Drape Expectations (17 page)

“I usually do,” she said honestly. “It reminds me of Valentine's Day, our dance, our talk until three.” Actually, they'd kissed more than talked.

“I have something to ask you,” Seth said. “It's one of the reasons I wanted to see you.”

Caprice suddenly felt breathless. “You couldn't ask in an e-mail or over the phone?”

He shook his head. “I've kept track of your house stagings, and when they're scheduled. You don't have one next weekend, right?”

No, she didn't. For a very good reason. Her birthday was on Sunday and she usually spent it with her family or had dinner with friends. “Right,” she answered. “No staging. Why do you ask?”

“I'd like you to drive to Virginia with me to meet my parents. I can pick you up Friday evening and we'll be back by Sunday afternoon. What do you say?”

There was only one thing she
could
say. She grinned at him. “Yes.”

 

 

Caprice's evening with Seth seemed like a dream the following day as she arrived at Isaac Hobbs's antique shop with Lady ... and a loaf of chocolate-coffee bread. Their dinner at the Purple Iris had lasted two hours! Afterward, they'd gone back to the house and discussed plans for the weekend. When he'd left, though, she'd felt ... unsettled. Her relationship with Seth seemed like a relationship when she was with him. But when she wasn't, she wondered exactly what they shared except for conversation and kisses. Maybe spending a weekend with him would settle her feelings for him.

She entered Isaac's shop, letting the beauty of the past awe her. Isaac collected antiques as if they were more valuable than the prices he put on them. When she walked into Older and Better today, he was finishing up with a customer.

Caprice nodded to the older woman, who was carrying a carton with a milk glass lamp, as she passed her and exited the shop.

As soon as Caprice and Lady approached the cash desk, Isaac gave her a wry smile. “You're on the hunt, aren't you? And not for anything I have in my shop.”

“Just how do you know that?”

“I know you.”

Part of Isaac's profession was noting details about any item he looked at—whether it was old, new, valuable, or not, and whether he was capable of reselling it.

“This is for you,” she said, offering him the chocolate-coffee loaf.

He grinned. “New recipe?”

“Sure is. You're a great taste tester.”

Isaac tucked the loaf under the counter. “I'll save this for dinner tonight.”

As he sat in one of the chairs, Isaac noticed the bracelet she was wearing and pointed to it. “Very cute. Is that new?”

“Valentine's Day. Seth gave it to me.”

“Oh, ho! You've gone beyond flowers. Just what does that mean?”

She felt herself blushing. This was Isaac. She could be honest with him. “I'm going to be meeting his family this coming weekend.”

“Then things are getting serious.”

“I don't know about that,” she admitted. “He has so little time for us. When his fellowship ends, he could be off to another part of the country.”

“Or he could come back here.”

Instead of sniffing around the antique furniture as she sometimes did, Lady went around the desk to Isaac. She was after the treats he kept there for her.

As Isaac gave the canine a treat, Caprice thought about Seth and his future. He wasn't necessarily filled with ambition, but his work was all-important to him. If he decided trauma surgery was what he preferred, he'd want to be practicing in the best trauma center in the country. She knew that.

“Didn't you tell me Seth's dad is a GP?” Isaac asked.

“Yes. I'm nervous about meeting his parents.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”

“Maybe they won't like me, what I do. Maybe they'll think it's frivolous. Maybe they don't have a soft spot for animals. Maybe—”

“Do not ‘maybe' yourself to death, Caprice. All you have to do is be yourself and you'll be fine.”

That sounded exactly like the advice Nana would give her.

“Are you staying overnight?” Isaac asked.

“Yes. I guess I'll have to be the perfect houseguest.”

“Or, just show them how much you care about Seth.”

Again, that was advice her mom or Nana would give her.

“You should start an advice column or a blog.”

Isaac laughed. “Anyone who reaches my age should have some life experience to share. The problem is, nobody listens. Now, why did you really come today?”

“I need a few crystal vases, but I also need information.”

“Aha, just as I thought. What kind of information?”

“What's the best way to sell a valuable guitar?”

Isaac gestured to the coffeepot. “I just made a fresh one.”

“Sounds good,” she said, settling deeper into the captain's chair and getting comfortable on its red plaid cushion. Lady was already sitting by Isaac's foot.

After Isaac had given Lady another treat and poured two mugs of coffee, adding milk and sugar for Caprice, he sat across from her. “Are you talking a valuable guitar from a legitimate seller?”

“No, I'm talking about a stolen guitar.”

“There are fences for that type of thing. That's what white-collar crime is all about. But for the highest offer, some type of auction would be best. Of course, we're not talking about an auction on eBay. It would have to be private and probably online. What kind of valuable guitar?”

She took her phone from her pocket and checked the notepad. “A 1936 Martin D-45 and a 1958 Gibson Les Paul Standard.”

Isaac took a tablet from the counter and wrote down what she'd said. “Let me check around and I'll get back to you. I know a couple of people who can tell if anything like that's on the market.”

“You're such an asset when I'm snooping.”

“And you're such a reliable customer. I can always count on selling you something.”

This time, she laughed. “Do you still have that antique garnet-and-pearl ring that I liked so much?”

“Yes, I do. It's sitting in a corner of my safe just waiting for you to buy it.”

“I don't need it,” she said with a sigh. “Maybe you should just put it back in your showcase.”

“There's no hurry.”

Maybe Isaac wasn't in a hurry to sell the ring, but she was in a hurry to solve this murder. She had the feeling that if she didn't, someone else could get hurt.

 

 

An hour later, Caprice considered one more errand before she met Juan and their client at the glass house. She wanted to visit her uncle Dom. Maybe she should stay out of it. Maybe she should let Nana and her parents and her uncle Dom settle everything themselves. But if she could see so clearly what was happening with Nana, maybe the others were too close to it to see it, too. She knew her mom and dad would be at work, and she was hoping she could catch her uncle in the privacy of their home. If he wasn't there, she'd visit Nana.

Caprice mounted the steps to her childhood home, past the brown rope pillars, to the side door entrance. She knocked because sometimes the bell at this entrance didn't work. It had always been that way, one of many quirks about the house. Her dad had tried to fix it, but the doorbell seemed to have a mind of its own. Besides, usually she walked right in. But today, she wanted to alert her uncle she was there. The dynamics of a household changed when a houseguest was present.

Her uncle opened the door, looking tired and about ten years older than his age—until he saw her and Lady. Then his whole countenance brightened and his eyes even sparkled a bit.

“Hi, there.” He stooped down to pet Lady, and she butted her head into his hand and rubbed against his ankle and shin.

“She really likes you,” Caprice said.

“I really like her. I like all animals a whole lot. Once I get a place of my own again, I might get a dog or a cat or both.” He stood and motioned her inside. “You didn't have to knock just because I'm here.”

“I thought it was the polite thing to do.”

He grimaced. “You certainly weren't disturbing me. I was just going over want ads and checking online job sites. One of the things Ronnie didn't manage to take in the divorce was my laptop computer, thank goodness.”

In the large foyer, which led to the living room and dining room and the upstairs, Caprice unleashed Lady and asked her uncle, “Can we talk?”

“Sure. Come on in.” He led her into the living room, where he took a seat in an old wooden rocker with an upholstered seat and back, which her mom had had redone in a pretty blue-and-tan stripe that matched the décor. Caprice curled up in the arm of the sofa as she had so many times before. Lady hopped up on the sofa beside her, and she petted her, knowing her mom wouldn't mind her on the couch. Pets were family, too.

“I'd like to talk to you about Nana,” Caprice said.

At that topic of conversation, her uncle frowned. “She won't rest, but thank goodness she has that kitten you gave her. When Valentine curls up on her lap, at least she sits still for a while and watches her favorite program on TV.”

“I'm not her doctor, and I'm certainly not a medical professional, but I think part of the problem, part of her condition, could be the stress and tension in the house between the two of you.”

Her uncle looked thoughtful. “You think my coming back is what caused this.”

“No, not your being here. I think she's glad you're here, that you came to your family for help. But I think the past has to be resolved between the two of you. Can you make amends with Nana so the tension in the house fades? Have you ever thought about apologizing for cutting her out of your life?”

The expression on her uncle's face was a mixture of annoyance, anger, and regret. “Maybe you shouldn't poke your good intentions into this, Caprice.”

She knew sometimes she could be too blunt, but some occasions called for bluntness. She looked her uncle straight in the eye. “You cut Nana out of your life for twelve years. She's still hurting over that. She's still hurting over you. She's been in my life,
all
of my life. I care about her, Uncle Dom, and I care about you, too. Maybe you'd both feel better if you both gave a little.”

He was silent a long time; then he finally said, “I fell in love with the wrong woman.”

“It happens,” Caprice responded softly. “But that doesn't mean one mistake has to become three or four or five.”

“I should have married someone my mother would approve of.”

“I don't think Nana wanted you to marry someone for
her,
but someone who would be the best for
you
.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Ronnie wasn't the best for me.”

“Can you tell Nana that?”

When Caprice saw how hard that conversation would be for him, she suggested, “Can you just think about what I've said?”

He gave a resigned sigh, and then he patted her hand. “I'll think about it.”

What more could she ask for?

Chapter Fourteen

It was finally spring.

At least that's what the weather felt like in the morning when Caprice took Lady for a walk.

The birds were chirping and the trees budded with green—elms and maples and poplars, too. She thought her street was one of the prettiest in Kismet, but, of course, she was prejudiced.

As Caprice and Lady neared home after their walk, she spotted Dulcina carrying bags of groceries from her car to her front door.

After crossing the street, Caprice called to Dulcina so she wouldn't startle her by coming up behind her.

Her neighbor opened her front door and then turned to greet her. “Good morning. Isn't it a beautiful one? This kind of day reminds me winter doesn't last forever. Just give me a minute to take these grocery bags to the kitchen, and then I'll give Lady the attention she deserves. Maybe one of those treats she likes so much, too. I picked up the peanut butter and bacon ones at Perky Paws.”

Caprice laughed. “She'll want to live with you if you buy her those.”

Once in Dulcina's house, Caprice unleashed Lady and they followed her neighbor to the kitchen. Sun streamed in from the adjacent glass-enclosed room as well as from the window over the sink. Dulcina wore a smile as she went to a canister she kept on the counter, detached the lid, and took out a cookie treat. It looked as good as any cookie Caprice could make.

Lady stood on her hind legs, her paws in the air.

“You don't have to beg,” Dulcina said. “Here you go.”

Lady took the treat in her mouth, then hunkered down on the floor with it, positioning it between her paws. She took a dainty bite, then looked up at Caprice.

“I guess you're going to make it last.”

Lady gave a little bark as if to say,
You bet I am.

“Coffee?” Dulcina asked.

“Sure. You know I can't pass up a cup of your coffee.”

“Then you should get one of these machines,” Dulcina added.

“I don't know. I did see one that uses a carafe or you can do the individual pods. It's tempting.”

“When you have a man living with you, you'll want to be able to make a pot.”

“Who says I'm going to have a man living with me?”

“You told me about the flowers Dr. Randolph sent and the bracelet he gave you. He cares.”

“He asked me to go to Virginia with him this weekend to meet his family. Talk about nervous. I really don't know much about them. His father's a doctor and his mother's a nurse in his dad's office. And that's about all I know.”

“Can't you give him the third degree in a few e-mails?”

“He won't have time to answer.”

“That time thing is a real issue with you, isn't it?”

“I have this philosophy,” Caprice explained. “It comes from something my dad once told me. My guess is he got it from Nana, because it sounds like similar advice she's given me. Anyway, he says no matter how busy you are, no matter what you make time for, you make time for what matters most to you. And that's true for me. Getting Mirabelle settled in my house is as important to me as the new client who has a house staging.”

“So you take care of Mirabelle first,” Dulcina guessed.

“I do. She's been removed from a life she knew and now she's in new surroundings with other animals. She doesn't know if she likes Sophia, let alone Lady, so Mirabelle is getting my attention. And as far as work, it's getting done.”

Dulcina said, “I agree we make time for what we consider most important. You're nervous about the weekend. I'm nervous about tonight.” She motioned to the groceries. “I'm going to be cooking for Rod and his daughters. He's finally going to introduce me to them. I'm so excited about it. I want to spend time with them.”

Time seemed to be one commodity Seth didn't have. Would he ever?

“Talking about what's important to you—” Dulcina put a coffee pod in the machine, then inserted a mug under it. “While you're sipping coffee, you can tell me all about this Mirabelle.”

“She's the sweetest cat,” Caprice said with a sigh.

“Are you keeping her?”

“I'm not sure. If she and Sophia become friends, I might.”

“Cats aren't much different from humans. Harmony will take time. They'll figure out their relationship eventually. Besides, that poor animal probably needs a lot of loving after having Alanna Goodwin for an owner.”

“You know something about Alanna's life?”

“More about her personality than her life.”

Everyone in Kismet knew Alanna by sight. She made sure of that with her photo in the newspaper all the time.

“Before Christmas, I went to the Blue Moon Grille for dinner with a friend. Alanna and a younger man were having dinner there and they looked very chummy. After dinner arrived, Alanna had a fit and said her chicken was too done. She sent it back. The man simply looked embarrassed.”

“But you don't know who the man was? Can you describe him?”

“Oh, sure. He was good-looking, taller than Alanna, at least five years younger. He was solicitous of her. I could tell by the way he leaned toward her and touched her hand.”

Caprice wondered if that man could have been Archer Ford.

As she sipped coffee with Dulcina and thought about Archer, she suspected there were secrets to be dug out, and she might as well be the one to do the digging.

 

 

Caprice and Dulcina were chatting when Caprice's cell phone played.

Dulcina said, “I don't mind if you take it. I'll make us another cup of coffee.”

Caprice knew she really should get going, but sometimes she sensed Dulcina was lonely. Another fifteen minutes of conversation wouldn't put her day too far behind.

After she saw Isaac's face on the phone screen, she answered. “Hi, Isaac. Did you find out anything?”

“I found out what the guitars are worth,” he responded quickly. “Even beat my estimation. The Martin is worth three hundred twenty thousand to four hundred thousand dollars, and the Les Paul ranges from three hundred thousand to three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“Wow,” Caprice said.

“Double wow. That could fund my retirement.”

“Did you discover anything about auctions for guitars?”

“I fished around online and accessed sites of some of the private auctioneers who travel down a gray road.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means their customers don't care particularly where the merchandise comes from. They just want to own it. One of the auctioneers has a Martin listed for the beginning of May.”

Caprice considered whether she should send this information Detective Carstead's way. After his attitude the last time she spoke with him, she was tempted not to.

“Thank you, Isaac. The information could come in handy. I guess I can't get into these sites to look around.”

“No, not unless you use a hacker. I have creds as an antique dealer. That's why they let me in. They think I might see something a client wants. I'll keep trolling the sites and maybe something else will pop up. If Ace's band member stole those guitars, he might have his own fence. From his connections in L.A. or anywhere, he could know someone who wants those guitars.”

“And he'd be that much richer.”

“He would. If he's been a two-bit keyboard player up until now, that money could change his life.”

“A trip to South America and retirement at a little village where he doesn't have to pay taxes,” Caprice surmised.

“Sometimes I think that's not a bad idea.”

“Isaac, you'd never do that.”

“Are you saying I'm too stodgy to find another life?”

“No. I'm saying you like connections. You wouldn't want to leave old friends ... or your shop.”

She heard him give a resigned sigh.

“I guess my days of dreaming of becoming a beach bum are gone.”

“You could still go to the beach.”

He laughed. “Ever the optimist. I'll give you a call if I find out anything else.”

“Thank you,” she said again, and ended the call.

Could Len run away with over five hundred thousand dollars? It was a definite possibility.

 

 

Most of the afternoon, as Caprice worked in her home office, she was debating whether or not to call Detective Carstead about the guitar information, and then she received a call from Don Rodriguez, confirming her tires had been slashed. Still, the slashed tires could have been a kid's prank.

But what if it hadn't been a kid's prank?

What if someone didn't want her asking any more questions? What if someone thought she knew too much already?

Just what did she know?

Not nearly enough.

After the afternoon at her computer, she decided exercise, meaning a swim at Shape Up, could do her a lot of good. Often while she swam, she sorted her thoughts. Often while she swam, a new idea popped up that she could act on.

However, as she stopped at Perky Paws to pick up dog and cat food on her way to the gym, as she drove through downtown Kismet and approached the police station, guilt weighed her down. She had told Detective Carstead she'd keep him informed, so that's what she'd do.

She'd stop in. If he wasn't there, she'd put what she knew in her back pocket and leave him a voice mail.

When she approached the desk, she could tell the officer there recognized her. His name tag read,
OFFICER JOHN PLATT,
and she'd noticed him at several of the crime scenes she'd had the misfortune to witness.

“Is Detective Carstead in?” she asked.

“Do you have an appointment?” he responded.

“No, but I do have some information he might want.”

The officer picked up the phone and pressed the button. A few seconds later, he said, “Miss De Luca's here. She says she has information for you. What would you like me to do?”

He hung up the phone moments later. “He'll be right out.”

Detective Carstead was frowning when he met her at the desk. “You could have left me a message.”

“I could have, but I was driving by.”

He motioned her to follow him. “Come on back. You know the way.”

Yes, she did.

After they were seated in his office, he looked her up and down, from her striped blouse, with its Peter Pan collar, to her high-waisted, grass green slacks, which matched one of the stripes in the blouse. She just felt a fifties-style outfit suited her today.

She wasn't too sure the detective thought so, because he frowned again. “So, what do you have for me?”

“My tires were slashed.”

His eyes widened a little at that. “When was this?”

“Sunday. A friend came over and he told me my tires looked odd. When we examined them, we saw the back two were flat. Today Don Rodriguez confirmed they'd been slashed.”

“Why didn't you call me then?”

“Because we were on our way to dinner and I didn't know for sure.”

Detective Carstead looked like he was about to erupt.

“Don't go ballistic on me. It was pouring down rain. There was nothing you could do. I didn't want to go through the hassle of filing a police report. I still don't. I'm just telling you what happened.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “And what had you been doing on Sunday before this happened?”

She'd been afraid he'd ask that. She gave a little shrug. “I visited Len Lowery, Ace Richland's keyboard player.”

“And?” Detective Carstead prompted.

“And . . . he wasn't friendly. And I practically accused him of stealing the guitars.”

Carstead started shaking his head. “I told you, if you got in the way of this investigation, you could end up in jail.”

“I'm not in the way. Ace is probably still your prime suspect, right?”

“No comment.”

“You want me to spill everything, but you don't want to tell me anything. All right, I'll spill some more. Both guitars are valuable and together could be worth over five hundred thousand dollars. There are online auctions with dealers who don't walk the straight and narrow. One of them has a Martin for sale at the beginning of May.”

“And you know this how?” Carstead's tone told her not to mess around with him.

“I know this because I asked Isaac Hobbs to investigate a little. He gets around on the auction sites. They let him in because he's an antique dealer.”

“I never thought of Hobbs,” Carstead admitted. “I have an officer searching auction sites, but I need to find the underground ones.”

“I don't know if Isaac would help you.”

“But he'd help
you
?”

“We're friends.”

“I'm beginning to think you have too many friends in Kismet, friends who could give you the wrong information.”

Caprice stood. “Kismet is a small-enough town that there aren't many degrees of separation. One person knows someone who knows someone else. I came to tell you what I know. Now I've done that. Good afternoon, Detective Carstead.”

She'd made it to the door when Carstead warned, “You could get hurt.”

“I'll be careful. I won't intentionally put myself in danger.”

“Your intentions have nothing to do with it. A murderer doesn't care about your intentions, good or bad.” He sighed. “I've learned to respect the information you collect. If you find out anything else, let me know ... im-me-di-ate-ly.” He drew out the last word so she got his message.