Caprice was silent.
“I know from my counseling sessions with Joe, you shouldn’t let things fester,” Bella added more seriously.
“Nothing’s festering. He has to make a decision.”
“Or, you have to stand by him,” Bella warned sagely.
Caprice knew Bella had learned a lot about standing by Joe when she and her husband had been going through their problems. Was she looking at this all wrong? Should she just be there for Grant?
It was time for the couple to cut the beautiful cake. The billowing wedding gown sparkled under the lights as the groom took the bride’s hand and they strolled toward the cake stand together. Nikki was waiting for them with an engraved cake knife that the bride had provided. As soon as the bride and groom cut those first slices, Bella and Caprice would swoop in with trays and dishes. Nikki would push the cake into the kitchen and Serena would quickly slice pieces for the guests.
Trudi placed her hand on top of her groom’s on the knife. They were so young, Caprice thought, probably in their midtwenties. They looked as if they expected their lives to turn out just the way they wanted them to. Maybe they would.
Nikki was there with a silver-trimmed white plate to collect the slice the couple cut. Then she held it up for each of them to take a piece to feed each other. Trudi fed her groom first, and he had icing all over his mouth. He fed her a bit more daintily. Everyone applauded when they were finished.
Nikki was about to wheel the cake toward Bella and Caprice when one of the guests approached her. The woman was older than Caprice, but it was hard to tell how old with her bleached blond hair and her polished red fingernails. She wore loads of makeup too, and she caught Caprice’s attention because of it. Caprice didn’t wear much makeup, and when she saw someone who did, Caprice took notice and wondered what she was trying to prove . . . or what she was trying to hide. In this case, she was probably trying to hide wrinkles.
The woman pointed to Nikki’s wedding cake. “I saw you at the wedding expo when I was there with Trudi. She was supposed to be using Drew Pierson. They would have had a chocolate walnut groom’s cake then.”
“I’m sorry if you would have preferred that,” Nikki said blandly, and Caprice could tell she didn’t intend to give in to an argument with this woman.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have taken over this wedding reception. Maybe you should have let someone else handle it.”
Caprice could tell that Nikki just wanted to go hide somewhere, but her sister was made of sterner stuff than that. “Drew and I were in competition for business. I saw no reason to turn down this job when Trudi couldn’t find anyone else. She would have had to cancel the reception. Is that what you would have wanted her to do?”
The woman who had accosted Nikki took a step back. “She could have had a deli cater it. There were alternatives.”
“Not according to Trudi. Maybe you should ask her. Maybe you should ask her why she chose me.”
Just then, Trudi came over to Nikki and said, “Everyone’s raving about the food. You’ve done a marvelous job here tonight.” She looked at the guest who was a relative or a friend. “Delia, are you telling Nikki how pretty her cake is?”
“No,” the woman snapped. “Pretty doesn’t matter if she had a motive for murder.”
Instead of being embarrassed, Trudi patted the woman’s arm. “Delia, I think you’ve been reading too many mystery novels. Nikki’s trying to do her job just like everyone else. That chocolate walnut groom’s cake attracted us to Drew Pierson’s menu, but Nikki’s meal tonight was flawless, and we should have just gone with her in the first place. Please try her carrot cake and see how good it is. That’s all that matters.”
Caprice had been about to step in, but Trudi had done it for her, and very adroitly too.
Delia took a last look at Nikki and huffed away.
Her bridal gown rustling from here to next year, Trudi pushed her veil over her shoulder and gave Nikki a huge hug. She said, “My husband’s the one who wanted to go with Drew in the first place. I would have chosen you. You’ve done a fabulous job tonight. So don’t let what Delia said bother you one little bit. No one else is thinking it.”
Bella leaned close to Caprice and nodded to some of the other guests who were looking their way. “That’s a nice sentiment, and I’m sure Trudi means it. But I have a feeling there’s more than one person in this room thinking that Nikki might have done it.”
Caprice was absolutely sure that Bella was right.
* * *
“You need to get yourself a police scanner.”
Caprice had been in the middle of working up figures for a proposal for a house staging when she’d answered Isaac Hobbs’s call Wednesday evening.
“Why should I get a police scanner when you have one and Lloyd Butterworth at the Koffee Klatch has one. I usually hear the news before it makes it down the street.”
Isaac gave a grunt. “I just have one for entertainment value when I don’t have any customers in the shop. Lloyd Butterworth milks his for all it’s worth and thinks it brings him business.”
“He could be right about that. His coffee’s darn good too.”
“And mine isn’t?”
Isaac let his pot of coffee sit all day. Sometimes when she went to visit in the afternoon, it tasted as if it had been burnt to a crisp, and that was hard to do with coffee. “Your coffee provides great conversation.” She went back to their original subject. “Why do I need a scanner?”
“Because Rowena Pierson’s house was burglarized last night.”
“What?”
“You heard me. This is small-town Kismet. You don’t just go by codes. I listen to chatter too. The police were called to that address for an attempted break-in. That’s basically all I know, except . . . I called a friend of a friend who knows one of the officers. She said they don’t think anything was taken.”
“Then why the break-in?” Caprice mused.
“I don’t know. I did find the paperwork on her lamps. The table lamp is worth around $200,000 and the floor lamp around $400,000. But those prices swing around at auctions. One auction house I know of deals mainly with Tiffany lamps. They have a list of private collectors always on the lookout. Then, of course, there is Christie’s.”
The most high-end auction house, Caprice thought.
Isaac added, “There are lots of forgeries. Provenance often tells the tale. Rowena’s lamps have provenance dating back to 1929. Are you going to pay Rowena a visit and nose around?”
“I can’t very well do that tonight. I have work with deadlines. Besides, a visit this soon would be unseemly.”
“Like you were nosing around,” he agreed.
“I have to be careful, Isaac. Detective Jones’s eyes are on me.”
“Is Rowena Pierson’s place within walking distance?”
“It could be if I wanted the exercise. Why?”
“So take Lady for a walk tomorrow and Jones won’t be the wiser.”
Not only her work van but her yellow Camaro was recognizable, and Isaac might have a valid point. “I’ll think about it.”
“If you snooze, you lose.”
She laughed. “I get the idea, Isaac. If you hear anything else, will you let me know?”
“Sure will. And if you need my services, you know where to find me.”
Isaac and the paperwork at his shop had helped her out before. “You’re a good friend, Isaac.”
“And you’re a great customer.”
She knew Isaac tried to be hard-boiled on the outside, but he was a softie on the inside. After all, he’d attended her birthday party in April and brought her the cutest little vintage cat creamer.
“I’ll take your advice to heart,” she told him.
“And you’ll let me know what happened with the break-in?”
Caprice had to smile. “I promise I’ll let you know. Thanks for the tip.”
“Anytime.”
As she ended the call with Isaac, Caprice realized
that he was a good friend, not just a contact. She’d have to invite him over for dinner sometime so they could really chat, or maybe invite him to one of the De Luca family dinners. He’d get a kick out of that.
* * *
She was thinking about the next family dinner, what she’d make, whether Grant would be there, as she walked Lady the following morning and headed for Rowena’s. Midmorning in early July, heat was already setting in. She’d chosen to wear fifties-style turquoise pedal pushers and a white blouse with turquoise pinstripes. Her sneakers were comfortable for walking.
Lady didn’t seem in any hurry as she snuffled the grass along the sidewalk and then looked up at Caprice inquiringly. Does this walk have a destination?
“Yes, it does,” Caprice told her. “I don’t know if Rowena likes dogs, though, so we might be staying outside on the porch.
Lady tilted her head as if considering that.
Caprice rubbed her, and Lady heeled perfectly for the rest of the walk. She responded to praise so well, and treats worked too, though Caprice used them less now than she used to. At ten months old, Lady was growing into her beautiful self. Her golden color was rich and deep, and the cream along her ears reminded Caprice of the golden highlights in Nikki’s hair. Nikki probably wouldn’t like being compared to Lady.
As Caprice reached Rowena’s block, she noticed the flowers dotting the yards—purple and white petunias, red roses in full glory, marigolds a neighbor had planted along a border. Caprice wondered if Rowena would even be staying at her house or if she would be staying with Kiki again because of the break-in.
The next minute, her question was answered. A white van had parked at the curb outside of Rowena’s house. Two men hurried down the steps and climbed into the vehicle, slamming the doors. As Caprice and Lady approached, she heard the van start up, then it pulled away from the curb and sped down the street.
Maybe repairs had been necessary if someone had broken in. Had Rowena been here when it happened?
She was hoping she’d soon have her questions answered.
Lady ran up the steps beside Caprice. Caprice put her finger to the doorbell, but before she could even press it, Rowena was at the door.
“Hi, Caprice, what brings you here?”
Caprice nodded to Lady. “I was taking her for a walk and just headed in your direction.”
“Oh my. I missed her at first.”
“I understand if you don’t want a dog inside. I just came to check on you and see how you’re doing.”
“I’ve never had a dog, but I don’t mind yours coming in as long as she doesn’t run around and knock everything over.”
“She’s usually pretty well behaved,” Caprice assured Rowena. “If she gets rambunctious I’ll bring her back outside again. I brought one of her toys that she can chew on while we’re talking.”
“That sounds good.”
“Was that a repair truck I saw leaving?”
Rowena waited until Caprice and Lady were inside before she answered. “Not exactly a repair truck. One of those was here yesterday to fix my basement window. Someone broke in night before last.”
“Were you here?”
“Yes, I was here. I was all settled in my bedroom when I heard a noise. I didn’t know what it was. Apparently it was someone breaking in that basement window. They made it up to the living room, but I had my four-pronged cane and I went after whoever it was. The person wore a hoodie, so I couldn’t tell if the intruder was male or female. I wish my sight was as good as it once was. Anyway, I chased whoever it was back down the basement and shut the door and put a chair in front of it. Then I called the police.”
“I can’t believe you did that! You’re fortunate the burglar ran.”
“I am, aren’t I? That’s what the police said too. They think whoever it was wanted to steal something. Maybe the Tiffany lamps. But I don’t know. I did see that the burglar had something on his hands. They looked white. The police think those were latex gloves. From what I could tell, nothing was taken. I guess I surprised him. Maybe he expected me to still be at Kiki’s.”
That was a reasonable supposition.
“So the police didn’t find any evidence of who was here?”
“Only the broken glass from the basement window. The men you saw leaving were installing my burglar alarm system. I should have had it done a long time ago because of the Tiffany lamps if nothing else. But nobody knew their worth. Not really.”
Was that true? Were the lamps the object of the break in? Or did Rowena have something of Drew’s that the burglar might have wanted? Even more possible, what if the burglar knew about the recipes inside the light? Did he or she want those?
Rowena motioned to the sofa. “Please sit.”
Caprice undid Lady’s leash and gave her the toy she’d brought along.
“Your nana called me to talk awhile. I so appreciated that. It seems since my grandson was murdered I’m persona non grata in Kismet.”
“What do you mean?” Caprice could guess, but it seemed Rowena needed a listening ear.
“I thought I had friends in this town. I’ve lived here all my life. I raised Drew and Jeanie the best way I knew how. They went through the public school system, and I made friends with other parents even though they were younger than I was. Granted, since I haven’t been able to get out and about as much, I’ve let a lot of friendships slide. When you can’t go and do, people forget you’re around. All except for Kiki. She’s been a true friend. The others—they’re all keeping their distance. It’s as if I have the plague.”
Caprice didn’t know if she could help Rowena, but she could try. “I don’t know if I can find out who killed Drew, but I might be able to find some tidbits of information that could help the police. What I want you to know is that the general public does look on murder as if it’s something that’s catching. It’s not fair, but they don’t want to be tainted by it. They don’t want to think that they could bring something like that on themselves. They want to believe they’re different. They’re not, of course. Violence can touch anyone.”
“I just feel . . . so alone now.”
Caprice knew Rowena was missing Drew desperately, and she was hurt by her friends ignoring her and putting her in a “do not touch” category.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just your visits help. You don’t know how much they mean to me. Your grandmother said she’d visit too. She didn’t want to barge in too soon, but I don’t think there is a too soon with this. I’m never going to get over Drew being taken from me. All I can do is learn to live with it.”
“Has Jeanie been by to visit?”
“She’s at her store all the time, and she tells me she can’t get away. But from what I’ve seen of write-ups about you in the newspaper, and what your nana says, you work a lot too. Yet here you are.”
Yes, here she was. And she wasn’t going to ask any more questions. She was going to keep Rowena company and just let her talk about Drew. She had the feeling that that’s what the woman wanted to do most, and Caprice was going to let her.
* * *
That evening Caprice had just ended a video conferencing call with a client when Roz texted her.
Are you busy? Can I come over?
Caprice texted back, Sure. Anything wrong?
Roz texted back, We’ll talk.
Hmmm. That didn’t sound good. A problem with Bella working for her? A pothole in the road with Vince?
Caprice was wearing her favorite pair of lounging pants, patterned with kittens, and a bright pink T-shirt that matched part of the design. She briefly thought about changing, but this was Roz. She could be comfortable.
After almost exactly fifteen minutes, her doorbell rang. She checked the monitor next to her computer. Yep, that was Roz standing under her porch light, and she had Dylan with her.
Caprice opened the door and invited them inside. Dylan yipped, danced around the foyer, then met Lady in the dining room and took off for
the kitchen.
“I made decaf coffee,” Caprice told her friend. “It’s a new flavor—butternut rum.”
“Do you have a bottle of wine? I think that’s more my speed tonight.”
She and Roz had shared wine before, but it wasn’t usually their beverage of choice. Something was wrong.
“I think I have Tears of Gettysburg that Vince brought me from Adams County Winery.” It was a sweet white wine that went down easy.
“That might be appropriate,” Roz agreed, going into the living room and plopping down on the sofa.
Roz’s golden-blond hair was always perfectly coifed. She usually wore gold earrings or jewels even when she was dressed casually. Casual for Roz was a well-tailored, probably designer top and slacks. Tonight she wore a pale green set with emeralds at her ears.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong before we have the wine or afterward?” Caprice asked.
“First of all, I want to tell you we have a tennis court date for tomorrow at four-thirty. We’ll be on the court next to Bronson.”
“That’s great. How did you manage it?”
“That wasn’t hard. I just dropped in at the Country Squire pro shop. I asked about court availability. I hinted that I might want to do some business with Bronson, and the manager set me up.”
“It’s good to have friends in high places,” Caprice joked.
“Or at the computer in the pro shop. When Ted was alive—” She stopped abruptly.
“Go on,” Caprice prompted. “You can talk about him, you know. You were married to him.”
“And what a sham that was,” Roz said. “He often had the manager rearrange court times or court schedules to suit him when he wanted to discuss business over a tennis game. I felt it was manipulative, and here I am doing the same thing.”
“Does it make a difference that I’m trying to catch a murderer?”
Roz’s gaze met hers. “Of course, it does. I just . . . I just regret so many things about my marriage to him.”
“Where is this coming from now?”
“Let’s open the wine.”
Caprice brought out two crystal wineglasses. Vince had given them to her as a housewarming present when she’d bought this house. They were blown glass with an etched flower pattern. She suspected he’d gone to Isaac’s shop to find them.
Silence of the Lamps Page 18