“So you knew Chris?”
“Not personally. But the business community in Kismet is small enough that word gets around.”
She knew that was true just by being a member of the Chamber of Commerce.
After Caprice talked to Neal for a few more minutes, she bid him good night and stepped outside. No one walked Santa Lane. The Christmas music should have kept the dark night pleasant, but night was night and dark was dark, and this was an isolated spot without people wandering about.
She didn’t know which direction Grant might have gone. She was about to text him when he came jogging up the path from deeper in the park with Lady and Patches running beside him. He stopped when he reached her. “I just got a call from a contact at the D.A.’s office. The autopsy report on Chris came in.”
“Did they figure out the murder weapon?”
“The paint and the type of wood proved he died of blunt force trauma from the candy cane stake. But that wasn’t the surprising part.”
“A surprise with the autopsy?”
“Yes. Chris had an inoperable brain tumor that would have probably killed him within six months to a year.”
Caprice felt as if someone had socked her in the stomach with one of those candy cane stakes. “Oh, my gosh. You know what? The day of the parade, Chris was acting odd. He seemed dizzy, and one of the parents accused him of being drunk. I wonder if that was part of the condition . . . if it had been happening often. Does his family know about this?”
“They do now. Mack informed them.”
An inoperable brain tumor. Had that had something to do with his murder? It was probably the reason he wanted to move himself and his wife into a senior living facility. Just what would Sara do now?
Seeing her dismayed expression, Grant took her hand. “Let’s go back to your place,” he said. “We’ll light a fire and try to forget about all this for a while.”
But how could anybody forget an inoperable brain tumor . . . and murder?
* * *
Caprice was so glad she had work to concentrate on the following day. She had left Lady at home with Mirabelle and Sophia while she took this drive to Hanover to talk with a possible client. This evening she and her dad were going to visit Sara to see if she needed anything. But for now, Caprice was ready to concentrate on a contract for a new house staging.
The Pigeon Hills lay between Thomasville and Hanover. From the history she’d read, the Hills were composed of the oldest type of rock—volcanic rock belonging to the Catoctin Formation. She’d done research on the area when Charles Kopcek had contacted her. His house was located off High Rock Road and she knew she’d pass Pulpit Rock. This was nearly the highest elevation in the Pigeon Hills, at 1,240 feet. Vince had told her about a winery in this area. Their wines were made with fruits grown from local family and friends—black and red raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries. The grapes they used were also grown locally in York County and northern Pennsylvania. Supposedly, early surveyors owned parcels of land in York County. One of them was named Joseph Pidgeon, a surveyor from Philadelphia County. The Pigeon Hills were supposedly named after him, even though the spelling wasn’t the same.
As Caprice drove along the winding road, she knew she could thank Chris and Sara for recommending her to Charles Kopcek. Chris had seemed to know everyone from the janitor at the local school to Charles who owned a home-security systems company.
After another half mile, Caprice found the lane that turned down to the Kopcek property. Caprice had seen many photos of this estate, but this was the first she was visiting it in person. Sara had told her it was peaceful, and she could see that. Yes, the elms and maples and sycamores were bare of leaves now, but thirty-foot pines lined the drive on both sides. When she’d read the stats on this home, she’d marveled that it was originally a log home but had been rebuilt. Just from looking over the property from afar, she decided on a theme if her client agreed: Mountaintop Style.
Parking at the double car garage, she marveled again at the solitude of the place, like the feeling of being alone with no one else around for miles. That was a rare feeling for her when she had family and pets around her most of the time.
Going to the door, she knocked. The wide, wooden door was opened immediately and a tall man with silver hair stood there, smiling at her. He looked to be in his late fifties.
“Mr. Kopcek?” she asked.
“That’s me,” he said, inviting her inside with a gesture of his hand. “And you’re Caprice De Luca?”
“I am.” She gazed around the house that she knew was 4,500 square feet. The living room was spacious with its seating area built around an immense floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. The exposed wood beams, the beautiful flooring, the shiny appliances and quartz counter she could spot in the kitchen were much more impressive than mere photographs had been.
“You have a beautiful home.”
“I know we do,” he said, inviting her toward the sofa. “But my wife and I have decided to make a move now before we get too old to care if we do it.”
From her notes, she remembered, “Your wife is a lawyer?”
“Yes, she is. She insists she can find work wherever she goes.”
“The Merriweathers told me that you want to settle out West.”
Sitting on the edge of the sofa, excitement sparkled in his brown eyes. “Not settle, exactly. I’m originally from Wyoming. But I met Debbie when she was on vacation right before I went into the service. She was from here. After I was discharged, we decided to set up housekeeping here, and this is where I started my security company. But the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve wanted to go back to my roots. Yes, we sort of live on a mountain top here, but I want to return to a real mountain top, hopefully near the Big Horns. There’s a call for home security everywhere now, and not only home security, but computer security. I’m into both. I’m going to sell my business here and open one there.”
“Have you found a property in Wyoming?”
“I have my eye on three, actually. But I’d like to wait until we get a nibble on this just so I know where I am financially.”
“I understand. Why don’t you give me a tour? You’ve already talked with Denise Langford, correct?”
“Yes, I have and she’s appraised the house. But I don’t know if we can get top dollar, and she insists with your help, we can.”
“Let’s take a look.”
A half hour later, Caprice was still impressed. “Your house on its own merit should invite top dollar. But its location, and especially that view from the bedroom balcony, will be a wonderful selling point. Right now, you have good quality furnishings. However, with your permission, I’d like to make them a little more rustic, add more suede and leather and wrought iron. I’d like to declutter a bit too. Would you consider renting a storage unit for a while where you could store what you wouldn’t be using?”
“If it means selling the house quicker, sure, I’ll do that. And you can style it any way you’d like. We’ll be leaving this behind, so it doesn’t much matter. Now that we’ve made our decision, the right Wyoming ranch is just waiting and neither of us can wait to move.”
“The market has picked up, and with an open house and the right publicity, you could possibly get an offer before Christmas.” Caprice took out her phone and checked her calendar. “I can fit you in for an open house on Saturday in two and a half weeks. How does that sound?”
“That sounds wonderful. Denise told us you’re a miracle worker when you set your mind to it.”
Caprice wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but she soon found out.
Charles Kopcek asked, “Do you have time for this now?”
“If I sign a contract with you, I’ll keep to the terms and move quickly if that’s what you want. I have an assistant and other temporary help I can call in. Do you have any doubts about hiring me?”
“Not doubts, exactly. I have your portfolio, the houses you’ve staged and the ones you’ve sold. I’ve h
eard about Ace Richland and his estate, how he liked the way you staged the house and how he bought it, and how quickly that sale moved. Can I speak plainly?”
“Of course, you can.”
“I also understand you’ve been involved in some murder investigations, and you’re an advocate of animal rights and rescue.”
“That’s true.”
“I suppose that’s why I’m questioning whether you can fit us into your schedule. Especially now, with Chris Merriweather’s murder. Debbie and I were shocked when we saw coverage on the news. Will you be involved in the investigation?”
“I doubt if I’ll be involved. The police have that under control. But my family is friends with the Merriweathers, and we’ll help them any way we can. That’s just part of life. My work and staging your house is totally separate. As I said, if you agree to let me write up a proposal and I contract with you to do the house staging, I will keep to the terms. That’s how I’ve gained the reputation I have.”
He was studying her now with a practiced eye that told her he had a good sense of people’s character. After all, Chris had told her Charles had been in the service. This man knew about home and computer security. He had to be a good judge of character.
“Would you like me to meet your wife before you make a decision? I can make an appointment with her.”
His cheeks grew a little ruddy. “To be honest, she had already decided to hire you, simply according to your résumé, your website, and asking around about you. She has friends who belong to the Country Squire Golf and Recreation Club. They speak highly of you. After talking with you today, hearing your comments and your suggestions, I agree we should hire you.”
“You might want to see my proposal first,” she advised with a smile.
He chuckled. “I suppose that would be a good idea.”
“I have your e-mail information,” she said. “By tomorrow evening, I’ll e-mail you my proposal. After you and your wife have a chance to look it over, just give me a call. If you decide to contract with me, we’ll start right away.”
“Do you really think we could get an offer before Christmas?”
“Of course I can’t promise that, and neither can Denise. But she and I both know the best places to advertise a property like this—newsletters to get the word out, e-zines to post photos in. We would do our best for you, Mr. Kopcek.”
He nodded and extended his hand. “Send me your proposal. I look forward to seeing it.”
* * *
Caprice pulled into her driveway, pushed open her door, and climbed out ready to brace against the cold air. Cold or not, Lady needed to be walked. Brisk exercise would do both of them good, especially since Caprice hated to go to the pool at the gym in the wintertime—wet hair, cold wind, chills. Brrr. Walking Lady seemed the better alternative.
Caprice took a few seconds at her front door to appreciate the decorations. A garland with twinkle lights stretched around the frame of the rounded-top door. Cut out of metal and painted brightly, a yellow tabby sat beside a beagle in the center of a wreath. Caprice had attached sleigh bells to the decoration so they jingled when the door opened. Smiling, she unlocked the door and tapped in the security code to turn off the system.
Lady sat in the foyer staring at her as if asking, What took you so long?
“I was only gone two hours. I bet you didn’t even eat all the kibble in your Kong ball.”
Lady came over to her and sat in front of her.
Caprice crouched down and gave her a good rubdown including a belly rub. “Let me say hey to Mirabelle and Sophia, then we’ll go for a walk.”
If there was one word Lady understood better than others, it was walk, but treats did run a close second.
Mirabelle was lazily stretched out on the sofa, on her side, totally relaxed. Such a different cat than when Caprice had first brought her home. Her previous owner hadn’t given her much attention, let alone the basics. Now, well-loved, Mirabelle meowed in greeting. She didn’t rise to her paws, however. She waited for Caprice to sit beside her and slowly stroke her beautiful white fur. “I guess you’re the princess and Sophia is the queen.”
Hearing her name, Sophia, who was seated on the top level of the turquoise carpeted cat tree, meowed herself, a very different meow than Mirabelle. It was sharper and had a conversational quality.
“I know you want to know where your tiara is. You won’t even wear a sparkly collar.” Actually, Sophia wouldn’t wear any collar. A long-haired calico, her beautiful white ruff stood out around her face like decorative apparel.
Deciding that Caprice had given Mirabelle quite enough attention, Sophia climbed down another level of the cat tree, scratched on the carpeted post, and hopped down the rest of the way. Crossing to Caprice on the sofa, she wound about her legs, looked up at her, then jumped up onto the arm of the sofa.
Caprice stroked her silky fur. “Have you two had a good morning? My guess is you didn’t entertain Lady all that much.”
Both cats meowed in unison as if protesting that they indeed did.
Lady cocked her head at Caprice as if to say Don’t believe a meow of theirs.
Caprice laughed. “Come on, Lady, let’s get your leash. After our walk, I’ll give you all lunch.” She shook her finger at the two felines. “In the meantime, you two behave.”
They’d been known to have their squabbles but nothing nasty, just bothersome. They liked to annoy each other now and then, just like kids.
Lady trotted with Caprice out the front door and waited until she set the alarm again and locked the door. Then they started their trek at a brisk pace around the block. In the winter, the yards looked so barren. But not for long. Many residents of her neighborhood decorated with Christmas lights, Santas on the roof, snowmen in the yard, a Nativity scene on the porch. She and Lady had a blast exploring when decorations started appearing. But today, Caprice admired the pines, the ivy that still had some green leaves, the rose bushes that hadn’t quite given up to nighttime winter frost.
As they walked, Caprice couldn’t help but think about her new client. He was selling his business. She suddenly wondered if Brett Carstead had ever considered running a security company instead of being a detective. He’d have more normal hours. He could have a real life. Not that a detective couldn’t, she supposed, but he’d have to have the right significant other. Could Nikki be the right life partner for him? Her sister hadn’t talked about Brett lately, and Caprice wondered if they’d stopped dating.
Everyone at the Kismet PD would be on top of this investigation since Chris was the chief’s army buddy and good friend.
Suddenly Caprice remembered Sara saying that Chris hadn’t been the same after he’d come back from his yearly trip to the Vietnam Memorial in D.C. Perhaps it was time to talk to someone about that. Maybe even Mack.
Caprice and Lady had walked along her side of the street for about three blocks, turned around, and started down the other side of the street. Even dogs liked changing scenery.
They were almost back home, passing by Dulcina’s house when Dulcina’s front door opened and she stepped out onto the porch. She’d grabbed a sweater and flung it around her shoulders. “I have news,” she told Caprice.
“What kind of news?”
Dulcina had a smile across her lips that told Caprice it was something good. “Your Uncle Dom has asked me on a real date.”
“You look pleased.”
“I am. We’re going to see The Nutcracker at Hershey Theater. I’m excited, but nervous too.”
“Why nervous? You and Uncle Dom get along great, don’t you?” she asked with an arched brow.
“We seem to. But he told me he hasn’t dated since before his marriage.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Caprice asked. “He’ll be as nervous as you are. Just relax. When he brought you to our family dinner, all went well. You had a good time at Thanksgiving, didn’t you?”
“I did and at Nana’s birthday party.”
“
Then why should this be any different?”
“Because we’re going to be alone. I bought a new dress.”
“And I’ll bet he’ll buy a new sports jacket.”
“I’m just worried. Things didn’t work out with Rod. I keep thinking maybe it was my fault. Maybe I wasn’t warm enough with his girls. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”
Dulcina’s last romantic relationship hadn’t gone well, maybe because she’d compared it to a marriage which she’d considered perfect.
“Do you want a little advice?”
“Sure. You’re engaged. You have the right to give it.”
Caprice laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I do know one thing. Just try to be yourself. Don’t think about what’s going to happen next. Just enjoy being with my uncle, soak in the performance, talk about whatever comes to mind. If you act naturally, he will too.”
Dulcina nodded. “That’s good advice. Do you want to come in for coffee, and say hello to Halo and Miss Paddington?”
Caprice looked down at Lady. “Do you think Sophia and Mirabelle can wait a half hour for lunch?”
Lady, who wasn’t a barker, gave a soft ruff. “That’s a yes,” Caprice told Dulcina and climbed the porch steps with Lady.
As soon as her pets had lunch, she’d start working on the proposal for Charles Kopcek.
After that, she’d call Sara Merriweather to make sure she was up for a visit tonight . . . to see if she needed anything. Caprice was pretty sure Sara would need the comfort of a friend more than she needed another casserole. On the other hand, a quart of minestrone soup—Nana’s recipe—couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Seven
That evening, Sara let Caprice and her dad into her house, giving them both tight hugs. Caprice had brought along a container of minestrone, and Sara stowed it in the refrigerator. After they all sat in the living room, Caprice could still see the tears brimming in her eyes. She was dressed in a black, long-sleeved dress that had navy around the collar and the hem. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry and very little makeup. That was very much unlike her. The blue smudges under her eyes attested to her lack of sleep.
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