In the kitchen, Nikki was supervising waiters—wearing blousy shirts, leather vests, and buckskin pants as they carried trays and refilled goblets and mugs—and generally made sure the serving of food went smoothly.
Noticing the carving board holding crusty rolls and wedges of cheese, Caprice snitched a slice of Gruyère.
“I saw that,” Nikki said, coming up behind her. “Did you fast all day again?”
“I don’t fast. I just can’t eat the day of an open house. You know that.”
“One of these times, you’re going to pass out,” her sister warned her.
Nikki looked like their mom. She had Francesca De Luca’s wide smile and golden-brown eyes. Her hair was golden brown too, helped along by professionally applied highlights. Nikki was two years older than Caprice, and she felt that gave her all the authority she needed to give her advice—all the time . . . any time . . . no matter where they were.
“I won’t pass out,” she protested. “I don’t eat, but I had a protein shake for breakfast and I’ve been drinking to stay hydrated. I’ll try some of your food after everyone leaves. You’re getting rave reviews. Where did you find these recipes?”
“Don’t be so surprised about my research skills. After all, Vince taught me how to use a computer before they were a necessity.” She nodded toward the real estate agent, who was pulling a bunch of grapes from the giant wooden fruit bowl. “Any bites yet?”
“Not that I know of. But everyone looks interested and they’re asking lots of buyers’ questions. Have you seen Roz or Ted?”
“Not lately. Roz was circulating. She should have been a PR consultant. She can make conversation with anyone. By the way, did you notice Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome in the sword room? I wonder if he’d be interested in an after-hours bite of venison.”
“You can’t hit on the security guard.”
“Just why not? Are you planning to?”
“No!” Caprice blurted the negative so loudly that a couple of the guests noticed.
“Think about it,” Nikki teased. “I’ll hold off if you want to ask him out. How long has it been since you went on a date?”
“We’re not having this conversation here,” Caprice hissed, lowering her voice.
“Then just where are we going to have it?” Nikki demanded. “You spend your free time with cats and dogs.”
“Enough! I have to put up with this abuse when we have dinner at Mom’s. I don’t need it while I’m working. If you don’t watch your step, I might have to hire a new caterer.”
“You wouldn’t dare. You’d have the whole family to answer to.”
Nikki’s sly grin made Caprice want to pull her sister’s hair as she’d done when they were kids. But instead of reverting to ten-year-old behavior, she agreed, “You’re right. I wouldn’t dare. You’re too good . . . even though you can be terribly annoying.” She took another slice of cheese. “I’m going to see if I can find Roz or Ted. And really, Nikki, you did a terrific job on the food.”
Caprice leaned close to her sister and whispered, “Stay away from that guard. At least until he’s off duty and sheds his weapon.”
Nikki’s eyes grew very big. “He’s armed?”
“He’s guarding a sword room. It only makes sense, don’t you think?”
Glad she’d had the last word, Caprice hurried away before Nikki could think of a comeback.
She did spot Roz. But she was at the center of a group of people. They hadn’t had time to talk before setup for the open house began. But her friend had been smiling earlier. That was a good sign. Maybe Ted’s trip had taken some of the pressure off him, and he and Roz were finding their footing again. She’d catch up with her later.
The second floor of the house wasn’t as expansive as the first. On both the east and west sides, winding circular staircases led from the first floor to the tower rooms on the second. Those small, octagonal spaces were more for show than utility. Caprice had staged one with shelved leather-bound books. The other looked more like a feminine alcove for two friends who wanted to have a chat. Brocade-covered wing chairs were delicately lit from above by a porcelain chandelier on a dimmer switch. A bowl of lavender sachets trimmed in lace gave off a lovely scent.
Caprice spotted guests exploring both towers, so she took the main staircase that led to the bedrooms and Roz’s exercise room. No one seemed to be touring this area, though another guard was stationed in the master suite. If anyone came in, he had orders to act as if he was merely taking a tour too.
Caprice was about to head downstairs once more when she heard murmured voices coming from down the hall . . . from Roz’s exercise room. Thinking she should explain that the equipment could easily be removed to create a child’s play area or even a media room, Caprice started toward the voices.
Outside the door, however, the timbre of their tone changed. She thought she heard the endearment “darling.”
Who would be up here? She’d spotted Roz downstairs.
Stepping a little closer to the partially open door, Caprice realized there were no sounds coming from the room now—until she heard a soft moan. Really curious, she peeked inside . . . and wished she hadn’t.
Ted Winslow had his arms wrapped around a woman who was not his wife and was kissing her as if the end of the world might befall him at any minute.
Chapter Three
Oh, my gosh! Ted was actually kissing . . . really, really kissing . . .
Stunned, Caprice watched with horrified interest. The woman was Valerie Swanson, a hairstylist at Curls R Us. Bella had pointed out the hairdresser once when they were shopping at Grocery Fresh Market. Valerie owned the hair salon where Bella set up an appointment like clockwork every six weeks. The business had taken off with a flourish when Valerie had bought it about five years ago after being a stylist there for approximately as long. Ten stylists besides Valerie cared for the clients at Curls. Caprice herself preferred the one-woman shop where her mom and Nana had their hair trimmed and cut.
Realizing she was going to get caught gawking if she didn’t step back and silently disappear, Caprice tried to stem her amazement, disappointment, and sense of outrage on Roz’s behalf. How dare Ted kiss another woman? And in their home! If he was kissing her like that here, Caprice suspected he was doing more than kissing elsewhere.
But what should she do about it? Tell Roz?
Slowly inhaling a very deep breath—those yoga classes had been good for something—she was thankful for the plush carpet runner in the hall that muffled her footsteps. Her mind raced faster than usual. Maybe Roz already knew Ted was fooling around. Maybe that’s why there was so much tension between them. Perhaps Ted’s grumpiness had nothing to do with work and everything to do with Valerie.
On the heels of that thought, however, Caprice remembered his phone call. If he does that, Thompson, I’ll kill him. Hyperbole?
Caprice had passed two guest bedrooms when she spotted Denise Langford exiting the master suite with a middle-aged couple. The real estate broker said, “Of course, you can forgo the four-poster bed or even take down the canopy. But it is very romantic, isn’t it? As you saw, the crystal chandelier is on a dimmer switch. The sound system is magnificent. It can be turned on or off in each room. Really a nice touch.”
Attempting to clear her head of what she’d seen, Caprice knew she needed to put on her PR hat and do it quickly. This was her show as much as the real estate broker’s.
After she introduced herself to the couple, Agnes and Jeffrey Buckhold seemed to wear pleased smiles. Agnes said, “This is really a unique house. I love the sconces and chandeliers.”
That comment pleased Caprice. She had replaced some of the giant, heavier, iron lighting fixtures with antique porcelain bases and candlelight bulbs, shimmering crystal fixtures on dimmers, and copper-finished metal replicas.
“And that bedroom suite. I wonder if the Winslows would consider letting that go along with the house?” Agnes wondered aloud.
At this moment, C
aprice didn’t want to think about Roz and Ted’s bedroom. She didn’t want to believe vows had been broken, maybe even there. But she’d seen for herself that might be the case.
“If you make an offer, any furniture could be written into the contract,” Denise assured her.
Suddenly, Valerie strolled down the hall, looking completely put-together and pleased. But Caprice saw the telltale smudge of lipstick on the right side of her bottom lip that she hadn’t been able to repair. She was almost too dressed up for an open house in a red, one-shoulder sheath that was much too low for an occasion like this. The dress was also much shorter than anything Roz would wear. Her red beads were big and bold and shouted “Look at me.” Her wavy, swingy hair was platinum, with at least three different shades of darker highlights, so unlike Nikki’s, which appeared natural. Why would Ted turn to a woman like this?
Caprice suddenly heard her mother’s voice in her head when they had met yet another woman her brother was dating. He seemed to find someone new more often than Caprice went grocery shopping. Okay, that was an exaggeration. But not by much. Her mom often just shook her head and murmured, “There’s no explaining the choices some men make. Thank goodness your father had more sense than your brother and chose someone like me!” Then she’d smile.
If Valerie was Ted’s “type,” then why had he ever married Roz?
But some questions had no answers. Why had Travis Bigelow divorced his wife and then two years later reunited with Alicia? No point asking that question again. Maybe men and women really were from different planets and would never understand each other.
Yet her mom and dad did.
Hope? Was there hope for Ted and Roz? Should she tell her friend what she’d seen?
All smiles and singsong sweet voice, Valerie joined in the conversation. “This house has so many unique features. That master suite is something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a whirlpool tub that big. And there’s even a sauna. What more could you want?”
Seeing a brighter shade of red than Valerie’s dress, Caprice wondered if the woman had used the tub or sauna—or had thoughts of using it with Ted in the future. Caprice forced her voice into a pleasant timbre, ignoring Valerie and addressing the interested couple. “Make sure you enjoy the hors d’oeuvres downstairs while you’re looking around. And don’t forget the game room on the lower level.”
Before she gave away the fact she’d seen something she shouldn’t have, she excused herself without another glance at Valerie and headed for the stairs.
What to do? She didn’t want to hurt Roz. But being loyal and truthful was important to her.
Worrying about what she was going to say and do, Caprice barely heard her name being called a few minutes later until she was walking down a hall, passing Ted’s office. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was a gentle grip.
She turned to find an older woman about her mother’s age. “Mrs. Arcuri! What are you doing here?” Teresa Arcuri was the choir director at St. Francis of Assisi, the local Catholic church, which Caprice’s family had attended for all of their lives. In her lavender knit pantsuit, with her silver-gray hair wrapped in a top bun, she seemed out of place in this mansion.
“I was curious to see what you could do with this place. Your mother told me I should stop in. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Of course, it is. It’s an open house. Everyone is welcome. What do you think of it?”
“Oh, I was here for a charity function last year. Mrs. Winslow had a tea to raise money for a literacy campaign.”
“I remember. I couldn’t come because I had a meeting with a client in Harrisburg.”
“You’ve made such a difference in the interior! It almost feels like a home. When I was here before, the place felt so . . . cold. Your mother told me you were good at what you do, but I wanted to see for myself. The thing is—” She hesitated. “Do you still redo ordinary folks’ homes? I need a change. After John died, I wanted to keep everything the same. But my daughter suggested that maybe it’s time for me to make a few changes.”
“Do you feel you’re ready?” Teresa’s daughter could suggest all she wanted, but until the widow wanted to move forward, her heart wouldn’t really be in it. Her husband had been gone a few years, but they’d been married for thirty-five.
“Yes, I’m ready. Oh, I’m not going to change everything, mind you. I’d like to start with the kitchen and dining room. Do you have time?”
In her line of work, Caprice had to “read” people very well. If she didn’t, they’d sink in over their heads or she’d sink in over hers. Mrs. Arcuri was looking for a way to keep her memories alive yet put her grief in the past. This was the type of work Caprice had always loved doing. Starting with the kitchen or living room was common.
“I have the time. Call me next week and we’ll set up a meeting.” She dug in the pocket of her skirt and handed a business card to Teresa. “In the meantime, can you make me a list of your favorite colors, hobbies, and styles? That will give me a head start.”
“This is going to be such fun.” For a moment, Teresa looked a little worried. “I do have a budget. I can’t go hog wild.” Leaning in a little closer, she lowered her voice. “I don’t have a lot to spare like the Winslows.”
“I work within budgets with all my clients.”
After assuring Caprice she’d call her next week, Teresa headed to the front of the house.
Once again, as Caprice ventured down the hall, she thought about the layout of the Winslow house and how it could be warmed up so much more. If a contractor tore down a few walls and gave it a more open design, each room wouldn’t seem so isolated. But it also wouldn’t feel like a castle.
She was approaching a small parlor when she heard Roz’s voice, then a burst of laughter that sounded totally genuine. In the doorway, Caprice saw who she was talking to. Dave Harding had been one of their classmates. Caprice remembered he and Roz had dated their senior year of high school before Roz’s mom had needed almost full-time care.
Dave spotted Caprice first. Standing, he smiled. “We were catching up. How are you, Caprice?”
Now and then she saw Dave around town at the Koffee Klatch or at a community event. Also a business owner he sold garage doors. His store was located on the edge of the downtown area. Actually, Caprice had been meaning to stop in to talk to him about a new garage door. But the errand never rose to the top of her to-do list.
She motioned him to be seated again, though she appreciated the chivalry. “I’m . . . good.” Actually she was good for the most part. If it hadn’t been for what she’d encountered upstairs—
“Dave and I were just remembering the homecoming dance senior year,” Roz remarked, bringing her up to speed.
Now Caprice recalled the wayward fact that the dance had been Roz and Dave’s first date. A video played in her mind of that day more than fifteen years ago. “Craig and I started with the football game that afternoon and our date was a bust. He complained about everything the team did wrong all during the dance.”
“He has his doctorate now, I hear.” Dave sat again and adjusted his tie. “Maybe he’ll come east again for next year’s reunion.”
“Fifteen years,” Roz murmured. “That’s hard to believe.”
Yes, it was.
“Besides catching up, I was just telling Roz I saw Charlie Flannigan at a comedy club in Harrisburg last month,” Dave said. “He was actually funny.”
Charlie had been their class clown. His chosen career made sense. When Roz smiled, Caprice could tell she was enjoying this catch-up conversation. Maybe Caprice was simply a coward, but she wasn’t going to drag her friend away from chatting about old times to inform her that her husband might be having an affair. That could wait until they had quiet time to really discuss it.
“Did you need me for something?” Roz asked her, ready to hop up.
Quickly, Caprice shook her head and motioned her to relax. “No. We’re good. I even passed a couple upstairs who see
m interested in the house. Everything’s under control.”
After a “It was good seeing you” to Dave and a reassuring smile for Roz, Caprice headed for the kitchen, her heart heavy for her friend and anxious about what she had to tell her.
Did she really have to spill what she’d seen?
When Caprice left the Winslows two hours later, Ted had his arm around Roz’s waist. And they were conferencing with Denise. What was Caprice supposed to do? Stick around, pull Roz aside, and tell her about that kiss?
Maybe it was simply none of her business. Maybe she should stay out of it. Maybe she needed some time and space to think about it. Roz and Ted certainly might want to pretend they were living in Camelot, but they weren’t. Perhaps it had been the case once. But if Ted was the type of man to kiss another woman when his own wife was downstairs, had he done the same thing before?
Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel, her nana would say. Nana was probably right.
Pulling into her driveway, Caprice pressed the button on the remote control on her visor, and the garage door squeaked up. She should really visit Dave Harding’s store and choose a new garage door.
By the time she climbed the step from her garage to the back porch and unlocked the kitchen door, Dylan was barking, voicing his disapproval that she’d been gone so long.
After she switched on the kitchen light, she let her purse fall to the counter. Stooping, she gathered him up for his usual welcome hug. Ruffling the fur behind his ears and leaning her cheek against his neck, she felt his little heart beating overtime.
“Calm down,” she soothed. “Did Sophia watch over you like she was supposed to?”
At that moment, Sophia answered her by moseying into the kitchen and meowing in indignation that Caprice would think she’d shirk her duties.
Staged to Death (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Page 3