Slay Bells Ring

by Karen Rose Smith

“Then he must have had a reason for not wanting to meet me, but I wish he would have just told me that.”

  After a glance toward Lady and Blitz, her dad asked, “Did you know Harrison’s brother died in Vietnam?”

  “No, I didn’t! Were they there at the same time?”

  “Yes, they were. Gary was also part of Chris’s platoon.”

  “That had to be devastating.”

  “It was. It’s one of the reasons why everyone cut Harrison some slack. They still do now, even after all these years. I know Chris put up with his moods.” Her dad shook his head. “I still can’t believe Chris is gone.”

  “I’m sure that’s how Harrison feels about his brother.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Did Chris ever talk about his experience over there?”

  “No. I know when women get together, old traumas and hurts might come up. But it’s not like that with guys in the service, especially not those in Nam. I’m sure you did your reading of history in school. Veterans weren’t welcomed back with open arms. There was such a division in this country about whether we should be there or not, whether men should serve or not. There were the draft dodgers who skipped to Canada. Even after the fact, the pardon and giving amnesty to anyone who had left was divisive more than unifying. It was a tough time, and the men came back with scars and didn’t even realize it because nobody talked about PTSD then. Vietnam was a silent bond that never required words. Anyone who had been in the service over there had been in a brotherhood.”

  “So, Chris’s yearly trips to the Vietnam Memorial . . . that was about this brotherhood?”

  “From the way I understand it, from what Mack has let slip, the group would visit the Memorial, go to a bar, then watch sports replays in their hotel room. It certainly wasn’t about sharing their experiences or talking about anything that happened over there.”

  “Yet Sara had the impression that this time was different.

  “Different in what way?”

  “She didn’t know.”

  Blitz kept pace with Lady as they ran back to their starting point. Since Blitz had liked Caprice’s method of massage so much, she crouched down to him again, scratching his back, along his ears, around his neck. Her fingertips brushed his collar. It was thick and wide.

  She mused, “Chris hardly ever leashed Blitz. I wonder why he has this kind of collar on him. Maybe in case Sara had to handle him?”

  Her father was about to answer when instead he waved over Caprice’s head. “It’s Grant and Patches.”

  Caprice stood and turned, the collar forgotten. Her fiancé looked so good in his black leather bomber jacket and black jeans. His sports boots could have been worn on a Harley. Excitement wiggled through her, and she felt like Lady when she came upon a new toy. That wasn’t a great analogy. Grant was anything but a new toy. But he was handsome, broad shouldered, strong, and . . . hers.

  When he unhooked Patches’ leash, the cocker ran toward Blitz and Lady. Then Grant took Caprice into a tight hug and kissed her hello. The rest of the world just fell away, and Caprice liked the feeling.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I don’t even have time for a cup of coffee,” Brett claimed when Caprice called him Friday morning. “We have suspects up the kazoo and details to follow up on.”

  “I can add to those details,” Caprice assured him. “But do you want to do it over the phone?”

  She heard his sigh. “No, I don’t. How about this. I’m not that far from your house. I’m in the vicinity, and I’m in an unmarked vehicle, so why don’t I just pull into your driveway. You can run out. We’ll have a five-minute conversation and we’ll be done.”

  Trying for some levity, she said, “I hope your dates with Nikki have a little more substance than that.”

  Obviously, he didn’t think it was funny. “Caprice—”

  “Fine.”

  “Three minutes, then I’ll be there,” he said.

  Brett was definitely a take-no-prisoners, forget-the-frills kind of guy. That was okay with Caprice. After all, she wasn’t dating him. But she had to admit, Grant had been a little bit that way when they’d first reunited again too. Reunited was kind of a funny word for the separate lives they’d led. He’d established his law practice with Vince back then, and she’d swung from a home-decorating business into a home-staging one. Who would have thought their paths would have intricately crossed again? She was so glad they had.

  From the moment Caprice slid into Brett’s car, he was giving her that cop look . . . his just-the-facts-ma’am face.

  “Have you heard anything about Bailey Adler’s machinations?” she asked him.

  Apparently, he hadn’t because he narrowed his eyes. “Do you have hearsay or facts?”

  “You need to get more sleep.”

  “Seems to me Nikki told me that too. Facts, Caprice.”

  She launched into what Kiki had told her ending with, “She said if she signed on for a year, he would lower the rent. But she was sure after the year, he’d double it.”

  “But she doesn’t know that for sure.”

  “Bailey’s done it before. It’s a pattern. Don’t you look at patterns?”

  “You know we do. But I can’t just go looking at his finances. I’d need that little thing called a warrant, and for that I need probable cause.”

  “That’s your problem. I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “And it’s just giving me more leads to follow up, not anything concrete.”

  “Look, Brett. You and Nikki need to go take a walk together in a woods or go Christmas shopping. You need to chill.”

  He leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. “What good would a walk with Nikki do me? Or Christmas shopping?”

  “You know perfectly well that in a high-stress job you need a means to de-stress. Nikki could be your de-stresser.”

  He opened his eyes and cut her a glance. “I’m sure she’d love that idea.”

  “Do you really know what she’d love?”

  He sat up straight and his shoulders squared. “Let’s get back on track, Caprice.”

  “Okay, back on track. Did you find anything out from the video footage of Chris’s store? He did have a security camera, right?”

  “We had a week’s worth of loop before he was murdered.”

  “And did you see anything?”

  “This is an ongoing investigation—”

  “Get over it, Brett. You gave me information before and I’ve given you information. Give and take. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s about solving a murder, and you’re not supposed to be anywhere near it.”

  “If you don’t share with me, I’ll just keep the information I have to myself. I’ll figure out who did it.”

  “If you do that, I’ll arrest you for obstruction.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  In the mood he was in, she believed he would. He wasn’t getting enough sleep. He was frustrated he couldn’t figure out who the murderer was. And he had more work than he knew what to do with.

  “I understand, Brett, I really do. But you can’t keep going on like this. You’ll be a lonely man with nothing but paperwork on your desk and a killer on the loose.”

  “You do know how to sweet-talk a guy. I hope you do better than that with Grant.”

  “When he needs to take a hard look at what he’s doing, I tell him the truth.”

  Running his hand up and down the back of his neck, Brett admitted, “We’re understaffed. This is another murder in Kismet—in a town that used to be quiet. Once upon a time the police department only had to worry about DUIs and jaywalking. Yes, we’re updating with video equipment for interviews now, but that doesn’t mean the police department is up to snuff on staff or the latest investigative methods. So, when you seem to be able to help us with nothing more than a smile and a couple of questions, it really gets everybody’s goat.”

  “Maybe
you should try a smile and gentler questions.”

  “I’m not even going to respond to that one.” He gave her another probing look and then said, “There wasn’t much on that video. The only thing that was on it was an argument Chris had with his son-in-law.”

  “And you talked to Reed about it?”

  “Sure, I did. But he said he was trying to convince Chris to loan him money and he wouldn’t. We already knew that. Chris’s wife and his daughter were up front about that too. They’ve been open through the investigation.”

  And it seemed that Reed had been open too. Had he been? Could there be more to that story? Caprice had the sudden burning desire to go looking at used cars.

  * * *

  There was no better day than today to visit the car lot. She actually had two places she wanted to go: Kismet Motors and Seal and Send, the packaging center where Ray Gangloff worked. After all, she did have a package to mail to her Aunt Marie. Her aunt appreciated a particular treat Caprice made—cranberry and white chocolate cookies. She’d send them overnight so her aunt would know she was thinking about her.

  She wished Aunt Marie would come home for a visit, but her aunt’s life in New Mexico was very different from life in Kismet. Marie was an artist who made everything from jewelry to sculptures. She preferred a solitary existence with a few friends. When she came home, she said she always felt as if she had family overload. She was her father’s younger sister, and Caprice had often thought about traveling to New Mexico to visit her and the sights. Maybe that was something she and Grant could do together.

  She knew she had an ace in the hole as far as visiting Reed’s car lot. What car salesman wouldn’t want to take a look at her restored yellow Camaro? He was a man and he was interested in cars. Bingo. As for why she was there? Well, just maybe she needed a new work van. She didn’t, of course, but he didn’t know that, and there was no harm in looking.

  The car lot was situated on the north side of town off Walnut Street. Before she left the house, she spent time brushing her two felines—separate brushes, of course. They wanted no part of smelling like each other. Mirabelle liked a gentler stroke than Sophia did, and Caprice let her stretch on the sofa to do the grooming.

  When she said, “We’re done,” Mirabelle blinked at her, rose to a sitting position, and then proceeded to wash herself. Sophia gave Caprice a look that said, I’m not being groomed the same place she was groomed, so Caprice went to the oversized dark fuchsia chair and patted the seat. Sophia gave her a small meow as if that was acceptable and leaped to the chair.

  Caprice held the brush up. “Back or tummy?”

  At that, Sophia lay on her side as if to say, Some of each, please.

  During all this, Lady lay by the coffee table watching.

  Caprice told her, “I can’t take you with me, but I don’t expect to be gone long. When I get home, we’ll go for a walk. Then we have to settle down to work.”

  * * *

  As Caprice drove to Kismet Motors on the north side of town ten minutes later, in her mind she’d ticked through everything she had to do the rest of the day. She had two house plans to stage and another living room–dining room combination to redecorate. At seven, she’d be video conferencing with a new client. And at some point, she had to get serious about Christmas shopping. She liked to frequent the local merchants rather than big box stores or online shopping sites. She was working on the perfect gift for Grant.

  Kismet Motors had two entrances. She pulled in one of them and parked in a space near the office. She knew her Camaro would probably attract attention. As soon as she climbed out of her car, there was a salesperson dressed in a red parka approaching her, not looking as if he wanted to be out in the weather.

  She just smiled at him sweetly and asked, “Is Reed Fitzgee here?”

  The salesman frowned. He looked to be in his fifties, with gray hair and a ball cap. “He’s inside, just wrapping up a deal. Is there anything I can show you?”

  “No, I’ve spoken with Reed before, and it’s really best I deal with him.” Through the murder investigation she’d helped with, she’d learned just how far half-truths would go.

  Instead of being sour about it, the man opened the door to the showroom for her and she walked in with a thank you. Then she said, “Do you have a business card? I’d be glad to give it out to my friends who are looking.”

  Quickly he unzipped his parka, pulled out a card from an inside pocket, and grinned at her. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  Caprice guessed this was either a second career for him or a part-time job to make money on the side. She would pass out his card if she had the opportunity.

  Against one wall, opposite the plate-glass windows, were situated three cubicles and a closed-in office. Reed Fitzgee was shaking hands with a young male in his mid-twenties. They both looked as if they’d made a fine deal. Caprice heard Reed say, “The car will be ready for you by four o’clock this afternoon with detailing and an extra shine.”

  The young man pumped Reed’s hand again, then with a wave passed by Caprice and left the building.

  When Reed glimpsed her standing there, he came forward with a puzzled expression. “Miss De Luca, isn’t it?”

  “Caprice,” she said with a friendly smile.

  “Did Sara send you?”

  Now why would he think that? But then again, Sara was their only connection. “No, she didn’t, but she did recommend your car lot.”

  He gazed out the plate-glass window where clients usually parked. “Is that your yellow Camaro?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He whistled low. “I could have a buyer for that in a minute.”

  “Not going to happen,” she told him honestly. “My dad and my brother have put a lot of hours into that car, not to mention other mechanics and repairmen, and even an expert on Camaros. No, I’m looking for something more mundane. I have a van I use for work. I have my logo painted on the side and all of that. I need it for carrying cargo from my storage compartment. But it’s ten years old, and I’d rather update before I have to, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I do. You don’t want to be caught unawares.”

  No, she didn’t. Not in any circumstances. “Do you think you have anything that would be suitable for me?”

  “Let me get my coat and we can go take a look. There are a few possibilities. You caught me here on a good day. After tomorrow I’m out of town for a couple of days—car auctions.”

  After he donned a leather jacket, he motioned for her to go ahead of him and they walked to the door. He opened it for her and they stepped outside. As they started walking around the corner of the building, he said, “Trucks and vans are back here.”

  She followed him then caught up and kept pace. “I know Sara’s excited about Maura’s pregnancy,” she said conversationally. After all, she didn’t want him to think this was an interrogation, even though it was.

  Reed ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair that he had styled straight back from his forehead. The wind tried to pick it up but couldn’t because it was gelled. His fingers cut little channels in it but didn’t really move it. In spite of the stylized hair, he really was a handsome guy.

  When his blue eyes met hers, he said, “We’re excited about having a baby, but as Sara probably told you—she seems to tell all her friends—things are tight for us right now.”

  She didn’t want to deny or confirm what Sara might have said. “I do know what you mean. Costs are rising every day. I can only imagine how challenging raising a child might be. Financially, I mean.”

  He nodded. “It’s not just a matter of wanting to provide for a child as it grows.”

  “I understand there’s tuition for pre-school now,” she acknowledged.

  “There’s that,” he agreed. “Montessori is still one of the best schools for challenging gifted children. We can only hope our child will be gifted.”

  “That’s a big expectation to put on a baby.” She kept her tone ligh
t.

  “Possibly. But even if a baby is average in learning capability, there are ways to increase that learning potential. I’ve been reading up on it. The Montessori style, the philosophy of a child learning at his or her own pace, is probably the best. Add in the student-to-teacher ratio and chances for success are huge.”

  He studied Caprice for a moment as they stopped in a line of trucks and vans. “Did you ever hate going to school?”

  “Is this true confessions?” she joked.

  “No, but what I’m getting at is that there are children who procrastinate, who get sick, who hate going to school. I had a teacher in third grade who made my life miserable. Did you have any of those?”

  Caprice shrugged. “I did have one particularly taxing teacher in second grade who expected me to sit still and not ask questions. My mother had several parent-teacher conferences with her until she became a bit more tolerant. But, yes, I hated school for those few months. I felt humiliated and wanted to withdraw.”

  “Exactly. And that kind of experience leaves its mark. I never want that to happen to a child of mine.”

  “So, you want to provide the best you can.”

  “I want to provide the best the family can. Don’t you think family should stick together?”

  Wasn’t that a loaded subject? Did he mean the whole family should share the financial burden of each family member? That was almost a commune concept.

  “So, for instance, you believe Maura’s brother should help fund your child’s education?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Reed said. “But my parents are no longer living. There isn’t family we can count on on my side. But Chris and Sara Merriweather were successful. I didn’t think it was too much to ask that they help out a bit. But Chris was adamant that Maura and I should do it on our own, whether it was school for the baby or college fund or a better place to live.”

  “You know, don’t you, that if you love this child, that’s what’s most important of all?”

  “That’s a given,” Reed said. “But sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  She wondered if Reed had had a deprived background, if his family had been poor, and that experience had shaped the ideas he had now. But she really didn’t want to make this an interrogation, and he’d pretty much just admitted to what he’d told the police.