Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  Zeke had set their meeting time for three o’clock.

  Zeke’s reluctance to talk about Ace had been obvious in her phone conversation with his former bass player. Now when he opened his door, she could see that reluctance in his eyes and on his face. He was a tall guy, maybe six-three or six-four, lanky, with a scruffy black beard. He wore his thick black hair short. His jeans were worn. His oversized T-shirt had seen many washings. From the scowl on his face, Caprice surmised he was obviously not happy to see her.

  She extended her hand anyway. “I’m Caprice. You’re Zeke Stoltz?”

  “I’m Zeke. I was hoping something would come up and you couldn’t make it.”

  That was a welcome if she’d ever heard one! “I promise this won’t be painful.”

  “Maybe not for you.”

  What did that mean?

  Although he apparently didn’t want her to come in, his polite nature took over and he motioned her into his living room. This was a high-end town house in a gated community. The furniture Zeke and his wife had chosen was modern in style, with sleek pieces and clean lines. The boxy sofa was a saffron color. An orange lounge chair complemented it. Black enamel tables held lamps and substantial stone sculptures.

  Zeke gestured her to an armchair. “You said this would be short. I don’t have much time.”

  She sat and met his gaze directly. “I’ll get right to the point. Ace is a suspect in Alanna’s murder. I want to make sure he doesn’t get charged.”

  Suddenly a black Labrador retriever bounded into the living room. He stopped when he saw Caprice, but then ran to his master.

  Zeke rubbed the dog’s flank. “We have company, boy. Be on your best behavior.”

  Caprice laughed. “Don’t we always tell them that?”

  “You have a dog?”

  That was the first softening of Zeke’s expression that she’d seen. “Yes, I do. Lady’s a cocker spaniel. What’s his name?” she asked.

  “His name’s Woofer, because his barks sound like they come straight from a speaker.”

  She sat very still and smiled at the dog.

  His ears perked up and he looked at Zeke.

  Zeke said, “Go ahead. I think she’s friendly.”

  Caprice couldn’t hide her smile. She hoped she’d given Zeke that impression, since she believed he’d open up more easily if she had.

  Woofer trotted over to her and looked up at her. She held out her hand to let him take a sniff. He did and then sat at her feet.

  “You’re a well-behaved guy.”

  “My wife spends a lot of time with him. That might change a bit when the baby’s born.”

  She’d asked Ace why Zeke had quit. Zeke had told Ace that since his wife was pregnant, he just didn’t want to go out on the road right now. The pregnancy hadn’t been planned.

  But Caprice knew he’d turned down good money to make that decision and she wondered if it was the truth. If what she’d overheard panned out, it wasn’t.

  Woofer sat at her feet as she asked, “So this was your first touring gig with Ace?”

  “Yep. It was going to be.”

  “And you moved here from L.A. to be part of the tour? To be part of the band?”

  “I did.”

  “Then it doesn’t make sense that you’d quit. Your wife is early in her pregnancy, right?”

  “She still needs me,” he said defensively.

  “I’m not questioning that.”

  “What are you questioning?”

  “The reason you quit. I have information that led me to believe you might have been persuaded to quit.”

  “You mean offered money? That’s not true.”

  “Then tell me what is true, Zeke.”

  He looked away and finally made eye contact once more. “The truth is, I’m going to be a family man. Instead of touring, I’m setting up a sound studio in Harrisburg for musicians who want to make demos. I took a tour of a couple of studios in this area and they’re okay, but I can do better. I’m going to give workshops, too, in songwriting and marketing. It will be a different life, but it’s what my wife and I want.”

  “Did you want to set up a studio when you moved here?”

  His shoulders slumped a little. “No, I wanted to tour. I wanted to be part of the band that played with the great Ace Richland.”

  “So, what changed?” she prodded again.

  He studied her hand petting his dog. He studied her. “I didn’t tell you anything.”

  “Of course, you didn’t.”

  After some hesitation, he finally admitted, “One of the other band members let it spill that Ace was different on the road than he was here in Kismet. Supposedly, while on the road, he’s into drugs and women. When I signed on, Ace assured me that kind of life was over. I don’t want to be a thousand miles from my wife when she’s hearing rumors. I don’t want her worried about them ... or me.”

  Caprice knew Ace was clean—no drugs. His daughter meant too much to him to become involved in that again.

  “Tell me something, Zeke. Which band member gossiped about Ace?”

  Zeke shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “It was Len Lowery, wasn’t it?” she asked quickly, firmly, with determination.

  Although she didn’t expect an answer, she saw from his expression, the way his eyes widened and his brow furrowed, that the gossiper had been Len Lowery.

  Hoping she could do Ace a favor—and Zeke one, too—she said, “Len has an ax to grind, though I’m not sure what that is yet. I just don’t think he’s being straight with anyone. So don’t close your door on your relationship with Ace. Okay?”

  “I’m going ahead with the sound studio,” Zeke insisted stubbornly.

  “If that’s what makes you happy, and that’s what will help your new family, go do it. But if you really want to tour with Ace’s band, and your wife can deal with that, don’t reject the idea because of what Len said.”

  Caprice didn’t know if her words were going to make any difference. She didn’t know if Len was the murderer or not.

  But she intended to find out.

  That evening, Grant picked up Lady and her crate and took her and Patches to the dog park while Caprice attended her self-defense course. This was the first of three two-hour classes held at the Green Tea Spa this week. Eight other women were taking the class. The instructor, a tall blonde in her forties, explained what the participants in the class would learn. The physical or tactical part of the instruction was the smallest part and would be taught last. Women had to learn other skill sets along with the tactical to remain safe. A crisis situation messed up thinking, as Caprice well knew already. So there would be instruction on using every tool at her disposal, including what her gut told her and what her morals told her. She would learn what negotiation could get her, how and when to use force, and then lastly how to apply it. Tonight was the beginning and she listened carefully, especially about options, quick thinking, and flexibility.

  She was glad Grant had encouraged her to do this.

  After the class was over, she drove to Grant’s town house. When she parked out front, she couldn’t help but wonder if his neighbor Donna was home next door. Donna and Grant seemed to have a friendship, but Grant had assured her on more than one occasion that was all there was—a friendship. She believed him.

  Still, the little green-eyed monster inside her wondered what kind of friendship they had.

  When she rang Grant’s doorbell, she heard both dogs bark.

  He answered, looking good in jeans, T-shirt, and some evening beard stubble. But then again, she thought, he always looks good.

  “They knew it was you,” he said as he opened the storm door.

  “Lady might know the sound of my van, but I don’t know about Patches.”

  “He read Lady’s mind.”

  “Right. Males read women’s minds so easily.”

  Grant just cocked his eyebrow at her at that. “Would you like coffee, soda, a Rolling Rock?
” he teased. He’d once accused her of being a beer snob, until she’d told him her grandfather had taught her to like Rolling Rock.

  “It would be easy to settle for that beer, but I’m tired and I want to stay clearheaded.”

  “Did the course take a lot out of you?”

  “Not physically. Not yet. But she gave us so much information that I’m not sure I absorbed it all.”

  Grant nodded. “I know what you mean. I took a couple of courses like that when I lived in the city. You need a refresher every once in a while. You not only forget, but your reflexes seem to get slower as you get older.”

  The dogs wound about their feet, greeting Caprice, looking for her praise and attention, which she always gave them freely. After a few minutes of pouring affection on them, she sat on the sofa and Lady stretched out on her foot. She ruffled her dog’s ears and scratched her under the chin. Then Patches sat on her other foot. She laughed and did the same to him.

  “If you’re involved in a murder investigation again,” Grant said, “you need to put your safety first.”

  “I am. I will. And this time, if I have any evidence of who committed the murder, I’ll call Detective Carstead. And if I can’t get him, I’ll call Detective Jones, even though he probably won’t believe me . . . even though he’d probably brush me off.”

  “You’ve been right before. I don’t think he’ll do that.”

  She shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Grant was sitting beside her, and his elbow brushed hers as he leaned a little closer. “What?”

  There was an anticipation in his eyes that made her wonder if he expected this to be personal.

  “It’s about Ace,” she quickly said so he didn’t get the wrong idea.

  She was a little confused about who she wanted to be personal with. Seth was still in the picture. She hadn’t worn her charm bracelet tonight because she hadn’t known what they’d be doing at the self-defense class. She still wasn’t exactly sure what that charm bracelet meant. She wore it often and she thought about Seth even when she wasn’t wearing it. But Seth wasn’t here. With his schedule as demanding as it was, they couldn’t even have regular phone conversations.

  What did Seth expect of her? And what did she expect of him? Just what was going to happen when his experience at Johns Hopkins was over?

  All were important questions, and all questions she couldn’t answer.

  She and Grant had always seemed to have a connection—ever since he was Vince’s roommate in college and Vince had brought him home on weekends. However, she’d been younger than Grant, and he’d been more experienced. He’d gone on to get married, and she’d found a career and then a new road with it. When her decorating business had started collapsing because of the economy, she’d had to find a way to stay afloat, and she’d done that with home staging and unique themes. She always thought if she had enough information, she could analyze her way out of anything.

  But matters of the heart were difficult to analyze. When Grant had moved back to Kismet, he hadn’t been ready for even friendship. But over the past year, they’d become friends—maybe more.

  Sitting here with Grant, with their two dogs at their feet, she felt safe and secure, yet a little bit giddy, too.

  Very confusing.

  So she settled on the subject she wanted to talk about. “I went to see Zeke Stoltz, Ace’s band member who quit.”

  “You suspect him?” Grant asked, sounding puzzled.

  “Oh no, not Zeke. But I found something out, and I don’t know if I should tell Ace this, either. It has to do with Len and Alanna’s sabotage.”

  “I think Ace has a short fuse on a good day. He’s had a lot of bad ones lately.”

  “I know. That’s what I mean. I found out that one of his band members, and I think it was Len Lowery, told Zeke that once Ace is on the road, he expects him to use drugs and hop from woman to woman.”

  “Ace says that’s all behind him,” Grant reminded her.

  “I know, and I believe him. But Zeke doesn’t know if he should. His wife’s expecting a baby and he doesn’t want her to worry. He doesn’t want her to have those concerns when he’s on the road with Ace. That’s why he quit. He’s opening a sound studio in Harrisburg, plans to write music, and maybe even teach. It sounds like a good life if that’s what he truly wants. On the other hand, if he wants to be playing and on the road, I hate to see somebody like Len shoot down his dream.”

  “You said you think it was Len who spread the rumor. Zeke wouldn’t confirm it?”

  “No. He’s a good guy. He doesn’t want to get anybody in trouble. And besides the whole rumor-spreading aspect of this, Len could be the one who stole Ace’s guitars.”

  “That’s a leap,” Grant warned her.

  “Maybe so. But I’m thinking about talking to Detective Carstead and informing him about the conversation I heard between Alanna and Len.”

  Grant nodded. “That’s probably the best way to handle it.” After a moment, he asked, “So, why did you want to talk to me about this?”

  “Because I’m asking for your advice. Should I tell Ace?”

  Grant ran his hand over his jaw and his stubble. “As his friend, I understand that you don’t want to keep anything from him. But as his lawyer, I don’t want to see him get into any more trouble than he’s already in.”

  “So you don’t think I should tell him?”

  “You don’t know for sure that Len’s the one who told Zeke. So I’d say for now, just keep it under wraps. If Zeke decides to go to Ace and talk it out, that’s a different story. But I think you should just stay a little removed from that right now.”

  “Ace has his performance at the community theater coming up on Saturday. He has to work with his band ... with Len. I hope he can find someone to replace Zeke this quickly.”

  “Ace has connections. He’ll find somebody.”

  “In Kismet?”

  “If not in Kismet, in Baltimore or maybe D.C. Harrisburg and Philly aren’t that far away. You have to stop worrying about everybody in your life, or you’re going to get gray hairs.”

  She could see he was teasing her, and that was unusual. She laughed. “I think I see a few at your temples. I guess you worry about a few of the people in your life, too.”

  “You’re the one who’s caused most of those gray hairs lately.”

  They studied each other for a long moment, and then Grant said, “I had a good time with you at your parents’ house yesterday.”

  As usual with Grant, she tried to say what was on her mind. “It felt different having you there as my guest rather than as Vince’s friend.”

  “Different how?”

  “I felt everybody was watching us.”

  He smiled again. “They just wanted to see if any fur would fly. You and I don’t always have smooth sailing.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Not necessarily bad. I’m just trying to figure out why it is.”

  She nodded. “Me too.”

  If he leaned toward her a little more, if she leaned toward him, they might just find out how compatible they really were. But neither of them seemed ready to make that move.

  Lady bumped her head against Caprice’s leg and yawned. Caprice took that as a sign.

  “I’d better be going. Mirabelle’s alone in the bedroom. I’m going to try to broker friendships again when I get home. If they’re all sleepy, maybe they’ll be more mellow.”

  “Good luck with that,” Grant said in a wry tone. “You know they’ll all wake up and want treats as soon as you get home. They’re just like kids.”

  Kids. That brought up a subject that she and Grant would have to talk about someday. He was still grieving over the child he’d lost. He’d only shared a bit of his regrets with her. If he ever shared his grief—Grief was so personal and raw and stirred up everything in that bottom point of your heart that turned you inside out and upside down. But if Grant ever shared that with her, she knew a
closeness would grow between them that they’d never shared before.

  He stood, and Patches came to attention as if he thought Grant might take him for a walk. Grant said to him, “We’ll take another run around the yard in a little while. We have to send off Caprice and Lady first. You’ll see them again tomorrow night.”

  “Three nights this week is a lot of puppysitting time. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  “Knowing that by the end of the week you can possibly toss me on the floor will be worth it.”

  Caprice laughed, unable to imagine that scene. She gathered Lady’s fuchsia leash, which was lying over the coffee table. She clipped it onto her collar. After he put Lady’s crate in Caprice’s van, Grant leashed up Patches, too, only his leash was, of course, brown. Afterward, Grant and Patches walked Caprice out to her van. He stood on the sidewalk while she led Lady into her crate inside the van, praised her for being such a good dog, and then closed the door.

  As she stepped back, Grant was close by her side. She opened the driver’s door and hiked herself up onto the seat. “Thank you for watching Lady.”

  “You’d do the same for me.”

  Yes, she would.

  As she closed her door, started the van, waved, and drove away from Grant’s town house, she saw him watching her from the rearview mirror. She would watch Patches for him. In fact, she’d do a lot more ... if he ever asked.

  Chapter Nine

  It was ten-thirty at night when Caprice returned home, let Lady outside for an end-of-the-day run around the yard, and gave Sophia a dollop of cream.

  When she entered the spare room, Mirabelle was nowhere in sight. Caprice guessed where she might be. She’d left the closet door open.

  Heading for it now with Lady at her heels, she pushed the door open wider and spotted the beautiful but shy cat.

  “Come on, Mirabelle, come out. Everything will be all right. I promise.”