Silence of the Lamps

by Karen Rose Smith

  Fairchild was obviously trying to be quiet, but she could hear his shuffles through the brush, his low grunt when a branch grazed him or a bramble caught his jeans.

  Her body was rigid and stiff. Finally she decided she’d better breathe. She took a few shallow breaths. He was using that flashlight beam in circles but not shining it up into the trees. Maybe he was too afraid he’d trip again. After all, maybe he wasn’t as nimble as she was. The light inched closer to her tree. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t even flinch.

  “I’m going to find you,” he called out to the general area. “You know I will. You might as well come out.”

  She wondered if he underestimated all women. Maybe that’s why he never married. Or maybe women always discovered his mean streak, because he obviously had one.

  He stopped, probably to listen. When he didn’t hear anything, he moved on. Now he kept quiet, maybe thinking he could sneak up on her wherever she was hiding. But the woods were dark and deep, and soon he was farther into them. Now she could scramble down and run back to the cabin . . . maybe even reach her van.

  The wail of sirens broke the stillness of the night. The sound was faint at first but grew louder with each second. Thank goodness for GPSs and cell phone towers. Thank goodness for detectives who knew how to find addresses. Thank goodness for Hail Marys and brothers who didn’t mind her tagging along. And self-defense courses.

  The siren sounds were almost deafening now in the hushed night. Not caring about scratched and cut hands or brush and brambles, she scurried down the tree, lit up her own phone’s flashlight app, and ran as fast as she could back toward the cabin.

  Before she emerged from the trees, she could hear officers shouting to each other. She heard them spreading out through the woods. As she reached the cabin, she spotted Bronson and Larry sitting on the porch steps, Carstead looming over them.

  “I’m here,” she called as she waved and approached them. She could see Bronson holding his arm across his chest, blood staining his shirt sleeve.

  But before she reached Carstead, another man came running from the makeshift road. A man who was tall with black hair and broad shoulders—the man she loved.

  Grant rushed to Caprice and took her into his arms. “Are you all right? What are you doing out here? I don’t know whether to shake you or kiss you.”

  She didn’t wait for him to decide. She kissed him.

  He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t love her. He wouldn’t be here if he’d made a different choice.

  After Grant pulled away, he said, “Everything’s going to be all right. I promise. We can talk later.”

  Just then, two patrol officers dragged Louis Fairchild from the edge of the woods. He was handcuffed and looked as if he wanted to murder someone again. They none too gently pushed him toward the patrol car.

  Finally Detective Carstead approached Caprice. He gave her a look that said he’d never understand her. He muttered, “Maybe I should put you on the Kismet P.D.’s payroll. Can you meet me at the station and fill me in on exactly what happened?”

  “I’d be glad to,” she answered agreeably. She wasn’t shaking now that Grant was holding on to her so tightly. He’d promised everything would be all right . . . and she did trust him.

  As Carstead walked away, Grant said, “He likes you.”

  She heard that hint of jealousy in Grant’s voice again, and it made her heart sing. Turning to him, remembering Nana’s advice to jump without a net when she knew what she wanted, she gazed into his eyes and assured him, “But I like you. You’re the only man I want to consider a future with. That is, if you want a future with me.”

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Grant assured her, pulling her close again. “Naomi went back to Oklahoma. This week put resentment and recriminations to rest. We revived good memories of Sally. But my life with Naomi is in the past. After you and I finish at the police station, I want to talk to you about what comes next for us.”

  That was a conversation she couldn’t wait to have.

  Epilogue

  Ten Days Later

  The cafeteria at Kismet High School had been transformed for the night. The committee developing the reunion wanted to make the night affordable for as many classmates as they could, so they’d decided to have the reunion at the school. It was a sweltering July night, but no one seemed to mind as they stepped into the air-conditioning and the music that poured from the speakers the DJ had set up in the lobby adjacent to the cafeteria.

  On Grant’s arm, Caprice was glad she’d dressed up. She’d found a fifties-style lacy crinoline dress in off-white with an embroidered flower pattern. Donned in its capped sleeves, sweetheart neck, and tight waist, along with teal strappy pumps and a teal and cream purse, she felt good.

  When Grant looked at her, she felt pretty.

  They’d been spending as many hours together as they could. She could tell his time with Naomi had settled things in his mind. He’d shared some of the conversations he’d had with his ex-wife. He’d also shared some of his grief at losing his daughter. She knew that would always be with him. But she accepted that, just as she accepted him. And he seemed to accept her just the way she was, even when he was angrier than an irate bull that she’d put herself in danger again, inadvertently or not.

  They sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria beside Roz and Vince. Other members of the reunion committee were seated across the table.

  Vince waved to the centerpieces. “They’re looking good.” He turned to Roz. “I hear you helped with those.”

  “I did. I’ve always liked arranging flowers. Jeanie Boswell gave us a discount on them, as well as the vases.”

  Since the apprehension of Drew’s murderer, Caprice had learned more about Jeanie and the way she often hid her emotions behind indifference and anger. That hadn’t made her a guilty sister, just a grieving one.

  “We’ve finally decided we’re going to take a vacation together,” Roz told her in a low voice. Her friend sounded excited . . . and happy.

  “Where?” Caprice asked.

  Vince answered, “The Finger Lakes in New York State. We’ll have a whole week together—day and night.”

  Roz blushed.

  Grant leaned close to Caprice. She caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne that was one of her favorite scents these days. He looked so handsome tonight in a charcoal suit with a blue tie and pale blue shirt. But then she thought he looked handsome no matter what he wore.

  He murmured near her ear, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

  She smiled. “In spite of the fact that I was up all last night watching Halo deliver her kittens?” The tortoiseshell had given birth to three—a dark tortoiseshell, a gray-striped tabby, and a lighter tortoiseshell—all still to be named. Watching them being born and settling in to nurse had been an awesome experience.

  Grant’s voice went a little lower. “Do you remember the night we delivered Shasta’s pups?”

  “Of course I do. I’ll never forget it.”

  Grant took her hand and asked, “Would you like to dance?”

  “I definitely would.”

  They stood and excused themselves.

  Roz winked. Vince gave them a thumbs-up, and Caprice didn’t even feel embarrassed.

  Before they reached the lobby, where couples were dancing, Helen Parcelli, whom Caprice had run into at the Raspberry Festival, approached them. “Hi. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but I didn’t want to interrupt at your table. I want the real scoop on what happened at Elliot Chronister’s cabin.”

  Helen wasn’t the first person to ask Caprice, and she answered by rote. “Marianne Brisbane reported what happened in the article in the Kismet Crier.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Helen prodded, “Come on now. Fill in the details for me.”

  Caprice looked at Grant, and he gave a shrug.

  Caprice studied Helen. “What do you know?”

  “Everything I’ve been reading online. Larry
and Drew were involved in an accident in high school and didn’t report it. Bronson made a public apology concerning his knowledge of it. I think he hopes if he comes clean about everything, maybe he still can have some kind of career in politics. After all, he wasn’t in the car when it happened. What exactly are the charges against all of them?”

  Those were points of public record, so Caprice answered easily. “Larry was charged with conspiracy to commit homicide by motor vehicle and obstruction of justice.”

  “Don’t forget breaking and entering at Rowena’s when he tried to find Drew’s yearbook,” Grant interjected. “An inscription in the yearbook could have been damming if it came to light. A prosecuting DA could have used it to his advantage.”

  “I heard Bronson is paying for a good lawyer for Larry,” Helen said. “Maybe he’ll get a minimum sentence.”

  “That’s what they’re hoping,” Grant agreed. “Bronson was charged with obstruction of justice but will probably be sentenced to probation or community service. I doubt if a political career is in the cards for him anymore.”

  “I can’t believe Louis Fairchild murdered Drew. Exactly why did he do it?” Helen asked.

  Caprice knew Fairchild was having the book thrown at him—homicide, attempted homicide, and obstruction of justice. The prosecutor also tacked on a charge of terroristic threats for scaring her out of her wits with the knife and note on the rack of ribs and the letter in the mail.

  “When Louis Fairchild wanted to retire,” Caprice explained, “he had a problem. He’d blown most of his 401K on gambling debts, and social security wouldn’t fund the retirement he wanted. He knew Larry, Drew, and Bronson had each other’s backs, and he decided to cash in on their secret. He couldn’t blackmail Bronson—this was before Bronson’s political ambition—because Bronson only knew about the hit-and-run. He hadn’t been in the car. But after Drew hit the big time with his barbeque sauce, Fairchild thought he could squeeze money from him.”

  “So Fairchild confessed?”

  “He did,” Caprice responded. “The whole story came out when the police questioned him, because he was so angry . . . at me, at Bronson, at Drew, at Larry. Apparently Drew had been snooping for recipes in Rowena’s Tiffany lamps. When the cord broke on the table lamp, Larry fixed it and returned the lamp. After Fairchild showed up at Drew’s, Larry left. But he stood outside to smoke and heard raised voices. He didn’t stay because he didn’t want to get involved in whatever was brewing. Fairchild said that when he tried to blackmail Drew, Drew just laughed at him. They argued. Drew turned away, and Fairchild picked up the lamp base that Larry had returned, conked Drew with it, and took it with him. On his rush to leave, he knocked over the other Tiffany lamp. The police found the base of the lamp stashed in a closet at his residence.”

  “The irony of it,” Grant added, “was that if he’d just stolen the lamps, he’d have had a windfall of sorts.”

  “I’d heard they were Tiffany,” Helen said. “I wonder if Drew’s grandmother is going to keep them.”

  “She’s selling them,” Caprice revealed. “They’re going up for auction.”

  “I knew you could tell me more than was in that newspaper article.”

  Another classmate waved to Helen from across the room. She waved back. “I’d better get going,” she said. “You two have a nice time tonight.”

  After she moved away, Grant wrapped his arm around Caprice’s waist and led her to the dance floor. A ballad had begun playing. As he took her hand in his and guided her to the music, she knew murder and mayhem were behind her for now.

  “What are you thinking about?” Grant asked her as they danced.

  She answered honestly. “You.”

  He pulled her closer and rested his chin on top of her head.

  Smiling, she squeezed his hand and sighed. She was right where she wanted to be . . . close to his heart.

  Original Recipes

  Caprice’s Easy Beef Bourguignon

  6 bacon slices, plus 3 tablespoons of the drippings

  2 ½ pounds stewing cubes

  2 cups flour

  1½ teaspoons salt

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  Coat a 5-quart slow cooker with no-stick spray.

  Fry bacon, then remove it from the drippings. When it is cool, crumble it and set it aside in the refrigerator. Save 3 tablespoons of the drippings.

  Dry beef cubes as much as possible with food-friendly paper towels. Combine flour, 1½ teaspoons salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper in a Ziploc bag. Drop in a few stewing cubes at a time to coat them, then place the coated cubes in the slow cooker.

  1 cup chopped onion

  1 cup peeled and sliced carrots

  1 cup chopped celery

  1 clove grated garlic

  teaspoon marjoram

  1 teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  3 cups beef broth (use Swanson for no MSG)

  1½ cups white burgundy wine (red burgundy discolors the mixture)

  4 or 5 red pepper flakes

  Add onion, carrots, celery, garlic, marjoram, 1 teaspoon salt, ½ teaspoon pepper, and the red pepper flakes to the beef cubes in the slow cooker.

  Pour broth over the mixture, then add the three tablespoons of bacon drippings and the wine. Cover and cook on low for 5 hours or until beef cubes are tender. Stir every two hours for a smooth gravy base without flour lumps.

  I serve over 1 pound of wide egg noodles and top each portion with crumbled bacon.

  Serves six to eight.

  Bella’s Lima Bean Casserole

  2 16-ounce bags frozen lima beans, thawed

  8 slices fried, crumbled bacon

  ¾ cup chopped fresh onion

  ¾ teaspoon salt

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  ¼ cup melted butter

  ½ cup water

  8 ounces finely grated cheddar cheese

  6 tablespoons Italian bread crumbs

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

  Combine thawed lima beans, crumbled bacon, onion, salt, pepper, butter, water, and grated cheese. Turn into a two-quart casserole sprayed with no-stick cooking spray.

  Bake covered at 400 degrees for 45 minutes. Remove cover and sprinkle with bread crumbs. Bake an additional 10 to 15 minutes or until bread crumbs are browned and beans are tender.

  Serves six to eight.

  Nikki’s Carrot Surprise Cake

  Cake

  1½ cups flour

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  1½ teaspoons cinnamon

  1 teaspoon orange zest

  1½ cups sugar

  1 cup vegetable oil

  3 eggs

  1½ cups shredded carrots

  ½ cup crushed pineapple, drained

  ½ cup chopped walnuts

  1 cup flaked coconut

  Cream Cheese Frosting

  ½ cup softened butter

  1 8-ounce package softened cream cheese

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  ½ teaspoon orange zest

  1 pound confectioner’s sugar

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

  Grease and flour 9 by 13-inch cake pan.

  Cake

  Stir together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and orange zest in a large mixer bowl. Add sugar, oil, and eggs. Beat on medium speed for about 1 minute until well mixed. Fold in carrots, pineapple, walnuts, and coconut until completely blended.

  Pour mixture into the greased and floured cake pan. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Let cake cool completely before frosting.

  Cream Cheese Frosting

  Beat softened butter with softened cream cheese until smooth. Add vanilla and orange zest. Blend in confectioner’s sugar and beat until smooth and spreadable. Frost the cake and refrigerate until you are ready to serve it.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  Karen Rose Smith’s
next

  Caprice De Luca Home Staging Mystery

  SHADES OF WRATH

  coming in December 2016 wherever

  print and e-books are sold!

  Chapter One

  The mansion that stood before Caprice De Luca was a bit run-down but still magnificent. As an early September breeze tossed her long, dark-brown hair as well as the leaves around her feet, Caprice remembered that the Tudor revival had hit America during the 1920s and 30s when this edifice had been built. It was a monstrous home, yet charming too because of the steeply pitched roof with prominent cross gables. Those gables were embellished with half-timbering against stucco walls. Decorative chimney pots topped the thick brick chimney.

  End-of-the-day light flickered against the tall windows arranged in groups of three. Each had diamond-shaped panes that reflected the sunlight. As a home stager, Caprice considered how light shone into a room. However, she wouldn’t be looking at this house to stage it to sell. She’d be planning how to furnish and decorate it.

  Caprice ascended the front steps, passing under the arched portico that supported a room above it. She couldn’t wait to see the inside. Wendy Newcomb had said she’d be waiting for her.

  This estate had been donated to Sunrise Tomorrow, a cause that had been a passion of Wendy Newcomb’s since she’d established a foundation for the women’s shelter in Kismet about a decade ago. She ate and slept her work, advocating for and caring for women who were victims of domestic violence. Caprice was here today to take a look at the mansion and propose ideas for decorating it so that it was suitable for a housing facility for women who were in need of transitional care. She was going to make their rooms feel like places they’d want to spend time.