Silence of the Lamps (11 page)

“How would you feel about that?”

“Those detectives were awfully grumpy and gruff. If they’re like that with everyone, they won’t learn anything. Now
you
, on the other hand . . . You can get people to talk to you. I imagine that’s what solves a murder.”

There was merit in what Rowena said. Maybe that’s why she had solved four murders.

“Can you try to find Drew’s murderer?” Rowena asked.

It wasn’t just for Nikki’s sake anymore. It was for Rowena’s too. Caprice didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes, I can.”

Chapter Ten

Caprice didn’t think she’d slept much the past two nights. The conversation she’d had with Grant weighed heavily on her since he’d left her yard. Both of her cats had stayed close again through the night as if they’d known she needed some kind of furry comfort. While Lady snored beside her in her bed on the floor, Caprice thought of all the things she should have said to Grant. But she didn’t know if any of them would have made a difference, because his mind had been made up.

The phone on her bedside table rang at seven a.m. and she was grateful for the noise. When she picked it up, she saw her mom was calling.

“Is everything okay?” Caprice asked automatically. Ever since the scare with Nana not so long ago, she worried.

“That depends,” her mom answered. “Can you help out at the soup kitchen today? Nana and I are signed up, but two of the volunteers have come down with something and we’re shorthanded for a Friday.”

“How long do you need me?”

“We’re almost through with breakfast, so we’d need your help preparing for lunch and then through service.”

“Okay. I’ll call Nikki. If she’s planning menus or just making calls today, maybe she can watch Lady. I’ll text you back in a minute.”

A little over an hour later, Caprice entered Everybody’s Kitchen, a community effort staffed by several different churches that provided volunteers. Caprice had helped out here on occasion but wasn’t a regular like Nana and her mom—when her mom wasn’t teaching . . . or babysitting Benny. The directorship of this facility was a paid position. The kitchen manager received a monthly stipend. She didn’t know who was filling that spot now. It seemed to change every few months.

The soup kitchen was located in a renovated older building that had once housed a chain grocery store. Part of the edifice was dedicated to the Kismet Food Pantry, which took any and all donations, as long as the foodstuffs weren’t expired. The pantry doled out food to needy families on a weekly basis, rationing according to donations.

Caprice almost never wore her hair in a ponytail. However, she did so today so she could confine it in a hairnet while she helped make and serve lunch. She detected the scent of broiling meat as she approached the kitchen. Today was burger and red-skinned potato day. It was a popular lunch, and Caprice knew the dining area would be full. After the burgers were broiled, they were kept warm in a spicy sauce. No chafing dishes here, just steam trays, and they hoped enough food to last through the luncheon line.

She spotted her mom. She was scraping carrots while Nana halved potatoes.

“What can I do to help?” Caprice asked.

A volunteer was setting up trays that would be placed at the head of the cafeteria line. Another pulled dishes from the dishwasher. A third wrapped silverware in napkins.

With a knife in one hand and a potato in the other, Nana came over to Caprice and gave her a hug. “Good to see you, honey.”

“Do you want me to help you with the potatoes?”

“I think it will take your mom longer to scrape the carrots. Better help her.”

“Who’s in charge of the kitchen?” Caprice asked, looking around, seeing that everyone was doing their job and doing it effectively.

“Mario Ruiz is here this month. He made up the menus and is overseeing the cooking.”

Caprice watched a woman take a tray of burgers from the broiler. “No one’s overseeing now.”

“He went into the pantry. There was some confusion about a delivery.”

Caprice realized where she’d heard Mario’s name. When Jeanie had mentioned him, Caprice couldn’t quite remember where she’d come across his name before. But now she knew. She’d heard it in conjunction with the soup kitchen. Her mom or Nana had probably told her he was involved, but she hadn’t paid much attention.

Fifteen minutes later, Mario appeared. He seemed to be everywhere at once. He was short and thin with black curly hair, a long nose, and a wide smile as he supervised everyone. Caprice wanted to talk to him, but that would have to wait until after lunch was served. In the meantime, she finished helping her mom with the carrots and then found Nana wasn’t finished slicing the potatoes.

Caprice slipped over beside her.

“My hands aren’t as agile as they once were,” Nana complained.

“I’ll help.”

“I noticed you working with your mom,” Nana said. “You weren’t as talkative as usual.”

No, she was too busy thinking about Grant. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything you want to unload?”

Caprice shook her head. “This isn’t the place.”

“Any place is the place. What’s going on,
teso-rina mia
?”

My little treasure. Her Nana called her that when she felt deeply about something. So Caprice had to tell her what was wrong.

“It’s Grant. He’s going to be talking to his ex-wife.”

Nana gave her a long look. “And you don’t think he should.”

“I’m not sure what he should or shouldn’t do. I just know that marriage creates deep bonds. They had a child together. And whether they know it or not, the trauma of that child dying brings them together in a way that will always connect them. What if they decide they should try to get back together?”

“Then you need to know it now,” Nana said practically.

That shocked Caprice. She hadn’t really thought about the situation like that, but it certainly was true.

“How do you feel about Grant?” Nana asked.

Without hesitation, Caprice said, “I love him.”

“Then you have to trust what you feel for him, and you have to trust what he feels for you.”

“But I don’t know for sure what he feels.”

“Do you trust him to make the right decision, no matter what that is?”

Wasn’t that a wise question? “Do you mean, do I think he’s a good moral man who will do the best thing he knows how to do? Yes, I do.”

Nana shrugged. “Then there you have it.”

“So I have to let him walk away if he decides he wants to renew his marriage?”

“You can’t deny what’s already happened. You can’t erase it, though you might have to try if you ever want to marry Grant in the church.”

She’d never thought about that either. To marry Grant in the church, he’d have to obtain an annulment. She didn’t agree with that, because he certainly had had a marriage, and there would have to be grounds. But it was the only way she and Grant could ever be married in the Catholic Church.

“Do you believe in the annulments, Nana?”

“I believe that you and Grant are going to have to do what’s right for you. You might decide to elope to Las Vegas.”

“If we ever get that far.”

Nana put her arm around Caprice and gave her a squeeze. “Trust, honey. Trust.”

But who should she trust? Herself? Grant? Fate? A higher power? Maybe she should start praying again instead of slipping affirmations into her silent butler. The thing was, she had to decide what to pray for. Probably just wisdom to know what to do next.

Caprice thought about what Nana had said all throughout lunch as she ladled out carrots and potatoes, as she made sure everyone who passed through the line had a bun as well as a burger. She noticed the diversity in the faces that went before her—black and brown, white and yellow. Large eyes, small eyes, big mouths, small mouths, long noses, short noses, glasses. All people just trying to make their way. She kept her eye on Mario too, so she could find him when she wanted him.

Finally after the last person had been served and she’d helped with some of the cleanup, Caprice saw Mario in the dining area wiping off a table with a cloth.

She approached him and asked, “Mr. Ruiz?”

“Mario,” he said with a grin before he even saw who she was. Then he turned, and his smile became broader. “You’re Mrs. De Luca’s granddaughter.”

“I am.” She extended her hand. “Caprice De Luca.”

“And I’m just Mario. Mr. Ruiz is my father, and my grandfather.”

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” He looked puzzled. “Do you want to talk about the food we serve . . . something that can make it better?”

“No. Actually I want to talk about Drew Pierson.”

At that, Mario’s eyes widened, and he ran a hand through his tumbled curls. “What about Drew?” Mario asked, his eyes a bit narrowed now.

“My sister and I found him.”

The wary expression left Mario’s face for a moment. “I’m so sorry.” He motioned to a little office where she spotted a computer and some bookshelves. “Maybe we should go in there where we have privacy.”

She went to the office with him and stepped inside.

He closed the door. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I heard that you worked with Drew.”

“Yes, we worked together in Washington, D.C. We were both sous chefs at the same hotel. But then the hotel was bought by a different corporation and we were let go.”

“Did you come back to Kismet, expecting to work together again?”

Mario went to the desk and propped on the corner. “I’m not sure what we expected. We put in our résumés everywhere we could. If we applied somewhere and they needed more than one person, one of us recommended the other. I thought we were a team of sorts. At least in getting new jobs. But then I found the one in York. Drew drifted a bit until he decided to open his own catering business. If it weren’t for helping out his grandmother, I think he would have gone back to D.C. and found work there again. But he was pretty insistent on staying here. He got tired of the short-order cook type jobs he was getting rather than the more prestigious ones.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? I’m satisfied with what I’ve got. I respect the owner of the bistro I’m working for, and we serve good food. Would I rather be cooking in a French restaurant in New York City? Possibly. But I’m giving this a try.”

“Did Drew ever tell you he wanted to partner with my sister?”

There wasn’t any hesitation when Mario answered. “Yes, he did. And I thought he was going to. But then their deal fell through. He never told me exactly why.”

Caprice didn’t see any harm in telling him, and she might learn more if she gave
him
information. “Nikki didn’t feel a partnership with Drew would be in her best interest. I think she was right. He stole one of Nikki’s recipes and served it at the wedding expo last weekend as his. He might have even stolen one of his grandmother’s recipes.”

Mario went silent for at least three heartbeats. Then he studied Caprice as if deciding what to tell her. Finally he said, “Do you know about the blackberry barbecue sauce he sold to the Rack O’ Ribs chain?”

“I do. I saw him announce it on
Mornings with Mavis
. I tasted it, and it’s darn good.”

“Yeah, it’s darn good. It was
mine
. I developed it before D.C. Drew knew I used it and he tasted it often. He’d seen me prepare it.”

“Did you consider suing him?”

“I did. I actually saw a lawyer. But he said I simply don’t have enough proof. Are you looking into this because you knew Drew?”

“I didn’t know him, and I’m not sure Nikki did either. I’m looking into it because I’m afraid Nikki could be on the detectives’ suspect list. She and Drew were rivals.”

“Drew could put up a charming front when he wanted to, but he was a conniver underneath. Lots of people knew that, so I’m sure he had his host of enemies.”

“Did you consider yourself his enemy?”

“My grandfather has a saying. When a wrong is done to you, don’t let your anger make it develop into more than one wrong.”

“That sounds like advice Nana would give me.”

“I wouldn’t consider Drew my enemy,” Mario added. “I merely cut him out of my life.”

That could be true. Or . . . Drew’s lucrative deal to sell the barbecue sauce could have been a revenge motive for Mario to murder him.

* * *

Caprice found herself in Rowena Pierson’s house again the following day. Nikki had decided it was better if she didn’t show up for Drew’s funeral. Between gossip and her motives being questioned, it just seemed the safer route to take. But Caprice said she would go for both of them . . . for the family. Nana decided to send a Mass card instead of attending. She knew Rowena in passing, but not well enough that her presence would be missed.

Caprice thought about Nana’s Mass card, and Father Gregory saying a Mass to aid Drew’s soul in finding heaven or growth or whatever actually happened after someone died. It couldn’t hurt.

Not many people had attended the funeral and the graveside prayers. It hadn’t seemed appropriate to speak to anyone at the church or at the cemetery, so she’d accepted the invitation from Rowena to attend the reception at her house afterward.

At the funeral Caprice had noticed something unusual. Jeanie didn’t seem broken up about her brother’s death. In fact, as she stood listening to Father Gregory at graveside, she’d appeared a little smug. Maybe that was the result of the way she had her lipstick applied. Caprice didn’t know. But she did know that Jeanie didn’t have the expression of a grieving sister. Was she a bit removed because she knew one day she’d inherit everything of her grandmother’s, and Drew’s death had given her that? Maybe she was just the type who couldn’t show emotion easily, though she’d seemed to show plenty of emotion the day Bella and Caprice had gone into her shop.

Rowena’s house wasn’t large, and the funeral goers who came to the reception spread from the living room into the kitchen as well as the sitting room adjacent to the living room that once might have been a dining room. It was close quarters. Caprice caught sight of Jeanie again, and this time she was talking to an older man in a suit. She gestured toward the Tiffany floor lamp beside an armchair.

What was that all about? Just what secrets did those lamps hold?

Rowena, checking to make sure everyone had food or drink in their hands, approached Caprice. She was using her cane today.