getting out of it?
“And then, there was Louise’s house,” Judy went on. “That and the heart condition she had. She constantly worried about that. When she had coffee in here, she’d ask me three times if I was sure it was decaffeinated. I always have a pot of each, and I never mix them up. But every time, she’d ask more than once.”
Caprice didn’t remember the worrying side of Louise. Had that come to the forefront as she’d gotten older? Were her worries about Chet’s opinion of her something every married woman thought about?
Caprice went over all the questions again in her head, and then she asked herself the really big one. Had Chet Downing been having an affair? Could he have been involved in his wife’s murder?
When Caprice picked up Lady at Nana’s that afternoon, she assured Nana they’d have a long tea after the Valentine’s Day weekend was over. She still had a stop to make before heading home—Nikki’s condo. She rarely took Lady to Nikki’s in case Nikki was cooking for a catering job. Confining Lady outside of the kitchen and outside of her reach wasn’t something Caprice liked to do. But she and Nikki had to go over logistics for decorating the social hall tomorrow. She also wanted to run down the list of everything she’d found out about Louise and Chet. Nikki was good at seeing the bigger picture, or coming up with alternative theories.
Nikki’s neighborhood was an older one that had been somewhat renovated. There were clapboard as well as brick houses in differing styles and character along the tree-lined streets. However, at the end of one of those streets, a developer had bought up a warehouse as well as a whole block of older homes and demolished them to build the Stonegate Corner Campus.
The sprawling enterprise was comprised of several sections. There had been much dissention about condos going up, mainly because one of the buildings was five stories high. Residents felt this just didn’t fit into a quiet neighborhood. But that main condo building had every amenity, including the finest line of appliances, ceramic tiled floor, and solid wood cupboards. Besides the main building where Nikki lived, there was a lower-slung building three stories high. That building was for seniors and had extra-wide doorways for wheelchairs, step-in showers, and roll-out shelves in the kitchen cupboards.
Besides that complex, small cottages dotted postage-stamp-sized lots. The campus was well-maintained with spring, summer, and fall gardens overflowing with knock-out roses, pansies, and marigolds. In the winter, twinkle lights blinked around Stonegate Corner’s massive stone entrance. It was a pleasant place to live with no outside upkeep or inside repairs. Of course, residents of the community paid a fee for that, but Nikki said it was well worth it.
Oh, yes, and it was a pet-friendly environment, though there were limits on the number of pets a resident could have.
Caprice leashed Lady and then walked her into the entrance of Nikki’s building through double glass doors into a foyer that opened to the elevator. To the left was a fire door that led to a staircase. Briefly Caprice thought about running up the staircase to the second floor where Nikki’s condo was located. But . . .
She didn’t feel like exercise right now. She’d make time to go for a swim on Sunday. She really would. She’d joined Shape Up because swimming was the one exercise she minded least. But winter, wet hair, and swimming didn’t always go together. Still she knew she needed the exercise. Maybe after church on Sunday. Yes, Sunday, she promised herself.
Stepping into the elevator with Lady, she moved to the back. The doors swished shut and Lady gave a small yip. The first few times they’d done this, she’d barked constantly until they’d arrived at Nikki’s floor. But Caprice’s “eh-eh’s,” a shake of her head, and her frown, along with no treat, had soon convinced Lady that keeping barks to a minimum was a better way to go.
A treat handy in her pocket now, Caprice gave it to Lady and patted her on the head. “Good girl. Very good girl. No barking in the elevator.”
Lady’s big brown eyes and the cock of her head said she got it now. If she kept quiet, there’d be another treat when those doors opened again.
Another treat and a short walk to the door of Nikki’s condo and they were there. Caprice knew she should have called or texted Nikki, but sometimes unexpected drop-ins between sisters were the best visits.
Caprice rethought the drop-in idea when she rang the bell and the door flew open. A handsome man stood there with raised brows. His hair was mussed in that new run-your-hands-through-it-bu
t-gelled way. He was wearing a football jersey, jeans, and a white chef ’s apron that had a few spatters. Just what had she interrupted?
Obviously nothing that required supreme privacy because Nikki called from her kitchen, “Who is it?”
The man called back, “I don’t know, but she’s got a dog.”
Her sister called, “Is it a golden cocker spaniel?”
“Looks like it,” he called back.
Enough of this. Caprice stepped inside around him and said, “It’s me, Nik. What’s up?”
“Cooking,” her sister responded with a smile. “Drew and I are experimenting. Come on in. This food isn’t going to clients so Lady can be in here. And I do have news for you. I’m catering a party at Ace Richland’s estate.”
The aroma of sautéeing onion and peppers, along with simmering meat, had Lady’s nose up in the air as she sniffed her way to the kitchen. Caprice followed, noticing the food spread out on the counters. The mixer head was standing up and ready as if Nikki had been about to stir up baked goods in there.
“You said you’re not cooking for clients?”
Drew glanced at Lady as if wondering if she was friendly or not and crossed to Caprice. “She’s interviewing me.”
Caprice waved to the counters. “Some interview. Not name, rank, and serial number.”
Nikki laughed. “No, more like past food preparation history and can-you-pass-me-the-salt when I need it.”
Drew grimaced. “Coordinating work in a kitchen sometimes is a little tough, but I think Nikki and I are getting it down.” His green eyes twinkled with something other than food preparation.
“Do you mind if we mix up this batter before we talk?” Nikki asked her. “I’d like to get it into the oven.”
“Go right ahead. I’ll watch you work.”
Drew groaned. “Oh, no. Two De Luca sisters interviewing me.”
“Sorry I didn’t introduce you,” Nikki said. “Drew Pierson, my sister Caprice, though it seems you recognize her from my description.”
So apparently Nikki and Drew had talked about her family. Maybe this wasn’t their first “interview.”
“Both of you come up whenever anybody talks about food and your open houses with a feast. Those open houses are always gossip among real estate agents, from what I hear. Finding a job as a chef or sous chef these days isn’t easy, especially if I want to do more than flip burgers. So when I heard Nikki was looking for a partner, I decided to apply.”
At least he was honest. Maybe. Men and honesty didn’t always go together. For some reason, Caprice remembered Travis’s declarations that he and his wife were finished. After all, they’d been divorced for two years. After all, there had been muddy water under their bridge. But their child had kept them glued together, and an old attraction had brought them back together. Had Travis been lying to her all along? Had he known those old feelings had still been there? It had seemed that way to Caprice.
So, no, she didn’t always trust what men said.
As Nikki creamed butter and granulated sugar, Drew stood by, ready with a cup of brown sugar. Then he handed her the two eggs as if he’d been doing it all his life. Nikki used a spatula while he poured in a dry ingredients mixture, a quarter cup at a time. What looked like melted chocolate went in next. After a minute of letting the mixer do its work, Nikki was finished.
Drew had a loaf pan floured and ready, and slid it over to Nikki while she lifted the bowl. He held the pan while she poured in the batter. They worked as a unit, and Caprice knew that’s what Nikki was looking for. Maybe this partnership would work out. That is, if romance didn’t get in the way.
Nikki had opened the oven door, and Drew was slipping the pan onto the rack when Caprice’s cell phone played. She didn’t recognize the number. Then she spotted the name—Pearl Mellencamp.
“Excuse me a minute?” she asked Nikki and Drew, then said, “Come,” and patted her hip so Lady would follow her into the living room.
Nikki closed the oven door. “Go ahead. We’re in the middle of everything.”
After Caprice’s “hello,” she heard an abrupt “Are you sure you didn’t tape our conversation?”
So Pearl must be worried that Caprice was going to use her words against her. Should she end this call quickly, or try to find out more?
Her curiosity always urged her to find out more.
Caprice thought about lying, but that simply wasn’t her style. “No, I didn’t record it. I had my line open with my sister and dog in the vehicle, just in case I might need backup.”
There was a pause as if Pearl was absorbing that. After she cleared her throat, she said, “If you want to know who shot Louise, you might want to talk with Don Rodriguez. He and Louise were friendly.” Pearl made the word sound as if it were a major crime.
“And how do I find this Don Rodriguez?”
“You can look him up. I’m sure that fancy phone of yours can help you find his number.” Then she heard Pearl sigh. “He owns a body shop in Kismet that’s open from seven to eleven on Saturdays, eight to five rest of the week. It’s not in the safest part of town. It’s over near the community center. You might want to take along that dog.”
“How will I recognize him?”
“Thick black mustache and heavy brows.”
After that bit of information, Pearl ended the call.
Caprice had thought about thanking her.
She’d have time tomorrow morning to stop in at the body shop before she went to the social hall to help sort food donations and decorate for the dance. The question was, Did she want to go to Rodriguez’s shop alone . . . or did she want to take Lady?
Chapter Twelve
It really was a no-brainer whether or not she should take Lady along to visit Don Rodriguez’s Body And Auto Repair Shop. A dog usually helped and didn’t hinder. A dog was an object of conversation. A dog could protect. And anyone on the outside of Caprice’s circle didn’t need to know that Lady was an absolute lady.
Caprice had arisen early because she had a full day. She found arriving at Rodriguez’s shop at eight A.M. as a benefit because there wasn’t much activity. She supposed most drivers didn’t want to take their cars to a mom-and-pop shop, but rather wanted one of the bigger dealerships with the benefits of computer analysis. Rodriguez probably had a steady round of consistent customers who knew what he could do and liked what he could do. That’s the way these shops stayed in business.
Lady seemed to understand that she should act like a more mature pup this morning. She walked side by side with Caprice and waited patiently while her mistress opened the heavy door that led into the small complex. Three chairs dotted the waiting area, if you could call it that. They looked like they’d been stolen from a hospital lounge. Orange vinyl, they could easily be cleaned. The counter was L-shaped with one half of it built against the wall. That half stored the computer. There was a corkboard behind the counter with hooks, and a few sets of keys dangled there with numbers attached to them. The place seemed clean enough but the two bays that were just beyond the outer area sent smells of grease and oil and lubricants and car motors and car parts into the reception area.
Caprice wrinkled her nose. Not really her kind of place.
Except today it might be.
The man sitting at the desk on a stool, studying what looked like a manual in front of him, matched Pearl’s description. He had a thick black mustache, black hair that was gray at the temples, and dark bushy brows. To top it off, his red name tag with the white lettering read DON.
When he glanced at Caprice as she walked in, his gaze traveled down to Lady and he smiled. That was a good sign.
“Can I help you?” he asked, with what sounded like a Texas drawl.
Texas. Pay dirt? Of course, an accent didn’t mean anything. Someone from Virginia could have a drawl.
She went right up to the desk and Lady sat as if she was waiting for the questioning to begin. Caprice almost smiled at that thought . . . but didn’t. Instead s
he extended her hand. “I’m Caprice De Luca.”
“Are you selling something?” Rodriguez asked with a raised brow.
Maybe she should sell something. Did investigators always get that question?
“No, I’m not. I thought about bringing my car in so I could strike up a conversation with you. It’s a restored Camaro. But you might not have been able to take it today, or we might not have had time to talk, so I thought the direct approach might be better.”
“Direct approach?” He looked perplexed. “If you’re not selling anything, why do I need a direct approach?” He glanced down at Lady again. “Unless you think I need a watchdog.”
Okay, so he had a sense of humor. That could be good. She’d see how he reacted to her next sentence. “I understand you knew Louise Downing.”
A defensive rigidity came into his shoulders under his red plaid flannel shirt. His jaw tightened and his lips compressed. Even under the mustache, she could tell that. His dark brown eyes became more wary. At six-two and with those shoulders, he could easily throw her out of his shop. However, he didn’t.
He returned politely, “And just why does it matter if I did or didn’t know Louise Downing? Are you a cop?”
She attempted to lighten the mood. “Do I look like a cop?”
He didn’t smile, and his posture remained rigid.
“No, I’m not a cop,” she responded.
“A private investigator?”
“No, not one of those either, though I am investigating. Louise was a friend of the family. She and my mother were good friends. Francesca De Luca.”
There was a glimmer in his eyes that told her he might recognize the name. Just how friendly had he and Louise been?
“In addition to being around her as long as I can remember,” Caprice added, “she was also my client. I was staging her house to sell. I’m the one who found her dead in her greenhouse.”
Now an expression came into Rodriguez’s eyes that could only be labeled as sad. “I’m sorry you found her like that. That had to have been difficult.”
“It was. My mother needs some answers. My family needs some answers. I’m trying to figure out who might have killed her.”
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