“Peace at all costs always costs a lot,” Caprice murmured. Joe and Bella had been trying to keep the peace—and damaging their marriage while doing it.
“No lectures, okay? I don’t have to tell you any of this.”
“No, you don’t,” she shot back. “But since the police issued a warrant to search your home and car, my guess is they’ll be taking you down to the station to question you again. Do you really think all this isn’t going to come out? Wouldn’t it be better if you and Bella talked first?”
“I’m telling you, she’s not going to want to know that I’ve been losing our money.” He glanced up at the house as if his wife might have heard him.
“A lot?” she asked.
“Enough. That night when I went to the casino with the guys, I won three hundred bucks. Three hundred extra dollars that we could toss into the kitty for food or clothes or a higher electric bill.”
Caprice guessed what was going to come next.
“So I thought, like a stupid idiot,” he went on, “if I could win three hundred dollars, I could win more. Right?”
Caprice didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to because Joe answered his own question.
“Well, I didn’t. I lost little by little. So I ratcheted up the stakes. Instead of just video poker and blackjack, I got a seat at a poker table. I lost two hundred dollars, then four. I won back fifty. So I tried to win back more. I kept going back because I thought I could at least break even. Bella wouldn’t have to see I’d taken a cash advance on a new credit card. She wouldn’t see that I filled up the van with half a tank of gas instead of a whole tank, to use that money at the casino. The whole thing just snowballed. She told me we were having a baby, so I tried even harder to win.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No, I was just a sucker who didn’t stop soon enough.”
“How much did you lose?”
He eyed Caprice now as if she were a judge who was going to bring down the gavel and sentence him.
“Five thousand dollars.”
Caprice breathed a little sigh of relief. Five thousand dollars was nothing to sneeze at, but hopefully five thousand dollars wouldn’t make them lose their house, either.
“When you married Bella, didn’t we all make you feel as if you were part of our family?”
“Yeah, I guess you did,” he muttered. “But you’re all so tight, sometimes I feel left out too.”
“I’m sorry about that, Joe. That’s never been our intention. You do know, don’t you, that sometimes Vince feels left out too, because Bella, Nikki, and I talk? Because we usually tell each other everything?”
“Vince doesn’t care what anybody thinks about him. He knows no matter who he dates or what he does, you’ll all stand beside him.”
“And you don’t feel like that?”
“Especially not now, not with the police questioning me as if I’m some kind of criminal.”
“They’re questioning Bella, too.”
“Yeah, but you don’t believe she did it.”
She could ask him the question again, but she didn’t know if she should. Maybe that would put an even deeper wedge between them. Had Joe just been driving around the night Bob was murdered? Had he been headed for the casino?
“I didn’t kill him,” Joe said as if she had asked again what was uppermost in her mind.
Birds chirped in the trees. The sound of a chain saw hummed in the distance.
Caprice lightly touched Joe’s arm. “Let’s go inside. You and Bella need to have a long talk, don’t you think?”
Joe’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know how we’re going to afford raising another kid.”
That was a very big question. But an even bigger question was whether the police considered Bella or Joe to be prime suspects.
Just what would they do if one of them was arrested?
Caprice couldn’t stop thinking about Joe and Bella as she left them alone and stopped at her house to make sure Shasta and Sophia were copacetic. They must have had a morning run because the throw rugs were again ruffled and the silent butler she kept on her coffee table was almost tipping over the edge. But other than that . . .
Sophia gave her a wide yawn, and Shasta looked up at her angelically.
“Okay, one run around the yard, then I have a house to stage. My assistant can’t do it all.”
Juan was overseeing the delivery of the furniture and the incidentals, but Caprice wanted to be there for placement and to see what they might still need.
A half hour later, she drove into Reservoir Heights, as always admiring the view. The lots were two or three acres, some placed around the reservoir with a view of the lake-like setting. When she was a half mile from the log home, she saw it on the crest of a hill. It had a dramatic, lodge-like look and contained five thousand square feet of amenities. Terraced into the hill, the dining room had a view of the reservoir through floor-to-ceiling windows. The front of the house looked as if it were built on log pillars, and a deck surrounded the entire first floor. The basement level included a three-car garage, a workshop, a large game room, and three bedrooms.
After she pulled into a parking area alongside the house, she mounted the rustic cedar stairs, stopped at the landing to look out over the view, then continued up to what was considered the first floor. A Native American patterned rug hung over the deck’s banister, and the sliding glass doors stood open. She stepped inside and considered the beautiful home, which had been vacant for two months because its owner had taken a job in Arizona and moved his family there.
One of this home’s strongest attributes was the open concept of the great room, dining area, and kitchen, which had a large breakfast nook. The dining room and great room featured cathedral ceilings that soared above a native rock fireplace. A winding log staircase led to the second floor.
Caprice knew lofts were a waste of space, but she really did like them. They added drama to the smallest A-frame. This was by no means an A-frame. This type of home was better suited for a family with tween to teenage kids, though the office near the master suite on the second floor could be developed into a nursery. The three bedrooms in the basement provided privacy older children might like.
Her theme for this house was Rustic Chic. It definitely was that, even with an unfinished staged look.
Juan descended the stairs from the second floor. He must have heard her van. “The master suite is finished. That lodgepole pine bed you found was perfect. I didn’t know how that red, white and blue quilt you picked out would look on the king-size bed, but it worked. I should have trusted your eye.”
“Sometimes I need more than one set of eyes,” Caprice joked. “And you’re it.”
She glanced around the great room, furnished with a multicushioned blue and red denim couch, a couple of primitive antiques she’d found at Isaac’s, a few occasional tables, and a bookcase that was delivered this morning. “I haven’t been to my storage compartments yet for accessories. I’ll do that this afternoon. Do you think we have enough furniture?”
Two monstrous faux-suede-covered chairs formed a grouping with the sofa. A heavy pine chest acted as the coffee table. The sturdy oak dining table, with its pedestal and benches and an accompanying large hutch, filled just enough space in the dining room. Glancing at the walls, she decided Juan had done a fine job with a framed print of stampeding horses, as well as a metallic hanging of cattails swaying in the breeze.
“I don’t think you need me,” she said as a compliment.
“More furniture for downstairs is coming in about half an hour, and you didn’t give me a floor plan for that. The rest is exactly the way you designed it, so don’t try to be all humble on me. It won’t work. I heard about that award you’re up for.”
“Now how did you hear about that?”
“I was in touch with Nikki about what she’s serving on Sunday. She told me. She’s so proud of you she could pop.”
“I’m just as proud of her. She always makes t
hese stagings a real party. This one’s going to be a down-home feast, very different from what we usually do. I think her special recipe for baked beans is even on the menu.”
“Along with corn bread, chili, grits, meat loaf, and mashed potatoes,” he added. “She’s going rustic with the hors d’oeuvres for this one too. Something about a dip of cheese with ground beef, and bread sticks to eat it with. But she’s using imported ales and lager, along with wine developed right here in the Susquehanna Valley.”
Caprice gazed around the space. “Sometimes I wonder how we’ll be ready on time, but we always are.”
“Yep, we always are.”
Before Juan could head upstairs to whatever he was doing before she’d arrived, she said, “Can we talk about Bob?”
Juan studied her for a moment, then sank down onto one of the suede-like chairs. “Sure, we can. But I’m going to rest this ankle while we do, if you don’t mind.”
She didn’t mind at all. In fact, if he needed more help, she wished he’d ask for it. But he wouldn’t. That was Juan.
“You know I don’t mind. Do not overdo it.”
“About Bob,” he said seriously. “I know Bella found him.”
“You’ve been around him the past couple of years. Tell me what you thought of him.”
“You want an objective opinion?”
“Something like that.”
Juan shrugged. “He was an okay guy. He was a woman’s guy.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know the type. They can get along with any woman, can charm them, flatter them, make them feel special. I bet he never had a turn-down date in his life.”
Maybe not a turn-down date. But Bella had turned him down when she’d found out he’d been unfaithful. Had that always rankled with Bob? Had he wanted to try to get even for that by charming her again now?
“What do you know about Kent Osgood?”
“I’m sure I don’t know much more than you do. He turned up in Kismet about a year and a half ago around the time Bob decided to add another crew and go after more lucrative painting jobs. From what I’ve heard, he and Kent became friends and then partners.”
“Partners?”
She hadn’t known Kent was officially Bob’s partner. Could that be a strong enough motive for murder? “Kent’s going to paint the trim on my back porch day after tomorrow.”
“You suddenly needed a back porch trim? Something tells me you’re looking into Bob’s murder, and you’d like to get to know Kent a little better.”
“But you’re not going to tell anybody else that’s what I intend to do, right?”
Juan grinned. “Wouldn’t think of it. Are you doing this for your sister?”
Yes, she was. She was doing this for Bella.
On Friday morning Caprice was on her phone with Roz when Kent Osgood drove up in his truck.
“The painter’s here,” she told Roz. They’d been discussing plans for the fashion boutique Roz intended to open.
“And you think he could be a suspect?” Roz asked, sounding worried.
“It’s possible. If he is Bob’s partner, maybe he inherits the business. And don’t tell me to be careful. He’s going to be painting the trim on my back porch. I’ve got my cell phone in my pocket, and Josie is right next door.”
“And you really think you’ll be able to meet me this afternoon, to talk about the space and displays and everything else?”
“I explained exactly what I wanted him to paint, and he says he should be finished in a couple of hours. I spent most of yesterday at the log house with the real estate agent, taping video, and shooting photos for their Web site. Almost everything is ready for Sunday. I’ll stop in at your new space after Kent leaves.”
“Sounds good. Keep Shasta at your side. She’ll protect you. I know Dylan would drag me out of a burning building if he could.”
Caprice laughed at that picture. Dylan was a ball of fur and weighed about ten pounds. But he was loyal, and Caprice knew Roz was right.
Caprice met Kent at the curb. After their phone conversation, she’d e-mailed him photos of what she needed to have painted. He’d e-mailed her back a ballpark estimate that she’d okayed. Now they exchanged pleasantries and he shook her hand. Kent looked to be younger than Bob, maybe in his midtwenties. He had sandy blond hair and green eyes, and loose-limbed movements that told her he might have been an athlete in high school. The day was already hot, and he wore a tank top and jeans.
Releasing a ladder from the rack at the back of his truck, he hefted it up and carried it as if it weighed very little. Caprice had surmised right away from their phone conversation that Kent, unlike Bob, wasn’t a talker.
At her back entrance, he said, “This is a cinch. I’ll be done by midmorning.”
Small talk obviously wasn’t his forte, but she needed him talking to find out anything.
Hearing them at the back door, Shasta began barking.
“You’ve got a dog,” he said offhandedly as he raised the ladder and propped it against the side of the porch.
Animals always made conversation easier.
“I do. Actually, I found her a week before Bob’s murder. She’s helped to distract me since.”
Which was absolutely true.
At the mention of Bob’s murder, Kent frowned, and she thought his complexion might have gone a little paler.
She’d expressed her condolences on the phone but said again, “I’m sorry you lost him. His murder must have been quite a shock.”
“It was.”
He adjusted the ladder behind two peony bushes.
“Have you heard anything about the funeral?” Caprice asked, thinking the body might have been released by now.
“He’s going to be cremated,” Kent answered, thin-lipped. “There won’t be anything else.”
Since Bob didn’t have family, would those arrangements be left to his partner?
“My sister told me Bob didn’t have any family. His parents are gone. No brothers or sisters. He knew so many people.”
Kent didn’t say anything to that.
Shasta’s barking broke the silence. She heard voices close by and she wanted out.
“If I’m inside with her, she won’t bark and she won’t bother you.”
Although Kent hadn’t seemed interested in their conversation, Caprice felt him watching her now as she went up the steps to the porch, crossed it, and opened the door. Maybe in a little while she could offer him a glass of iced tea and urge him to talk. But before she could slip inside, Shasta bounded out. Seeing Kent, someone new who might play with her, she scampered down the steps and rounded his legs.
Caprice was going to catch Shasta by her new collar, but Kent waved his hand at her and said, “Let her be. She’s fine. Is she friendly?”
“Yes, she is, though she still gets startled if you move too fast. That probably comes from being on her own for a while as a stray. She’s pregnant.”
He stooped down to pet the dog’s head.
“Pregnant.” He eyed the dog thoughtfully. “If you want to leave her out in the yard while I’m painting, I don’t mind.”
“She might get in your way.”
“I doubt that. I’ll keep the paint can closed and just use the tray. But it’s up to you.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to leave her out here awhile, especially while you’re doing the upper section.”
He gave Shasta another pat.
She looked up at him, tilted her head, and barked, and then ran off across the yard.
“When is she due?”
“We don’t know for sure. But my vet thinks in a few weeks.”
“Are her pups spoken for?”
“Not yet. Are you interested?”
“If I can afford one.”
Caprice wasn’t going to charge, not to find Shasta’s babies good homes. And it all depended upon if she found Shasta’s owner. If she did, the pups were theirs.
Would Kent Osgood give a pup a good home? Caprice
hoped Bob’s murder would be solved by then, because she wouldn’t give one of Shasta’s pups to a suspect in a murder investigation.
Caprice allowed Shasta to stay in the backyard while she went inside. But she didn’t go far. She wanted to use Josie’s blueberries while they were fresh. Since the recipe she’d developed made two loaves, she’d keep one, giving a slice to Josie, and the other she’d take along for Seth tomorrow night. She was looking forward to their date but afraid to look forward to it too much. An emergency could pop up at the clinic and Seth could be occupied. Or he could be called away. But that was the life of someone who dated a doctor.
And if they went beyond dating?
There would be time enough to think about that later.
Checking on Shasta, seeing that she was nosing around and not getting into trouble, Caprice set her oven at 350 degrees. Baking would make the kitchen warm, but she’d turn on the air before she left for Roz’s. Glancing into the living room, Caprice saw Sophia perched on one of the shelves of her cat tree, sitting in front of the open window. She enjoyed watching the birds, butterflies, and bees, meowing every once in a while as if she wanted to tell Caprice about them.
After washing her hands thoroughly, Caprice pulled out her colander and carefully removed any stems from the blueberries before dropping them in it. Then she rinsed them thoroughly, allowing them to drain while she pulled together the other ingredients. What she liked most about this recipe was the fact that she could dump everything into one bowl, then mix it up. Taking pecan pieces from her freezer—she kept an assortment of nuts there for recipes—she dumped some into her lime-green chopper. The chopper whirled until she had a cup of finely chopped pieces.
Placing her mixer bowl front and center on the counter, she found sour cream in the refrigerator and scooped four tablespoons into the bowl. She added flour, sugars, baking powder, eggs, and milk. After measuring out four teaspoons of vanilla, she mixed it all for about a minute and a half until it was smooth and no flour remained on the bottom or the edges of the bowl. She quickly stirred in the pecans and then carefully folded in the blueberries. They would burst inside the bread while it baked, sending their fruity flavor throughout.
Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Page 11