Drape Expectations (8 page)

Just how did that fact play into Alanna's murder?

Chapter Seven

A short time after her high-school classmates left, Caprice set up the puppy gates at the kitchen doorways. Now the fun should begin. She had introduced pets to each other before, but every situation was a little different. Mirabelle was meeker than some cats. There was no telling what would happen when she met Sophia and Lady. The best thing to do in a case like this was to keep Mirabelle separated from the other two, but let them
see
each other. A screen would be the best strategy, but she didn't have a spare one right now.

Lady and Sophia had watched her set up the gates, curious about the whole endeavor. Lady was particularly curious because, in the past, she'd had to stay
in
the kitchen, not outside the gate in the hall or on the other side in the dining room.

After the gates were secure, Caprice went upstairs to fetch Mirabelle. The cat had to be getting cabin fever. Still, she seemed to like sprawling on Caprice's guest room bed the best and never went to the door to be let out. She enjoyed sitting on the table by the bedroom window, too, peering out at the birds filling the yard again, now that winter was over. She seemed happily comfortable in her seclusion, yet Caprice knew she could be much happier with housemates.

“You're going to meet your sisters,” Caprice told her as she lifted her from the bed, gently deposited her in her carrier, zippered it up, and took it downstairs. Lady and Sophia were still nosing around the gate between the dining room and the kitchen so Caprice stepped over the gate that led from the bathroom and hall on the other side.

“Okay, everybody, this isn't going to be a once-and-done deal. I'm just going to let Mirabelle roam about in here and get used to the place. Lady and Sophia—you can sniff at her through the gate, but you're just going to get to know her slowly. Even Marcus agrees that would be best.”

After all, she hadn't had any problems after she'd found Sophia and brought Dylan into the household. Last year when she'd taken in two kittens, they'd been fearless and hadn't hesitated to play with Sophia, once they'd gotten to know her. Even Dylan had joined in their play.

But an adult cat was a little different.

When Mirabelle meowed from her carrier, Sophia's ears flopped into what Caprice called airplane position. Her tail puffed up. With her long hair, she looked like one big calico fluff ball.

Lady backed away from Sophia, but it was obvious she wanted to see what was going on in the kitchen. Back legs up, front paws down, she nosed her way to the gate.

Caprice unzipped the front of Mirabelle's carrier. The feline stepped out. However, as soon as she did, Sophia hissed, Lady barked, and Mirabelle went wild. Her tail grew as big as Sophia's. Her whole body seemed to be in backward motion. Sophia ran toward the living room and up the steps. When Lady barked again, Mirabelle ran in the other direction, somehow managed to jump the gate, and ended up in the living room under the sofa.

Caprice sighed—so much for the well-laid plans of an animal lover who thought she knew what she was doing.

She removed the gate. She should have known better than to think a gate would work with cats. Too late now. Everybody had sort of met everybody.

Moments later, she crouched down in front of her sofa. To her amusement, Lady was right there beside her, doing the same. She could pen Lady in the kitchen, but at this point she didn't think that would solve anything. She extended her hand farther under the sofa. The small sofa legs were too short for her to stick her head under. Somehow Mirabelle had gotten under there, though.

Lady wiggled and pushed her nose under, but that was as far as she could go, too.

Caprice's hand finally came upon soft fur. At least she didn't think the fluff was a dust bunny. No, that was definitely a tail.

She ran her fingers through Mirabelle's coat and talked to her softly. “Hi, baby. I know you're scared, but this is a really nice bunch out here. You'd have a lot of fun.”

Mirabelle meowed and rubbed her head against Caprice's hand. This was going to take patience, cat treats, and a lot of coaxing.

“I'll be right back,” Caprice said to Mirabelle, intending to dip into the jar of cat treats and maybe even open a can of tuna. But as she opened her pantry door, her phone in her pocket played. She quickly took it out and saw Twyla Horton's name and number.

As she grabbed a can of tuna, she answered. “Hello?”

“Caprice, this is Twyla Horton.”

“How are you?” Caprice asked, thinking immediately of Twyla's sense of loss and the grief that would be with her for a very long time.

“I still feel a bit shell-shocked. I'm at White Pillars, trying to absorb the fact I won't see Alanna again. When I landed in Baltimore, I had a text on my phone from Detective Carstead saying they'd finished at the house. I've spent the last hour cleaning up. I suddenly realized I don't really know anyone in Kismet, and I thought of you. Could we possibly get together, maybe have breakfast or something? Maybe you could fill me in on professional services in the area, the most economical place to get good food, that type of thing? Would you mind?”

Caprice found that she wouldn't mind at all. Twyla was very different from her sister, not at all haughty or condescending. “How about breakfast tomorrow at the Sunflower Diner? It's near Country Fields Shopping Center.”

“I've never been there. When Alanna took me to brunch, we usually went to the Country Squire Golf and Recreation Club.”

“That's a white-napkin brunch. The Sunflower is more paper place mats and fake sunflowers on the tables.”

Twyla gave a little laugh. “That sounds perfect. What time should I meet you there?”

“You name the time. Do you need directions?”

“No, my rental car has a GPS. I'll just plug in the address. Is eight-thirty too early?”

“No, that's fine.”

“I have that appointment with Detective Carstead tomorrow and I'd like to talk to you about that, too,” Twyla added.

“Sure. I'll see you at the Sunflower at eight-thirty.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Caprice.”

Caprice pocketed her cell phone, eager to pick Twyla's brain tomorrow morning. Maybe she could recall something Alanna had said or done that would help Caprice find the murderer.

Until then, she had a cat to lure out from under the sofa, another cat to reassure she was still queen of the house, and Lady to take outside for a bit of exercise.

Her life was never dull.

 

 

Although March had turned the corner into April, a morning bite was still in the air as Caprice pulled open the Sunflower Diner's glass door. The diner was busy this morning, since many people had a work holiday the Friday before Easter. She knew several of the patrons at the diner. After waving to a former client, and stopping by a table to ask about the health of a friend of her mom's, she spotted the woman in the back booth who looked as if... as if she didn't quite belong.

Caprice approached the booth, more confident with each step. The woman's hair was light brown and cut short, and it had a natural wave that framed her face as if it hadn't taken much care. She'd been studying the place mat menu, but now she looked up and Caprice could see her eyes were as green as Alanna's had been. She had high cheekbones like Alanna's, but that was where the resemblance seemed to end.

She smiled tentatively at Caprice, and it was a genuine smile.

“Twyla?” Caprice asked as she stood at the table.

Twyla rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Caprice, it's so good to meet you.”

Caprice seated herself across from Twyla and motioned her to the booth seat once more. “I never thought to give you a description of what I looked like.”

“Me either,” Twyla said. “I'm so glad we could get together. I feel kind of lost. When I visited Alanna, I spent most of my time with her and didn't get around the town much.”

“It's not that big. You'll soon find your way around.” Taking a folded sheet of paper from her purse, she handed it to Twyla. “This is a list of all the businesses I frequent. I thought that might come in handy.”

“Just what I need.”

“You feel comfortable staying at Alanna's house? Maybe ‘comfortable' isn't the word I want. Do you feel safe?”

“Alanna had an alarm system. From what Detective Carstead said, it hadn't been breached. She must have known whoever killed her.” Twyla rubbed her arms. “That thought gives me chills, but it also means as long as I have that alarm system on, and I check who's at the door, I should be perfectly fine.”

Caprice, of course, knew about the alarm system, but it didn't do much good if you let someone inside who you knew and they murdered you.

So she asked Twyla, “Are you sure you don't know anybody who would want to hurt your sister?”

“I thought about it and thought about it. I suppose someone associated with Barton's business, or his board of directors, might have held a grudge. After Barton died, Alanna had to make decisions about the company. She had meetings over the holidays about expansion into China. From what I understand, she was going to vote for it. Half of the board was against it. In those meetings, other board members were trying to change her mind. Apparently, she was going to be the deciding vote. So there might have been some bad feelings there.”

Caprice hadn't thought much about the business end of Alanna's life. Though with a company like Barton Goodwin's, where millions of dollars were involved, money
could
lead to murder.

The waitress came to take their order. Caprice and Twyla both ordered the breakfast special. That was another way Twyla was unlike her sister. Alanna watched every morsel she put in her mouth. She might have liked cheese grits, but she mostly ate salads, along with a small portion of protein. Caprice learned a lot about a client while she was helping one stage his or her house. But Twyla's order of the special, with its two eggs, hash browns, and bacon or sausage, wasn't for a dieter.

“I'm nervous about meeting with Detective Carstead,” Twyla admitted. “Will they put me into an interrogation room with folding chairs and a scarred table?”

Caprice had to smile. “It's not far from that, but it's not too gritty. Just answer Detective Carstead's questions truthfully and you'll be fine. He's not so bad. Detective Jones . . . he's got an edge.”

“The reading of the will is on Monday, and I know Detective Carstead's interested in that,” Twyla said.

“He's looking for a motive.”

After staring out the window for a moment, Twyla turned back to Caprice, her eyes misty. “I still can't believe she's gone.”

Caprice remained silent. Sometimes the best sympathy was just presence, not words that couldn't convey condolences well enough.

“Did you know much about Alanna?” Twyla asked, her voice still thick with grief.

Caprice shook her head. “I gather you were close?”

“We were close when we were young, maybe because we were poor, maybe because we missed our dad. After he left, he only saw us once or twice a year, then not at all. When Mama died, I was just out of high school and Alanna was working at a local TV station. She was so pretty and talented. I expected her to be another Diane Sawyer someday.”

“She gave up her career?” Although Caprice had used search engines to research Alanna, she hadn't found much. Mostly photographs with Barton Goodwin.

“Oh, after she met Barton, he became her world. It was certainly a different world than we'd grown up in.”

“You mean because Barton Goodwin was wealthy.”

“Oh yes. He could provide Alanna with everything she'd never had, anything she could ever think of wanting—furs, cars, jewels. But more than that, as his wife, she had a carte blanche ticket for acceptance in social circles that before were closed to her.”

“Did she change because of all that?”

Twyla's nose crinkled. “Alanna was always sure of herself and confident, or at least she pretended to be.”

Caprice suspected that married to Barton, Alanna had gained more assurance and arrogance and haughtiness, and maybe even a sense of entitlement.

Twyla didn't seem to possess those qualities.

The waitress brought their orders, and Caprice settled in to enjoy her breakfast with Twyla Horton. If she listened carefully, she might learn more that would lead to a clue that would help with the investigation.

Caprice opened her mom's oven door on Easter Sunday and delicious smells rushed out. As she peered at the two casseroles of her version of chicken cacciatore—tomatoes, peppers, and spicy sausage, along with chicken thighs—the dishes produced the aromas that always made her parents' house smell like home. Good foods were constantly simmering or baking. Their lingering scents gave the house its character.