The homeowners' furnishings had been modern comfortable and hadn't gone with the ambiance of the place at all. She'd mostly removed those, adding a twelve-by-twelve-foot woven rug in brown and taupe, its fringes extending a foot on either side. The swing chairs were unusual and conversation starters. No two accent tables matched, which was the idea of their lodge-pole pine, rough-hewn allure. One of the lights was actually fashioned of copper, two others carved from logs. Rawhide shades enhanced them both. This house could easily be a retreat, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. That was a selling point she'd wanted to accent.
Nikki came into the living room and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. “This is the kind of place I'd love to have someday. You really transformed it.”
Nikki had seen the photos Caprice had taken when she'd first accepted this house as a staged makeover.
“It looks rustic yet has all the conveniences,” Caprice agreed. “Denise should be here any minute, and two of the other real estate agents are bringing clients. I'm glad the weather cooperated or we would have had to eat all your steak and kidney pie ourselves.”
“Food's almost ready.”
“I noticed Drew wasn't with you today.”
A shadow crossed Nikki's face. “I told him no partnership. I just didn't think we'd work together. Not as partners, at least. And he wouldn't try it the other way.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Maybe you could have been more than partners.”
“And maybe we couldn't have if he was that way about business. Goodness knows how he'd be about a romantic relationship. No, I think I escaped Cupid with my business acumen intact.”
Caprice had to smile.
“Is anybody puppy-sitting this afternoon?” Nikki asked.
“No. I left Lady in the kitchen with her Kong toy and the ball that rolls around dispensing kibble. That should keep her busy for about an hour and tire her out. Hopefully she'll nap until I get home. I put Sophia in my bedroom so she doesn't tease her.”
“You really miss her when she's not with you.”
“I do. The first few months were like taking care of a baby. A trainer once said the few feet around me should be the safest and most fun place for my dog to be. And if that's true, she'll never want to leave my side. Well, that's kind of true for me, too.”
Caprice's cell phone played just as Marianne Brisbane walked in the front door.
Caprice checked the screen. It was Grant. As Marianne approached, she said, “I'll just be a minute. Can you explore the food?”
“How do you know I didn't come to report on the food? I haven't done a piece on Nikki's catering yet. I thought this might be a good time, with news being slow.”
Caprice nodded as she took a few steps away from the two women in order to take Grant's call. “Hi, Grant. Did you talk to Detective Jones?”
“I did. He's not giving much away. I told him what you said about the chocolates and he wondered why you didn't call him yourself.”
“Because I didn't think he'd want to hear from me.”
“I told him that, too.”
“Grant, you didn't!”
“I'm honest with my police contacts, Caprice. That's the only way we can have any give-and-take. He's looking into whether or not the candy was analyzed. In the meantime, I did find out one thing.”
“What?”
“Chet Downing
does
own a gun. But it's not the caliber that killed Louise,” he added.
“That's good news,” she murmured, remembering Pearl had told her about Chet's gun.
“Of sorts. But if he was planning to kill his wife, he wouldn't have used his own gun. He's not a stupid man.”
“No, Chet wouldn't have gotten as far as he had in business if he wasn't intelligent and maybe a little ruthless. Thanks for letting me know.”
“What are you going to do next?” Grant asked.
“I'm not sure. I'm at an open house now and that's what my mind should be on.”
“
Should
be?” he asked.
Impulsively she said, “You should see this place. I think it's the kind of house you would likeâlots of wood, a rustic atmosphere, a huge fireplace.”
“And a price tag that's way out of my budget, I imagine.”
“You could look for a smaller version.”
“Do you think there is one?”
“I have contacts.”
“I have to go, Caprice. Patches is barking at the door. You know what that means.”
“You really could teach him to ring a bell. I intend to do that with Lady once she's a little older.”
“Then I'd have bells ringing in my head. I prefer the barking. Go sell a house.”
Caprice ended the call before she reminded him that she wasn't the one who sold the houses.
She pocketed her phone in her long, maxi-length burgundy wool skirt. The soft material of her cream-colored blouse with its wide bell sleeves flowed around her arms as she approached Marianne, who was standing at the pedestal table in the dining room taking photos of the food in the warmers on the sideboard. She said to Caprice, “The only thing I've heard of here is the fish and chips.”
“Nikki's done a fantastic job again of preparing foods that complement the theme.”
Dropping her camera so that it hung on the leather band around her neck, Marianne asked, “So have you uncovered anything new about Louise's murder?”
“No, I haven't. Sometimes I think the whole thing is a wild-goose chase and I should leave it alone, leave it to Detective Jones. But then I remember Mom's face and her plea for me to uncover whoever did it. I remember Louise was her good friend, maybe her best friend. I really need to figure it out, and there's only one avenue I haven't pursued enough yet.”
“What's that?” Marianne asked curiously.
“I need to talk to Chet Downing again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Caprice took Lady with her. Really, it was a no-brainer. She wasn't going to leave her alone again after she had left her at home for three hours. Besides, Chet liked Lady. Having her cocker along could help him relax, too. If he was relaxed, he might tell her more. Right?
Would Chet be honest with her? Would he admit he was having an affair?
She needed to confront him and find out. After all, he might have had an affair. He might have thought Louise was having one with Don Rodriguez. But deep down, Caprice didn't believe he was a murderer. She simply couldn't see him buying a gun on the street or shooting his wife in the greenhouse he had built for her.
Although snow wasn't in the air, the temperatures would be dropping to around ten tonight. Snow that had melted had slicked up, and Caprice was careful to avoid icy spots. Black ice was as bad as regular ice. Remembering driving this same route the night she'd met with Nikki and Louise, her heart felt weighted with sadness. That was one of the reasons why she had to figure out who had done this, one of the reasons why she had to ask Chet serious questions.
As she turned into the Downings' driveway, she didn't expect to see what she saw. At eight o'clock on a Saturday evening, what was a beat-up truck doing sitting there? She thought she remembered seeing that truck somewhere before. It was green with an open bed, somewhat filled with snow. There were a few scrapes along the side and rusted marks, too. It was as if the owner couldn't afford to have it painted. Where had she seen that truck?
After she parked beside it, she switched off the ignition and climbed out of her van. At least the wind wasn't blowing.
She opened the back door, released Lady from her crate, praised her, and petted her a few moments so her cocker wouldn't barrel out and jump down off the van too quickly. Lady was always ready to give a kiss or receive a pet.
When Caprice gave the command to sit, Lady sat, and Caprice gave her a treat from her coat pocket. Then she attached her leash and they strolled together up the walk to the back door, hoping Rachel was nearby. Maybe the truck was a second vehicle that belonged to her.
Caprice rang the doorbell. She couldn't help glancing over to the greenhouse. Louise had spent so many happy times there, but that wasn't what that structure would be remembered for now.
After a few moments, the door was flung open. Rachel had answered it quickly but she wasn't looking like herself. She appeared so pale and very . . . green.
Lady was ready to walk right in, but Caprice said, “Stay,” and Lady obeyed. One of the reasons was probably that Rachel was holding on to the door as if it were holding her up.
“Are you all right?” Caprice asked, worried now.
“No, I'm not. My stomach's really queasy, and I've been to the bathroom. My heart feels . . . funny. I had one of those peanut butter creams that Jamie brought. They looked and smelled so goodâ”
Rachel had become even paler by the moment. She tossed over her shoulder, “Bathroom again,” and ran off to the downstairs powder room, which was closer than her apartment.
That truck. Caprice had seen that truck in the parking lot at Garden Glory. She'd just never associated it with Jamie because Jamie used the Garden Glory van to make deliveries. She suddenly remembered the truck that had sped away from the snowy driveway the night she'd met with Nikki and Louise.
Standing stock-still beside Lady, Caprice thought about Jamie, plants, chicken wraps, and the peanut butter creams at the crime scene. She considered Louise's heart conditionâatrial fibrillation and her tachycardia episodes. What had been in those peanut butter creams? What had made Rachel sickâgastric symptoms, her heart feeling “funny”?
As Lady looked up at her with questions about why they weren't moving forward, Caprice's mind calculated the events. Louise could have had lunch with Jamie Bergman the day she got sick. They'd been friends because of the Garden Club. Jamie had only moved to Kismet about a year ago. She didn't have a Texas accent, but more of a Midwest one. Still . . .
Suddenly Caprice heard her name being called. She said to Lady, “Let's go,” and patted her hip.
Rachel called her name again, and she was indeed in the powder room about five feet from the kitchen. She was on the floor near the toilet, looking whiter than death, holding her hand over her heart.
“I think that candy had something odd in it,” she gasped.
“You said Jamie gave it to you?”
“Yes. She's with Chet. She was going to give some to him, remind him how much Louise liked themâ”
If Jamie was with Chet, and if Jamie was the murderer, Chet could be eating that candy right now, headed to death's door.
Taking out her cell phone, Caprice jabbed in 9-1-1.
When the dispatcher came on the line, she said, “I need an ambulance at 1642 Middlebrook. It might be poisoning. I think Louise Downing's murderer is in the house. Send police backup, too. This is Caprice De Luca. Detective Jones knows me. I can't stay on the line.”
Though Caprice left the line open, she slipped the phone into her pocket. She had to see what was going on with Chet and do it right now.
Thank goodness Lady had learned how to heel. Caprice was tempted to tell her to stay in the kitchen and her dog might do it . . . but she might not either. The last thing she wanted was Lady running around, with a murderer in the house. Her gut was telling her, with each second that passed, that Jamie Bergman was probably that murderer. Puzzle pieces were falling into place.
Caprice's footsteps and Lady's pawsteps were muffled by the hall carpet. The door to Chet's den was ajar.
Jamie must have already started in on her story because Caprice heard Chet ask Jamie, “So you changed your name and after thirty years you thought no one would recognize you?”
“No one did.”
Caprice recognized Jamie Bergman's voice. But she wasn't a woman named Jamie Bergman.
The nursery clerk went on to say, “No good photograph of me ever was printed. With a haircut and dye job and thirty years on meâIt's not hard to buy a new identity. After my daughter died, I saved for a year to do it. It took me another year to find Lucy. I couldn't hire no fancy private detective like
you
would have done.” There was bitterness in her voice, enough for Caprice to know that this was Stacy Miller, Troy Mathers's lover. And she was set on more revenge.
Chet must have wanted answers or wanted to keep her talking. Did he think Rachel would save him?
“But why revenge after all these years?”
Now even more venom was obvious as Stacy spoke. “Your
wife
was the reason Troy got killed. Your
wife
was the reason I lost my daughter to drugs three years ago. Troy and Shandra and I could have been living a good life in Mexico. I was going to meet him there. But after he was sent to prison and was killed, I could hardly put food on the table.”
Stacy's voice was rising with each sentence. Her outrage could be heard down the hall, and Lady was getting restless. She'd sat at the door when she'd heard Chet's voice, but now she stood, nosing closer to that partially open door.
Caprice used her hand to try and wave her back.
Lady did take a few steps back but was agitated. Caprice wasn't sure what she was going to do about Lady, about herself, about Rachel, about Chet . . . about Stacy Miller.
However, she listened as Stacy went on. “Shandra had to wear thrift store clothes. She always felt like an outcast. She started on drugs early and couldn't get clean. You bet I have to get revenge for all of it.”
“But why kill
me
?” Chet's voice cracked, and Caprice wondered if Stacy had more than candy in that room.
Apparently Stacy was tired of keeping the whole story bottled up, tired of being someone else, tired of the life she'd led.
Her words spilled out with as much force as fury. “You gave Louise everything,” she almost shouted like the mentally unhinged woman that Caprice realized she was. “From fine cars to jewels to this house, she had everything. I found that out when I traced her down. You gave her anything she could have ever wanted,” she said again.
Apparently remembering Chet's question, she answered him. “Why kill you? Because she loved you. Because now you can identify me. Your housekeeper can, too. But soon you'll both be so sick you won't be able to move. I want both of you retching on the floor, your hearts crazy, then slowing down to nothing. I'm going to collect everything of value I can in this house and fence it allâthe sterling, the artwork, the jewelry. I overheard Louise telling Fran De Luca at a Garden Club meeting that she was going to wear the emerald necklace she stored in a fake book on the bookshelf in her bedroom. She had no right to have everything a woman dreams of with you.”
Caprice held her breath and prayed for Lady to be still.
Obviously Stacy was proud of what she'd learned and the plan she'd thought up. She didn't hesitate to explain it all to Chet. “The first time I tried to kill Louise with the shaved oleander leaves in the chicken wrap, I messed up. There weren't enough to kill her. But when I came back to the greenhouse, if she would have eaten just one of the peanut butter creams with the tincture of oleander injected in it, she would have died without anyone knowing it was murder. Her heart would have just gone crazy, and the symptoms would have been the same as a digoxin overdose.”
“What happened the day she was murdered?” Chet asked hoarsely, as if he was short of breath.
“She wouldn't eat even
one
candy! So I shot her. The day I killed her, I couldn't take the chance of collecting any valuables. I knew the open house people could arrive anytime. But I knew tonight, if I could just get in, I'd be home free. If the oleander doesn't kill you by the time I leave, I'll shoot you and Rachel just like I shot Lucy.”
“I think I'm going to be sick,” Chet said.
When he did, Caprice knew he'd eaten at least one of those candies, too.
Caprice tried to wave Lady away from the den, but she wouldn't go. In fact, she suddenly pulled hard on her leash, and it fell from Caprice's hand as her dog raced straight into the den.
Caprice rushed after her and saw exactly what she'd feared. Stacy was holding a gun on Chet.
Caprice froze. The problem was, Lady didn't.
As Caprice dove for her pet, she wasn't quick enough. Lady ran toward Chet, the leash wrapping around a tall, metal waste can. It fell over with a clang.
Caprice wished she'd taken that self-defense refresher course that Grant had wanted her to take, but she'd never forgotten how to pitch the way Vince had taught her. She tossed her heavy, fringed purse at Stacy's wrist and knocked the gun from her hand.
Apparently Chet wasn't too sick yet because in a last energetic lunge, he fell on top of Stacy.
Now Caprice used
more
than her purse.
“Lady, come,” she called, and the cocker came to her side immediately. She unfastened her leash and jumped on top of Stacy along with Chet. Somehow they both managed to roll the woman over and Caprice used Lady's leash to tie her hands in back of her.
Sirens screamed now, and Caprice hoped the paramedics would be rushing in first. She just hoped they weren't too late to save Rachel . . . or Chet.