Silence of the Lamps (22 page)

On quick inspection, she didn’t notice a Tiffany lamp base anywhere. But then it would be foolish to keep that here, wouldn’t it?

“I’m checking into Drew’s background,” she told Linda. “I’m trying to discover if he had any enemies that nobody knew about. Did Larry ever talk about Drew? What he was doing now? Or maybe the old days when they were drag racing in high school?”

“Drag racing?” Linda asked. “I never knew about that. Larry had it rough growing up, so he never talks about that very much. I knew he and Bronson and Drew were friends since then but not much else. Larry and Bronson drove down to D.C. when Drew worked there. And when Drew came home they’d meet for drinks.”

“So Larry never mentioned a pact that he and Drew and Bronson might have had in high school?”

“A pact? No. They did act like blood brothers, though, when they were around each other . . . the joking, arm punching, sports stuff.”

“You said Bronson helped out Larry. Did Drew know about that?”

“Sure. I don’t think they kept anything from each other. And Bronson was helping Drew too. He let him open his business from his kitchen. Granted he has a huge house and he isn’t there much, but still . . .”

“So Drew and Larry got along fine?”

“As far as I knew. Sometimes I thought Drew looked down his nose at Larry. You know, like he was going places and Larry wasn’t, especially after he sold that barbecue sauce recipe. From what Larry said, the last time he phoned, Drew wouldn’t stop bragging. Larry was down on his luck, and it was like Drew kept throwing it in his face . . . all that success. I’m sure that annoyed Larry some, but as I said, they were like brothers.”

Like brothers. There was only one way Caprice could get a real beat on this. She had to talk to Larry. “Can you tell me where Larry’s staying? He might know some detail that could lead to Drew’s murderer.”

“He stayed at Bronson’s for a while, but I don’t think Bronson liked him hanging around when he was drinking so much. So I think Bronson sent him to the cabin that belonged to his dad. Larry always liked fishing, being in the woods. I think Bronson figured it would help.”

“Are you in touch with Larry?”

“I haven’t been for a couple of weeks. We couldn’t afford cell phones anymore, so we don’t have those, and that cabin doesn’t have a landline. When Larry calls, he does it from a convenience store. Bronson told me if I needed to get in touch with Larry, he’d go get him. But I haven’t needed to. I’m just trying to make life work for me and Joey now.”

Caprice could call Bronson to find out where his dad’s cabin was located. But what if Bronson, or Larry, had killed Drew? What if one knew the other had done it?

No, she didn’t want to raise Bronson’s suspicions. She didn’t want to think he’d sent her the note . . . or the ribs. On the other hand, she didn’t think Larry in his mental state right now would devise that plan either. That was just a gut feeling. She’d gone with gut feelings before. If only Detective Carstead would share what he knew. But she knew he wouldn’t. If she talked to Larry and figured anything out,
she’d
go to the detective. Again.

In the meantime she knew someone who could find out the directions or the address of Bronson’s dad’s cabin. Reporter Marianne Brisbane had helped her before. She had access to all kinds of databases and public records. Caprice was on a mission now, and she wouldn’t stop until she had some answers.

She studied Linda. “You know, don’t you, that there’s a food pantry connected to the soup kitchen. They even have fresh produce this time of year. Gardeners who have extras bring it in. By August there will be tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini.”

“I haven’t wanted to go that route,” Linda confessed with pride in her voice.

“You’re going through a tough time, and Joey deserves the best you can give him, doesn’t he? Even if you have to accept a little help from others.” Caprice took out one of her business cards and handed it to Linda.

When Linda looked at it, she laughed. “A home stager? That’s the last thing I need right now.”

“I’m not handing it out for professional reasons. My home number’s on there if you want to know more about the Kismet Food Pantry or Everybody’s Kitchen.”

Linda glanced down at the card again, then at Caprice. “I don’t have any family. Larry lost his mom, and his dad has his own problems with alcohol, so he’s no help. I don’t like to keep taking from Bronson either.”

“There’s a social worker who comes into Everybody’s Kitchen. She tries to hook people up with the programs they need. She’s usually there from four to five while volunteers are preparing dinner. Just think about it, okay?”

Linda nodded. “Okay.” Then she headed toward her house and her son.

Caprice hoped she’d accept help to get her life back on track.

Chapter Nineteen

All the house needed, Caprice surmised the following day, was a rotating strobe light in the octagonal-shaped room. It was a silly notion, but it seemed fitting.

Denise Langford, the broker handling the Nautical Intertude house, had called her this morning and told her she had a couple who wanted to look at the property late this afternoon. Kim and David were moving from Delaware to Pennsylvania to be closer to her family who lived in York. They’d love to be near the Chesapeake Bay, but that was just a little too far away from her parents. However, this house in Kismet would give them the nautical feel that they’d like, yet put them in a good location. Both husband and wife were self-employed. He was a video game developer and she was a web designer, so they could work from anywhere. And from what they’d seen of this house online, they thought it might be perfect for them.

And Denise was eager for the sale.

Caprice wasn’t sure why they needed her here, but she supposed she’d find out.

Denise was already at the house with the couple when Caprice arrived. She was sure she was on time. She set her phone on vibrate so any calls coming in wouldn’t disturb the meeting. She found the front door, with its porthole window, unlocked.

After she pushed it open, she stepped inside onto beautiful teak floors. She’d used the colors of the waterfront to decorate—from furniture to wall hangings. This was an eastern seaboard retreat, splashed with yellows, blues, whites, and reds. The downstairs, or main level, was basically one large open space that encompassed the great room, dining area, and kitchen. There was a study and, although it was still open to the other rooms, it was tucked into an alcove to provide privacy. The first floor also boasted, of course, the lighthouse room with its two-and-a-half-story ceiling. The upstairs level held the master suite, in addition to three other bedrooms. An outdoor balcony ran across the second floor and met the widow’s walk, which circled the lighthouse room.

As an additional incentive for this couple, the basement level, which was a walk-in from the back with French doors and several plate-glass windows, housed a large bedroom suite, kitchenette, and sitting area.

Caprice heard voices as they echoed from the upstairs down the circular curved staircase to the downstairs. She heard Denise say, “I understand you both want a home office.”

“We do,” a male voice answered. “Kim likes to be closed up and quiet when she works. I, on the other hand, like activity. That first-floor den would be perfect for me. She could use the lighthouse.”

A woman’s voice responded, “I love the lighthouse. I’m thinking that eventually my parents will move in here with us. That suite downstairs could be perfect for them. But my mother likes floral tones. She wouldn’t go for the Cape Cod atmosphere we like. We’d have to redecorate.”

As Denise descended the last few steps, she spotted Caprice. “Caprice! I’m so glad you’re here. This is Kim and David Wilkins. They like the house a lot. But Kim has some concerns about decorating—in the bedrooms, the lighthouse room, and the lower level. I told her you’re an expert at that.”

Caprice stepped forward and extended her hand. “It’s good to meet you.” She shook both Kim’s and David’s extended hands.

Kim was scanning her outfit and grinning. Caprice had worn coral clamdiggers, a Bohemian-styled bell-sleeved coral-and-green top, and her sneakers with peace signs.

“I love your outfit,” Kim said.

“Thank you.” Caprice was pleased somebody appreciated her wardrobe. “What are your concerns about decorating? You don’t want the nautical theme throughout?”

“David and I like it, but as I was telling Denise, I anticipate my parents eventually moving into the basement. Though it’s really not a basement with that outside entrance and all the out-of-ground windows. That’s what makes it perfect. There’s lots of light down there.”

“And heated floors, too,” Caprice said.

“Really?” David asked. “Denise didn’t mention that. Even more perfect. And just imagine the sunsets from that balcony upstairs. We have friends in New York City who would want to come here just for the view.”

“I can decorate however you’d like,” Caprice assured them.

“We checked out your website online when we saw that you’d staged the house. One of your credits was that you decorated for Ace Richland. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is. I redid a room for his daughter and did his pool area.”

“And you staged the house that Ace bought too, Denise told us,” Kim added.

“I did. His was a wild kingdom theme.”

Kim laughed. “I think my mom would like something sedate—florals in peach and green and maybe cherry furniture? She has a four-poster bed she’ll probably want to move in here.”

“You have to convince them that moving in here with us is the right thing to do,” David said to his wife.

“That might take a year or two . . . or maybe three. But once they see this house, I’m sure they’ll love it too. They’ll have room to roam and not have upkeep. We can drive them to doctors’ appointments if need be. Especially when Dad has his knee surgery, he might be able to recuperate here, which will get them used to the idea.”

“Tell Miss De Luca about the changes you want in the lighthouse room,” David reminded his wife.

“I’d like my office decorated all in blues. It’s my favorite color—from turquoise to aqua to baby blue. Do you think you could make that work?”

“I can make anything work,” Caprice assured her with a smile. “I have a few catalogs in the van. Would you like to see them? Sample books too—for wallpaper and material for upholstery fabric or drapes.”

“That sounds wonderful. Maybe we can take a look out back while you get them.”

“I’ll meet you back here.” Caprice spun on her heels and headed out the door.

This sounded like an imminent sale. It would be great for Denise’s pocket and good for Caprice’s reputation. She liked this couple a lot. They were positive and upbeat and seemed to have a handle on their lives. Denise had confided that David was a multimillionaire because of the video games he’d developed. But they didn’t have an arrogant attitude that some wealthy people adopted. She liked that. She also liked that they were thinking about caring for Kim’s parents.

She was in the back of her van stacking sample books when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She might have let it go to voice mail, but she was hoping Grant would call. Soon. Hadn’t Naomi had enough of Kismet and sightseeing yet?

Maybe Naomi wasn’t going to leave. Maybe Grant wouldn’t call. Maybe—

Cutting off that thought, she also realized she hadn’t heard from Marianne, who was supposed to get back to her with an address for Bronson’s dad’s cabin.

When she checked her phone’s screen, she saw Marianne was the caller. Disappointment stabbed at her, but she ignored it and answered. “Hi, Marianne. Could you find it?”

“I did. It really wouldn’t do me much good to just give you the address. It’s a rural P.O. box near Wellsville.”

Wellsville was located about fifteen minutes from Kismet.

“I have explicit directions. I e-mailed them to you,” Marianne said.

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this. I owe you one.”

“Yes, you do. Remember, I get first scoop if you find out anything juicy. Or if you solve this murder. You’re going to soon be a celebrity.”

“Bite your tongue.”

Marianne laughed. “So what are you going to do?”

It took Caprice only a few seconds to think about it. “I’m talking to a couple now about buying and decorating a house, and as soon as I’m done here, I’m going to follow your directions. I want to talk to Larry Penya sooner rather than later.”

* * *

It was later than Caprice would have liked when she finished up at the Nautical Interlude house. The couple had loads of questions and had pored over her sample books. Caprice knew Denise was chomping at the bit to settle the sale, to actually hold earnest money in her hand. This was all part of the process. Kim and David had to see themselves in the house . . . and enjoy the adventure of it. So Caprice had patiently aided them in finding exactly what they wanted.

After they all said good-bye and Kim and David headed off with Denise to her office to begin the paperwork for buying the property, Caprice headed home to give her animals attention—and supper. Eager to drive to the Wellsville area, she grabbed a container of broccoli salad and ate it outside while Lady ran and played.

Between bites, Caprice said to her, “I wish I could take you along. But I can’t. And Dulcina has a new guest who isn’t used to you yet. Maybe . . .” She took her phone from her pocket and dialed her mom. After her mother answered, she asked, “Are you busy tonight?”

“Need a listening ear?” her mom asked.

“No, I need a pupsitter. I was away most of the afternoon, and I have an errand I need to run tonight. I really don’t want to leave Lady alone again.”

“Sure. Bring her on over.”

Twenty minutes later, Lady happily soaked up Fran’s attention as Caprice told her parents where she was headed and outlined the directions to her dad.

Her father said, “I know that area. It’s near Pinchot State Park. Lots of woods. Creeks. Beautiful farmland too. You should be okay if you follow those directions.”

She should be okay. Of course she should. She was just going to question one of Drew’s friends.

* * *

Dusk was falling as Caprice found the gravel lane Marianne had detailed and turned her van onto it. The narrow road wound around a few curves and then stopped abruptly before a wooded area. No one had told her she’d be hiking tonight.

Once she exited her van, she spied a three-foot-wide path that led through the stand of maples and sycamores. It wasn’t long before the cabin came into view. Even though it was rustic, it was a hidden gem because no one would suspect it was here. It was a square with a slanted roof. She suspected the floor plan would show a loft and an open ceiling. The screened-in porch ran along the front and side of the cabin.

As she approached it, the silence of the woods was broken by male voices. A pickup truck zigzagged along the far side of the cabin, and she realized that either there was another winding entrance that ran around the back or she’d missed a turnoff that circled around the trees.

Who was here with Larry?

Glad she’d worn sneakers that made little noise on the gravel, she stood at the corner of the screened-in porch and unabashedly listened.

“Give me plane fare and a stake, and I’ll just disappear. Linda doesn’t care if I’m gone.”

That was Larry’s voice. His words sounded slurred, as if he’d been drinking. “I don’t have anything to offer Joey,” he added morosely. “Nothing’s holding me here.”

If he was running, did that mean he’d killed Drew?

Then she heard another male voice. “You can’t just leave. We have to stand up to Fairchild together. I don’t understand why he called this meeting now.”

Fairchild? Louis Fairchild, the men’s high school shop teacher? Caprice recognized the second voice too—it belonged to Bronson Chronister.

“Exactly what did Fairchild say?” Larry asked shakily.

“He said he wanted to talk over old times.” Bronson sounded agitated, his tone rising and falling as if he was pacing. “You know what that means. I can’t have that accident brought up now.”

“
You
weren’t even in the car!” Larry shot back. “Drew and I ran him down.”

“
Drew
ran him down. You were about as drunk as you are now. I wasn’t in the car, but I knew about it after the fact. The whole mess could ruin my career in politics.”

“We have something worse to think about,” Larry whined.

“What would that be?” Bronson sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Drew’s murder.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that. Neither did you.”

All was silent a few seconds until Bronson asked, “
Did
you?”

“Not me,” Larry protested. “But I did see Drew that night and I didn’t tell the police. I’d fixed the cord on that light that he said was so expensive. Apparently Drew was messing with it and the cord gave way. It’s old. But he didn’t want his grandmother to know. After Rowena left for the day with her friend, I picked it up and took it to my workshop to repair it.”

“Did Linda see you had it?” Bronson sounded appalled.

“She wasn’t home. She takes Joey to the playground on Sundays.”

“What did you do with it after you fixed it?”

“Drew called me when he was through at that expo. I took it back to the house. But . . .” He hesitated, then went on. “But Fairchild came to the door. He said he wanted to talk to Drew privately. So I left. But I stopped outside to smoke and . . . I heard them arguing. That’s when I headed out.”

“And you didn’t tell the police?”

“If I ratted out Fairchild to the police, I knew he’d tell them about me and Drew and the accident.”

“If you hadn’t spilled the beans to him when you were drunk back then—”

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Caprice’s neck prickled. It was as if a cold wind had blown through the summer night. Before she could react, take a breath, or turn around, she felt something poke the middle of her back. Something hard. Something like the barrel of a gun.

She recognized the voice when Louis Fairchild shouted to the two men inside. “You’ve confessed everything in front of a witness. What do you think we should do with her?”

After a silent moment, Bronson and Larry both rushed out of the porch and down the front steps. They saw Caprice and Fairchild behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Bronson asked her.

She could hardly find her voice, but she finally did. “I came to talk to Larry. I never expected to run into . . . all three of you.”

All three of them had committed crimes. But it seemed Louis Fairchild had killed Drew.