Staged to Death (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) (14 page)

“I’m talking about
everything
,” he said.

When he tipped her chin up and ran his thumb over her lower lip, she felt as if she’d collapse right there on the green.

But he didn’t kiss her. He just tapped her on the nose, gave her a sly grin and went back to considering how he’d play his ball.

She felt totally rattled. Why hadn’t he kissed her? Because he wanted to prolong the tension for them both? Or because he wanted to find out why she didn’t trust easily first?

Maybe
she
wanted to rattle
him
a little. “What was your longest serious relationship?”

He stopped mid-swing. “You’d like to have that conversation
here
. . . right now?”

A family of four had approached the green behind them. As the scents of freshly mown grass rode on the air, she responded, “It only requires a two-word answer.”

“If I give you the two-word answer, you’ll stop there?”

The question seemed light-hearted, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’ll stop there . . . for now.”

“We have caves, more waterfalls, and dogleg holes up ahead. I don’t know if I can concentrate with questions like these.”

“Your lack of concentration means I’ll win.”

He burst out laughing. “All right. But I have to give you five words, not two. My most recent serious relationship lasted a year and a half.”

Her next question popped out. “How long ago . . . ?”

“Remember,” he warned her. “You said you’d stop for now. No more serious stuff until we finish these eighteen holes. Then we can get down to business at the Blue Moon Grille. Okay with you?”

The Blue Moon Grille was situated in the oldest part of downtown Kismet. It was located on the second floor above an arts-and-crafts mall, and there were tables on the deck that were usually packed full, especially when the moon was out. She liked the idea of sitting there with Seth . . . a lot.

“The Blue Moon Grille it is. I’ll try to keep any more questions from popping into my head. Does the winner buy dinner?”

“You couldn’t stop asking questions if your life depended on it. Yes, the winner gets to buy dinner.”

Seth’s blue eyes twinkled in a way that told her he was definitely going to be the winner.

And he was.

An hour later, they were standing at their cars in the parking lot, weighing the pros and cons of taking one car or two to the restaurant when Seth’s cell phone beeped. He checked the screen, then said, “Sorry, I have to take this.”

She nodded that, of course, she understood.

He paced about ten feet away, listened, then secured the phone back on his belt.

With a frustrated expression, he approached her. “The questions will have to wait. So will the Blue Moon. I’m needed at the clinic. We’re short-staffed, and when it’s quiet, that’s fine. But they have about ten patients waiting, and since I’m due in there in a couple of hours anyway—” He stopped and assessed her expression.

Sure, she was disappointed. But she did understand. “It’s okay, Seth. It’s your job. It’s what you do.”

“You won’t delete my name from your phone’s contact list?” he joked.

“Not for this,” she assured him.

“That’s a relief. I’ll call you. Maybe we can have that coffee some morning . . . before I get called in to see patients.”

“Sounds good.”

He could have kissed her then, she supposed. But they were standing in the middle of the parking lot with evening golfers parking, climbing out of their cars, flowing in a stream of families and couples toward the cashier’s kiosk, ready for an evening of fun.

So Seth didn’t kiss her. He climbed into his car, gave her a wave, and in a spit of gravel drove away.

 

 

On Monday morning, Caprice ended the call on her cell phone and glanced over at Roz, who was sitting at the kitchen table examining a list of possible apartments. Dylan sat at her feet, while Stripes—one of the kittens—nestled in her lap. Sophia and Creamsicle—that’s what they had named the other kitten—were batting about a tinfoil ball in the living room.

Roz looked up and saw Caprice’s smile. “Good news?”

“Great news! An offer came in on the vacant house I staged.”

“Wonderful! You are so talented. I wish I had your knack.”

“You have talents too. I will never look as put together as you do. Your fashion sense is impeccable. Maybe you should open a boutique.”

Roz considered Caprice’s suggestion as Stripes jumped off her lap. “Maybe when this is all over, I’ll look into it. What’s on your agenda this morning?”

“I’m meeting with Teresa Arcuri around noon. At your open house she asked me if I could redo her kitchen and dining room. Her theme is sunflowers. It was a cinch to gather up ideas for that. I don’t do much just plain decorating anymore. Dave Harding asked if I’d consider doing his place.”

“Did he? He has a cute little house over on Sunset.”

“You’ve seen it?” Caprice asked.

“No, but he was telling me about it. It was good reconnecting with him at the open house. He was very kind when he came to the funeral. He didn’t go running off after Valerie’s appearance, like some people did. We’re going to have lunch sometime.”

The doorbell rang.

“Stay here,” Caprice said. “Just in case it’s Marianne Brisbane.”

“If she pushes her way in, I’ll duck outside.”

Caprice hadn’t seen the reporter again, nor received any phone calls. She’d wondered if she’d given up. Yet she knew reporters didn’t give up.

As Caprice opened the door, she had a pleasant surprise. The young man standing there carried a vase filled with red roses and baby’s breath, along with a few ferns. “Caprice De Luca?” he asked.

“That’s me.” Glancing around for the animals, she saw Stripes had clawed her way up the cat condo and was lounging on the first shelf. Creamsicle scampered after Sophia up the stairs. Caprice didn’t want any of them darting out the door.

The man with the flowers handed her the vase and said, “Have a good day.” As he returned to his van, she saw the flowers had come from Posies, one of the two local flower shops.

Closing the door, Caprice carried the vase into the kitchen. She suspected whom it might be from but didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. After all, her clients might have been glad about their sale and sent her the bouquet to thank her. Or the real estate agent might have done the same. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Still they were red roses. Not mums or carnations, not even something exotic.

“So what’s this?” Roz asked with a quirked blond brow.

“I’ll soon find out.” Caprice plucked the white envelope from the plastic card holder and found her heart was beating way too fast for early morning. She just held it between the tips of her fingers for a few seconds.

“Open it,” Roz coaxed. “We know who it’s from. Let see what he said.”

When she’d returned home after her date, Roz had given her the third degree, and Caprice had happily related every detail about it. “We don’t know that it’s from Seth.”

Roz gave her a get-real look.

Caprice slid the card from the small envelope. The scrawl was difficult to read—a doctor’s handwriting. She smiled, feeling an excited warmth fill her.

She read the message aloud, knowing Roz would expect nothing less.

“What a great start. I hope you two can go out again soon.”

Taking the vase to the sink, Caprice filled it with a little more water. “I don’t know. His schedule sounds heavy. But it’s possible we could have an early morning coffee date.”

“At least the flowers show you he had a good time.”

“Is that what they show me? I’m not very experienced at starting new relationships, Roz. When I’m with Seth, I’m afraid I’ll put my foot in my mouth.”

“That’s because you like him. And my guess is you feel some vibes coming back from him too.”

Caprice thought about when he’d almost kissed her. At least she thought he’d almost kissed her. Not only didn’t she trust men, but she was unsure of her self-confidence when she was with them. Was past experience a good teacher? Or did past experience just cause doubts and uncertainties that could derail a future relationship? She certainly didn’t have the answers.

“I know this is probably something you haven’t thought of. It’s so soon after Ted died. But do you think you’ll ever be able to trust a man again?”

When Roz stood, Dylan trotted into the living room to find animal company. Going to the sink where the vase was sitting, she picked it up and took a whiff of the roses. “I can’t believe everything Ted and I had was a sham. What we had at the beginning seemed so real. So perfect. My guess is when something is perfect, you really should doubt it.”

Caprice was old enough to know nothing was perfect, at least for not very long. “I’ve been thinking about you and Ted a lot. I don’t think he would’ve built that house for you if he didn’t love you. He put so much attention to the details in it, details that he thought would please you. A man doesn’t do that for a woman he doesn’t love.”

“I don’t know when he stopped loving me,” Roz said in a small voice with a catch in her throat.

“Maybe he didn’t stop loving you.”

“Do you think he loved me
and
Valerie? That’s hard to swallow. And when I think about the time we spent together in New York, I wonder if he was pretending to love me.”

“Maybe he didn’t love Valerie. Maybe she was just a distraction because of everything else going on in his life—the troubles at work and the tension that caused with you.”

“She was some distraction. But she thinks he loved her.”

“Is that so unusual when a man has sex with a woman? Doesn’t the woman sometimes delude herself that it’s love?”

“I did. But we’ll never know in their case.”

“If you never know, then you’ll have to choose what you believe about Ted. Wouldn’t it be better to believe that he really loved you and just got off on the wrong track somehow?”

Roz’s face showed surprise. “I never thought you’d stand up for him.”

“I’m not standing up for him. I’m standing up for you. There’s a big difference.”

“Yes, I guess there is,” Roz said. “But to answer your question—”

Caprice’s cell phone sounded from her pocket. “I don’t have to get that.”

“Go ahead. It could be important.”

When Caprice took her phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen, she looked again to make sure she was seeing correctly. She didn’t recognize the phone number, but she did recognize the name—L. Hippensteel.

She quickly put the phone to her ear. “Lonnie.”

Lonnie’s voice was low. “Can you meet me somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Someplace inconspicuous. How about the parking lot at Country Fields Shopping Center?”

“What time?”

“How about three, at the south end?”

“I can do that. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”

“I’m still at PA Pharm. Not from here. See you at three.” Lonnie ended the call.

“What was that about?” Roz asked. “You look a shade paler.”

“Because this afternoon I could get some answers as to why Ted was murdered.”

The May day was balmy, and the curbside planters were lush with pink petunias. Silver maples towered over landscaped islands meant to give the shopping center a garden appeal.

Since both Caprice’s car and van were highly recognizable, she’d borrowed Nikki’s less-conspicuous sedan. The car had lots of dings and could belong to anyone. When Caprice had told her sister why she wanted to borrow it, Nikki’s eyes had lit up as she’d asked, “An adventure? Can I go with you?”

But Caprice had nixed that idea because Lonnie had sounded nervous enough. Bringing someone else along could make her even jumpier. It was possible that she might not even show up.

Caprice parked in the south end of the lot near an island . . . away from any other cars. She was a good distance from the back doors of the shopping center but could spot shoppers coming and going. In the middle of the afternoon, when the weather was almost summery, mall retail traffic was minimal.

Suddenly Caprice was aware of a white, late-model, compact sedan pulling into the parking lot. The driver made a circle around the lot, wove around a few islands, then slid into the slot next to Caprice. Lonnie was wearing a straw hat that hid her hair. She must have piled it on top of her head. Although she was also wearing sunglasses, Caprice could still recognize her. This disguise wouldn’t go much further than Roz’s had.

Lonnie glanced over at her and motioned Caprice into her car.

That was easily accomplished. Making sure her phone was clipped to her wide leather belt, her keys in her pocket, she transferred to Lonnie’s car, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Are you okay?” Caprice saw that Lonnie was pale under her sunglasses.

After checking right and left, seeing no one else in the vicinity, Lonnie removed her sunglasses. “I don’t know. I realize I’m being paranoid. But I’m sitting on a powder keg.”

“At PA Pharm?”

Lonnie took her hands from the steering wheel and shifted toward Caprice. “I’m no longer working there.”

“You quit?”

“No, I was let go today. Mr. Thompson said they’re not going to replace Mr. Winslow so they no longer need me. Ever since Mr. Winslow died, I felt they were keeping a close eye on me. They wouldn’t give me any computer tasks, just odds and ends of secretarial work. Nothing important like I used to work on for Mr. Winslow.”

“What did you consider important?”

“Typing up R&D memos, printing inventory reports from our warehouses, taking notes at department meetings, making sure the monthly report didn’t have any errors.”

“So why do you think they took you away from what you usually did?”

“Because they knew they were going to let me go and they didn’t want me to see something I shouldn’t.”

“Do you have any idea what that was?” Caprice guessed Lonnie wouldn’t have called this meeting unless she did.

“I was in Mr. Winslow’s office before I left—just sort of saying a last good-bye to everything there—when I saw Mr. Thompson’s line light up. I was furious they were letting me go, and I guess I just wanted to be difficult. So I picked up the phone and listened in.” She said it defiantly, still obviously piqued.

“They couldn’t tell you listened in?”

“I don’t know for sure. Those lines are set up for conference calls. Mr. Thompson, Mr. Pendergast—he’s one of the pharmaceutical reps in Delaware— and Mr. Bodine from our Texas warehouse were talking.”

Caprice caught the “our” reference. Lonnie had been a loyal employee, and apparently she found it hard to separate herself from the company.

“There was lots of background noise coming from the warehouse, so I think the click when I picked up might have gone unnoticed. I was real careful when I clicked off, but I suppose they could have heard that.”

“But they wouldn’t know you specifically had listened in.”

“I don’t think so. The line is set up so any department head can conference.”

“Tell me what you heard.”

After hesitating and glancing around the parking lot again, she admitted, “They were talking fast. And they were all worried and sharp with each other. With good reason. They changed the expiration date on antibiotics to move inventory! Mr. Bodine was worried they’d go to jail because that’s illegal. But Mr. Thompson seemed more worried that if what they did was ever found out, PA Pharm’s stock price will plummet. From what they said, I think Mr. Winslow was ready to blow the whistle to save himself.”

If what Lonnie had surmised from the conversation was true, it could have meant financial ruin for PA Pharm, and that was a strong motive for murder. “You have to go to the authorities with this.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. Are you kidding? If someone at PA Pharm killed Ted, they wouldn’t hesitate to come after me.”

“If you go to the authorities and they begin an investigation, the whole scandal will be broken wide open. Once it’s public knowledge, you won’t have anything to fear. But if they know you know and you’re a threat, that’s something else.”

Wringing her hands, Lonnie looked unconvinced. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what to do. I could go stay with my sister in Virginia for a while . . .”

“If you run from this, Lonnie, what happens next?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t have any real evidence. Just what I heard. That won’t hold up anywhere, will it?”

“Probably not. I’ll have to ask Roz’s lawyer.” She saw increased worry on Lonnie’s face. “I won’t tell him anything specific for now. I’ll just give him a hypothetical.”

Lonnie still looked worried.

“You came to me because you didn’t know what to do with the information. Right?”

Lonnie slowly nodded.

“Let me look into this. I’ll be discreet.”

After she blew out a breath, Lonnie pulled her hat down over her brow. “Talk to Mrs. Winslow’s lawyer. But I didn’t hear anything. I don’t know anything.”

Caprice thought about merely calling Grant. But she was on the way to a loft address downtown to meet with a perspective client and she could just stop in and see Grant on the way. If he was out, she’d leave a message for him to call her.

When Vince rented the first floor of the old house he’d turned into professional offices, he’d furnished his space in a practical rather than showy way. Of course, he hadn’t asked her to help. She would have taken advantage of the older home and moved in a few antiques, woven drapes, Tiffany lamps. He’d gone to an office-supply store and purchased laminated desks and chrome lamps, although he had sprung for a wool rug he’d found at an outlet for the reception area. However, there wasn’t an overall theme or welcoming effect from any of it.

“Practical” seemed to work for Vince and Grant, but she could have developed the space with so much more feeling.

Vince’s response to her offer to redo it for him sometime was, “No one who’s making a will, getting a divorce, settling an estate, or closing a deal on a house cares what my offices look like.”

She wasn’t convinced that was true.

A staircase to the second floor was located in the small foyer. She passed it and opened the door into Vince’s space.

Giselle was stationed at her desk, her posture perfect as usual. Her wiry, gray hair was spiked in a style usually worn by women who were much younger than her fifty-four years. She wore the latest trends in makeup too behind her round tortoiseshell glasses. Today green eyeliner and shadow matched her blouse and slacks.

Noticing that her unexpected visitor was Caprice, she smiled. “I haven’t seen you for months! Burning the candle at both ends?” Giselle liked proverbs and old sayings. Her commentary was loaded with them.

“I’ve been busy.” Caprice leaned closer to the office in a conspiratorial gesture. “And we both know Vince doesn’t like to be interrupted.” His office door was open now. “He’s not here?”

“You just missed him. Can I help?”

“Actually, I’m here to see Grant.”

“I’ll buzz him,” Giselle said without blinking an eye. That’s why she was such a good office manager. Nothing seemed to fluster her.

When Grant emerged from his office, he looked so . . . lawyerlike, even though he’d discarded his suit coat. His white dress shirt was pristine, his blue striped tie perfectly knotted and centered. “Unflappable” was a term she’d apply to him.

She remembered how expertly he’d defused the situation with Valerie Swanson at Ted’s funeral. Possibly smoothing over sticky situations was all in a day’s work for him.

“I have a few minutes,” he told Giselle. “Hold my calls.” He motioned Caprice inside.

Although Grant’s office hadn’t been professionally decorated, it had character. Two wine-colored leather club chairs with brass fittings down the seams faced his desk. A painting of the Grand Canyon hung on one wall, accompanied by two sand-painted plaques with Native American symbols. Although his desk was a laminate, twin to the one in Vince’s office, his pottery pencil holder was hand-painted with images of wolves. His blotter complemented the chairs.

“Do you handle divorces?” she asked him.

“I didn’t know you were married,” he quipped. “Do you have a husband hidden away somewhere?”

She waved off his question as she plopped into one of the chairs. “I was remembering how you appeased Valerie at the funeral. You handled her expertly, as if you’re used to dealing with distraught mistresses.”

“I handle a few divorces. Vince does most of that. But I also have to facilitate estate settlements, and sometimes family members can become irate, even hostile. A good lawyer knows when he has to be a mediator.”

After stopping beside her chair and gazing down at her for a few seconds—as if he was getting used to her presence in his office—he went to his high-backed leather desk chair and lowered himself into it. His gaze was as direct as his question. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to call, but . . .” She hesitated. Maybe she shouldn’t have come. Maybe sharing what Lonnie had told her wasn’t a good idea. What if Lonnie
was
in danger?

Grant studied her intently and waited.

Finally, she came to a decision. Grant was Roz’s lawyer, so she had to give him a clue as to the dealings at PA Pharm. “What if I told you there were several people with a motive to kill Ted?”

His face was expressionless. “I’d ask you to name them.”

“What if I told you someone at PA Pharm had given the order to do something illegal, and some of the management heads were afraid of the problem going public?”

“Where did you get this information?”

“I can’t say.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “You
won’t
say.” His line of vision shifted to the window and the brick row house next door. Then he redirected his focus once again to her. “What did PA Pharm do?”

“They changed the expiration date on antibiotics so they could sell them.”

With a low whistle, Grant shook his head. “On many drugs that wouldn’t matter. But with antibiotics . . . Just how much do you know about this?”

“Not much.”

“Is there evidence?”

“No. Just an overheard phone conversation.”

“Did Ted’s secretary give you this?”

Caprice didn’t answer.

“Right,” he muttered. “You can’t say. But that answer is obvious.”

“If someone has this information, should he or she go to the authorities?”

“There is no evidence.”

“But if the person who gave the order knows someone overheard him—”

“If we’re talking about Ted’s secretary, and if the person who killed Ted was someone from PA Pharm, she could be in danger. Let me look into the reporting procedure.”

“Ted was going to blow the whistle, maybe to save himself.”

Grant leaned back in his chair. “I might have to visit the D.A.’s office. This would shift the heat from Roz.”

“My source doesn’t want to come forward.”

“It could be the safest thing for her if she did.”

“I didn’t say my source was a she.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re going to have to work on your poker face, Caprice. Your eyes give too much away.”

They sat gazing at each other for a very long moment.

Caprice glanced away first, down at the purse in her lap. “I don’t want to regret telling you.”

“I understand. I realize how explosive this information is. I won’t put Miss Hippensteel in danger. I’m more concerned about you. You’re asking questions. If you ask them of Ted’s killer or he feels threatened, you’re the one in danger.”

She thought she heard real caring in Grant’s voice, and that freaked her out. So much so that she stood. “I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words. If anything happens to you, Vince will blame me. Your family will blame me.”

Was he only worried about being responsible? That thought irked her. “No matter what happens, I absolve you of blame. No one’s going to stop me from asking questions or getting to the bottom of this.”