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.
No, Caprice could never afford a home like this, but she knew exactly what she would do with it if she could.
Juan arrived, parked in the circular drive, and met her at the heavy dark wood door. When they walked inside, he gave a loud whistle. The entranceway was magnificent with its thirty-foot ceiling.
“Have we ever staged anything like this before?” he asked her.
“Remember the castle house that Roz owned?”
“That’s different. Nobody would want to live in that one. But this . . .” He sounded in awe of the architecture, the style, and the materials.
On the left, a doorway opened into a den or study. It was almost a trapezoid shape with a hexagonal front window and a rounded roof. If they went down the hallway in that direction—the left wing of the house—they would find the master bedroom and bath, a powder room, and a set of stairs to an upper level. If they walked straight ahead, they would find the seven-sided family room. If they stepped through the doorway on their right, they’d enter the dining room that led into a grand kitchen with a breakfast nook and family eat-in area large enough for a dinner party. The staircase that led to the loft was incredibly beautiful with traditional tiling used in Spanish homes. The tiles ranged in design colors from orange to blue, taupe and fuchsia . . . handmade, no two identical. She wouldn’t change the multilayered wrought-iron chandeliers swinging from the vaulted ceilings.
“I want to stage this house with color,” she offered. “Vibrant color. No neutrals here. There’s enough of that in the stonework and the tile and the brick. Think yellow and orange, pink and blue.”
Juan ran his hand over a wall. “Plaster skimmed with a whitewash?”
“Specialized paint, for sure. It looks like something you might find in a Mediterranean villa, but this will withstand the cold and heat of Pennsylvania. I want to find woven rugs in the same colors as those tiles on the staircase.”
“You’re not asking for much.”
“Do I ever?”
Juan laughed as they climbed the curved staircase leading to the second floor. Once there, they stood at the loft railing looking down on the floor below. “We’re both going to have to look through Spanish artwork and even videos of flamenco dance, maybe study paintings by Dali, Goya, and Picasso. Those will give us design images. I’ll look through the rental company’s Web site for pieces in that flavor. But I also want to use pottery—lots of it—as well as sconces, unusual headboards, dark wood, and wrought iron.”
“How about leather? Think metalwork too. And Spanish landscapes,” Juan advised.
She nodded, already picturing it all. “Most of all, I want each space functional with not too many items. The covered porch on the back is going to need its own treatment as if it were inside the house instead of outside.”
As Juan stared down below, he said, “I can imagine sectionals . . . maybe leather trimmed with wood. Possibly a couple of large mirrors to reflect those chandeliers.”
“We might also want to think about framed tapestries with bold designs. Greenery too in the arched crooks and crannies. Soft wool throws in whatever color we decide is dominant.”
“When do we have to be ready to put this on the market?”
“I think it will take us at least a couple of weeks to collect everything. So let’s give it a two-week time frame.”
“Aren’t you going to be tied up with a new murder investigation?”
She remembered all too well her last investigation and what had almost happened. In fact, she’d found herself in danger every time she’d insinuated herself into an investigation. That’s why Grant and her family wanted her to stay out of it. But with Nikki at the police station again right now—
She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to do next. “I want Nikki to be in the clear, but I don’t want to create enemies for her or for me. I’m waiting for some kind of lead. Do you know what I mean?”
“One of your signs,” Juan determined wryly.
“I guess so. Let’s face it. In the past, I’ve jumped in and started wading around and made gigantic waves. I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t. But this time I want to make sure I don’t put anybody in danger . . . including myself . . . and especially not Nikki. I have to be as unobtrusive as possible.”
“That’s kind of tough when you go around wearing lime green bell-bottoms and tie-dyed T-shirts, never mind the jeweled flip-flops.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You sound like Bella.”
He laughed. “So what are you going to do next?”
“Grocery Fresh is hosting a raspberry festival on Saturday. Since Nikki is involved in the investigation and word is going to spread that she and I found Drew’s body, I would expect if we just mingled there, go from stand to stand, chat people up, we could find out tidbits without even trying. I don’t have to ruffle feathers that way if I just listen. As it is, I think Bella and I ruffled Jeanie’s feathers—Drew Pierson’s sister. She believes Nikki did it. And if she goes spreading that rumor all over town, it could catch more fire. More fire, more pressure on the police department to solve this.”
“Is Nikki going to be serving anything at this raspberry festival?”
“I don’t think so. It’s better if she keeps a low profile. But Nana’s entering the raspberry dessert contest. I might too.”
“Speaking of food, do you have any ideas what you want to serve at this open house?”
“I’ll leave that up to Nikki. Maybe churros—Spanish fritters. While I was waiting for you, I also read something about a garbanzo and chorizo stew. I saw a picture of these long cigar-shaped sweetbreads too, which originated in the region of Valencia. I’m sure Nikki will have a ton of ideas. This house is going to generate one idea after the other. Can’t you just see it, Juan?”
He gave her an affectionate smile. “Can I see your vision? Sure, I can. Down to a tall acilino on a credenza.”
The strands of “Let It Be” played from Caprice’s pocket. She slipped her phone out and saw Nikki’s photo. “I have to take this,” she said to Juan. “It’s Nikki.”
“I’ll go downstairs and explore outside. Maybe the landscaping will provide ideas for the covered porch furniture.”
As he loped down the stairs, Caprice connected with Nikki. “Are you finished at the police station?” she asked her sister.
“I’m done for now. I doubt I’m finished for good. They took me over the same ground repeatedly. Finally Detective Jones left and it was just me and Detective Carstead.”
“Are you wishing Vince had been there?”
“No. They didn’t try to trip me up or anything. They’re just checking every little detail. Detective Carstead had a list. When did I meet Drew? How often did I work with him? When did I stop working with him? It’s a good thing I keep accurate work notes on my tablet so I could tell him the exact dates.”
“But you had told him all that before.”
“Yes, I had. And, at times, he seemed almost apologetic for asking again. You know, he’s really kind of cute.”
“Brett Carstead? Cute?” Every woman had her own idea of cute. “You didn’t flirt with him, did you? That could get you into big trouble.”
“No flirting. I controlled myself. It’s too serious a situation to even think about it. But after this is all over, who knows what could happen?”
Caprice thought she heard hope in Nikki’s voice. Her sister had been so down . . . first about Drew’s competition and then about what had happened. She was glad to hear positive energy from Nikki, even if it had to do with the hunkiness of Detective Carstead.
Do you know anything about him?” Nikki asked. “Like, is he married?”
“Don’t know,” Caprice said. “Never asked.”
“He doesn’t wear a ring. But that might have to do with his work.”
“Or not,” Caprice suggested blandly. “Grant might know.” Then she remembered what was going on with her and Grant. “But now isn’t a good time to ask him . . . anything.” She’d already told Nikki about Grant’s ex-wife and what he planned to do.
“Aren’t you two talking?” Nikki asked, sounding surprised.
“There’s nothing to talk about right now. Not until this is all over. Not until he makes decisions.”
“Whether he wants a serious relationship with you?”
“Even more important, he has to decide whether his bonds with his ex-wife are cut or if he wants to keep those threads.”
“And if he does?” Nikki asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what that will mean for either of us or for both of us together.”
“Don’t give up,” Nikki counseled her.
“I’m not giving up. I’m just afraid to hope. I’m going to concentrate on staging this Spanish-themed house. And figuring out who might have murdered Drew. I want you to mingle with me at the raspberry festival and see what we can learn.
“At least we’ll have raspberry delights to munch on while we snoop.”
Raspberry delights. She’d like to be sharing them with Grant.