Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  Once they were both seated, Caprice in the chair and Len on the sofa, he rubbed his temples as if he had a headache. She imagined with a broken nose he might.

  “Is Ace still afraid I’ll press charges, and he sent you to smooth things over? That’s just like him, not to do it himself.”

  From what she knew of Ace, that wasn’t true at all. But maybe Len had his own agenda here, as he’d had for the past few months. She had no intention of telling him she’d overheard him and Alanna. She was smarter than that. She also didn’t want to tip the police’s hand if they were looking into Len’s bank and phone records. If Carstead and Jones were as thorough as she thought they were, they’d act on the information she’d given them.

  “I’m not here to smooth anything over. There were no witnesses. Ace could claim he was defending himself. You two are about the same size, and you’re both in good shape.”

  “I’m in better shape than he is. I’m a heck of a lot younger.”

  That was true, but she wasn’t going to let Len take any points if she could help it. “How did you and Ace originally meet up?” she asked.

  Len looked surprised at that question. He shrugged. “L.A. is a big town, yet it really isn’t. Circles of musicians know each other.”

  “Ace had been out of the business for a while.”

  “I ran into him after he’d just finished up that reality show and was doing all the late-night gigs. He said he was putting a band together again. I was looking for something new, so I hooked up with him.”

  “You were playing for a band before this?”

  “Why all the questions?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Just trying to get to know you a little better,” she said with a sweet smile. She knew if Grant could hear her, he was probably groaning.

  “Know me better? Why? What’s this about?”

  “I’m a friend of Ace’s. You’re working with him. He’s involved in a murder investigation. Let’s just say I’m trying to protect his interests.”

  At that, Len looked uncomfortable. “He has a lawyer.”

  “His lawyer isn’t investigating Alanna’s murder. I am.”

  He looked skeptical. “You’re helping the police?”

  “In a way. Do you know anything about me, Mr. Lowery?”

  “No, should I?” he asked defensively.

  “I’ve helped solve a few murders. You could say I’ve been invaluable to the police investigation.”

  Len now looked downright antsy, shifting on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other, and dropping his leg and sitting straight again. “They haven’t questioned me. I’m not even on their radar.”

  He said that with a bit of smugness, which really irked Caprice. “I’m sure they’ll get around to talking to you. You did know Alanna Goodwin, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. Ace introduced us. That was it.”

  “But you were at the open house, weren’t you? I was the home stager, and I was there, too. I thought I saw you.”

  He checked his watch. “Look, I’ve got to take some pain meds. My head’s throbbing and so’s my nose. Are we about done?”

  “We can be. Just one more question. Do you know anything about the guitars that were stolen from Ace’s secure room?”

  If Len had looked uncomfortable before, he looked a little shell-shocked now. He’d never expected that question. “What do you mean—do I know anything about them?”

  “Do you know which ones were stolen?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Weren’t you at the party Ace gave?”

  “I was there, loaded to the gills. I don’t know anything about his Martin.”

  Aha! He did know which guitars were stolen. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Len realized he’d slipped.

  “So you do know which guitars are missing!”

  “No, I just know the Martin’s a valuable one. It would make sense someone would want to steal that one.”

  “And that’s all you know?”

  Len stood, stuffed his hands in his back pockets, and glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t know nothin’. I dare you to prove I had anything to do with that theft.”

  “You know what, Mr. Lowery, I’ve never been able to turn down a dare.”

  “Leave,” he bit out.

  “Gladly. But I imagine the police might want to question you about Ace’s guitars, as well as Alanna’s murder.”

  From the furious look in Len’s eyes, Caprice knew she had to scoot, and scoot fast.

  She rose from the chair and went to the door. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Lowery. I can see myself out.”

  And she did—quickly.

  Then she cut her open connection to Grant before she could hear his shout of disapproval. She might have gone too far. But on the other hand, she might have just gone far enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caprice had been involved in several murder investigations by now. And even though she’d been in danger a couple of times, she’d never felt anxious about questioning witnesses or suspects. But there was something about Len Lowery that made her wonder if she should have followed Grant’s advice and stayed away from him.

  This was one of those April days that had grown gray and cloudy. The dampness in the air portended rain—rain that would make her flowers grow, she reminded herself, as she drove home, left her car in the driveway, and went in the front door.

  After releasing the pet gate at the kitchen, she was met by Lady, who was all excited to see her.

  “It’s great coming home to you,” she said, dropping down to cuddle and pet her pup. “You always make me feel welcome.”

  Lady barked, agreeing with her, and then ran to the back door, signaling she had to go out.

  “What a good girl you are,” Caprice said. “Maybe we can have a game of fetch before the rain starts.”

  Sophia, who was sleeping on the dining-room table, meowed, yawned, and stuck out a paw as if to delay Caprice from going outside.

  She stopped, reached out, and petted Sophia’s silky head, ruffling her pristine white ruff. “Do you know where Mirabelle is?” she asked.

  Sophia just gave her a blinking stare.

  “I figured as much. You don’t care where Mirabelle is. My guess is she’s up in my bedroom.”

  Sophia just blinked again.

  “We’ll find her when I come back in.”

  Sophia ducked her head down and covered her nose with her paw.

  “An attitude like that won’t make you friends,” Caprice warned her. But Sophia obviously didn’t give a darn.

  Lady stood at the back door, wriggling. Caprice knew what that meant. She hurriedly opened the door and let her dog jump out onto the porch. When Lady ran down the steps, Caprice followed. She didn’t give her “go potty” commands anymore because Lady knew what she was supposed to do. But Caprice still liked to praise her after she did it.

  By the time Lady had finished her business, and Caprice had executed the cleanup, a misty rain had begun falling. She went over her to-do list in her mind, prioritizing for the afternoon and evening. She’d developed a new recipe for a chocolate-coffee loaf. She wanted to try it out again to make sure she had the ingredients just right. Maybe she’d whip that up first. The recipe made two loaves and she could take one along to Isaac when she visited his shop. She had questions for him about antique guitars. Besides, she’d like to search through his crystal vases. She was meeting Juan at the glass house tomorrow to make final decisions about staging it. Since they were executing a minimalist theme, Caprice knew crystal vases with the sunshine hitting them would be dramatic and wonderful accents.

  She whipped up the one-bowl chocolate-coffee loaf recipe in no time at all. It was one of those “dump everything into the mixer bowl, beat it smooth with the mixer, and pour it into two bread pans” recipes.

  The smells of coffee and chocolate laced her kitchen, and she sat at the kitchen table working on her laptop until the b
aking bread started to make her mouth water.

  Through the window, she could see that the spring storm had moved in. Rain pattered on the porch roof. While Caprice worked, Mirabelle had ventured down to the kitchen from the upstairs bedroom, where Caprice had found her napping earlier, and looked up at her new mistress with an expectant expression.

  “You want a few crunchies, don’t you? If I give you a few, I have to give Sophia a few, and then Lady has to have a treat, too.”

  All of that seemed to make sense to Mirabelle because she hopped up onto the chair next to Caprice and meowed at her.

  After Caprice had served her felines and her pup, and they’d made quick work of eating the treats, she tested the bread with a toothpick and removed it from the oven. Perfect.

  She’d set it on wire racks to cool just as her doorbell rang. Checking her phone, she wondered if she’d missed a text from Nikki or any of her family. She hadn’t.

  Opening her door, she was absolutely shocked to see ...

  Seth! He looked a bit damp in a polo shirt and navy trousers, even though he was standing under the overhang.

  “Can I come in?” he asked with one of those smiles that had convinced her to date him in the first place.

  “Of course, you can come in. I was just surprised to see you.” She opened the storm door.

  From behind his back, he produced a bouquet of assorted flowers—daylilies to daisies to mums. “These are for you.”

  She hadn’t seen Seth since Valentine’s Day and the dance, an evening that had been special in so many ways. Not the least of which had been the gift of the charm-and-beaded bracelet he’d given her, which she was wearing now.

  Before she could ask any questions, he took her into his arms and kissed her, flowers and all. The world spun a little as it usually did when he kissed her. When he broke away, she gazed up at him speechless until her mind started working again.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a few hours that I could get away and I wanted to see you. Can you go to dinner with me tonight, or do you have plans?”

  “No plans,” she said. “I could cook something for us here.”

  “If you don’t mind braving the weather, I’d rather take you out. I heard the Purple Iris Bed-and-Breakfast has a wonderful restaurant.”

  “Are you going to be staying there tonight?” Maybe they’d have more than a few hours together.

  “No. I can’t do that. I have to be ready for rounds early tomorrow morning. But I want to take you someplace nice and quiet where we can talk. E-mails are fine, but they’re not the same as conversation.”

  “No, they’re not,” Caprice agreed, excited to see Seth, ecstatic to be with him, yet disappointed that they would only have a few hours together ... again. She knew what Nana would say: “Enjoy your precious moments for what they are.” That’s what she was going to do tonight. That’s what she always had to do with Seth.

  He said, “I brought a duffel, with a nice clean white shirt and a tie.”

  Lady ran over to Seth now and sniffed the legs of his pants, reacquainting herself with his scent. Then she sat at his feet, looking up at him.

  He dropped down into a crouch and petted her until she rolled over so he could rub her belly.

  After he stood, he saw Sophia high on her cat tree. He waved at her. She looked at him with her huge golden eyes and then snuggled her head on her paws again. By this time, Mirabelle had sauntered out from the chair in the kitchen.

  “Well, who are you?” Seth asked.

  Caprice hadn’t yet filled Seth in on Alanna Goodwin’s death, and taking in Mirabelle. The story was too complicated to go into an e-mail. Wasn’t it? Was that the real reason she hadn’t told him about any of it? Or was it because she sent an e-mail into cyberspace and didn’t know exactly how much attention Seth gave to it? His replies were usually short and chipper, but not crammed with details. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to overload him with too many details.

  “It’s a long story,” she said.

  He took her hand. “You can tell me all about it over dinner. We can really catch up.”

  “Do we need a reservation?”

  “I already made one, hoping you’d be free.”

  “You took a chance, driving to Kismet. What if I hadn’t been here?”

  “I would have waited. Even an hour with you would have been worth it.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Why don’t you go get your duffel while I change.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I can use your downstairs bathroom. But before I get that duffel . . .”

  He looked concerned now and Caprice wondered what was wrong. “What is it?”

  “I noticed your car is parked in the driveway. Are you waiting for a tow or something?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because I’m pretty sure you have two flat tires—the back ones.”

  “You’re kidding.” She went to the door and looked out.

  “Take an umbrella if you go out there. It’s really coming down.”

  “I was going to take a shower anyway, so I can get all dressed up,” she teased. “I’m going to take a look.”

  “I’m already damp and I can dry off in a hurry. Come on, if you want to check them.”

  They ran outside and Caprice ducked around her car, examining the tires. Yes, the two back ones were indeed flat, and she had a feeling she hadn’t run over any nails. Could Len have done this? Someone else?

  “I might as well have it towed,” she muttered. “Don’t get any wetter than you have to. Get your duffel.”

  She ran inside to use her cell phone, and soon Seth was inside, too.

  Her AAA membership came in handy. Seth assured her she could get dressed for dinner and he’d wait for the tow truck.

  An hour later, her Camaro was being dragged from the driveway and Caprice was still running through the possibilities of who could have damaged her tires. She was having the car towed to Don Rodriguez’s garage and body shop. He’d become an acquaintance during her last murder investigation. When he took care of her car tomorrow, he’d tell her exactly what had happened to those tires. She had his cell number and called him before she showered. He promised her he knew exactly what kind of tires to put on that Camaro and he’d give her a report the next day.

  Seth had already taken Lady outside by the time Caprice dressed. He also changed his clothing and looked amazingly handsome in the white shirt and tie. As they drove to the B and B, which was in the country, she filled him in on what had happened with Alanna Goodwin and Ace. When she was finished, they’d arrived in the parking lot by the bed-and-breakfast, and the rain had almost stopped.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this in our e-mails?” he asked after turning off the ignition.

  “Because it was complicated, and one event just seemed to snowball into the next.”

  “That happens when you investigate a murder,” he said soberly.

  “I suppose so.”

  He said, “Stay put and I’ll come around and get you. It’s still drizzling a bit. We’ll take the umbrella inside just in case it pours again.”

  Caprice didn’t argue. She wondered if Seth had wished she’d shared the murder investigation with him. But it wasn’t as if he had time to really study it with her. It wasn’t as if he had time to solve the puzzle with her.

  Seth hung his arm around Caprice’s shoulders as they took the flagstone path around to the front entrance of the B and B. They were greeted by owner and manager Holly Swope, who was dressed all in purple. Caprice only had a passing acquaintance with Holly from Chamber of Commerce dinners and breakfast meetings. Nikki knew her better. Before the B and B had opened the restaurant, Nikki had catered events there.

  Holly was about five-two, with close-cropped black hair and beautiful blue eyes. Older than Caprice, she was also single and devoted all of her time and attention to the bed-and-breakfast. The Purple Iris had gotten its name from the stained-glass windows of ir
ises—one in the foyer, and the other on the landing that led to the rooms upstairs. Of course, the rooms were all done in iris motifs and the flower beds outside were filled with irises of every shape and color. In the spring, the beds were magnificent and some of the irises were even reblooming.

  Holly and Caprice exchanged greetings, and Caprice introduced Seth. Holly checked her list. “Dr. Randolph, you called this morning and asked for our best table. I’m happy to say it was free.” She picked up two leather-bound menus from the desk. “Follow me and I’ll show you to it.”

  Caprice hadn’t been in the restaurant since it opened. She smiled at the lilac-colored drapes, yellow-and-purple pin-striped wallpaper, framed iris prints, and metal sculptures. The tables were covered with white linens, and the glassware and silverware sparkled under white enamel and crystal chandeliers.

  “This is charming,” she said to Holly as Seth seated her and Holly handed them both menus.

  “It was a huge investment for me,” Holly admitted. “But the restaurant has really enhanced the bed-and-breakfast. We’re drawing clients from Washington and Baltimore, as well as Harrisburg. Who knows? With the Chamber of Commerce’s efforts to draw more business to Kismet, we might become a tourist town.”

  “I haven’t been to a Chamber meeting for a while,” Caprice said.

  “You should come,” Holly encouraged her. “Changes are afoot. We have a tourism committee now. I’m thinking of hosting the next breakfast meeting right here. Watch for the date in your e-mail.”

  Once Holly had left, Caprice was about to open her menu, when Seth covered her hand with his. “I’m worried about your tires being damaged. Do you think you should call the cops?”

  She sighed. “If I tell Detective Carstead, then he’s going to ask whose feathers I might have ruffled.”

  “Maybe you should tell him exactly whose feathers you ruffled. It sounds as if this Len character could be dangerous, especially if he did steal Ace’s guitars.”