Silence of the Lamps

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Did Drew ever tell you he wanted to partner with my sister?”

  There wasn’t any hesitation when Mario answered. “Yes, he did. And I thought he was going to. But then their deal fell through. He never told me exactly why.”

  Caprice didn’t see any harm in telling him, and she might learn more if she gave him information. “Nikki didn’t feel a partnership with Drew would be in her best interest. I think she was right. He stole one of Nikki’s recipes and served it at the wedding expo last weekend as his. He might have even stolen one of his grandmother’s recipes.”

  Mario went silent for at least three heartbeats. Then he studied Caprice as if deciding what to tell her. Finally he said, “Do you know about the blackberry barbecue sauce he sold to the Rack O’ Ribs chain?”

  “I do. I saw him announce it on Mornings with Mavis. I tasted it, and it’s darn good.”

  “Yeah, it’s darn good. It was mine. I developed it before D.C. Drew knew I used it and he tasted it often. He’d seen me prepare it.”

  “Did you consider suing him?”

  “I did. I actually saw a lawyer. But he said I simply don’t have enough proof. Are you looking into this because you knew Drew?”

  “I didn’t know him, and I’m not sure Nikki did either. I’m looking into it because I’m afraid Nikki could be on the detectives’ suspect list. She and Drew were rivals.”

  “Drew could put up a charming front when he wanted to, but he was a conniver underneath. Lots of people knew that, so I’m sure he had his host of enemies.”

  “Did you consider yourself his enemy?”

  “My grandfather has a saying. When a wrong is done to you, don’t let your anger make it develop into more than one wrong.”

  “That sounds like advice Nana would give me.”

  “I wouldn’t consider Drew my enemy,” Mario added. “I merely cut him out of my life.”

  That could be true. Or . . . Drew’s lucrative deal to sell the barbecue sauce could have been a revenge motive for Mario to murder him.

  * * *

  Caprice found herself in Rowena Pierson’s house again the following day. Nikki had decided it was better if she didn’t show up for Drew’s funeral. Between gossip and her motives being questioned, it just seemed the safer route to take. But Caprice said she would go for both of them . . . for the family. Nana decided to send a Mass card instead of attending. She knew Rowena in passing, but not well enough that her presence would be missed.

  Caprice thought about Nana’s Mass card, and Father Gregory saying a Mass to aid Drew’s soul in finding heaven or growth or whatever actually happened after someone died. It couldn’t hurt.

  Not many people had attended the funeral and the graveside prayers. It hadn’t seemed appropriate to speak to anyone at the church or at the cemetery, so she’d accepted the invitation from Rowena to attend the reception at her house afterward.

  At the funeral Caprice had noticed something unusual. Jeanie didn’t seem broken up about her brother’s death. In fact, as she stood listening to Father Gregory at graveside, she’d appeared a little smug. Maybe that was the result of the way she had her lipstick applied. Caprice didn’t know. But she did know that Jeanie didn’t have the expression of a grieving sister. Was she a bit removed because she knew one day she’d inherit everything of her grandmother’s, and Drew’s death had given her that? Maybe she was just the type who couldn’t show emotion easily, though she’d seemed to show plenty of emotion the day Bella and Caprice had gone into her shop.

  Rowena’s house wasn’t large, and the funeral goers who came to the reception spread from the living room into the kitchen as well as the sitting room adjacent to the living room that once might have been a dining room. It was close quarters. Caprice caught sight of Jeanie again, and this time she was talking to an older man in a suit. She gestured toward the Tiffany floor lamp beside an armchair.

  What was that all about? Just what secrets did those lamps hold?

  Rowena, checking to make sure everyone had food or drink in their hands, approached Caprice. She was using her cane today.

  She took Caprice’s elbow. “I’m so glad you could come.”

  “Nikki sends her respects too . . . and Nana and my mom.”

  “I saw your Nana’s Mass card. Tell her thank you. Kiki is going to help me with thank-you notes after all of it settles down. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s the one who took care of the food for today. I’m sure it’s not as elegant as anything Drew might have prepared.”

  Caprice wasn’t sure about that. As a lead-in, she said, “I don’t know many people here. Do you know the gentleman who’s talking to Jeanie?”

  Rowena put a finger to her lips as she gazed at him. “I don’t know who that is. Maybe it’s one of her friends.”

  Just then, the man left Jeanie’s side and stepped into the sitting room.

  The front door suddenly opened and two men walked in.

  Rowena turned their way. “Will you excuse me, Caprice? I need to welcome Drew’s friends.”

  As Caprice studied the two men at the door, she realized they could be Bronson Chronister and Larry Penya. Just from their appearance, she could tell who was who. Bronson’s suit shouted dollar signs. It was charcoal and impeccably made. His white shirt gleamed with a silk finish, and his tie looked like a designer one. His black leather wingtips were spit-shined. Larry Penya, on the other hand, had a scruffier look. He would have been more handsome without the goatee, Caprice thought. His blue eyes were piercing, his dirty blond hair just a little too long. He looked uncomfortable in navy slacks and a white Oxford shirt. He and Bronson were about the same height, though Larry was thinner. For some reason, she got the idea that maybe Larry had borrowed his clothes from Bronson.

  The two men were hugging Rowena, and she didn’t want to intrude. So instead of lingering in the living room, she followed the Oriental runner into the sitting room. Jeanie was nowhere in sight. Caprice supposed she could have gone either upstairs or down to the basement. However, the man who had been talking to her stood there, and he wasn’t mourning Drew. Rather, he was appraisingly studying a claw-foot table. As she watched, he took out his cell phone and snapped a photo of it. How odd.

  Caprice approached him, saying, “That’s a fine table, isn’t it?”

  As she studied him, he studied her. “It is. Are you interested in antiques?”

  Extending her hand, she said, “I’m Caprice De Luca. My profession is home staging. I often use antiques to fill in. It’s amazing how many places they fit, even with modern décor. I know Rowena, and I knew Drew. Were you a friend of Drew’s?”

  The man looked a little uneasy, but then he shrugged and pulled a business card from the inner pocket of his suit coat. “No, actually I didn’t know Drew. My name’s Carter Gottlieb. I’m an antique dealer from York. Jeanie and I are friends.”

  She glanced at the card and saw an address in the east end.

  “I know you might think it’s a little odd I’m snapping photos, but Jeanie asked me to come today. She wanted me to unobtrusively capture photos of her grandmother’s antiques and evaluate them.”

  “Without Rowena knowing?” Caprice asked, wondering if this guy would be honest with her.

  “She told her grandmother she was going to do it sometime. I guess she thought I could look around today and not have to bother her grandmother any other time. I think she’s being sensitive to her grandmother’s feelings, not wanting to talk about it so soon after Drew died.”

  “You mean her own inheritance?”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m only concerned with the antiques. The stars of the collection, of course, are the Tiffany lamps. And they are Tiffany, not reproductions or attempts at the same style. They are totally amazing.”

  He motioned to the claw-foot table, a bentwood rocker, a curio cupboard with engravings. “The rest of Jeanie’s grandmother’s antiques are quite ordinary. But that floor lamp in there alone is worth six figures. I
t’s such a shame that the base to the other lamp is missing.”

  “The motive for Drew’s murder might have been robbery, I suppose,” Caprice offered, just to see what Carter Gottlieb would say.

  “If this was robbery, it was a poor attempt at it. A robber who knew what those lamps were worth never would have left the shade.”

  That’s exactly what Caprice had concluded. “So I guess Drew’s murder had nothing to do with the lamps, even though they’re worth what could be a small fortune to someone.”

  “Jeanie thought her grandmother might have another small Tiffany lamp upstairs. She went up to check. She showed me photos of the bedrooms upstairs, and I didn’t see anything remarkable. For the most part, antiques are worth only the pleasure that they give, the memories and the history attached to them.”

  “I agree, but it sounds as if Jeanie’s thinking about selling everything eventually.”

  “I don’t know if she wants to sell it, but she’s tallying it up. My guess is, she thinks her grandmother might move to a retirement facility and auction off all of this. She told me how much Drew helped Mrs. Pierson. I’m not sure she’ll be able to handle the house if she stays here alone.”

  That could be true. On the other hand, there were services that could help someone in Rowena’s position—Meals on Wheels, a cleaning lady once a week, a church network of volunteers who drive seniors to doctors’ appointments. If Rowena wanted to stay in her house, there was a way to do it.

  “I suppose it hurts Jeanie to think about selling the house. After all, she grew up here.”

  Gottlieb looked thoughtful. “From what she’s told me, I’m not sure those times were happy times. She confided in me about her parents dying and she and Drew coming to live here. She doesn’t seem attached to anything in the house, not even those lamps. Believe me, if I owned a Tiffany lamp like that, I’d be attached.”

  “Did she mention whether she and Drew were close? Only two years separated them.”

  “She really hadn’t discussed that. But then again, I got the impression that she felt her grandmother was catering to Drew, letting him stay here, giving him free room and board. I suppose Jeanie felt a little bit left out of that, or like her grandmother wasn’t being fair.”

  “I don’t understand,” Caprice said.

  Carter lowered his voice. “I think Jeanie felt that Drew was manipulating their grandmother, trying to get into her good graces.”

  “Maybe he was just trying to redeem himself for all the problems he’d caused when he was a teenager.”

  “Perhaps that’s true. I just got the feeling that Jeanie felt she was in competition with Drew.”

  And now that competition was over. Would Jeanie try to convince Rowena to move into a senior center? The most important question was, Did she kill her brother so she would inherit everything her grandmother left when she died?

  Chapter Eleven

  After Caprice rejoined the rest of the guests in the living room, Rowena was still talking to the two men. She’d settled on the sofa. The man in the suit was on the left of her, the blond-haired man on the right.

  Rowena motioned to Caprice, and Caprice joined them, eager to find out if these were Drew’s best friends. She sat on one of the folding chairs that had been set up near the sofa and caught a whiff of stale smoke. Apparently the man to Rowena’s right was a smoker.

  “I’d like you to meet friends of Drew’s.” Rowena looked proud that Drew had had friends. She introduced Bronson first.

  Bronson shook Caprice’s hand. “How did you know Drew?” he asked.

  “Drew worked with my sister. I stage houses and she provides the food.”

  Bronson snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of you. You’re well-known for your shindigs . . . and for the marvelous food at them.”

  “And this is Larry Penya,” Rowena said, maybe expecting Larry to extend his hand to Caprice as Bronson had. But Larry didn’t. He just nodded, then glanced around the room.

  Caprice decided to try to draw the two men out. “Were you friends of Drew’s for a long time?”

  To her surprise, Larry was the one who answered. “Since high school.”

  “It’s amazing that you kept your friendships. They don’t often last.”

  Bronson and Larry exchanged a look, and Caprice wondered what that was about.

  But before she could get a better read on it, Rowena interjected, “I think I still have Drew’s high school yearbook around here somewhere. After he moved back here, he was going to toss it. But I saved it. If I could just remember where I put it.”

  “It will come back, Mrs. Pierson.” Again Larry surprised Caprice by patting the older woman’s hand.

  “I wish more things would come back,” Rowena ruminated. “Like my ability to use my knees to go up and down stairs.” Then she addressed Bronson directly. “I should have accepted your daddy’s invitation to go camping for a weekend in one of his RV trailers while I still could have enjoyed it. Now trekking around in the outdoors is something I can’t do.”

  “But you could still enjoy a campfire,” Bronson suggested kindly.

  Both of these men acted as if they were fond of Rowena. After all, they’d known her for years.

  “You should go out to Happy Camper RV Center sometime and take a look at what Bronson sells,” Rowena advised Caprice. “Some of those campers are amazing. Drew showed me pictures. The side actually extends from one of them, and it’s almost as big as a house!”

  “A home away from home on wheels,” Bronson agreed. “That’s what people want. Oh, they like to say they’ve gone camping. Real campers use a tent. People that come to our center . . . they want a few conveniences when they’re camping, including heat, air, and bathroom facilities. Many camper vehicles can provide that now.”

  Caprice could see that Bronson was enthusiastic about the subject, and she supposed he had to be to make the business a success.

  “My only experience camping was a tent in the backyard with my sisters and brother,” Caprice said with a smile. “And I can’t say it was the best time of my life, especially with Vince trying to scare us half to death in the middle of the night.”

  “Come on out to Happy Camper sometime. I’d be glad to show you around.” Bronson’s invitation sounded sincere. “And Mrs. Pierson,” he added, “if you want to enjoy a camping experience, I would take you myself some weekend . . . and pick out the best camper to do it. You fed me and Larry often enough through the years, let alone let us sleep over here.”

  That explained the almost grandmotherly appeal that Rowena had for Bronson and Larry.

  “You boys weren’t always good for Drew, but you weren’t always bad for him either. Don’t think I didn’t know about the trouble you often got into. But you stood by Drew and he stood by you . . . and that’s what friends are for.”

  Caprice studied both of the men during Rowena’s little speech. Their expressions gave nothing away. She’d like to know a lot more about their friendships with Drew. Maybe she’d have the opportunity to talk to them separately.

  A cell phone beeped.

  Bronson slid his from inside his jacket pocket and studied the screen. Then he slanted toward Rowena. “That was a text from the manager at Happy Camper. I’m going to have to get back there. But Larry and I just wanted to stop and pay our respects.

  “I’m glad you did,” Rowena said, giving them both a hug.

  The two men stood, and Bronson said to Caprice, “It was good to meet you. Remember what I said about coming out for a tour sometime.”

  As the two men moved toward the door, Rowena shook her head. “They didn’t even have anything to eat.”

  “I think they were just glad to talk to you. Reviving memories always helps at a time like this.”

  “I suppose that’s true. You know, I thought maybe the girl that Drew had dated would stop by his funeral . . . or here.”

  “He was dating someone?”

  “Not lately. But he did in the spring. You
know, I could see and hear better than he thought I could. He snuck her up to his room on weekends because he knew I’d never approve. I don’t know who the girl was. But she was a redhead. I caught sight of her one night when I left my room to go to the bathroom for a drink. He and the girl were snuggling on the couch. But he never introduced her to me, and I thought that was a bit odd.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to introduce you to someone he didn’t know if he was serious about.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  To her surprise, Mario Ruiz came through the front door. He spotted Caprice sitting near Rowena and he came over to them. “Mrs. Pierson,” he said. “I’m Mario Ruiz. I worked with Drew in D.C.”

  “Oh yes. Drew mentioned you.”

  Kiki, who had been supervising everything in the kitchen, called to Rowena from the doorway. “Rowena, can you show me where you keep your extra tea bags?”

  Rowena stood, using her cane to support her. She said, “Thank you for coming, Mario. We’ll talk after I solve this kitchen problem.”

  After Rowena had moved away, Caprice said to Mario, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Drew and I were friends in D.C. At least, I thought we were. Maybe he stole my recipe because it was the only way he could get ahead. I have more talent than that one recipe. I have to get over it. I just wanted to pay my respects.”

  Studying Mario, Caprice tried to read him, to figure out if he was sincere. After all, he could have had a strong motive for murder. But maybe he really believed that grudges didn’t serve him any purpose.

  “Before you came in, Rowena was telling me that Drew had a girlfriend for a while. Rowena didn’t know who she was, but she was a redhead. Do you know who he was dating?”

  “A redhead? Oh, sure, I know who that was. That was Tabitha Dennis. She’s the hostess at Rack O’ Ribs and the daughter of the manager. Drew knew how to get ahead, and my guess is that’s where he started when he wanted to sell the barbeque sauce. I could be all wrong. Maybe he started dating her and she put the idea in his head. Either way, he always had a reason for what he did.”