“That’s it,” she moaned. “You won’t see him the rest of the night.”
Caprice laughed. “You know your dad well.”
“I know he loves music more than anything else.”
Caprice heard the “more than me” element in her voice, and she simply responded, “It’s been his life.”
“It’s really why he and Mom broke up, not because of some other woman.”
Kids knew a lot more than adults gave them credit for.
As if she needed to change the conversation quickly, Trista said, “I do really like my room. You nailed it.”
“I’m glad. I can’t earn my fee if I don’t nail it.”
Trista finally smiled. “I like you. You’re different from the people Dad usually gets to work for him.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. They’re impressed by his money. Sometimes I even think they’re scared of him.”
“Nope, I’m not scared of him,” Caprice assured her. “Are you scared of him?”
“Gosh, no. I’ve seen him first thing in the morning when he can’t even get his eyes open.” Looking a little bored with the whole music scene, Trista asked, “Will you get in the pool with me? This night’s going to get real boring if I have to sit here and listen to him play all night, or talk to Grandma and Gramps.”
There weren’t any other kids here, and Caprice could see how Trista would be bored. On the other hand, it wasn’t her job to entertain her. Still, she liked Ace’s daughter. Feeling out of place wasn’t comfortable for any kid.
“Maybe I could just sit by the side of the pool while you get in.”
“That’s no fun. There are some people playing water volleyball. I didn’t want to just jump in with strangers, but if I know somebody who’s playing, somebody like you . . .” Trista’s grin was as disarming as her dad’s.
Caprice gave a resigned sigh. “My duffel’s in the pool house.”
“Okay, let’s go get it. My suit’s there too.”
Once out back, Caprice and Trista wended their way through the tables and umbrellas. Caprice glanced into the pool, where people were laughing and shouting and . . . stopped cold. Grant was playing water volleyball. She hadn’t seen him come in. She certainly hadn’t expected to see him in board shorts, bare-chested and with his hair soaking wet.
His gaze caught hers, and they stared at each other for a moment. But then he smiled and waved. She waved back, now doubly sure she didn’t want to change into her bathing suit and step into the pool.
“Come on,” Trista said, “This is going to be fun.”
“Fun,” Caprice muttered. “This is going to be fun.”
There were women wearing bikinis in the pool, and they looked like the women on a TV reality dating show. Earlier she’d heard one of them talking about Ace’s tour. They were his backup singers.
Ten minutes later, stepping out of the pool house with Trista, Caprice tried not to think about their svelte figures in bikinis compared to hers. Her bathing suit was sporty rather than stylish, with modestly cut legs. However, it was peacock blue. Her penchant for her favorite colors reached into every aspect of her life, from flowers to furnishings to clothes.
Trista’s eagerness combated Caprice’s nervousness as they traversed the patio, working their way around groups of guests. The night was absolutely balmy. Caprice had thrown a towel around her shoulders, but now she dropped it on a lounge chair as she followed Trista down the steps into the pool. If she was under water, no one could see her. The problem was, she couldn’t play volleyball under the water.
She was usually a confident woman . . . when she was dressed. But in a bathing suit, she felt like a geek at a popular kid’s party.
Unfortunately, she and Trista waded into the pool at just the time two of the guests who had been playing volleyball decided to climb out. That meant she and Trista were on Grant’s team. So be it. Most of the time, her life was in the hands of fate, and fate definitely had an odd sense of humor.
Just as in a real volleyball game, they rotated their positions in serving. At least Caprice did know how to hit the ball over the net. As she did when engaged in most athletic activities, she soon forgot her self-consciousness and entered into the spirit of the game. Grant was their powerhouse, but the rest of them helped, even Trista, who had a lot of oomph behind her hits. Caprice even spiked a ball, and their team surged ahead.
Somehow in the rotation, she ended up standing next to Grant in the back row. That didn’t matter. She still intended to hold her own. Caprice watched a pretty brunette from their team serve to the other side. A guy on the other team whacked the ball hard. It sailed toward her and Grant, and looked like it would come down right between them.
Caprice knew she’d have to jump to hit it. She could just let Grant handle the shot, but in a split-second decision, she decided not to. She jumped. She didn’t know if she lost her balance or Grant brushed against her trying to reach the ball . . . or what. She just knew that one minute she was above the water, and the next minute she was under it. However, she wasn’t there long, not long enough to once again experience panic. A strong arm snagged her around the waist and hiked her up to the surface.
She coughed.
Grant asked, “Are you okay?”
She looked up into his very gray eyes, coughed again, then realized he was still studying her face.
“Caprice?”
She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t . . .
“Breathe,” he suggested.
She did, and then felt so foolish she mumbled, “I’m fine,” and turned away from him, eager to get back into the rhythm of the game, eager to escape his steady perusal.
Though she took a few steps away, he clasped her shoulder to stop her. “What are those scrapes on your back? Did Sophia use you for a scratching post?”
She swung around. “What?”
“You have scratches and faint black and blue marks on your back. Did you fall?”
It had been ten days since her scare at Shape Up’s pool. But she supposed the scratches weren’t completely gone. A few of the volleyball players were studying them inquisitively now. She certainly couldn’t explain what had happened here.
Trista was watching them too. She gave Caprice a little smile as if she thought something more than volleyball was going on. It was, but not what the preteen thought. Caprice smiled back, though, and gave a little wink because she needed to talk to Grant. As bullheaded as he was, he wouldn’t let this go, and she wasn’t going to explain what had happened while she stood in the middle of a pool in her bathing suit.
“I’ll get dressed and meet you in Ace’s study.”
“There are two dressing rooms in the pool house. We could change and just talk there.”
“All right,” Caprice agreed. “But I need a head start. It will take me longer than you to get dressed.” She was not having this conversation with him in her suit.
He gave her one of those patient looks that said he didn’t understand but he’d go along with it.
As she waded across the pool, she stopped next to Trista. “I’m going to get out now, okay?”
“Are you and Mr. Weatherford gonna have a drink or something together?”
She was surprised Trista knew who Grant was. Trista must have seen that surprise.
“He came over before tonight. He’s helping Dad do some legal stuff.”
That made sense.
“We’re just going to have a little talk, but then I’m going to head out.” She hadn’t intended to stay long because of Shasta.
Before Caprice had left for the party tonight, Shasta had napped in the bed in the garage and tried to dig in it. That came from her nesting instinct. According to the radiograph Marcus had done, the cocker would be having five puppies. The idea of it made Caprice a little nervous since she’d never taken care of a dog during labor and delivery before. But she was excited about it, too. There was a first time for everythi
ng.
“You can always come over when all these people aren’t here. You and I could just hang around the pool,” Trista suggested.
“Do you think you’re going to be bored? Maybe your dad has plans for the rest of your time with him.”
Trista just rolled her eyes. “If he does, I bet they’re lame.”
Caprice suppressed a smile. “Give him a chance.” She had a thought. “Do you like dogs and cats?”
“Sure, who doesn’t?”
“Lots of people, I’m afraid. But I have a cocker and a feline who both like lots of attention. Maybe your dad could bring you over to my place.”
“That would be cool.”
“All right. I’ll try to set something up with him.”
“You won’t forget?”
“I promise, I won’t forget.”
As she made her way out of the pool, she had the distinct feeling that Grant’s gaze was on her back, probably studying those marks and trying to figure out what had caused them. He’d soon know.
In one of the pool house dressing rooms, she’d just dressed and stuffed her swimsuit into a ziplock bag in her duffel when she heard the door open and close.
“Caprice, are you in there?”
“I am. Almost ready.” She was almost ready if she didn’t count her wet hair and a not-ready-to-face-Grant attitude.
If Grant was like most men, he’d be dressed in two minutes. Spotting the hair dryer on the dressing table, she switched it on and did the best she could in a couple of minutes. Then she added a touch of lipstick for self-confidence, slipped on her sandals, and opened the dressing-room door.
She’d been right about the difference between men and women dressing. When she stepped outside the dressing room, there was Grant in navy shorts and a white polo shirt, looking all crisp except for his damp hair. She wondered if he ever wore yellow or a Hawaiian shirt. Probably not.
She was trying to distract herself, that was for sure. She plopped her duffel bag on one of the sea-blue leather chairs.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Tell me what happened, and don’t make up some story like you fell in the bathtub.”
“I would never do that.”
He tilted his head. “All right, you wouldn’t. What happened?”
She had the feeling that if he had to ask it again, he wouldn’t be so patient. She didn’t know how to soften the impact of what she had to say, so she just said it. “Somebody tried to drown me.”
Rarely had she seen Grant look surprised, but now he looked surprised and concerned and horrified, all at the same time.
She went on, “I was swimming at Shape Up. I was the only one in the pool. The lifeguard went to fetch clean towels. Anyway, I was swimming laps, and I felt this pressure on my back.”
Reliving it a little as she told the story, she hurried on. “I couldn’t get out from under it. I was in the deep end and couldn’t drop my feet to the floor. I managed to twist away and swim over to the side. I heard the door clang. Whoever did it was gone. The pool skimmer was on the floor.”
“Did you yell for help? Tell anybody?”
“I asked Brenda some questions afterward.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
“Grant, let’s be serious. I was alone in there. The attendants had their attention on clients and helping them. Nobody saw anything. We asked. There’s something else going on here, too.”
“You mean besides somebody trying to murder you?”
She brushed that away. “Danny told me he overheard Bob on his cell phone with a lawyer making plans to change his will. Apparently Kent isn’t just his partner, he’s his half brother. But few people know that. Why do you think it’s such a big secret?”
Grant stared her down. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed the subject.”
“I didn’t. We’re talking about murder.”
He gave a patient sigh. “You are the most exasperating woman I know.”
“Then you must not know many women,” she returned easily.
Again he shook his head. “Have you dismissed Danny as a suspect?”
“Danny fought with Bob because of his mom. He knew they’d had a one-night stand, and he thought she deserved better. Think about it, Grant. Kent has a huge motive. He had a lot to gain if Bob changed his will to make his new half brother his heir.”
“Sometimes until a lawyer gets the paperwork together, it’s a few weeks until the client signs. If Bob hadn’t signed it, your motive’s gone.”
“Maybe. But there could be life insurance involved, too. Maybe Bob changed his beneficiary for that. There are all sorts of possibilities.”
After a few silent moments, Grant asked, “Are you telling me everything?”
She hesitated, then plunged in further. “Before the incident at Shape Up, I felt I was being followed.” She explained about the model home and the SUV that had sped away. “But I’m being careful. I have pepper spray. Nikki even stayed with me a few nights. My cell phone is always at my fingertips.”
“But you won’t stop, will you? You’re ruffling the feathers of a person who might get plucked.”
Again they stared at each other until he threw up his hands in defeat. “I can see there’s no point talking to you about this, so I’m going to do the only thing that I can do. I’m going to follow you home.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. The road between here and town is isolated. I wouldn’t want someone trying to run you off of it.”
She told herself Grant was a family friend. For that reason, he felt protective of her. She didn’t like the idea of him trying to protect her, but she supposed there wasn’t much she could do about it.
“I have to say good-bye to Ace and his parents, and I think Denise is here somewhere too. I don’t want to just leave without thanking Ace. I told Trista I’d arrange with her dad for her to come see Shasta and Sophia.”
“That’s fine. I’ll wander around out here a bit, then meet you in the foyer.”
Grant had asked his questions and now she wanted information from him too. “You didn’t tell me if you found out anything at the community center.”
“That’s because I didn’t, except . . . Not many people like Jeff Garza, not the other board members, not even some of the volunteers.”
“No surprise there. I guess Vince filled you in about our visit to him.”
“Yes, he did. But this thing with the pool . . . Did that happen before or after you saw Garza?”
“Before.”
“Vince didn’t tell me you almost drowned.”
“That’s because I asked him not to tell anyone what happened.”
“I’m not just anyone,” Grant muttered, and she thought he looked hurt. But that flicker of emotion was gone so fast, she knew she’d imagined it.
Fifteen minutes later, after a quick conversation with Danny and his mom, who’d just arrived, and good-byes all around, Caprice and Grant gave their keys to the two young men who were acting as valets and had parked guests’ cars in an area designated for that. As Caprice climbed into her Camaro and drove home, she saw the headlights of Grant’s SUV shining in her rearview mirror. Those lights were steady, about fifty feet behind her, never getting too close, never drifting too far back.
What was the tension that always crept into her conversations with Grant? Why couldn’t they have a simple conversation without one of them backing away?
Caprice thought Grant would just drive on by as she pulled into her driveway, where her van was parked since her garage would soon be housing Shasta and her pups.
After she switched off her ignition, she realized Grant hadn’t just driven by but had parked at the curb. He met her as she climbed out of her car.
“We should talk,” he said. “Especially because of what happened to you at Shape Up. I need to know every little tidbit you’ve learned. I don’t want you to hold anything back. A contact at the police department admitted there are rumblings in th
e D.A.’s office. We need to be prepared with whatever ammunition we’ve got.”
“Prepared for what?”
“Charges being filed.”
Caprice felt her heart skip a beat. “Against Bella or Joe?”
“I’m not going to speculate. Let’s just make a list and go over everything. If I have enough on any one suspect, I’ll go to Jones and talk to him about it.”
“Do you actually think that will do some good?”
“I know you believe he has tunnel vision, but he is a reasonable man.”
Caprice didn’t really know Detective Jones, but she had been around him enough when he had suspected her best friend of murder to be wary of him.
After grabbing her duffel from her car’s backseat, she closed the door, took out her key, and went to the house. When she let them both inside, she realized Sophia had come to greet her, but the cat wasn’t giving her a friendly hello. She was pacing, looking up at Caprice, and meowing for all she was worth.
“What’s wrong?” Caprice asked her.
Sophia meowed loud and long again.
Foreboding tapping her on the shoulder, she asked, “Where’s Shasta?”
Sophia quickly padded toward the kitchen.
Shasta had scratched the colorful rag rug Caprice kept at the door into a heap. She was pawing at it restlessly. She barked at Caprice and then lay on the floor on her side.
“Oh, my gosh,” Caprice said. “She’s in labor. She didn’t eat much today and was restless. I should have stayed home tonight.”
“What do you want to do?” Grant asked in a calm, even voice.
Caprice took a deep breath and then immediately went to Shasta. “I’m going to carry her to the garage.”
“No, you aren’t. I’ll take care of it. You lead the way.”
“Grant . . .”
She was going to say he didn’t have to do that, but he said tersely, “Don’t argue. Just open the door.”
So she did. She opened the back door and held the screen door. She kept her garage door unlocked, so as soon as Grant stepped out onto the porch, she turned the knob and opened that, too. Hurrying inside, she switched on the light. Grant followed, with Shasta in his arms. When he got to the containment pen, he laid her on the bedding in the whelping box.
Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Page 23