Mack shook his head. “I think it will be a long time before the town council agrees to budget money for any security cameras in Kismet. I wouldn’t mind a few myself, but there are lots of old-timers who think that means Big Brother is watching. So, we’ll see how that shakes out in the future. Remember, you can’t ask me anything about the investigation, and it’s not as if I know anything because I’m off the case.”
He might be off the case but she saw the glint in his eye. He knew exactly what was going on, even if he couldn’t work the interviews and stay on top of the officers himself.
“All right. So, I have a question not directly tied to the investigation. Do you know who beat up Chris?”
At that question, Mack looked shocked. “What do you mean ‘beat up’?”
So maybe he didn’t know everything about the investigation. Maybe the detectives were keeping information from him. She was sure her dad had filled them in.
“My dad asked Chris for some help with set construction at the community center for the Christmas pageant. Dad asked him to stop in the Sunday evening before he was murdered. Chris did. He had a cut high on his forehead and his jaw was bruised. When Dad asked him about it, he said he’d been in a storeroom at the store and a box had fallen down on him.”
“So why do you think he was beat up? That’s a plausible story.”
It was a fact that Mack deduced plausible from implausible on a daily basis. “Yes. It was plausible. But then Sara told me that she noticed bruises on Chris’s ribs. She was worried about him because he wouldn’t go to the doctor. Bruised ribs don’t account for a box falling on him.”
“Not unless it was a heavy box. Not unless the box knocked him to the floor.”
“Chris is a sturdy guy . . . was a sturdy guy,” she corrected herself, feeling a tightening in her throat.
Mack must have seen her emotion. He was silent, as if thinking over what she’d just said, willing to stop playing devil’s advocate. Suddenly he looked troubled. His usual poker face reflected some inner thought that troubled him.
“What?” she asked him.
“I ran into Harrison Barnhart at Grocery Fresh after Kismet’s holiday parade. Martha had asked me to pick up a few things for supper on my way home.”
Caprice didn’t know where this was going so she asked, “Had Harrison Barnhart been at the parade too?”
“He had. And when he swiped his credit card at the checkout line, I noticed he had bruised knuckles.”
“As if he’d socked someone’s jaw, or maybe punched them in the ribs?”
“I didn’t think much of it. Harrison is an outdoor kind of guy, likes to fish, boat, hunt.”
“Did you interview Harrison Barnhart?”
“I’m off the case, remember. I’m pretty sure Brett did the interview. He happened to leave it lying on his desk, and I looked it over. There wasn’t anything there about an altercation with Chris. Then, of course, would Harrison mention it if it would give him a motive for murder?”
Wasn’t that just the question of the year?
Ten minutes later, Caprice left the police department. Mack’s phone had buzzed and the mayor was on the line. She knew her interview with him was over, at least for today.
In her van once more, she decided to call her dad to tell him about the funeral. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, honey. What’s up?”
“I was just at the police station to talk to Mack, actually to deliver Christmas cookies. He told me Chris’s funeral is on Saturday. I wanted you to know.”
“Thanks for telling me. You don’t happen to have any extra Christmas cookies do you? I ran out of Nana’s biscotti.”
“Are you at the office?”
“Nope. I’m home today. I thought it was better if Blitz settled in here, you know, got used to his surroundings. I’m glad the weather’s cold for him right now. I suppose in the summer I’ll have to keep him in air conditioning. That coat of his is something else. I feel like I should be in Alaska roaming the tundra with him.”
“I don’t think Mom would be happy in Alaska.”
“I don’t know how happy she is having a dog in the house.”
She could tell her dad just needed to talk. “I’ll stop at home, grab a tin of cookies, and bring Lady along. That will give Blitz some company.”
“Sounds good. Don’t bother to knock,” he teased.
* * *
A half hour later, climbing the steps to the side porch, holding onto to one of the pillars styled like a rope, she realized this house grounded her. It held so many reminders of the love she’d always known that had prepared her for her adult life . . . that had prepared her for her marriage to Grant.
She didn’t knock.
She opened the door that led into a foyer and unfastened Lady’s leash. Lady bounded through the living room and took a left onto the sun porch that was used more on sunny winter afternoons than any other time. Sun poured in the casement windows as her dad sat in an armchair with a book on his lap. At his feet, Blitz stood, shook himself, and greeted Lady, nose to nose. They rounded each other, sniffed at tails, then clambered into the living room.
“Don’t go too far,” Caprice warned them. At that, Lady ran through the foyer, Blitz close on her heels. She knew they’d probably make a round of the kitchen, a couple of circles around the dining room table, then come back to the sunroom.
Her dad lifted the book that he was reading—Set Design. “I think Bella needs all the help she can get.”
Caprice had to smile at that. “How’s Blitz settling in?”
“He’s eating, drinking, and seems to have energy when we go on walks. But he usually won’t let me out of his sight. If you bring Lady over more often, that should help.”
“I can do that if you don’t mind having two dogs to babysit.”
“I’m working at home in the library for a few days. I can assemble crews and assign jobs from here. That will give Blitz a chance to settle in and me a chance for some quiet time. Grieving is lonely, but it usually has to be done alone.”
She had never lost someone really close to her, and she didn’t want to contemplate it. Yet she knew her dad had to. “Mom understands. You can talk to her. I was too young to realize what grief meant when Grandpa Tony died. The same with Mom’s parents. I can only imagine the sense of loss.”
Her father put the book aside and folded his hands between his knees. “It’s not only loss for now, but it’s loss for the future. No more poker games with Chris. No more late nights drinking beer. For Sara and her family, they’ll miss him at every important event. If Deanne gets married, there will be that hole.”
“I was really surprised Sara didn’t want to keep Blitz. Yes, he’d be a reminder of Chris, but isn’t that the whole point of grief, to try to hang onto someone you’ve lost? She let go so easily.”
“Sara’s just not a dog lover,” her dad said. But then he added, “Chris probably talked to Blitz more than he talked to Sara. They’d married before he went to Vietnam. When he got back, even though he’d changed, they stayed married and weathered the bumps. But I think Chris always held part of himself removed. It was easy for him to play Santa and be kind to strangers’ kids. The truth is—I don’t know how close he was to his own children, or even to Sara. The proof of that is his secret. I can’t even imagine not telling your mother if something was wrong with me, if I received a bad doctor’s report. We talk about everything.”
“I’m hoping Grant and I can do that too.”
“It’s so important, honey. Vows are important. Loyalty is important. Fidelity is important. But at the base of all of it, it’s just how well you can talk to each other. Never, ever let the sun go down without telling each other how you feel.”
“I’ll remember that,” she said. And she would. “I put the cookies on the side table in the foyer. I’d better take them to the kitchen.”
The dogs came scrambling back to the sunroom, stopped before Caprice and her dad, sat an
d looked up at them expectedly.
Her father glanced at her. “They want to go for a walk. Do you have time?”
She had a feeling her dad needed her today just as much as the dogs needed exercise. Yes, she had work to do, and she’d do it even if she had to stay up well past midnight to fit it all in. But right now, she’d take this time to be with her dad.
Chapter Eight
Residents of the town of Kismet poured into St. Francis of Assisi Church on Saturday morning. There had been an early private viewing just for the family, but the funeral Mass was open to all.
The De Luca family, except for Uncle Dom who had stayed back at Caprice’s childhood home with Blitz and Lady, slid into a pew about halfway up the aisle. It wasn’t long until almost the whole place was filled. Chris knew a lot of people who wanted to grieve along with the family. It didn’t take long until no pews were open. Caprice noticed Mack sitting on the other side of the church, and there were two men seated with him. One was Ray Gangloff. Was the other Harrison Barnhart?
Nikki must have been watching for Brett. She motioned to him as he walked in the door and nudged everyone to move over to make room for him. Brett slid into the pew on the other side of Grant.
Grant asked Brett, “Do you want to sit beside Nikki?”
“It’s okay,” Brett said. “I’m here in an official capacity too. It looks like half the town showed up.”
Grant said wryly, “A man who plays Santa Claus has to be well-liked.”
Brett returned, “Maybe. But someone had a grudge.”
It wasn’t long until the processional started, the organist played, and the priest, altar boys, and pall bearers with the casket solemnly strode in. The family trailed behind the casket and followed it up to the front pew. Caprice could see that Sara, Deanne, Maura, and Ryan’s wife, Serena, were all teary-eyed and held tissues in their hands.
A movement of Brett’s as he shifted in the pew caught Caprice’s attention. Focusing on him, she could see he was watching the family carefully. Why was that? She’d have to ask him.
Soon she was caught up in the service and forgot about everything else around her. She teared-up too at the music, the words from scripture, thinking of Chris and his grieving family. After the recessional, when the pews began to empty to follow the priest, altar boys, the casket, and the family out, she stood with everyone else until the casket and the family had left the church. When she reached over and tugged on Brett’s suit sleeve, Grant let her step in front of him so she could talk to Brett.
She said in a low voice, “I saw you watching the family. Why was that?”
He looked chagrinned that she’d observed him. But then he shrugged. “Reactions can tell the truth.”
“The truth about how they feel?” she asked.
His brow arched as he answered her. “Yes, and background checks are even better.”
At that response, she knew he had his eye on someone. Chris’s children? Their spouses? Sara? Any more questions would have to wait until they were back in the social hall after the funeral.
* * *
Standing beside Grant at graveside, Caprice spied Mack with Ray and Harrison again. They were all particularly somber. When the flag was presented to Sara, they stood at attention. Because Chris had been a veteran, a gun salute was fired. Grant took Caprice’s gloved hand in his. The silence was as deafening as the gunfire.
After the graveside service, Sara and her kids decided to greet friends and acquaintances who had known Chris in the social hall at St. Francis. Since the cemetery was located only a few blocks away, it was practical to come back to the church for the gathering to listen to stories about Chris, to give comfort to each other, to have a body of friends who would promise never to forget him.
Caprice’s family headed toward the Merriweathers. But Caprice had her eyes elsewhere.
Grant asked, “Are you coming?”
“In a minute,” she said.
With an understanding nod, Grant joined her mom and dad.
Caprice noticed that Mack had come to the social hall but neither Ray nor Harrison had. She beckoned to Mack to join her at a table.
He did, saying, “Thanks. It’s easy to stick out like a sore thumb at these things.”
“I saw you with Ray Gangloff and was that Harrison Barnhart?”
“Yes, that’s right. They both had to leave.”
“Good reasons to leave, rather than expressing their condolences to the family?”
Mack eyed her carefully. “They might have already done that. We don’t know.”
“No, we don’t, but it would be good to find out, don’t you think?”
“Now, Caprice—”
Yes, that was a warning note in his voice, and she ignored it. “Can you tell me anything about them? You know, personal stuff.”
“Pure human interest?”
“Of course.”
Mack gave her that I-know-what-you’re-doing look again, but this time he answered her. “Harrison isn’t married. I don’t think he’s ever been married. And Ray is at the opposite end of the scale. He’s divorced. In fact, he’s living at home with his parents to help them out when they need it.”
Caprice knew the two men might clam up with the police, but they might also open up to her in the right atmosphere.
She asked Mack, “Did Chris and Harrison and Ray hang out together much? Other than their yearly trip?”
“He mentioned getting together with them now and then for a beer. Sometimes I joined them.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Chris didn’t have a whole lot of extra time, not with the store hours he kept, his charity work, craft fairs, and then this time of year playing Santa.”
“But you said you did meet up.”
“I saw him on poker nights. When we met up with Harrison and Ray, it was usually at Susie Q’s.”
Caprice had heard of Susie Q’s. It was a sports bar downtown. Nikki and Vince had attended singles events there. “Is it mostly singles who go there?”
Mack thought about it. “Mostly guys who want to hang out, young couples, and maybe young girls, above drinking age of course, who want to meet guys their age. That’s the circus, Caprice. Be glad you’re out of it.”
Mack suddenly stared at Chris’s family, then a faraway look came into his eyes. “I’m having a tough time with Chris’s death.”
Caprice put her hand on Mack’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Uncle Mack.” She hadn’t called him that for a while, but it was what she’d known him as when she’d been a child.
“A death like this makes me think: What do I want to do with the rest of my life? What do Martha and I want to do? Maybe we should forget about all the have-to’s, maybe buy an RV, visit our kids across the country and spend some time with them. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a perfectly good idea if it would make you happy. Would it?”
“I don’t know,” he responded, running his hand through his gray hair, now thinning at the part. I feel like I need to catch some bad guys in between. Know what I mean?”
“It’s been your work all these years. Of course, I know what you mean. Let me ask you something. I know you’re not privy to the investigation, at least not all of it, but just from the hubbub at the station, can you tell if they think it’s going to be solved sooner rather than later?”
“From what I’ve heard so far, Caprice, it could be as hard finding the right clue as it would have been to find the right treatment for Chris’s brain tumor.” Now he put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go find your family and give our condolences to Sara.”
Although Caprice and her dad had spoken with Sara and Deanne since Chris’s death, seeing the Merriweather family and speaking with them now still was difficult. Caprice hugged each one. They all seemed similarly affected by Chris’s death. Even the men found it hard to hide their grief and their somber expressions said they missed Chris.
Reed held Maura’s hand while R
yan had his arm around his wife’s waist, as if by being protective of her he was gaining comfort too.
Caprice asked Sara, “How are you holding up?”
Chris’s widow shook her head. “I feel like a robot, just going through the motions. After today maybe I can process it all. Choosing scripture and songs for Mass gave me something to do.” She motioned to the food outlay in the social hall. “Planning this did too. I have a meeting with Jeremiah Pickens this afternoon to go over legal issues. But after that, that house is going to be way too quiet.”
Caprice knew that long before Vince had become an attorney, Chris had engaged Jeremiah Pickens to handle his business affairs as well as his will.
Overhearing, Maura stepped closer. “Mom went to see the condo again that Dad liked. I went with her. I think it will suit her.”
Ryan stepped in now too. “I don’t know about that, Maura. Mom’s memories are in that house. Dad’s presence is there.” He shook his head and addressed Sara. “I can’t believe you’re thinking about moving.”
“We’ve been all over this,” Sara said wearily. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with the business. I’m going to talk with Jeremiah about that today.”
“You’re not going to sell the business too?” Ryan looked horrified.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. The expenses with a house that size, the utilities alone, might be beyond my budget. My objective will be to get expenses down as best I can.”
Maura’s husband, Reed, stepped into the conversation. In his forties, he was older than Maura. His life experience was evident in his comment. “If you sell the house now, you’ll have to be prepared to invest the money that doesn’t go into the condo. Do you have someone to do that for you?”
“I have a list of friends’ recommendations. I have to check them out. I just don’t have the energy for that right now.”
Reed nodded. “That’s what I mean. It might be best if you hold on to the house at least until spring.”
“Reed could be right, Mom,” Maura said. “You really shouldn’t make any major decisions right now.”
Caprice certainly couldn’t fault Sara’s family for that suggestion because it was true.
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