“I don’t know what I’ll find when I go through all of Chris’s papers,” Sara admitted. “I began sorting his desk last night. I found bills he’d paid from Hopkins that insurance didn’t cover.” Tears came to her eyes. “He took care of the bills and the supplemental insurance. Now I have to find our policies and figure out where we stand. I just wish he had confided in me and not gone through the news of his medical condition and the prognosis all alone.”
Ryan’s wife Serena frowned. “You know, Sara, the way Chris died was awful. But bludgeoning might have been a much kinder way to die than a brain tumor.”
Sara looked appalled by that opinion. But Caprice glanced at the family’s faces. It was obvious that Reed and Ryan agreed with Serena’s assessment.
Nana and Caprice’s mom, who had been speaking with Maura, now stepped over to talk with Sara. Caprice spotted Grant talking to Father Gregory. Others milled about waiting to give their condolences too.
Caprice nudged her dad’s arm and he nodded. “Let’s get something to eat. Your mom, Nana, and Grant will be along shortly.”
As Caprice started for the food table, she was thinking about what Brett had said and wondering if he did background checks on everyone in the family. She was so deep in thought that she almost ran into someone.
When she looked up, she saw who it was: Detective Jones.
He didn’t give a nod or even say hello. He just side-stepped her and headed for the other side of the social hall. To talk to some of the guests? To wait until the family was free?
Caprice said to her dad. “That was a snub if I ever felt one.”
“He doesn’t want to acknowledge that you’ve helped the police department more than once.”
“He doesn’t have to acknowledge it, but he doesn’t have to be rude about it either.”
“Detective Jones is who he is. You’re just going to have to accept the fact you can’t make friends with everyone,” her father advised her philosophically.
She didn’t like that idea. She didn’t like it at all.
Glancing over the array of food, Caprice chose a fresh fruit cup, then ambled a little farther down the table, selecting a ham and cheese sandwich. She added a dollop of potato salad to her plate.
Her dad, who was right beside her, picked up the equivalent of two sandwiches cut into little triangles and added generous amounts of potato salad, macaroni salad, and a spoonful of a cauliflower cheddar casserole to his plate. “Blitz and I will have to take an extra-long walk this afternoon,” he said as he grabbed a handful of chips.
“Uncle Dom might take him to the dog park,” Caprice offered.
“I think I’m going to be spending a lot of time there. He’s well-behaved enough that your mom could walk him too.”
“Maybe you could walk him together. It could be the start of a new exercise program.”
“I might suggest that. Your mom always says she doesn’t get enough exercise when school’s in session.”
As she and her father crossed to a table, she saw him glance toward the Merriweather family again. “You know, as much as I hate to admit it, and as much as you probably don’t want to hear it, Sara might be better served to wait to sell the house. Reed was right about not making decisions at least for the first six months. And from what Sara said, she’s going to have to wade through Chris’s finances.”
Once they were at their table and seated, Caprice confided in her dad. “I think Brett’s looking hard at the family.”
At her dad’s surprised look, she added, “In case any of them had any motive to want Chris gone. Do you know if they did? You said the other day you didn’t think the kids were close to their dad. Why did you say that?”
Her father looked pensive. Then he sighed. “Brett’s probably looking into Ryan’s background. He had his share of problems in high school—truancy, a rebellious attitude, and even drugs.”
“I never heard anything about that.”
“Chris and Sara tried to keep it hushed up. They enrolled Ryan in one of those wilderness programs when he was sixteen.”
“You mean where they send the kids out West for some kind of survivalist training?”
Her father’s look was troubled. “Exactly. Chris showed me the brochure. Long hikes in uncharted terrain, overnight stays in tents no matter what the weather, sessions with counselors more than once a day. In a way, they try to break the kids . . . get them to hit bottom so they have to trust someone when they come up for air. I don’t know if I approve. I’m not sure Chris did. But he and Sara didn’t know what else to do.”
“Did it help?” Caprice asked.
“It seemed to. When Ryan came back, he was like a different kid. He seemed to have straightened out.”
Caprice noticed her dad’s emphasis on the word seemed.
“But?” she prompted. “What aren’t you saying?”
“From what Chris told me, Ryan didn’t turn to drugs again. But after he returned to Kismet, he had a chip on his shoulder toward Chris that was never resolved.”
“Did he resent his dad for sending him out there?”
“He did, and he seemed to lay it all on Chris’s shoulders. It was as if he forgave Sara but not his dad. I suppose he thought Chris researched it, found the program, and made the decision to send him there. For the most part, he was right about that.”
“Ryan moved away from Kismet, didn’t he?” Caprice inquired. She seemed to remember the fact that he’d lived in Chicago for a while.
“After he graduated from high school, Ryan went to college and hardly ever came home. He met his wife at Northwestern his senior year. They eloped to Las Vegas without inviting anyone in the family to the wedding. Then they lived in a suburb in Chicago. But they’ve lived in York now for a few years. They moved back here when Serena was pregnant. Ryan had just quit another job and was looking for work.”
“But they don’t have any children.”
“Soon after they moved back here, she had a miscarriage.”
“That must have been hard on all of them.”
“You’d think so. I do know Chris and Sara helped them financially until Ryan found his job as manager of a phone store.”
“Sara’s probably going to need help with the craft store. Do you think Ryan would help her with that?”
“I don’t know. Serena is working at a jewelry store at the Galleria Mall in York. Chris and Sara helped them with the down payment on a small house there.”
“Why not in Kismet?” Caprice asked.
“Even though Ryan moved back here, I think he still wanted to keep some distance between him and his parents. I don’t think he forgave them for whatever his experiences were out West.”
“So, he might hold a grudge.”
“He might.”
“Do you think he’s capable of hurting his dad?”
Her father took a long moment to answer. “I don’t know him well enough to even guess. I’d certainly like to think it’s something he wouldn’t even contemplate.”
“But in the heat of the moment—”
“Even in the heat of the moment, I’d like to think that’s something that would never happen.” Her father picked up a sandwich and took a large bite.
Her father’s troubled expression and her fondness for Sara urged Caprice to consider making a stop at the phone store in the near future.
A short while later, her family seated at the table to enjoy the light meal, Caprice considered everyone who could be a suspect—Ryan, Boyd Arkoff, Bailey Adler, Ray Gangloff, Harrison Barnhart. Grant, who was seated to her right, leaned close to her and bumped his shoulder against hers. “You haven’t touched the food on your plate.”
“I’m really not hungry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just look at how many people are here. Everyone has a story about Chris: how he made their kids laugh, how he was a good friend, how he brought a food basket to their door when they needed it. Yet he told no one, absolutely no one, that he was si
ck. Does that make any sense?”
“We don’t know for sure that he told no one,” Grant said. “He didn’t tell his family, but who knows who he might have confided in? Are you sad because you think he was lonely despite of all the good he did?”
“Maybe. I think as Sara said, Blitz was his best friend. I do want to talk to Harrison Barnhart and Ray Gangloff, but they left right after the graveside service. I have to wonder why. Why wouldn’t they want to be here with Chris’s family?”
“You’re operating on a woman code.”
She leaned away from him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It just means that you’re thinking about what you would do, or your sisters would do, or your mom would do. But many guys don’t think that way. We really don’t know what kind of friendship Chris had with Ray and Harrison. Yes, they were in the service together. But did their friendship go beyond that? I know that’s what you want to ask them, but I’m not sure it’s going to give you any answers.”
Sometimes Grant’s practicality irked her, but other times she realized how reasonable he was. He did have a different perspective than she did on many subjects, and she appreciated that.
He leaned in close to her again clearly not wanting to be overheard. “While you were talking with your dad, I had a conversation with a client of mine who’s on the town council. And don’t ask me who, because he’s my client and I don’t want to divulge that.”
Doggone it, she hadn’t seen who he’d talked to after she noticed him speaking with Father Gregory. She’d been too engrossed in her conversation with her father. Still, it wasn’t who Grant talked to but what the person said. “Did you learn anything?”
“I did. It’s true that Bailey Adler was campaigning hard to have those homes torn down on Restoration Row. And Chris stood in his way. I also learned that he does have an eye for younger women, so I think Deanne was telling the truth when she said he’d tried to date her. His reasons were probably two-fold. She’s a beautiful young woman, but he also wanted her to convince Chris to vote his way. My client said that Adler learned early on that when Chris took a stand on an issue, he didn’t budge from it.”
“If Adler removed Chris from his path, he could make lots of money. If he murdered Chris, that could have been premeditated.”
“Or they could have gotten into an argument. Chris wouldn’t budge. Adler was furious.” Grant was silent for a few seconds and then said, “I can’t believe you’re sucking me into this suspect game again.”
“It’s not a game,” Caprice said seriously.
“Don’t I know it. You had a concussion not so long ago because you tangled with the wrong person. Do you think I want that happening to you again?”
She turned to Grant, reached out, and touched his jaw. “Don’t go all protective on me. I know you don’t want me to get hurt any more than I want you to get hurt.”
“If you’re going to continue this vocation of yours, to step into murder investigations, you really should get some cop training. I don’t just mean self-defense. I mean how to be on the lookout, how to stealthily sneak in somewhere, how to stealthily sneak out.”
“I can talk to Brett about it.”
“He’d have my head for suggesting it. No. If you’d want to do something like that, I think you’d have to do it out of the area, on the QT.”
“Would you do it with me?”
“I knew I never should have suggested it,” he muttered.
“I’m sure you have some kind of program in mind. We could go away for the weekend. It could be fun.”
“At least you’re smiling again,” he said, touching her cheek now. “I really do have a weird fiancée when surveillance training can make her smile.”
“I never said I was normal.”
“I’d kiss you for that comment, but it doesn’t seem appropriate here.”
Sara’s son Ryan suddenly whisked by their table in a hurry to stride out of the room. He looked as if a thunder cloud had overtaken him.
“I wonder what that’s about.”
Ryan’s sister Maura rushed after him trying to catch up.
“Funerals as well as weddings bring out every emotion a family can experience,” Grant said. “Some old storm might have come to light again.”
“Dad told me Ryan was in trouble when he was in high school: drugs. Sara and Chris sent him to one of those wilderness training camps out West. But Dad doesn’t think Ryan ever forgave Chris for sending him away.”
“Another grudge?” Grant asked. “If he had a temper and Chris had a temper, and they both flared at the same time, anything could have happened.”
“I don’t want to believe that.”
“I know you don’t.” Grant moved Caprice’s plate away and pushed her fruit cup in front of her. Then he handed her a spoon. “The fruit’s fresh and you need sustenance. Eat, please.”
“You’re a good fiancé.”
“Just good?” he asked, waggling an eyebrow.
“You’re a great fiancé.” She squeezed his arm in thanks and picked up her spoon.
However, the whole time she was eating her fruit cup, she was thinking of kids and parents, buddies in Vietnam, husbands and wives. Someone had killed Chris Merriweather, and she wanted to help figure out who that someone was.
Chapter Nine
The following evening, Caprice returned home about 6 p.m. from an interview with a new client. Lady met her at the door, and even Sophia and Mirabelle came into the foyer and looked up at her as if saying, Our supper is late!
“Don’t you make me feel guilty,” she told the three of them. “I gave you snacks before I left. Sophia, you even had your dollop of cream.” Sophia was one of those cats who could tolerate dairy. Her dollop of cream kept her fur healthy and her mood mellow.
After Caprice removed her coat and hung it on the antique oak stand in her foyer, she took her purse with her to the counter in the kitchen equipped with buttercup-colored vintage appliances. Opening the back door for Lady, she let her outside. She stood on the porch while Lady did her business and did it quickly. After all, she was hungry for supper.
Caprice cleaned up, washed up, fed her trio of pets, and put a square of lasagna in the microwave to warm for herself. She froze squares of it then thawed them out for quick and easy suppers. Knowing she needed to eat something healthier with it, she fixed herself a salad, sprinkled it with peach vinegar, and settled down to eat, enjoying the company of her pets.
She was just finishing up when her doorbell rang. Checking the portable monitor on the kitchen counter, she saw it was her dad and Blitz.
Quickly she went to the door and opened it. “Hi, Dad. This is unexpected. I just got home a little while ago. Come on in.”
Wondering if something was wrong, she gave her dad a hug and then stooped down to pet Blitz. He rubbed against her Katharine Hepburn–style cranberry slacks and she massaged his shoulders under his furry coat. “I bet you like this colder weather, don’t you?”
He looked up at her with glistening eyes. If those eyes were in a human, Blitz would be considered an old soul. There was knowing there and maybe understanding too.
“Would you like a slice of chocolate loaf?” she asked her dad. “I made a batch for Grant this afternoon. Well, one for him and one to keep here for when he’s here.”
Her dad shook his head and unzipped his parka. “I’m too upset to eat.”
She could see that in her dad’s expression and his rigid stance and the way he was already pacing her foyer. Blitz paced with him.
Lady trotted in to greet Blitz and the two of them ran around Caprice’s downstairs, ending up in the foyer again. Lady had been cooped up pretty much all day, and maybe Blitz needed some fresh air too. She had a feeling her dad didn’t want to be confined either.
She said, “Let me put on my coat. We can take the dogs out back and let them romp while we talk.”
“It’s cold out there,” her father warned.
“My coat’s
warm.” She reached for the calf-length faux fur with its hood. She patted her hip and said to Lady, “Come on, girl. Let’s go out.”
All Lady needed to hear was out. The same must have been true for Blitz because he followed the cocker spaniel to the door.
Sophia and Mirabelle, who had settled on the yellow braided cushions on two of the kitchen chairs, watched the parade go by them with barely a blink of their eyes.
Out on the porch, the dogs quickly went down the steps into the yard, ran to and fro and snuffled around the edges of shrubs.
Caprice motioned to the robin-egg blue fifties-style glider on her porch. She sat and her dad sat beside her. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.
“Sara called me. She was terrifically upset.”
“She has every right to be upset.”
“This is about more than Chris’s murder,” her father responded. “She and the kids went to the lawyer’s office yesterday. Chris’s will was read.”
Caprice didn’t quite understand. Why should Sara be upset about that? Unless—
“Is there something in the will that Sara didn’t know about?”
“Oh, yes. I can hardly believe it myself, and yet in other ways I can.”
Since Caprice had learned listening was a gift, she waited so her dad could tell what he had to say in his own time and in his own words.
“Apparently, Chris had his lawyer set up a trust fund years ago that she didn’t know anything about!”
With her mind racing, Caprice thought about all the possibilities for that trust fund. Then her father added facts she’d never suspected.
“When Chris was in Vietnam, he had an affair.”
As Caprice tried to absorb that bombshell, her dad went on. “The result was a son. After Chris came home, he sent money whenever he could. After he gained success with the craft store, he set up a trust fund for the boy. He’s been sending checks twice a year. On his death,” her father further explained, “his will directed a lump sum payment to be sent to the young man.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Caprice said, feeling for Sara and the rest of the family too. “What a shock.”
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