“Sure, let’s do that,” she said.
He was wearing a white Oxford shirt and gray dress slacks and he looked professional. As he motioned her to a wood chair at his desk, he went behind it. “How large a room were you thinking about?”
“That’s why I’m here—to collect information. Do you have any pamphlets, how small the rooms start and how large they get?”
“Of course, I do.” He swiveled his chair around to a file cabinet, opened a drawer, and took out a glossy packet. He handed it to her. “This will give you preliminary ideas, but I can do that, too, if you want to discuss what you need.”
“I have a porch on the back of my house now. The question would be whether I want to enclose that or whether I would add the room onto the garage side. I’m really just in the thinking stages.”
“I see. Can I ask where you heard about my company?”
There it was, the perfect opening. “I first heard about it from Wendy Newcomb.”
His eyes widened and then narrowed. “You did? That surprises me. She wouldn’t give me a recommendation if her life depended on it.”
She could hear the bitterness in his voice, and she decided to probe into it. “I knew Wendy. I was going to decorate the Wyatt estate for her and update the original Sunrise Tomorrow shelter.”
“Because you knew Wendy you decided to come here and ask me about an Add-a-Room?” He sounded suspicious.
Caprice didn’t lie. It wasn’t in her nature. But she could bend the truth just a little. “I’m gathering information to help the police investigation into Wendy’s murder.”
Grossman sat back as if he wanted to remove himself from her. “You’re an investigator for the police?”
“No, not exactly. But I have worked with them solving a couple of other murders.” That was true enough, she supposed.
“I don’t know what you want from me. Wendy and I were through. No contact. Those were the terms of our divorce.”
“I know the reasons you divorced,” she admitted.
“You do?” he asked, as if daring her to tell him what they were.
She couldn’t turn down a dare. “You abused Wendy. She kept a record of it and she used that to blackmail you into the terms of the divorce.”
His mouth tightened into a line that made him go silent. He stood. “I think you should leave.”
Caprice didn’t move. “If I leave, that means you don’t want to cooperate.”
“I don’t have to cooperate with you. I don’t have to cooperate with anyone.” Grossman might be tall and thin and lean, but by the way his hands gripped into fists, the way his muscles bunched under his shirt, she could see he’d have the strength to whack Wendy with a shade and knock her over that balustrade.
“Tell me something, Mr. Grossman. Is it true Wendy had a journal where she wrote everything down?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. Then he muttered, “Yes, she had a journal. I didn’t know about it until it was too late. I would have found it and destroyed it.”
Whoa. He was angry enough to be honest with her.
“What color was it?” Caprice asked.
“It was blue . . . leather . . . not very big. I saw it once or twice and thought it was just some kind of reminder notebook she kept in her purse. Little did I know that it was a detailed account of her life.”
Seeing that Caprice hadn’t budged, the bluster seemed to go out of him, as did some of the ruddiness in his face. He sat on the corner of his desk. “Look. I’m not that man anymore, not the man I was when I was married to Wendy. I got counseling. Yeah, I had anger issues, but now I know what to do with them. I’m involved with someone and we have a good relationship. My past with Wendy is just that, the past.”
He was saying all the right things, but that didn’t mean he was innocent. “So you have had no recent contact with Wendy, say within the last month?”
“No contact.” He held up his hands in front of him like a barrier as if that was proof.
“I heard the two of you were spotted meeting.”
“We just ran into each other at the deli. We said hello. I told you I’ve changed and Wendy knew that. We were civil.”
Had they been civil?
“Have you ever been to the Wyatt estate?” Caprice asked.
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve seen photos of it. I don’t imagine they’d need an Add-a-Room.”
If that was his attempt at humor, it fell flat.
He glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting in ten minutes. We need to wrap this up. Is there anything else?”
“There’s nothing else . . . for now,” Caprice told him. “Thank you for your time. And I will think about that Add-a-Room.” She lifted the packet on her lap, stood, and left his office.
Adrenaline was running full and strong through her, and she felt a little shaky as she went outside. She didn’t like being in the same room as Rick Grossman. She didn’t like the vibrations that had emanated from him as he’d gotten angry. Wendy had lived with more than those vibrations. Had he really changed? Was that even possible?
As Caprice drove to Brown’s, she gave it more thought, but she didn’t come up with a conclusion.
Caprice had pushed her cart loaded with apples and other produce, two bottles of wine, and cheese bread into Brown’s parking lot when her cell phone buzzed. She had an inkling who it was going to be even before she checked the screen. She pushed her cart along the side of her car and answered Grant’s call.
“I got your message,” he said judiciously.
“Good. I just wanted you to know where I was . . . in case.”
“I’m glad you did, though I can’t say that makes me feel a whole lot better that you interviewed Grossman to begin with.”
“His receptionist was there and the store was open for business. It was safe, Grant, honestly.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m outside of Brown’s. I bought great produce. How about an apple pie and cheese bread for supper? Are you busy?”
“Not too busy for apple pie and cheese bread,” he returned with a smile in his voice.
“Come over around six?” she asked.
“That sounds good. I had another reason to call you other than checking up on you.”
“Oh, you did. What was that?”
His voice turned serious. “Wendy Newcomb’s body was released, and her funeral’s being held in Delaware on Thursday. From what I understand, Sebastian and his boys will be traveling there for it. On Saturday, Sebastian’s planning a memorial service and a get-together at his house afterward. Wendy touched so many lives here that he wants to affirm that and give the people she helped a chance to share memories.”
“How did you find out about all this?”
“Sources.”
“The D.A.’s office?”
“Giselle has her ear to the ground.”
Giselle was Vince and Grant’s secretary at the office downtown. “Does she know Sebastian?”
“She’s friends with one of Sebastian’s neighbors. I just thought you’d like to know. I can get more details from her closer to the time.”
“Lizbeth will probably have those details too. Of course, I want to go to the service and stop at Sebastian’s afterward.”
“I knew you would. Where are you headed now?”
“Back home.” Her phone beeped that another call was coming in. She checked it. “Grant, Dulcina’s trying to get hold of me.”
“I’ll let you go,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”
Caprice was smiling when she pressed the icon for Dulcina’s call to come through. “Hi, Dulcina. What’s up? Is Lady wreaking havoc with the kittens?” Dulcina had offered to pup-sit while Caprice ran errands.
“No, and I’m glad she’s here,” her friend responded, sounding as if she might be near tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your uncle picked up Mason and Tia.”
“Aww, Dulcina. You m
iss them?”
“The house seems empty without them.”
“It’s a hard choice to make, to foster animals and then let them go to forever homes.”
“He said I could visit them.”
“That’s something, isn’t it? Will you want to?”
“Yeah, I think I will. I’m attached. Besides . . . your uncle stayed for a cup of coffee and we chatted a while.”
Hmmmm, Caprice thought. That’s interesting.
“His life’s been very different from mine.”
Dulcina had been in the perfect marriage. Her uncle had been in a nightmare marriage. Dulcina worked at home. Her uncle had been out in the financial world meeting with all types of clients, including venture capitalists.
“I imagine if your lives are very different, you have a lot to talk about.”
“That’s true, we do. Who would have thought?”
Exactly. Who would have thought?
“He’s a very practical man,” Dulcina went on. “He said I should give the kittens a few days before I visit so they can settle in. That makes sense, don’t you think?”
“Yes, that makes sense. You want to give them time to bond to him, and to get used to being without Halo and Paddington. They’ll form their own little family.”
“Just as we will,” Dulcina said.
“I’m just leaving Brown’s in Loganville. I’m still in the parking lot. They have the most luscious baked goods. Are you interested in anything? I’ll bring it along and we can have it with coffee.”
Dulcina thought about it.
“Or,” Caprice said, “I have my cooler in the car. I can pick up a container of their chicken pot pie or their bean soup and we can have it for lunch.” Her friend sounded as if she needed a shoulder to lean on, and Caprice could do that for her.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Get them both. I’ll pay you. We’ll have bean soup and chicken pot pie.”
Caprice laughed. “No, you won’t pay me. You pup-sit for me all the time.” She hesitated a moment and then said, “I know you’re going to miss Tia and Mason, but think about how much happiness they’ll be giving my uncle. And if you do talk now and then, you can share all their antics.”
“You’re right. I suppose time will help. If it doesn’t work out for them, I can always take them back.”
“Uncle Dom will be a good cat dad. I’ll check on him myself in a day or two and see how they’re faring.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
Caprice ended the call, then loaded the groceries she’d already bought into her car. She was heading back into Brown’s for the luncheon entrées when she considered her schedule for the week. She could afford to take time for a comfort chat with Dulcina, bake this afternoon for her date with Grant, and then spend the evening with him. Soon she’d be out of town for a good part of the week, working on the house competition. Somehow she’d fit it all in. The situation with Wendy’s murder had made her truly realize how important it was to tend to family and friends.
Maybe she could fit in a phone call to her nana this afternoon too.
* * *
Sebastian Thompson held Wendy Newcomb’s memorial service at the Dunbach Funeral Home in Kismet. Funeral homes still had that cold atmosphere, but Wilbur Dunbach had modernized this facility, not only with better interior design but with technology. Sebastian had decided to have a morning service with a reception at his house afterward. The word had spread through Sunrise Tomorrow, from Lizbeth and Rena, to the counselors and victims’ advocates, through the workshops, and into the community. Caprice suspected not all would go back to Sebastian’s house afterward. If they did, he’d need crowd control. She’d never really seen a line like this flowing into the funeral home before for a wake. This morning, there was a line, mostly women but a few men, too—relatives of women who had needed Sunrise Tomorrow’s facilities, workshops, and groups most probably.
Like most funeral homes, Dunbach’s had more than one room for its services. Caprice had never realized that a portable wall divided the reception room into two. After she finally reached the threshold and signed the guest book, she was led to one huge room with at least fifteen rows of chairs in four aisles that could seat at least a hundred and fifty. There was no casket, of course, or an urn. But there was a flat-screen TV on which flowed video of Wendy in a continuous loop. She was playing baseball with Kevin and Cody and romping with the dog. She and Sebastian stood at the door of the house waving at someone. There was video of her walking into Sunrise Tomorrow, briefcase in hand, as well as footage of her sitting on the sand at a beach with Sebastian and the boys in the background playing Frisbee.
So huge and lifelike, the images of Wendy brought tears to Caprice’s eyes. That was Wendy, playing and working . . . and living.
Besides that showcase in the front, there were easels placed at intervals with collages of photos. Here Caprice saw a glimpse into Wendy’s childhood, the beautiful property where she was raised, the luxurious house. College photos decorated one easel, and Caprice got a glimpse of Wendy’s friends. The only time period that was missing would have depicted Wendy’s marriage to Rick Grossman.
Would he come to the service to pay his respects?
Instead of taking a seat, Caprice kept wandering around the room until she finally spotted Sebastian and the boys seated in the front row. She went to them without hesitation.
After hugging them all, she asked, “Who edited the video?”
Cody raised his hand a bit shyly.
“He did a wonderful job, didn’t he?” Sebastian asked. “Wendy recognized his skills and it’s only fitting he could contribute this way.”
Kevin said in a husky voice, “I picked out all the photos and put them on the boards. Granddad helped me.” The teenager nodded to a man in a black pin-striped suit who was talking to another gentleman in the side aisle.
“You did a fine job,” Caprice told Kevin. “Wendy would be proud.”
“I asked Father Gregory to speak about Wendy, and he said he would,” Sebastian explained. “He should be here any minute. We spent a couple of hours together yesterday, so he’d really know her before he talked about her. I thought about asking people to share stories, but I didn’t know if I wanted to get into that here. It could get pretty serious. So I figured at the house afterward if people want to share, they can.”
“It’s probably a good idea.”
“You are coming, aren’t you?”
“I’ll be there,” Caprice assured him.
Taking a quick glance at the chairs filling up, she suddenly saw someone she knew, someone she should talk to.
Kevin asked, “Do you want to sit next to me?”
She could tell he was missing Wendy, and maybe a little scared of everything going on around him.
“Sure, I’ll sit next to you. Do you want to save me a seat? There’s somebody I need to talk to before I settle in.”
Kevin nodded and put his hand on her chair.
Brett Carstead had appeared in the back and Caprice decided she’d better talk to him while she could. When he saw her approaching him, he nodded.
They moved out of the crowd into a quiet corner, and he said, “I’m supposed to be unobtrusive.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible at a time like this.”
“What do you have to tell me?”
“How do you know I didn’t come back here just to say hi?”
“I know you better than that.”
She took a step back. “Don’t be so sure you know me.” Just how many dates had he and Nikki gone on? And what had Nikki told him? That was a conversation she had to have soon with her sister. But she wasn’t going to play coy with him.
“I might have found out a few things you don’t know.”
His brows arched. “Do I look surprised?”
At least his tone was resigned rather than outraged. “I s
poke with a woman who got to know Wendy pretty well. She also sought help from her. Did you know Wendy kept a journal documenting her own abuse as well as information on abusive husbands?”
“Is that the blackmail she was talking about the night she called me?”
“I don’t know, but I do know there’s a journal that’s leather-bound, small, and blue. Sebastian and the boys confirmed that and so did her ex-husband.”
“You talked to her ex?”
“At his place of business. I stopped in to look into Add-a-Rooms.”
“I just bet you did. What else do you know that I don’t?”
“Sebastian’s boys seemed to think Wendy might have kept the information on a flash drive or a thumb drive, and that she wouldn’t keep it in a normal place. So I thought you should know.”
“I’ll have to talk to Sebastian and his boys again. I’m glad you told me.” Brett ran his hand over his face as if he was tired from not sleeping well the past week . . . or longer. “We almost have too many leads to follow with this case. More than a few people didn’t like Wendy Newcomb. She protected women for their own safety but interfered in their lives. Her actions tore people apart.”
“It all boils down to motive,” Caprice mused. “And if all their motives are the same, you’re going to have a tough time deciphering which is the right one.”
“Yes, we are. But it’s our job, not yours. So stop nosing around now. If you get an inclination to do more, remember what happened the last time, and the time before that.”
She could back down, really she could, but what was the point? “I do remember what happened,” she said. “We caught murderers.”
“Don’t start thinking in terms of we,” he warned her. “You and I are not a team.”
“Maybe not,” she acquiesced. “But we could be on the same team rather than adversarial. Don’t you think that might help?”
“What I think is that the De Luca women are stubborn.”
That comment meant Nikki had done some pushing back too. Caprice wondered what about. She also wondered when Brett Carstead would ask her sister out again. But biting her tongue, she didn’t bring it up and felt very proud of herself for her restraint.
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