Silence of the Lamps (21 page)

“So there’s progress.”

“Yes, there’s progress. How about your investigation?”

“I feel like I’m advancing in baby steps. At the Chamber of Commerce breakfast this morning, I learned a few things about Drew and his sister. But also about one of Drew’s friends, Bronson Chronister.”

“There was talk on one of the local shows about him running for office,” Dulcina offered.

“I guess the rumors are true. There’s scuttlebutt he might run for a seat in the state house with an eye on more.”

“He’s easy on the eyes.”

Caprice laughed. “On that note, I think I’ll leave you to your work. Lady misses spending time with you.”

“And I miss her. Maybe you could bring her over and let her meet Halo.”

“We can talk about that more later.”

She offered her hand to Halo, and the cat rubbed her cheek against Caprice’s palm. Already she could see a difference in the feline. She was beginning to trust humans, and that was a big step. Dulcina’s kindness had done that.

Caprice left Dulcina’s, walked across the street, and fished her key for the front door out of her purse. Once inside she pressed in the alarm code to disengage the system.

Lady came running. Mirabelle was stretched out on the fuchsia oversized chair, while Sophia sat atop the afghan on the back of the sofa. Two sets of golden eyes studied her while Lady danced around her feet. Caprice had picked up the mail from her porch mailbox on the way in. She didn’t pay much attention to it, because her first concern was letting Lady outside. Still she gave Lady the hand motion for “sit.” After a bit of tail wagging, sit Lady did.

Caprice praised her and petted her, and then patted her hip and said, “Come on. After you do your thing, maybe we can play a little fetch.”

In the kitchen, she deposited her purse on the counter but kept the letters in her hand as she let Lady outside and followed her onto the porch. Lady wasted no time running into the yard. Caprice remembered the days when she ran along with her to give her the “go potty” command. But now Lady didn’t need that.

The day could turn into a sweltering one, and she might have to turn on her air-conditioning. The zinnias were starting to bud. The snapdragons she’d planted in bunches were colorful against the reblooming lilacs. She took in a deep breath of the summery air, closed her eyes, and appreciated the scents of the season.

Sitting on the glider on the porch, she turned to the letters in her hand. There were bills, of course. There were always bills along with ads for products she’d never use. A letter-sized envelope caught her eye. It was one of those envelopes with the blue stripes so that you couldn’t see what was inside. No one wrote letters these days. They sent e-mails. So she couldn’t imagine whom it was from. There was no return address.

That should have been her first warning.

But she was watching Lady and appreciating the day and thinking about meeting Roz and Vince at Cherry on the Top for ice cream. Roz had suggested it at breakfast. Vince and Roz would give her fresh eyes on everything she’d learned about her investigation.

She wasn’t surprised by the white piece of paper she pulled out of the envelope. It was folded in thirds. But when she opened it, the printing alerted her she might not like what it was going to say.

She didn’t.

The printed letters more reminiscent of a child’s writing than an adult’s, even a little jagged, read,
If you value that pretty dog and your life, stop asking questions.

As explicit as the knife in the rack of ribs, there was only one thing to do, of course. She speed-dialed Detective Carstead.

* * *

Cherry on the Top was like a step back to the fifties when ice-cream sundaes could be the best part of anybody’s week. Caprice often tried to convince herself that the dairy concoction with walnuts on top could be a balanced meal. Tonight she’d skipped supper to have the sundae sitting before her, a scoop of vanilla with strawberry glaze, and a scoop of vanilla with chocolate fudge sauce. Whipped cream topped it, and walnuts were sprinkled over the whole thing.

She sat across the Formica-topped table from Vince and Roz. Up until now, they’d kept the conversation light. The way Vince and Roz interacted, the way he laughed at her jokes and she fondly brushed his arm, told Caprice they were definitely a couple. But how serious a couple?

Vince took a spoonful of his sundae, a CMP, and licked the spoon. Then he eyed Caprice. “Roz mentioned to me that she told you I asked her to move in with me.”

“She did.”

Caprice wasn’t about to reveal any confidences or what Roz had told her in private.

Vince seemed to realize that. “Are you going to convince her she should?”

That surprised Caprice a little. Vince didn’t usually ask favors of her, especially not this kind.

“Then I guess you haven’t made a decision,” she said to Roz.

“No, I haven’t. You know where I’m coming from, and so does Vince.”

Instead of convincing Roz of anything, Caprice addressed her brother. “Don’t push.”

With a sigh he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re supposed to convince her, not give me advice.”

“Since when did I ever do what I was supposed to do?”

His lips twitched up in amusement. “Maybe when you were about five.”

“You two will work it out,” she said. “Just be patient with each other.”

“We’re thinking about planning that vacation you suggested. It could be a smart idea,” Vince responded.

“I have them now and then,” Caprice teased.

Yet she wasn’t in a teasing mood. She was worried. She couldn’t hide much from her good friend or her family, so she decided to tell them about the letter. “I had a meeting with Detective Carstead this afternoon.”

Now Vince was on alert. “What about?”

Deciding to confide in her brother and Roz, she explained about the rack of ribs threat and the letter. “When I called Detective Carstead initially, he told me not to touch it more than I had to and to slip it into a Ziploc bag. So that’s what I did. He came by to collect it.”

“And?” Vince asked.

“I saw those doubts in his eyes. I asked him if he thought I sent it to myself to get Nikki off the hook.”

“He wouldn’t think that,” Roz protested.

“I believe he did for about a minute. But then he admitted from what he knows about me, he doesn’t believe I would do that. Of course, he wouldn’t share any information about the investigation, but he did tell me they have positive leads they’re following. At least that’s something, coming from him.”

“So now what? Is he going to send a patrol car by your house every once in a while?”

“He said he’d inform the patrol officers to be on the lookout, but they don’t have the manpower to do that. He knows I have a good alarm system and I’ll be careful. I’ll be especially careful with my pets. If anyone comes near them, I’ll use more than what I learned in that self-defense class on them.”

Roz and Vince exchanged a look that said they believed she would.

“I can’t just sit by. I can take care of myself, but anybody who threatens Lady is a real pervert and I’m going to find out who that is.”

“And just how are you going to do that?” Vince asked.

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Who are your suspects?” Vince wanted to know.

She went down the list from Jeanie Boswell with her motives, to Mario Ruiz and his, to the relationships Drew had with Larry Penya and Bronson Chronister, and Bronson’s aspirations to run for political office. She didn’t know how they all played together, but they might.

After Caprice finished, Roz looked pensive. “I keep thinking about that Tiffany lamp. Sometimes the shades are attached to the base. It’s not that easy to just lift it up and use it as a weapon. What if that shade was removed from the lamp beforehand . . . before the murder? What if it was just sitting on the table?”

That took Caprice’s mind in a different direction. Certainly the murderer didn’t remove the lampshade from the base before he hit Drew. The scene seemed more like an impulsive situation where maybe the murderer hadn’t even intended to strike.

Caprice realized if she learned the answer to why the shade was off the lamp, she might possibly know who the murderer was.

There was only one thing to do in the morning. Visit Rowena again.

Chapter Eighteen

The summer breeze blew in the kitchen window of Rowena’s house the following morning. Caprice had brought Lady along today, and Rowena seemed to enjoy interacting with her. While Caprice sat at the kitchen table, Lady lounging with one of her toys at her feet, Rowena served pineapple pomegranate tea in a cherished rose-patterned porcelain teapot.

Caprice accepted the cup offered her. This time, she’d brought along biscotti
she’d
made.

Rowena took a bite from a cookie. “You say they’re not like your nana’s. And they aren’t quite. But they’re very good. I love the lemon icing.”

“She must have magic in her hands when she rolls them,” Caprice offered.

“I appreciate your visit today,” Rowena admitted. She nodded to the cocker spaniel. “And Lady’s. Kiki is going to be at the bookstore until eight o’clock tonight. So I enjoy the company. But I know you probably have more questions about Drew, don’t you?”

“Having tea with you isn’t just about Drew,” Caprice assured her. “After his murder is solved, we’re going to have that grand tea party with Nana. And I’ll still visit. I promise.”

Rowena nodded as if she believed Caprice and bent to pet Lady again. As always, Lady enjoyed the attention. “I have a whole collection of teapots and teacups that we can use when you come over. We’ll try every flavor of tea there is to try. Kiki’s not a tea drinker. She likes coffee. But nothing is more relaxing or comforting than a well-steeped cup of tea.”

After Caprice finished her cookie, she sipped at her tea from a cup of delicate fine china. She understood that Rowena treasured some of these belongings she’d had for decades. That brought her back to the subject of her Tiffany lamps. “I’d like to ask you about your Tiffany lamps again.”

“Ask away.”

“As far as you know, the shade was not off the small lamp before you left that day?”

“That’s right. Everything in the room was as it should be.”

“Do you know any reason why it would have been taken apart? That the shade would have been taken off the base?”

Rowena appeared troubled. “I really have no idea. Unless, of course, Drew did it.” She studied her hands, then her teacup. Finally, she turned her gaze on the floor lamp in the living room. “I do have my recipes hidden in the floor lamp. That channel inside is perfect. Yes, the lamp’s heavy. But I can easily tilt it against the arm of the sofa and take recipes in or out . . . if I want to. But I never want to. I put them in there because I know them by heart. I don’t need them to bake or to cook.”

“As far as you know, had Drew ever seen you take the recipes in or out of the floor lamp?”

“No. Because I just don’t. I don’t know how he could have known they were in there.”

“How long have you done this?”

“Since that episode of my card club member trying to steal them from me.”

“How old was Drew?”

“That was shortly after he came to live with me. He might have been eleven.”

“Is it possible that over the years he heard you talking about those recipes being hidden in the floor lamp? Possibly to Kiki?”

“I suppose that’s possible.”

Caprice continued with that train of thought. “Maybe he suspected you kept recipes hidden in the table lamp, too. Maybe he checked every once in a while to see if you had inserted any.”

“I suppose that’s likely. Do you think he was looking for the recipes in the lamp when he let the murderer in?”

“If whoever came to the door was someone he knew, maybe he just left the lamp apart while he answered the door. There’s no way of knowing, but it’s as likely a theory as any.”

Rowena suddenly snapped her fingers. “You know what? I found Drew’s yearbook for his senior year. Would you like to see it?”

“I would.”

Rowena crossed to a stand of cookbooks on the counter and pulled a tall volume from the wooden holder. “After I found this, I just put it here so I could get my fingers on it easily. Kiki looked through it. I haven’t. I remember too well what Drew and his friends looked like back then.” She handed the book to Caprice.

Caprice began paging through the volume. There were the usual shots—the football team and the cheerleaders. She found a photo of Drew and Larry and Bronson, standing at what looked like a lab table. The picture must have been taken during a science class. She commented about it to Rowena.

“Larry was the one interested in science,” Rowena explained. “I remember I bought Drew a chemistry kit one year. The three of them were in the basement using it. Suddenly they ran upstairs and told me I had to open all the windows. I don’t know what they had done, but I think Larry was the instigator of that one. Now and then I found him helping Drew with his math. I think if Larry could have gone to college, he would have done well. But his family didn’t have the money. And I don’t think his achievements showed up well enough on paper to earn him scholarships.”

Paging through the rest of the yearbook, Caprice found Drew’s photo in the lineup of the senior graduates. She studied his face. Larry’s photo was right before his.

As she turned each page, she thought about her own high school reunion that was soon coming up. For her, the past fifteen years hadn’t changed the way she looked at the world that much. She might be more confident about what she did and how she did it, but her basic values were still the same. What her parents and teachers had taught her was ingrained and had become part of her moral code.

As in most yearbooks, at the end of the volume, pages had been saved for autographs. She studied the signatures Drew had collected, which were mostly short comments—
You did it! Congratulations, you passed. What’s next, bro?
But then she passed her finger over one that was a little longer. Larry had written,
Hey Drew—Never forget we’ve got a pact. All for one and one for all. Larry
.

Just what kind of pact had this trio made? Something general, like they’d always be friends? Or had that pact been about something more particular?

She considered both Bronson and Larry. Bronson’s manner was too facile to give anything away. He considered carefully what he said and who he said it to. But from her conversation with Larry Penya, she had a feeling he might be more open.

“Do you have any idea where I can find Larry?” she asked Rowena. “You mentioned he separated from his wife and moved out. I left a message at that number, but she hasn’t called me back or given Larry the message to call me.”

“From what I understand, Linda is bitter about the marriage he couldn’t give her. She stayed in the house, and she’s a single mom trying to make payments on her own. You might want to give her another call or just try to see if you can snag her in person.”

“Do you know where she works?”

“She works at that daycare center over near the mall—Little Tykes.”

“Then she should be home in the evening. I’ll try to visit her tonight. Her attitude would probably be even more closed if I tried to visit her at work.”

“You’re right about that,” Rowena agreed. “Though it might not be much better if she’s trying to take care of a four-year-old and get supper at the same time.”

“I’ll have to take my chances.”

Caprice remembered the threat that had been made against Lady. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her dog, her friends, or herself. The best way to keep harm from happening was to figure out who killed Drew and to do it quickly.

* * *

The house Larry Penya had moved out of was basically a box shape with a carport attached to one side. As Caprice had driven up to the curb, she’d spotted a shed in the back. The yard wasn’t very big, so that outbuilding was close to the house. Still, there was a small swing set and a Big Wheel bike crisscrossed in front of it.

As she walked to the front stoop, she had no expectations. Linda Penya might slam the door in her face. She hoped she could prevent that.

When she pressed the bell, she didn’t hear a corresponding ding inside. Not working maybe?

Opening the screen door, she knocked.

From inside, she heard “Just a minute” in an impatient voice. That didn’t sound like a good start.

The woman who opened the door looked frustrated. Her ash-blond hair was gathered in a messy topknot. Strands escaped around her face.

She didn’t even wait for Caprice to open her mouth. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want any. I have a four-year-old in the kitchen who’s in the middle of supper.”

She turned and was about to close the door when Caprice stopped her. “Wait. This is important. I want to talk to you about Drew Pierson and your husband.”

That froze the woman in her tracks. She turned around slowly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Caprice De Luca. My sister worked with Drew. I know Drew and Larry and Bronson were good friends. I’d like to speak to Larry. Do you know where he is?”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, thought about it a moment, and then opened the screen door. “Come on in. I have to get back to Joey or he’ll have food all over the kitchen.”

As Caprice stepped into the small living room, she could see at once that the house was in disorder with Joey’s stuff thrown here and there and toys scattered across the floor. But it looked clean. Not only that, but Larry or his wife had framed their little boy’s drawings and hung them on the wall. There were pictures, too, of when Joey was an infant and later photos taken in the backyard. This appeared to be a house that had once held love.

Linda didn’t stop in the living room but went straight into the kitchen, where a towheaded four-year-old in a T-shirt and jeans was digging into what looked like a bowl of SpaghettiOs. He had sauce all over his mouth and his little fingers, and he’d picked up one of the tiny meatballs and was holding it in his hand.

Linda shook her head, went over to him, and advised, “Put the meatball in your mouth, then I’ll wash your hands.”

Joey’s hazel eyes twinkled as he did as she’d asked and then grinned at her.

“Gotta love the cuteness,” she murmured.

Caprice knew what she meant. Megan and Timmy could get away with a lot too with a smile like that.

She said to Caprice, “Larry doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Drew’s grandmother told me that. She said you were separated?”

“For about six months now. Larry lost his job, and then he tried to set up his own handyman business, fixing people’s appliances and things you can’t get repaired anymore. He’s good at that.” She motioned out back. “He has his workshop out there. He always went there to smoke. He still stops in to use it now and then. But sometimes he doesn’t even let me know he’s out there. Probably when he’s been drinking. That’s one of the reasons I asked him to move out.”

Caprice wondered if Larry could have a Tiffany lamp base in his shop somewhere. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Can I take a look at the workshop?” she asked.

Linda looked perplexed. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m just curious to see how big his enterprise was. I heard Bronson helped him out.” A little fib now and then to get information didn’t hurt.

Looking embarrassed, Linda admitted, “Bronson gave us money to tide us over—so our electricity wouldn’t get shut off and we could pay our mortgage. But he didn’t help with the shop as far as I know. Larry already had tools, a workbench, things like that. But advertising is a problem. I think Bronson lent him money to do an ad in the paper, but that didn’t bring in many people. I think he’s looking into setting up a social media page. But he really doesn’t know anything about all of that.”

“I saw Larry at the gym,” Caprice said, wondering where he got the money for the membership. It wasn’t cheap. If they were having financial difficulties, wouldn’t he drop that first?

“That was also a gift from Bronson last Christmas. He thought it might help Larry’s mood if he kept up physical activity. Bronson’s been a good friend. We owe him so much. Life just got too overwhelming for both of us. We argued all the time. Joey was getting upset. It just seemed better if Larry moved out for a while. Do you really want to see the shop?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind. It’s never locked.”

Linda went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a pack of cookies. She unfastened the package, took out five of them, and placed them on the table in front of Joey. She said to him, “You can have these with your milk. I’ll be right back.”

The back door was already open to let in the hot breeze. As she led Caprice outside, she said, “I know I should be giving him carrot sticks instead of cookies, but those cookies were on special and I got them really cheap. Everything for me is about money these days. I hate it.”

Caprice felt sorry for Linda, who seemed to be in the middle of a hurricane with everything around her spinning out of control. What if it fell apart even further? What if Larry had killed Drew? For what reason? Caprice had no idea.

It was only about ten steps to the shed. It looked as if it had been hand-built by either Larry or a previous owner. She said as much.

“It was here when we moved in,” Linda said. “It was one of the reasons Larry liked this place.”

She threw open the wooden door, and a wave of heat and stale smoke accosted Caprice. There were two windows, and they were open. But the small building seemed to draw the heat into itself. She spotted a fan sitting on the workbench and realized that Larry probably kept that going during the summer. On one side of the building, shelves were filled with small appliances—mixers and blenders. She thought she spotted two XBoxes. A canister-style vacuum cleaner with its attached hose was sprawled across on the floor. The workbench held the usual tools—chisels, pliers, a utility knife, and even a small hammer. Rows of jars with different types of screws and nails lined the back of the workbench against the wall. A roll of appliance cord leaned against two rolls of duct tape.