Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  Grant’s only comment to that was a kiss Caprice wouldn’t soon forget.

  Caprice was still floating on air from Grant’s kiss and the possibilities of the future when she arrived at Twyla’s the next day. She needed to remove her additions to Alanna’s belongings as well as oversee the rental company withdrawing their furniture. The sky was gray with dark clouds and a brewing storm. Hopefully, they could load the truck and her van before rain poured down.

  After an hour, there were already hollow sounds in the house. Juan was going through the upstairs with his clipboard to make sure everything on Caprice’s list was back in her van. The rental-company employees had already left.

  Thunder grumbled as Caprice stared at the taupe love seat she kept in her own storage shed. She and Alanna had fought over removing two settees and replacing them with this love seat. But she’d won that battle.

  When Twyla entered the living room, Caprice asked, “What are you going to do with the rest of the furniture?”

  “An antique dealer from Baltimore is coming tomorrow with a U-Haul. He insisted he could get me better prices than anyone locally.”

  Caprice knew that was probably true. Isaac was good at what he did, but his market didn’t extend as far as the shops in Baltimore’s might.

  “Are you going to stay here until the house is empty?”

  Twyla nodded. “I thought I would. I’m keeping one of the guest bedroom furniture suites and moving that to Biloxi. So I’ll have my own little haven until the rest is gone and I leave.”

  Caprice pulled a cushion from the love seat and propped it on the floor.

  “If the vacant house doesn’t sell in a few months, maybe I’ll contract with you again to stage it more simply,” Twyla added as she looked over everything that was still there.

  “All you have to do is call,” Caprice assured her.

  After Caprice moved the second cushion on the love seat and propped it against the first, something shiny in the seam of the piece of furniture caught her eye. She bent to pick it up. It was a silver bangle bracelet, with a disc charm hanging from it with the letter T.

  Caprice held it up. “Look what I found.”

  Twyla came closer to examine it. “Oh, my goodness. That’s mine. I lost it the last time I was here. Thanks for finding it for me.” She took it from Caprice.

  Returning her attention to the love seat, Caprice said, “I’m going to take the cushions out to my van.”

  Ten minutes later, Juan had loaded the frame of the love seat into the van also, and Caprice was ready to go. It was a good thing, too, because another April storm was imminent.

  Rain began to splat against her windshield. Although she should be headed to her storage shed, she was suddenly compelled to drive into town for a stop at the local pharmacy and a talk with Phyllis Trenton, a friend of her mother’s. Phyllis worked the day shift and she wasn’t averse to gossiping. With her gift of remembering even the slightest details, she might be able to help Caprice solve a murder.

  Fortunately, when Caprice arrived at the pharmacy, no one else was in the store. The pharmacist stood behind the raised dais and the glass counter, and Phyllis was stocking shelves. Caprice crossed to her and asked, “Phyllis, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  The small, birdlike woman popped up from a crouched position. “Sure you can, Caprice. I’m almost finished here. What do you need? An umbrella?” There were a few folding ones in a display at the front of the store.

  Thunder rumbled outside as Caprice lowered her voice. “I need some information.”

  Phyllis’s blue eyes lit up. “What kind of information?”

  “I know what a great memory you have.”

  A smile twitched Phyllis’s lips. “Indeed, I do have a good memory.”

  “Did you know Alanna Goodwin?”

  “I knew who she was. After all, everyone in Kismet stops in here at one time or another.”

  That’s what Caprice was counting on. “Did she ever come in with her sister?”

  “You mean Twyla? That’s such an unusual name that I remember it. Alanna never bought cosmetics here. She liked the expensive stuff. But Twyla often stopped in when she was in town. She needed over-the-counter allergy medication because of Alanna’s cat. She was so different from her sister. She didn’t treat me like gum on her shoe the way Alanna did.”

  Allergy medication. Exactly what Caprice had been betting on. When being around cats and dogs was a sometimes occurrence, over-the-counter medication would do.

  “Now this is the important question,” Caprice warned before she asked it.

  Phyllis tilted her head a little and leaned closer.

  “Do you remember the last time Twyla stopped in here for allergy medication?” This guessing game might not pay off. Maybe Twyla came to Kismet prepared. But just maybe on a quick trip here . . .

  Phyllis thought about it and then her face brightened. “I remember exactly. It was March thirtieth. I remember because that’s my daughter Barb’s birthday. I wanted to get home sooner rather than later, and Miss Horton was the last customer who came in.”

  Five minutes later, Caprice rushed through fat, plopping raindrops to her van, cell phone in hand as she dialed Detective Carstead. Twyla had told her she’d lost the bracelet Caprice had found in the love seat the last time she was in Kismet, but she had also stated the last time she was in Kismet was over the holidays. That love seat where Caprice found the bracelet wasn’t in Alanna’s house over the holidays. Caprice had moved it in when she’d staged the house.

  Reaching Detective Carstead’s voice mail, she left the message that Twyla had been in Kismet on March thirtieth. He could take the investigation from there. Had she flown to Kismet? Driven to Kismet? That was for Detective Carstead to find out.

  A shiver ran down Caprice’s back. Twyla Horton could be the murderer. Or maybe she had a good reason—other than murder—for not wanting anyone to know she’d been in town. That wasn’t for Caprice to figure out. She’d let the police handle it. She wanted to just go home and wait until she heard from Detective Carstead. She wanted to be with her animals, lock her doors, and hope that everything would be okay. And soon.

  When Caprice entered her driveway, she pressed the remote for the garage door and drove into the garage. Snatching up her purse, she opened the door that led to her small back porch and heard Lady barking.

  That was odd. Lady didn’t usually bark even when she heard her coming. Not those kinds of barks anyhow. She gave little yips of joy. Maybe the storm had spooked her. Maybe the thunder had stressed her out.

  When Caprice unlocked the door and entered the kitchen, Lady pranced all around her, keeping up the barking. Had something happened with one of the cats, making Lady frantic to escape into the rest of the house?

  Caprice dropped her purse on the counter, patted Lady, ruffled her ears, and said, “Calm down, girl, it’s okay.” When she hurried to the pet gate that led into the dining room and released the catch, Mirabelle and Sophia sat on the dining-room table. They meowed at her.

  “Are you two spooked by the storm, too?” she asked.

  Mirabelle and Sophia didn’t answer, but Twyla Horton did. She stood in the dining room by the hutch, with a gun in her hand.

  “The storm didn’t seem to bother them, but my gun does. I picked your lock, if you’re wondering. You really need a more up-to-date system.”

  Caprice’s breath stopped for a moment and she warned herself to stay calm.

  Twyla said, “I’ve had training and I’m a good marksman, so don’t try anything funny.”

  Twyla’s voice was a little different than usual—more nasal—and Caprice noticed she was already stuffy from being in the same area with the animals.

  “Put your dog in her crate,” Alanna’s sister ordered. “I would have done it, but I didn’t know if she’d bite me, and I didn’t want you to be suspicious when you walked in.”

  No way did Caprice want to crate Lady, but Twyla’s accent wasn’t so s
weet now, her words, not as drawn out. Had all that sweet Southern charm been an act?

  “I’m going to give her a treat so she goes in more easily,” Caprice told Twyla.

  “Fine, just hurry up,” Twyla ordered. “Who did you call and tell about me? When you found that bracelet, I knew you’d figure it out—if not right away, then in a short amount of time. You’re a smart girl.”

  Straightening her shoulders, Caprice said, “I called Detective Carstead.” Then she realized that might not have been the smartest thing to say.

  “Then we’re going to make this short. Get that dog in her crate. I wish you could do something with these two.”

  If Twyla even thought about hurting Sophia or Mirabelle, she’d find out what a pet lover’s rage could do. But rage wouldn’t help Caprice right now. She had to keep her sense. She had to figure out what to do next. She had to remember everything she’d learned in her self-defense course.

  Sophia meowed again, hopped to the floor, and jumped up onto her cat tree in the living room. But Mirabelle stayed on the dining-room table, her eyes on Twyla.

  Since Lady readily obeyed Caprice’s orders, she went into her crate. With her hands shaking, Caprice praised her and gave her a treat from the pouch on the counter, but not with the usual enthusiasm.

  Caprice didn’t know if she was going to die today or not. But she was going to do her best to get out of this mess. She had too much to live for. Not only her family and her pets ... but Grant, too. Thinking about all of them gave her strength . . . and objectivity.

  Twyla was too cagey to give her much time when Detective Carstead knew who the murderer was. Still ... Caprice took a stab at stalling. “Why did you kill Alanna? You were sisters.”

  “Why did I kill her? Because she told me she’d included Archer in her will. All my life, I wanted to depend on Alanna. But she was always too concerned about herself and where she was headed. She never even thought about me.”

  “Why did you come to Kismet last month?”

  “To talk about her wedding. Would you believe she didn’t even offer to pay for my airfare? So I drove. I was only supposed to stay two nights. She wanted to show me bridesmaid gowns and talk about designer shoes. She was going to pay for them. I told her I couldn’t be in her rock star wedding if she didn’t.”

  “So, why did you strangle her?”

  “Because she was so condescending. Because I asked her to get me a good-paying job at Barton’s fancy company and she wouldn’t. Because that night she told me I didn’t have enough drive or ambition to ever be in her league. I just got so angry because I felt so less than she was. Just because I screwed up a few times when I was a kid, she thought she was so much better than me. She went to the sideboard to pick up dress swatches. I picked up the tieback and wrapped it around her pretty neck.”

  Twyla worked out at the gym. She had strength in those arms. Caprice could see the muscles now.

  “Enough of that,” Twyla said. She pointed her gun directly at Caprice’s chest. “Get down on your knees,” she ordered.

  Thinking again of her family, a possible future with Grant, Caprice took a very deep breath and told herself she was not going to pass out. Then she fell to her knees and saw Twyla take plastic ties from her jeans pocket. Caprice knew those ties were going to secure her hands.

  “Raise your hands above your head,” Twyla directed harshly.

  As Caprice did that, Twyla sneezed.

  Strategies from the refresher self-defense course gelled in Caprice’s mind. Instinct took over with them. Using her elbow, she rammed it into the side of Twyla’s knee.

  Alanna’s sister cried out and went down hard. The gun flew, sliding near Lady’s crate. Caprice grabbed it, then jumped on to Twyla, sitting on her, holding the gun to the woman’s head.

  Removing her phone from her pocket, she shakily dialed 9-1-1.

  Epilogue

  Lady trotted beside Caprice. Patches walked beside Grant. The two of them strolled down the path into the York playground. The swings and sliding board were empty as Caprice stopped with Grant beside a tall sycamore.

  “Do you think they’ll show up?” Grant asked.

  “I think they will,” Caprice assured him.

  The past month had been a roller-coaster ride. Caprice had gone from nearly getting killed to dating Grant. They’d attended a carnival, enjoyed a day at Hersheypark, had dinner at a new fifties diner, and spent time together, giving their pups exercise.

  “How’s Ace doing?” Grant asked.

  “Much better now that Len has been apprehended and is being charged with larceny for stealing the guitars and sheet music, as well as assault and battery for attacking Twyla. They couldn’t pin slashing my tires on him without proof. Ace is still shaking his head over the fact that Twyla murdered Alanna . . . that Alanna stole his music ... that Len planned to promote it as his. It’s mind-boggling for anyone. He trusted Len and Alanna and they both betrayed him. He thought Twyla was a sweet Southern woman. Little did anyone except Detective Carstead know that Twyla had a juvie record. I never would have believed she’d spent a stint in a juvenile detention center for breaking and entering and theft, if Detective Carstead hadn’t told you.”

  “You thought she was sweet, just as Ace did,” Grant pointed out.

  “True.” Caprice glanced toward the swings again, wondering how she’d been so wrong. Twyla had admitted nothing to the police, though.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, Grant went on to assure her: “The DA’s office has a pile of evidence against Twyla, from the security video at a gas station near York on March thirtieth to the tieback she kept in her closet in Biloxi as a souvenir. And Alanna’s gardener said he’d testify that she borrowed his truck the day she followed you. Telling him she’d scraped a fence and giving him cash to have it fixed didn’t keep him quiet once he’d learned she’d been charged with her sister’s murder. I’m not sure she intended to run you off the road ... at first. She just wanted to know what you were up to. But when she saw the chance to maybe eliminate you . . .”

  Those words gave Caprice the shivers. Along with the murder charge, the DA had added reckless endangerment and aggravated assault with a motor vehicle to the list.

  Twyla Horton had been arraigned and was awaiting trial, and Caprice was ready to testify, along with Alanna’s gardener.

  “The motive was partly money,” Caprice said, still analyzing everything that had happened. “Twyla was tired of living the way she was in Mississippi. And she wanted Alanna’s estate. But mostly, she’d been jealous of Alanna for a long time—since they were kids. Alanna always seemed to get what she wanted. At least that’s the way it looked to Twyla. She never knew about her sister’s heartache in giving up a child.”

  “And speaking of children,” Grant murmured.

  Diane Duncan saw them and waved. She’d come in from the other side of the playground, and she was holding her daughter’s hand. She looked a bit pale.

  After Diane introduced her daughter to Caprice and Grant, Sherry looked up at them. “Can I play with your dogs?”

  “Sure,” Grant said. He took a ball from his pocket. “I always carry this because Patches likes to fetch.” He pointed to the grassy area, where kids sometimes played softball. “Why don’t you go over there with them, okay?”

  Sherry grinned at them and ran toward the grassy area, the dogs scampering beside her.

  “I’m nervous,” Diane admitted.

  “I understand that,” Caprice said as Archer walked in the same entrance she and Grant had.

  The next couple of minutes were awkward as Caprice introduced Archer to Diane. He nodded to the swings. “Why don’t we go over there and talk?”

  Diane gave him a shaky smile and nodded.

  As Diane and Archer sat on the swings to have one of the most important conversations of their lives, Grant wrapped his arm around Caprice. “What do you think they’ll decide?”

  “If they have Sherry’s best interest at heart,
I think they’ll figure out a way to share her. Archer knows he can’t just jump into their lives. But I think Diane will make room for Sherry having a dad.”

  As Sherry’s laughter rang out, as Diane and Archer leaned toward each other, intent in conversation, Grant’s arm tightened around Caprice. “I know you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way on purpose this time, but I worry about you solving murders.”

  “There might never be another murder to solve.”

  After giving her a look that told Caprice he’d like to kiss her when they were in a more private place, Grant muttered, “I can only hope.”

  Original Recipes

  Caprice’s Chicken Cacciatore

  Preheat oven to 350°

  1-hour prep time

  Approximately 1½ hours baking time

  1 pound Italian sausage cut into 1-inch pieces (sweet or hot—your choice!)

  1 tablespoon vegetable oil

  1 cup chopped onion (about 1 medium onion)

  1 cup chopped sweet bell pepper (about 1 large pepper)

  1 cup chopped celery

  3 cans fire roasted tomatoes (14.5 oz cans)

  1 tablespoon sugar

  ¼ teaspoon pepper

  1 teaspoon smoked paprika

  1½ teaspoons salt

  Add ¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper (if using mild sausage)

  Brown the sausage pieces in vegetable oil for about 10 minutes on medium, stirring to brown on all sides. (Do not burn. You want the oil with sausage drippings to coat the onion, pepper, and celery.) Add onion, pepper, and celery and sauté for about 3 minutes. To this mixture, add the 3 cans of fire-roasted tomatoes and the spices. Simmer on low while browning the thighs.

  8 chicken thighs (3½ pounds)

  1½ cups flour

  3 teaspoons salt

  ½ teaspoon pepper

  2 tablespoons oregano

  4 tablespoons butter

  Put flour, salt, pepper, and oregano in a Ziploc bag and shake to mix. Melt butter in 11-inch to 12-inch deep-sided skillet. Drop thighs into the bag with flour mixture, 2 at a time, and shake until they are coated. Then brown the thighs in the skillet on medium high until all sides are golden brown. Place the browned thighs in a lasagna pan. Pour sausage mixture over the thighs. Bake uncovered at 350° about 1½ hours until thighs are tender and falling off the bone. Use meat thermometer to assure proper doneness.