“Uh-oh. You know her. That sounds like trouble. What are you thinking?” Grant asked, sounding worried.
“I don’t actually know her. But I’ve spoken with her on the phone and purchased flowers from her. Because you and Vince and Nana want me to be careful, I’m not going to do anything, at least not yet. Nikki and I will see how it goes tomorrow morning when we give our statements.”
“I’ll be there with you,” Grant assured Caprice, just as Vince said the same thing to Nikki.
“We really don’t need both of you, do we?” Nikki asked.
“You do,” Grant answered firmly. “They’re going to separate you. They’ll want to make sure every detail of your stories lines up. They’ll ask you the same questions over and over again. I’ll be with Caprice, and Vince will be with you. We’re going to make sure you stay calm and focused and don’t blow your tops, even if they try to push your buttons. You can’t just be innocent, you have to look innocent and act innocent.”
“It’s not an act,” Caprice protested.
“I know it’s not,” Grant maintained. “But I also know that both you and Nikki have Italian tempers when riled. I don’t want them popping out at the detectives. Just consider Vince and me your reasonable buddies to keep you on an even keel.”
Gazing up at Grant, Caprice knew she wanted more than buddyship with him, but she also knew what he meant.
Tomorrow had to go smoothly for her sake, but especially for Nikki’s sake. A public argument with threats and a rivalry were two good reasons to find evidence to pin this murder on her sister.
Chapter Five
Caprice sat across from Detective Jones in the interrogation room at the police station the next morning. No, she didn’t expect a rubber hose and brass knuckles from the detective, but he was sharp, sometimes inconsiderate, and even harsh. She wondered where Detective Carstead had taken Nikki. His office, maybe?
Grant sat next to her, and she was glad of that. He was a tall, comforting presence beside her.
The police station had been refurbished several years ago. Workers gave it a face-lift by sandblasting the brick and repainting the cupola. But whoever had picked out the paint colors for the rooms had gone for drab. She would never have picked the interrogation room’s ugly green shade for painting anything.
“Go over it for me again, Miss De Luca,” Detective Jones ordered. “You touched the door handle when you went in even though your sister had gone in first?”
It would be so easy for Caprice to become impatient with Detective Jones. But Grant had warned her over and over again to keep her cool, to listen to Beatles music in her head if she had to in order to calm herself down.
“Nikki went in first,” she explained. “I held the screen door as she went inside.”
“I see. And your fingerprints won’t be anywhere else in the room?”
She thought about that all over again. “If you could capture them from skin, you’d find them near Drew’s carotid artery and on his wrist. I placed my hand in front of his mouth to see if I could feel breath. But I did not touch anything.”
Detective Jones had a hard cleft jaw, a nose that looked as if it had been broken, and medium brown hair that appeared to have seen a breeze.
“All right,” he said, pushing a legal pad over to her along with a pen. “Write it all down—from when you got there to when you left. I’ll have it typed up and you can come in and sign it.”
Wanting to leave as soon as she could, she took the pen and started writing. She’d been over it so many times she wrote quickly, remembering each detail, relating each fact of what she’d seen and what had happened.
When she was finished, she pushed the pad over to the detective and then stood. “You know, instead of treating me like a criminal, you ought to go after who did this.”
“Caprice . . .” Grant laid a warning hand on her arm.
“If you and your sister didn’t have anything to hide, you wouldn’t need lawyers here,” Detective Jones snapped.
She slipped away from Grant’s arm. The detective’s reasoning was as fake as his sly smile, and she wasn’t going to let him bully her.
“Your police department almost charged Roz Winslow, who was innocent, when her husband was murdered. Your department was also ready to charge my brother-in-law for a crime he didn’t commit. Of course Nikki and I need lawyers here. Thank goodness we’re fortunate to have a lawyer in the family and his partner as a close friend.”
When she glanced at Grant, she could see he was worried for her, but he didn’t stop her. She just hoped he’d bail her out if Jones arrested her for mouthing off.
“You De Lucas think just because you know Chief Powalski you can say and do anything,” Jones returned stone-faced. “You can’t. There are rules. There are regulations. And there is protocol.”
Suspecting Jones was still miffed because she’d called on Chief Powalski, her dad’s friend, to help with the first murder she’d solved, she was silent for a moment.
Grant stepped in. “The De Lucas have never received special treatment because of Chief Powalski. I suspect he’d be insulted if you imply otherwise.”
Jones frowned and looked away as if maybe he’d gone a little too far. Just then, Detective Carstead appeared with Nikki outside the door with a glass window.
Jones opened the door and said to Caprice, “You can go. Someone will call you when your statement’s ready for signing. But you’d better take my advice. Don’t stick your nose into this.”
If Caprice wanted to be childish, she would have tossed back, “Or what?” But she knew challenging the detective wasn’t in her best interest or Nikki’s. She didn’t say anything. She just preceded Grant out the door.
Once they were all standing in the parking lot by Vince’s car, Grant said to her, “You didn’t assure him you’d stay out of it.”
“That’s because I’m not going to lie.”
Vince took out his remote to open his car doors. “You’d better be careful. You’ve solved their crimes for them in the past, and none of them is happy about that.”
“I called Detective Carstead the last time . . . after I figured out who the murderer was.”
“I’m not worried so much about Carstead,” Vince said. “He didn’t hammer Nikki to death, just drew her story out of her. After all, what was there to hide? Practically everybody in town knows about the rivalry between Nikki and Pierson. But Jones—if he can nail you with anything, Caprice, he will, including obstruction of justice.”
“Don’t warn me again,” she said with a sigh. “He can’t arrest me for talking to friends, giving condolences, finding out more about Drew’s barbecue sauce.”
Vince just shook his head. “Are you riding with me, Nikki?”
Nikki gave Caprice a hug, and then climbed in the passenger side. “Call me,” Nikki said to Caprice right before she shut her door.
“I will,” Caprice assured her.
As they walked to Grant’s SUV, he asked her, “Do you and Nikki talk every day?”
“That depends on what’s going on. But I talk to somebody every day—Bella, Mom, Nana, Nikki. Then the news gets around. You know how that is.”
Grant was silent. Finally he confessed, “No, actually I don’t know how that is. I have one brother, Caprice, and we’re not close. My parents aren’t like yours. They’re terrifically conservative, aren’t prone to outbursts, and don’t express emotion well.”
This was the first Grant had talked about his parents and brother with her.
“You told me your parents live in Vermont.”
“They do. Our family home is in a rural area, and they don’t have particularly close friends. Mom plays bingo in town with the women from her sewing group, and my dad plays poker about once a month.”
“My dad does too.”
“Your dad plays poker with men he’s known all his life. My dad . . . He grew up on a farm where daily life was about sunrise and chores and more chores and sunset. Out of high school
, he got a job at a canned foods company in a nearby town bigger than where he was from. When he married Mom, they bought a house near the family farm. Dad commuted every day until he retired. He didn’t make friends at work, maybe because the factory was in the next town over. I don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t know how to make friends. My parents and my brother are just very different from your folks.”
They were at Grant’s SUV then, and he stopped talking. She wished he’d go on. They’d had conversations about lots of subjects, but nothing as personal as this.
After they were in the vehicle, Grant started the ignition and the air conditioning, but he didn’t make a move to drive out of the parking lot. Instead he turned toward Caprice. He took her hand in his and asked, “Am I a close friend?”
She remembered that that’s exactly what she had told Detective Jones—that Grant was her brother’s partner and a close friend.
“What would you have preferred I say?” she asked him, hoping he’d say that she should have told Jones she was his girlfriend.
After a long pause, when Grant obviously thought about it, he gave her a half smile and a shrug. “Close friend will do it for now.”
She was disappointed by that, but she also knew Grant had to be ready for whatever came next. However, the conversation they’d just had gave her hope that he’d be ready for a lot more than close friendship soon.
* * *
Caprice was deep into work later that afternoon when she received a text from Nikki. Let’s go to Bella’s. She’s home sewing costumes today.
Caprice knew Nikki was agitated and restless, and when something was happening to one sister, all three sisters united. So she didn’t question Nikki’s text.
She texted back, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
When Caprice arrived at Bella’s, Lady by her side, there was frantic activity. Pots and pans were stacked in Bella’s sink. Megan and Timmy were squabbling over toys that they were either taking out of a carton or putting back into it.
“What’s going on?” Caprice asked after hugs for the kids. Lady stayed with Megan and Timmy, knowing they were more likely to play with her.
Bella threw up her hands. “We have a house showing in half an hour. I was working on costumes and I didn’t expect that today. Megan and Timmy are supposed to be picking up toys. Thank goodness Benny is taking a nap.”
Caprice glanced around the living room and kitchen. She’d encouraged Bella to remove some of the furniture, and she’d restyled other pieces with bright throw pillows and even a fresh coat of paint. She’d changed the drapes too. Before, everything had been drab in rust and green, mostly because of Joe’s taste in colors and furniture. But now the house was colorful, letting light in. However, it was a mess.
“I’m not going to have time to run the sweeper,” Bella wailed as she scrubbed the bottom of the stainless steel pot that she’d apparently made a batch of soup in.
“It’s more important we clean up the kitchen and put the toys away,” Caprice advised her. “Usually you know a day ahead about a house showing.”
Caprice had hooked Bella and Joe up with a real estate agent who handled mostly midpriced dwellings, families searching for their first or second homes. Kayla Langtree was a top-notch agent and usually well organized.
“Kayla called and said she had a couple that just stopped into the office. They’re moving to the area and they’re in a hurry to buy. They wanted to see properties today. I couldn’t say no.”
As she set the pot on the drainer, Nikki took it and swiftly dried it.
Bella rinsed tomato residue from another pot. “So what are you going to do to make sure Nikki doesn’t get charged with Drew’s murder? She told me all about what’s going on. You know Mom and Dad and Nana are worried sick. They remember what Joe and I went through.”
Caprice and Nikki exchanged a glance, and Nikki explained, “Everyone is warning Caprice away from this one. Maybe we should just let the detectives take over.”
Bella stopped washing, took a towel in her hands and dried them, and plopped her fists on her hips.
“Let the detectives take over? Since when? Come on, Caprice. You’re not going to do that, are you?”
Caprice almost had to smile at Bella’s vehemence. Almost. This really wasn’t a smiling matter. She could stick her feet into some deep doo-doo if she wasn’t careful.
“I’m thinking about our best strategy.”
“Well, don’t think too long,” Bella warned her, “or Nikki could end up in jail. From what I understand, her car was already parked at Rowena Pierson’s when you arrived. And she doesn’t have an alibi from the time she left the expo until the time you found Drew.”
Timmy ran into the kitchen, Lady right behind him. “Megan won’t let me put her toys in the box. I can’t do it if she keeps taking them out.”
At nine years old, Timmy tried to lord it over his sister, but his sister wouldn’t let him.
“How about if Caprice helps you and Megan put all the toys in the box? Would that help?” Bella asked.
Timmy grinned up at Caprice. “Sure would.”
“Where are you going to go during the house showing?” Nikki asked.
“I called Mom. We’re going over there.”
“Do you want me to help you?” Caprice asked.
“If you help me load them in the car, I’ll be fine.” Bella studied Caprice again. “So what are you going to do?”
“I think Nikki and I are going to make a stop and see Drew’s grandmother. She’s probably still at Kiki’s house and could use a care package and some comforting. What do you think, Nik?”
“I think Nana’s biscotti, a tin of tea, maybe some nice hand lotion might be appreciated. But don’t you have anything pressing you have to get done right now with work?”
“I’m caught up for the moment, though I’ve left Lady, Sophia, and Mirabelle alone a lot lately. I’ll see if my neighbor Dulcina Mendez can watch Lady so we can spend whatever time we need with Rowena. She never minds short notice.”
Timmy pulled on Caprice’s hand. “Come on, before Megan takes everything out of the box.”
Lady barked as if she agreed with that assessment. Caprice laughed and followed Timmy and Lady to the living room. She wished cleaning up the mess of murder was as easy as cleaning up toys.
* * *
Caprice was thankful she and Nikki had a passing acquaintance with Kiki Hasselhoff, Rowena’s friend. Caprice loved books and enjoyed just being around them. She often went into the store to browse, and so did Nikki.
Kiki lived in a two-story Colonial in an older section of Kismet. It was neat with its white siding, black shutters, and brick front facing on the first floor. The yard was pristinely landscaped with trimmed shrubs. Caprice would have added annuals to give the front dabs of color, but if you planted them they had to be tended and pulled out when fall came.
Caprice moved the basket she and Nikki had put together from one hand to the other. Nana had baked a fresh batch of biscotti and they’d included a canister of those. After taking Lady to Dulcina’s house, they’d stopped at Country Fields Shopping Center where they’d visited the specialty tea shop Tea For You. While Caprice bought tea, Nikki had gone to a bath and body shop, purchasing cucumber and melon hand lotion and body wash. They’d put all of it into a basket, and Caprice hoped it would help Rowena feel just a little better. Her grandson murdered. How must she be feeling? If Rowena had raised Drew, he’d be like a son.
Kiki answered the door looking very solemn. “Thank you for coming,” she said to Caprice and Nikki when she saw the basket of goodies. “Rowena hasn’t received many condolences. With murder involved, even people she thought were her friends are staying away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Caprice said. “She needs her friends now more than ever. It’s nice of you to let her stay here.”
Kiki waved her age-spotted hand. “Nonsense. That’s what real friends do. I’ve offered her my downstairs bedroom. She�
�s in my den right now watching an old movie, but I don’t think she’s paying much attention to it. Come on in.”
Kiki’s house was a mixture of comfortable and stylish. The multi-cushioned sofa wore a fabric of bright flowery blooms, most of them hydrangeas in pink and blue. An oversized chair with an ottoman accompanied it. Glass-topped tables were sparkling bright and streak-free. Kiki, in her late sixties, obviously took good care of herself and her surroundings.
She led them to a room adjacent to the living room. In this parlor, the color theme was sage green and gray. Two recliners in sage faced a flat-screen TV. The furniture was polished pine. Although the entertainment center housed the TV, all of its shelves were filled with books. Caprice caught sight of mysteries and romances, spy thrillers, and nonfiction titles too.
“You have visitors,” Kiki announced to her guest.
Rowena began to lower her footrest, but Caprice stopped her.
“Don’t get up. We brought you a basket of goodies we thought you might enjoy. Nana included some of her biscotti.”
Rowena smiled. “Everyone loves Celia’s biscotti. They’re so different from those hard cookies you buy at the market.”
Nana’s biscotti were lemon-iced, soft cookies that went well with coffee or tea. Caprice tried to replicate them and did to a certain extent, but they never tasted just like Nana’s.
Kiki said, “I’ll let you talk. Just call me if you need anything.”
After she left the room, Nikki sat in the other recliner and Caprice sat cross-legged on the floor near Rowena.
“How are you doing?” she asked gently.
“Not so well, I’m afraid. I want to get back into my house. I don’t even have clothes. Kiki let me borrow some of hers.” She motioned to the black slacks that were a little too long, and the green striped blouse that was a bit too big.
“Jeanie was here for awhile last night,” she offered. “She’s taking care of many of the arrangements. She’s a go-getter, that one, though she and Drew were never really close.”
“You said they came to live with you after their parents died?”
Silence of the Lamps Page 6