Slay Bells Ring

by Karen Rose Smith

  “You probably know that Sara asked me to find out what I could about what happened to Chris.”

  “I don’t know what she thinks a nonprofessional can do. You could get yourself into trouble.”

  “You mean with the killer?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t even thinking of that. I was thinking more that the police would resent it and maybe try to shut you down.”

  “That’s always a possibility. I just wondered if there’s anyone you know of who might have had a grudge against Chris.” Again her tone turned lighter. “After all, Santa Claus couldn’t have many enemies, could he?”

  “Even Santa might have stepped on a few toes,” Reed admitted.

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “You know the police didn’t ask me that question.”

  “They didn’t?”

  “No, they just wanted personal information. They wanted to know if Maura and I fought, if she intervened when Chris and I didn’t agree. Things like that.”

  “I see,” Caprice said, knowing detectives explored relationships to get to the bottom of motives. “Sometimes the detectives do have a particular track they’re pursuing. But who do you think had a beef with Chris?”

  “His neighbor did, for one—that Arkoff fellow. Chris made it plain he thought the guy’s music was atrocious, and he didn’t want to hear it through his windows. He even had the police chief call him.”

  “I heard about that,” Caprice said. “I was even there when Arkoff came over and threatened Chris.”

  Reed nodded. “Sara told us about that, and I know she told the police about him.”

  “There was someone else?”

  Reed nodded toward a silver van that looked almost new. As he took a key fob from his pocket and flicked the remote, the side doors opened. “What do you think?” he asked.

  She imagined he was still sizing her up, deciding if he could trust her. She looked inside where the backseats folded down providing a large cargo space, then up front to the two leather bucket seats. “Nice,” she said. “It looks comfortable for the driver yet has lots of cargo space too. I often take my dog from place to place and keep her crate inside the van.”

  Caprice actually stepped inside and had a look around. She ran her hand over the front seat and the console between the seats.

  As she emerged outside again, Reed asked, “Do you want to take it for a spin?”

  After all, who knew when her present van would conk out on her? “I’d like that.”

  “Why don’t you sit inside the van while I get a license plate. And I’ll need your driver’s license to make a copy. Procedure.”

  She opened her purse, took out her wallet, and slipped out her driver’s license. Then she handed it to him.

  After he took it, he hesitated a moment then revealed, “I stopped at the craft shop one night to talk to Chris. Sara wasn’t there, and the clerk pointed me to Chris’s office. So, I went to the back of the store. The door was almost closed, but I could hear arguing inside. When I peeked in, I could see that real estate developer—Bailey Adler. He was shaking his finger at Chris and Chris’s face was red. I decided that wasn’t the best time to talk to Chris, so I left. But both of them looked angry enough to come to blows. I thought about telling the police about it, but I didn’t hear anything specific so what could I say? That Chris and Adler were arguing? It’s the police’s job to investigate, and I’m sure Adler’s name came up with the way Chris was blocking his attempt to buy those buildings downtown. They’ll find out that Adler was an enemy. They didn’t need to hear it from me.”

  Reed was an intelligent guy, and in this case, his feelings were like so many other people’s. Don’t get involved if you don’t have to. Don’t turn the spotlight on yourself. Furthermore, his final conclusion was probably right. Many people were mentioning Bailey Adler’s name now in reference to squabbles with Chris, so the police would be looking at him. But charging him with murder was something else entirely.

  Caprice thought about everything Reed had said while he went to fetch the license plate and copy her license. Nothing new there but a father’s concern for his baby, and his own ideas on how he thought a family should help. Ideas made the world go ’round. The best ideas advanced it for that generation and generations to come. She could see some of Reed’s points about schooling and about family. But she could also see it might be hard to convince a whole family to pool together to raise a child.

  * * *

  An hour later when Caprice pulled up at Seal and Send, it was hopping with activity. The parking area around the store was full. Since she’d seen Ray Gangloff in Chris’s workshop the day of the open house, she knew what he looked like. Speaking with him could be a good idea and it could be a bad idea. It was hard to know until she tried it. She just felt approaching him here was better than trying to approach him privately. After all, look what had happened with Harrison.

  Going inside, she spotted Ray easily. He was a tall, lean man and stood out with his shaved head. Since Seal and Send was a private mailing service that mailed FedEx and UPS as well as U.S. Post Office packages, it had several clerks on duty. They added and subtracted personnel as the season called for. This was their busiest season, and there were four lines, four registers, four sets of scales. Caprice supposed Ray had quit being a postal carrier—which had been his occupation after Vietnam—because he was older, the routes longer, and the winter weather tough on aches and pains. Working at Seal and Send definitely made more sense for a man of his age.

  Besides her Aunt Marie, Caprice was sending packages to Grant’s parents too, with cookies and fruit bread she’d baked. If she could, she’d send his dad cannoli because he’d liked them so much when they’d visited. But that was impossible. She could take her Nana’s shells along and make the filling if she and Grant visited his parents in Vermont. She would really like to do that.

  Ray didn’t pay her any notice until it was finally her turn and she was standing before him, her packages on the counter.

  He nodded. “Miss De Luca,” he said.

  “Hi, Mr. Gangloff.”

  He picked up the first package, weighed it, sized it, and asked her how she wanted to mail it. She chose a private carrier, hoping that would be quicker than even Priority Mail. As he was readying that package, she asked, “I’d like to talk to you about Chris Merriweather. Do you think we could do that privately? Maybe on your break?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then he shook his head. “I have no idea when I’ll get a break. We alternate, and it depends on the flow in and out of here. So that doesn’t work for me.”

  She didn’t get perturbed but just asked, “What would work for you?”

  “Not much, Miss De Luca. I don’t see any reason to discuss what happened to Chris.”

  “Would you mind if I came to your home?” She could be pushy when she had to be.

  “Look,” he said a bit impatiently as he slapped the sticker onto the package, “I live with my elderly parents. Honestly, I don’t want them involved in any of it. I don’t want to be involved in any of it.”

  Caprice wondered if he had something to hide. He certainly was acting like it. “Chris was your friend, wasn’t he?”

  “I thought he was.”

  Just what did that mean?

  He took her second package, the one that was going to Grant’s parents, and sized it up. While he was doing that, she slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a business card. As soon as he finished with the second package, he asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with today? Stamps?”

  She said, “No. Not now.” Then she held out her business card to him. “I’m trying to figure out who wanted to hurt Chris. If you think of anything that might help me, please give me a call.”

  He studied the card and then he studied her again. With a sigh, he slipped the card into a shirt pocket. “Have a good day,” he said.

  She knew she shouldn’t hold her breath waiting for his call.
/>   Chapter Fourteen

  The Mountaintop Style open house on Saturday afternoon proceeded swimmingly. Unlike most of Caprice’s clients, Charles Kopcek had decided he’d like to stick around for the open house just to see the dynamics of it. And that was okay with her. Who knew? An offer could come in in the midst of the open house.

  Nikki had done her magic with the food. Because of the cold temperatures and the season, she’d created several casseroles that could warm up anyone on a winter day. The chicken with onion and peppers was a hit as was the cabbage bake and beef with fennel and potatoes. Desserts ranged from red velvet cake with a fluffy white icing to individual lava cakes oozing with chocolate.

  Charles was enjoying one of those lava cakes when Caprice passed the small office in the back of the house. He waved at her and then at the cake. “Your sister knows how to bake.”

  She laughed at the smudge of chocolate on his lip. “Yes, she does. She also knows what clients like. No, the food doesn’t sell the house. It would be silly to think that. But it’s a secondary type of promotion. The good smells invite people in. As they sit and chat, they can imagine themselves living in the place. Denise told me there’s some interest already.”

  Charles nodded as if he was pleased by that news.

  “I mentioned to a detective friend that you were selling your business,” she said.

  “Oh, I’ve had a few calls about it.” Charles had a faraway look for a few seconds, and Caprice wondered what was on his mind. She didn’t have to wait long for him to tell her. “Security is important to everyone. I installed the system in Merriweather Crafts.”

  “I imagine Chris’s murder has you wondering if any security system totally protects.”

  “Exactly. Chris’s home system is state-of-the-art too,” he said.

  “So, you’re thinking the town of Kismet needs surveillance cameras?” she asked.

  “They could help in public areas. If that cabin had had some kind of system, we might know who Chris met that night.”

  “Maybe a benefactor could see to that,” she suggested.

  “Maybe,” Charles said with a nod as if considering that himself. He paused for a while but Caprice sensed something else was on his mind. Finally, he said, “Since Chris Merriweather died, I’ve wondered about a couple of conversations we had.”

  “About?” she prompted, eager to know.

  “He wanted to know if I had expertise in cyber-investigation.”

  “You don’t just mean Internet security, like firewalls?”

  “No, I think he meant searching out background material, or maybe even hacking into somebody’s website. I suppose that would include firewalls. The whole conversation just seemed kind of odd. And when I asked Chris why he needed such a person, he wouldn’t say.”

  “So essentially he was looking for an Internet PI?”

  “It sounded like that. I work at protecting people and protecting their websites. Keeping others out. That’s not what Chris wanted. He wanted someone to get in to somewhere.”

  Suddenly Denise Langford was at the door of Charles’s office. She looked from him to Caprice. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I might have good news.”

  “Someone wants to buy the house?” Charles asked with surprise in his voice.

  “It’s quite possible we can have a contract by the end of the day. The couple would like to know if you’d talk to them about the history of the house. Could you do that? I know it’s a bit irregular, but they seem really interested.”

  Charles set the now-empty dish from the lava cake aside. “Of course, I’ll speak with them. Just send them in here.”

  Denise gave Caprice a wink, and Caprice knew what that meant. Denise might have a sale and a nice commission, and Caprice would have another house to add to her résumé.

  But as Denise went to find the prospective buyers, all Caprice could think about was what Chris Merriweather might have been involved in.

  * * *

  Instead of a house staging on Sunday, Caprice and her family and friends were helping Roz and Vince move into their new home. Her family all went to early Mass, and Grant joined them. He brought along a change of clothes, more practical for what they were going to do the rest of the day. None of them had any illusions about the hard work moving would be, but Caprice was hoping they could all have fun.

  Everyone had been divided into two brigades and e-mailed where they should start the following morning at 9 a.m. Half of them, with their vehicles, would rendezvous at Roz’s town house and the other half at Vince’s condo downtown. The condo presented more of a problem for loading up vehicles, so Vince decided he would drive a U-Haul. Roz, on the other hand, hired a crew to pack up her town house. Her furniture had been moved to the new house the day before. Today, friends and family would be toting boxes and carrying her clothes. Roz had a lot of clothes. This was just another one of those instances where Roz and Vince thought and acted differently. Yet they seemingly agreed to accept those differences to make living together work.

  Caprice hoped that was true. Roz had not been born to wealth. In fact, she’d been raised by a single mom who was diagnosed with cancer while Roz was in high school. Roz took care of her mom, postponing her own plans for further education, and then had become a flight attendant. Her more luxurious life style began when she’d married Ted Winslow. But that marriage had turned into a disaster. At times, Caprice knew her friend still fought the shadows of Ted’s murder.

  Grant changed clothes in Caprice’s spare bedroom, then he jogged down the stairs, where Lady and Mirabelle went to meet him. He was wearing blue jeans, a black Henley shirt, and sneakers. To Caprice he looked yummy enough to hug and kiss, but that would have to wait.

  “Lady’s looking at me as if she wants to know where Patches is.” He explained to the pup, “He’s with Simon. He’s going to be there all day.” Grant’s retired neighbor often pup-sat for him.

  “Since we’re all helping Roz and Vince, I’ll have to stop back in here several times just to make sure the animals are okay,” Caprice said.

  “What’s your dad going to do with Blitz?”

  “No one is going to let Nana carry boxes. So, Blitz is staying with her this morning. Dad thinks we should get done the toting and heavy lifting by noon or so. Then he’ll go pick up Nana and Blitz. She said she’d be cooking so we all have lunch.”

  “It’s going to be a big crowd.”

  “Nikki’s cooking too. But in the meantime, we need breakfast. How about a couple slices of cheese bread and a cup of coffee? I’ll take Lady out for a last run in the backyard.”

  Grant followed her to the kitchen. “You could probably pick up Lady and bring her over to Vince’s too.”

  “I thought about it, but there are going to be a lot of people, unpacking, boxes, and confusion. I think she just might be happier here with Mirabelle and Sophia for the day. She’ll be okay if I stop in.”

  “You’re going to make a good mom.”

  Grant’s words seem to freeze them both in place. She’d wanted to bring up this discussion, but she hadn’t thought about doing it now.

  She said softly, “We haven’t talked about children.”

  “And I know that’s not a topic for a quick conversation,” he concluded. “But I just want you to know I’m open to the possibility. I’ve seen you with Benny and Megan and Timmy. You’re a natural.” He stopped for a moment then went on. “And I . . . I loved being a dad. So, if I ever have the opportunity again, I won’t look away from my child for an instant.”

  Caprice knew rationally or irrationally Grant blamed himself for losing his daughter. At first, he and Naomi had blamed each other. As they’d talked through it last summer, as he had come to grips with what had happened and started a new life, he’d decided that blame wouldn’t get him anywhere. Still, if he had the opportunity again, Caprice knew he’d put his child and family first. She knew, if anything, he’d be an overprotective dad.

  Crossing to him, she gave
him a hug. Then she leaned back and said, “I want children . . . with you.”

  “We haven’t talked much about the wedding,” he said in a husky voice.

  “I know. It’s hard to plan with our timeline uncertain. When the annulment does come through, we might be rushing and I don’t want to rush. I want to enjoy every minute. The biggest thing we’ll have to worry about is scheduling the wedding at St. Francis Church. If we don’t have our hearts set on a Saturday, that might not be a problem. A candlelight wedding would be nice too.”

  “So, you don’t have any preconceptions about what you want?” he asked, giving her a probing look.

  She answered right away. “I want a vintage-style wedding gown. Most of all, I just want you, my family, and my friends there. That’s all that matters. If we’re open to alternatives for the reception venue, we shouldn’t have a problem, right?”

  “Right,” Grant agreed then took her in his arms and gave her a long kiss.

  Afterward, she backed away with a little laugh. “If I don’t take Lady out, we’re never going to get going. Help yourself to the cheese bread. It’s on the counter. Coffee’s in the pot. I’ll be back in five.”

  As she grabbed her coat, which she’d laid over the kitchen chair, and took Lady out onto the porch, she thought about her house and what Grant had said last week. Would they be looking at houses soon?

  She glanced around her yard with the shrubs and trees and plants that would fill her property with color come spring and summer. She’d planned her flower gardens with care. She enjoyed her vegetable garden. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have both wherever they moved.

  She turned around and studied her house. She really did love this house. She sighed. Maybe she could find time to talk to Roz about it today. She would understand even better than Nikki or Bella would.

  * * *

  Moving Roz and Vince began in an organized fashion. Grant and her Uncle Dom had been assigned to Vince’s brigade. Joe and Caprice’s dad were supposed to meet at Roz’s. Bella and Nikki would be helping Vince, while Caprice and Dulcina would be aiding Roz, along with Caprice’s mom. The division of labor wasn’t set in stone, but hopefully it would all work out for the best.