Silence of the Lamps (12 page)

She took Caprice’s elbow. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Nikki sends her respects too . . . and Nana and my mom.”

“I saw your Nana’s Mass card. Tell her thank you. Kiki is going to help me with thank-you notes after all of it settles down. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s the one who took care of the food for today. I’m sure it’s not as elegant as anything Drew might have prepared.”

Caprice wasn’t sure about that. As a lead-in, she said, “I don’t know many people here. Do you know the gentleman who’s talking to Jeanie?”

Rowena put a finger to her lips as she gazed at him. “I don’t know who that is. Maybe it’s one of her friends.”

Just then, the man left Jeanie’s side and stepped into the sitting room.

The front door suddenly opened and two men walked in.

Rowena turned their way. “Will you excuse me, Caprice? I need to welcome Drew’s friends.”

As Caprice studied the two men at the door, she realized they could be Bronson Chronister and Larry Penya. Just from their appearance, she could tell who was who. Bronson’s suit shouted dollar signs. It was charcoal and impeccably made. His white shirt gleamed with a silk finish, and his tie looked like a designer one. His black leather wingtips were spit-shined. Larry Penya, on the other hand, had a scruffier look. He would have been more handsome without the goatee, Caprice thought. His blue eyes were piercing, his dirty blond hair just a little too long. He looked uncomfortable in navy slacks and a white Oxford shirt. He and Bronson were about the same height, though Larry was thinner. For some reason, she got the idea that maybe Larry had borrowed his clothes from Bronson.

The two men were hugging Rowena, and she didn’t want to intrude. So instead of lingering in the living room, she followed the Oriental runner into the sitting room. Jeanie was nowhere in sight. Caprice supposed she could have gone either upstairs or down to the basement. However, the man who had been talking to her stood there, and he wasn’t mourning Drew. Rather, he was appraisingly studying a claw-foot table. As she watched, he took out his cell phone and snapped a photo of it. How odd.

Caprice approached him, saying, “That’s a fine table, isn’t it?”

As she studied him, he studied her. “It is. Are you interested in antiques?”

Extending her hand, she said, “I’m Caprice De Luca. My profession is home staging. I often use antiques to fill in. It’s amazing how many places they fit, even with modern décor. I know Rowena, and I knew Drew. Were you a friend of Drew’s?”

The man looked a little uneasy, but then he shrugged and pulled a business card from the inner pocket of his suit coat. “No, actually I didn’t know Drew. My name’s Carter Gottlieb. I’m an antique dealer from York. Jeanie and I are friends.”

She glanced at the card and saw an address in the east end.

“I know you might think it’s a little odd I’m snapping photos, but Jeanie asked me to come today. She wanted me to unobtrusively capture photos of her grandmother’s antiques and evaluate them.”

“Without Rowena knowing?” Caprice asked, wondering if this guy would be honest with her.

“She told her grandmother she was going to do it sometime. I guess she thought I could look around today and not have to bother her grandmother any other time. I think she’s being sensitive to her grandmother’s feelings, not wanting to talk about it so soon after Drew died.”

“You mean her own inheritance?”

“I don’t know about that. I’m only concerned with the antiques. The stars of the collection, of course, are the Tiffany lamps. And they are Tiffany, not reproductions or attempts at the same style. They are totally amazing.”

He motioned to the claw-foot table, a bentwood rocker, a curio cupboard with engravings. “The rest of Jeanie’s grandmother’s antiques are quite ordinary. But that floor lamp in there alone is worth six figures. It’s such a shame that the base to the other lamp is missing.”

“The motive for Drew’s murder might have been robbery, I suppose,” Caprice offered, just to see what Carter Gottlieb would say.

“If this was robbery, it was a poor attempt at it. A robber who knew what those lamps were worth never would have left the shade.”

That’s exactly what Caprice had concluded. “So I guess Drew’s murder had nothing to do with the lamps, even though they’re worth what could be a small fortune to someone.”

“Jeanie thought her grandmother might have another small Tiffany lamp upstairs. She went up to check. She showed me photos of the bedrooms upstairs, and I didn’t see anything remarkable. For the most part, antiques are worth only the pleasure that they give, the memories and the history attached to them.”

“I agree, but it sounds as if Jeanie’s thinking about selling everything eventually.”

“I don’t know if she wants to sell it, but she’s tallying it up. My guess is, she thinks her grandmother might move to a retirement facility and auction off all of this. She told me how much Drew helped Mrs. Pierson. I’m not sure she’ll be able to handle the house if she stays here alone.”

That could be true. On the other hand, there were services that could help someone in Rowena’s position—Meals on Wheels, a cleaning lady once a week, a church network of volunteers who drive seniors to doctors’ appointments. If Rowena wanted to stay in her house, there was a way to do it.

“I suppose it hurts Jeanie to think about selling the house. After all, she grew up here.”

Gottlieb looked thoughtful. “From what she’s told me, I’m not sure those times were happy times. She confided in me about her parents dying and she and Drew coming to live here. She doesn’t seem attached to anything in the house, not even those lamps. Believe me, if I owned a Tiffany lamp like that, I’d be attached.”

“Did she mention whether she and Drew were close? Only two years separated them.”

“She really hadn’t discussed that. But then again, I got the impression that she felt her grandmother was catering to Drew, letting him stay here, giving him free room and board. I suppose Jeanie felt a little bit left out of that, or like her grandmother wasn’t being fair.”

“I don’t understand,” Caprice said.

Carter lowered his voice. “I think Jeanie felt that Drew was manipulating their grandmother, trying to get into her good graces.”

“Maybe he was just trying to redeem himself for all the problems he’d caused when he was a teenager.”

“Perhaps that’s true. I just got the feeling that Jeanie felt she was in competition with Drew.”

And now that competition was over. Would Jeanie try to convince Rowena to move into a senior center? The most important question was, Did she kill her brother so she would inherit everything her grandmother left when she died?

Chapter Eleven

After Caprice rejoined the rest of the guests in the living room, Rowena was still talking to the two men. She’d settled on the sofa. The man in the suit was on the left of her, the blond-haired man on the right.

Rowena motioned to Caprice, and Caprice joined them, eager to find out if these were Drew’s best friends. She sat on one of the folding chairs that had been set up near the sofa and caught a whiff of stale smoke. Apparently the man to Rowena’s right was a smoker.

“I’d like you to meet friends of Drew’s.” Rowena looked proud that Drew had had friends. She introduced Bronson first.

Bronson shook Caprice’s hand. “How did you know Drew?” he asked.

“Drew worked with my sister. I stage houses and she provides the food.”

Bronson snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of you. You’re well-known for your shindigs . . . and for the marvelous food at them.”

“And this is Larry Penya,” Rowena said, maybe expecting Larry to extend his hand to Caprice as Bronson had. But Larry didn’t. He just nodded, then glanced around the room.

Caprice decided to try to draw the two men out. “Were you friends of Drew’s for a long time?”

To her surprise, Larry was the one who answered. “Since high school.”

“It’s amazing that you kept your friendships. They don’t often last.”

Bronson and Larry exchanged a look, and Caprice wondered what that was about.

But before she could get a better read on it, Rowena interjected, “I think I still have Drew’s high school yearbook around here somewhere. After he moved back here, he was going to toss it. But I saved it. If I could just remember where I put it.”

“It will come back, Mrs. Pierson.” Again Larry surprised Caprice by patting the older woman’s hand.

“I wish more things would come back,” Rowena ruminated. “Like my ability to use my knees to go up and down stairs.” Then she addressed Bronson directly. “I should have accepted your daddy’s invitation to go camping for a weekend in one of his RV trailers while I still could have enjoyed it. Now trekking around in the outdoors is something I can’t do.”

“But you could still enjoy a campfire,” Bronson suggested kindly.

Both of these men acted as if they were fond of Rowena. After all, they’d known her for years.

“You should go out to Happy Camper RV Center sometime and take a look at what Bronson sells,” Rowena advised Caprice. “Some of those campers are amazing. Drew showed me pictures. The side actually extends from one of them, and it’s almost as big as a house!”

“A home away from home on wheels,” Bronson agreed. “That’s what people want. Oh, they like to say they’ve gone camping. Real campers use a tent. People that come to our center . . . they want a few conveniences when they’re camping, including heat, air, and bathroom facilities. Many camper vehicles can provide that now.”

Caprice could see that Bronson was enthusiastic about the subject, and she supposed he had to be to make the business a success.

“My only experience camping was a tent in the backyard with my sisters and brother,” Caprice said with a smile. “And I can’t say it was the best time of my life, especially with Vince trying to scare us half to death in the middle of the night.”

“Come on out to Happy Camper sometime. I’d be glad to show you around.” Bronson’s invitation sounded sincere. “And Mrs. Pierson,” he added, “if you want to enjoy a camping experience, I would take you myself some weekend . . . and pick out the best camper to do it. You fed me and Larry often enough through the years, let alone let us sleep over here.”

That explained the almost grandmotherly appeal that Rowena had for Bronson and Larry.

“You boys weren’t always good for Drew, but you weren’t always bad for him either. Don’t think I didn’t know about the trouble you often got into. But you stood by Drew and he stood by you . . . and that’s what friends are for.”

Caprice studied both of the men during Rowena’s little speech. Their expressions gave nothing away. She’d like to know a lot more about their friendships with Drew. Maybe she’d have the opportunity to talk to them separately.

A cell phone beeped.

Bronson slid his from inside his jacket pocket and studied the screen. Then he slanted toward Rowena. “That was a text from the manager at Happy Camper. I’m going to have to get back there. But Larry and I just wanted to stop and pay our respects.

“I’m glad you did,” Rowena said, giving them both a hug.

The two men stood, and Bronson said to Caprice, “It was good to meet you. Remember what I said about coming out for a tour sometime.”

As the two men moved toward the door, Rowena shook her head. “They didn’t even have anything to eat.”

“I think they were just glad to talk to you. Reviving memories always helps at a time like this.”

“I suppose that’s true. You know, I thought maybe the girl that Drew had dated would stop by his funeral . . . or here.”

“He was dating someone?”

“Not lately. But he did in the spring. You know, I could see and hear better than he thought I could. He snuck her up to his room on weekends because he knew I’d never approve. I don’t know who the girl was. But she was a redhead. I caught sight of her one night when I left my room to go to the bathroom for a drink. He and the girl were snuggling on the couch. But he never introduced her to me, and I thought that was a bit odd.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to introduce you to someone he didn’t know if he was serious about.”

“That’s probably true.”

To her surprise, Mario Ruiz came through the front door. He spotted Caprice sitting near Rowena and he came over to them. “Mrs. Pierson,” he said. “I’m Mario Ruiz. I worked with Drew in D.C.”

“Oh yes. Drew mentioned you.”

Kiki, who had been supervising everything in the kitchen, called to Rowena from the doorway. “Rowena, can you show me where you keep your extra tea bags?”

Rowena stood, using her cane to support her. She said, “Thank you for coming, Mario. We’ll talk after I solve this kitchen problem.”

After Rowena had moved away, Caprice said to Mario, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Drew and I were friends in D.C. At least, I thought we were. Maybe he stole my recipe because it was the only way he could get ahead. I have more talent than that one recipe. I have to get over it. I just wanted to pay my respects.”

Studying Mario, Caprice tried to read him, to figure out if he was sincere. After all, he could have had a strong motive for murder. But maybe he really believed that grudges didn’t serve him any purpose.

“Before you came in, Rowena was telling me that Drew had a girlfriend for a while. Rowena didn’t know who she was, but she was a redhead. Do you know who he was dating?”

“A redhead? Oh, sure, I know who that was. That was Tabitha Dennis. She’s the hostess at Rack O’ Ribs and the daughter of the manager. Drew knew how to get ahead, and my guess is that’s where he started when he wanted to sell the barbeque sauce. I could be all wrong. Maybe he started dating her and she put the idea in his head. Either way, he always had a reason for what he did.”

“Are you saying he was ruthless?”

“I’m not sure about
ruthless
. I am sure about determined and motivated. At least, since I knew him.”

Very different from the teenager he’d been, Caprice surmised. Could love of cooking make that kind of change in a person? Only if that’s what they chose for their vocation. Only if there was more behind it than dollar signs.

* * *

That evening, Nikki stopped at Caprice’s house around dinner time. She hadn’t been able to stay away, and she wanted to know everything Caprice had learned.

After the reception at Rowena’s, Caprice had driven to Grocery Fresh and bought tomatoes, a pepper, and a new bulb of garlic. When Nikki arrived, the aroma of garlic, onions, and simmering tomatoes permeated the air.

“A salad with this, or fresh broccoli?” Caprice asked her sister.

Nikki set a bag on the table. “I stopped at the Tasting Totem and got a bottle of that peach balsamic vinegar you like so much. Let’s just do salad.”

“Baby greens in the fridge,” Caprice assured Nikki.

Nikki washed her hands and then went to the refrigerator to pull out ingredients for their salads.

“You’re restraining yourself, aren’t you?” Caprice asked with a smile.

“You bet I am.”

Lady had run into the kitchen with Nikki, but Caprice shook her finger at her. “You already had your dinner. I promise that Nikki and I will play a game of chase with you after we eat if you let us talk now.”

Lady cocked her head at Caprice, one ear flapping. Her big brown eyes seemed to say,
I’d like your attention now, but I understand if I have to wait
. After a little yip, she ran off toward Caprice’s office, where Caprice knew Mirabelle was lounging on her chair.

“I’m glad she and the cats keep each other company,” she said as she stirred the sauce another time. “Maybe their relationship will last as long as Drew’s and Bronson’s and Larry’s.”

“So you met them?”

“I did. And they seem to have a genuine fondness for Rowena.”

“What did you learn?”

“Nothing concrete. But the three of them were fast friends. I could tell there was a bond between Larry and Bronson. You know, that “guy” thing? They exchanged looks a couple of times, and I got the impression they knew what the other was thinking.”

“Sort of like sisters?” Nikki jibbed.

“Actually, yes. It was sort of like that. Bronson invited me to tour Happy Camper whenever I’d like. I might take him up on it.”

“Rowena had told us that Larry had fallen on hard times. So how does he fit into Bronson’s world? Their lifestyles are so different,” Nikki mused.

“I don’t know. Maybe Bronson’s helping him out.”

“And what does Bronson get in return?”

“If they’re like brothers, maybe he doesn’t need anything in return. Or maybe it strokes his ego to be the big man on campus, so to speak, and help out his friends. I did learn that Drew had dated Tabitha Dennis.”

Nikki looked puzzled. “Should I know the name?”

“She’s the daughter of the Rack O’ Ribs manager, and the hostess there.”

Nikki whistled through her teeth. “Do you think that has something to do with the barbeque sauce?”

“I don’t know, but it’s certainly an avenue to pursue. He didn’t introduce her to Rowena, though. He just sort of snuck her in at night. That makes me wonder why. If he liked her and he was dating her, why wouldn’t he bring her to meet Rowena?”

“Maybe he was dating her for a purpose. You know, the same way he made a pass at me for a purpose.”

“His purpose with you was that he found you attractive.”

“I’m not saying that doesn’t go along with it. But I’m beginning to think Drew was a lot more calculating than I ever gave him credit for.”

“Except he messed up with you,” Caprice pointed out.

“He underestimated me. Before I drove over here, I got a call from Detective Carstead. I have to go to the police station again tomorrow for more questioning.”

“On a Sunday? Do you want me to come along?” She was supposed to meet Juan at a house they’d be staging, but he could take a preliminary tour without her. She knew if she went with Nikki, she’d probably have to sit on that hard bench in the lobby. But if Nikki needed the support, she’d be there.

“There’s no point in you coming along,” Nikki muttered. “I know they’re going to want to question me alone. I really think Detective Carstead is a good guy who just wants to find the truth.”

Caprice’s conversations with the detective had led her to the same conclusion. Still, this was her sister’s freedom that was at stake. “You should take Vince along.”

Nikki went to the pantry for Caprice’s salad spinner. When she came back out, she dumped the salad greens into it and added water to wash them. “I’m not going to ask Vince. I think Detective Carstead is right. Taking a lawyer along makes me look guilty. I don’t have anything to hide.”

Even if that was true on some level, Caprice didn’t like the idea of Nikki talking to the police without her brother present. Carstead might be a good guy, but just like Jones he wanted to pin the murder on someone.

She just hoped it wasn’t Nikki.

* * *

The house was amazing. Caprice toured it slowly on Sunday, appreciating every detail. Then she went outside to the front yard again to wait for Juan. Plans for staging it seemed to materialize before her eyes.

She’d staged many houses, and each had its own beauty. That’s why she gave them unique themes. But this one, with its Spanish-style design and architecture—

Her theme for this house staging was easy to devise—Hacienda Haven. The 5,500-square-foot, two-story edifice, including a four-car garage, had a wondrous story to tell. At least that’s the impression Caprice wanted to give any buyer who might come in. She wanted them to see a possible home that was all about hearth, family, rusticity, and old-world charm.

The house was empty now, except for the beauty that was innate. But she could envision exactly what she wanted to do with it. This structure was about more than a Mediterranean feel. She wanted Hacienda Haven to manifest a culturally rich home that invited family to gather, talk, and play.

As she faced the front entrance, the sun shone on the sprawling home with its red-tiled roof. Its villa ambience was made unique by interesting angles. Rooms weren’t just square or rectangular. There were rounded walls, high ceilings, arches, and wrought-iron lacy grillwork. With five bedrooms—three downstairs and two upstairs—a loft, a media room, and even a meditation room, the house could appeal to a host of prospective buyers. The exposed beams, the dark wood flooring and unique tiling, the brick and stone, terra-cotta tiles, rough edges, and textured plaster gave the illusion of comfort and ease, even though every detail had been done to perfection.