Gilt by Association (6 page)

“Maybe it could have been a low-key wedding dress.”

“It was lacy, and almost went to the ankles.”

“Do you remember it well enough to sketch it? You're good at that. If you could draw a sketch, then maybe I could look up some old patterns or old fashion designs and get an idea of the year it was in style, and what it might have been used for.”

“And you think this is going to help how?” Bella asked, puzzlement in her tone.

“I don't know. But Mom wants me to help figure this out. If not who killed her, maybe why. We only know Louise from when she and Mom became friends. Mom doesn't know anything about her background before she moved here, and that seems odd.”

“Maybe she was running away from something painful and didn't want to talk about it. She started a new life here and that was all that mattered.”

That was a story that could be woven into murder motivation, Caprice supposed. “Her life in Kismet isn't all that matters now. I don't know, but if you can sketch the dress, Bee, sketch it, okay?”

“In my spare time, when I'm not too sleepy to hold a pencil.”

“Speaking of your spare time: How would you like to have some with just Joe and Benny? After I stop at the police station to take care of my statement tomorrow, I can take the kids ice skating before dinner at Mom and Dad's.”

“You'd do that?”

“I know this isn't an easy time for you. Sure, I'd do that.”

“What do you want in return?”

“I don't need anything in return, except of course, sometime when I'm in a pinch, it would be great if you could stop in and walk Lady.”

“I knew it. With you, there's always something to do with animals. Okay, it's a deal. Lady's a cute pup.”

“I can't believe you're admitting it.”

“Let's just say, I like her better than I like Sophia. Cats are so—”

“Don't mention ‘independent.' Sophia sleeps beside me every night. She nuzzles my arm. She purrs. She puts her paw on my stomach.”

“Oh, please,” Bella said. “Don't give me details. Someone should be in that bed with you other than the cat.”

No, they weren't going to talk about that.

Changing the subject abruptly, Caprice asked, “Did you call Mom to tell her you were thinking about her?”

“Not yet.”

“It's not too late. You could call her now. I'm sure she's going to have trouble getting to sleep tonight.”

“Aren't we all?” Bella asked in that hollow tone that spoke of murder and the people who committed it.

 

 

On Sunday morning, Caprice drove her work van to early Mass at Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church. Usually she would go home and make something to take along for the family's monthly dinner. But today, she'd created a recipe she could just make at her mom's when she arrived. The bread she planned to bake was best warm from the oven. She'd take Lady along to her mom's, but right now, she had two other stops to make before ice skating with Bella's kids and dinner at her parents'.

After taking care of her statement at the police station, she headed for the Downings'. She didn't know if forensics was finished with the crime scene, but she'd soon find out. At almost noon, it was possible that they would be.

She certainly wasn't going to question Chet the day after his wife was murdered. The police had probably done it and maybe would do it again. She didn't want to add to Chet's sorrow or his discomfort.

She thought again about whether or not she'd be able to enter the house. Maybe officers were still stationed there, though the York County Forensics team would try to release the crime scene as soon as they'd collected every bit of evidence. Paying manpower to secure a crime scene would get expensive.

Would Chet still want to sell the house where memories of Louise were potent? With a murder happening there, would the value of the property tank? Caprice had seen that happen before.

After driving down Middlebrook Drive, Caprice headed to the back of the house and found the greenhouse area was still sectioned off with crime scene tape. At least one officer would be on-site to make sure nothing was disturbed.

Since her car and Nikki's van had been parked in the driveway when the murder was committed, they'd been impounded. Caprice missed her Camaro and hoped she could pick it up soon. Nikki needed her van to work, so she was in worse straits than Caprice.

Circling the house again, she parked at the curb at the front, and she noticed no crime scene tape stretched there. Had the police found anything as they'd gone through the house? She imagined they'd been searching for the murder weapon. Still, the place had looked so pristine, she couldn't imagine them finding it there. Unless, of course, they spent extra time searching for someplace Chet might have hidden it . . . or Rachel.

Neither seemed likely. But who knew? She supposed everyone had to be treated like a suspect.

Parked at the curb, Caprice studied the front of the house, the architecture, the beautiful windows, the pillars. She thought about the chintz and gilt-edged mirrors inside, the hearts and flowers that Louise had loved so much. What had brought this down upon the Downings?

Murder could be a crime of passion. It could be premeditated and well thought out. It could be revenge. It could be the goal of someone gaining an advantage, the means of winning something valuable.

Probably one of the first questions the detectives were asking was, Who gained from Louise's death?

Maybe Rachel could help her with that one.

Two minutes later, Caprice stood at the front door ringing the melodious bell. After a few minutes of waiting for someone to open the door, she was ready to turn away. But then the door did open.

Rachel stood there in her black slacks and white blouse, looking a bit flustered. “Caprice. I wasn't expecting anybody. I'm not used to having guests come to the front door. Mr. Downing's not here if you came to see him.”

Caprice wasn't exactly sure how to proceed so she just prodded a little. “He's not here?”

“Oh, no. He stayed in a hotel in York last night and I stayed with my sister. The police and that whole team of investigators were here until a little bit ago. An officer is still at the greenhouse. Mr. Downing called me about an hour ago and told me Detective Carstead had notified him that the police were finished with the house but not the greenhouse. He asked me to come on over and put everything back the way it should be in the house. Come on in. Would you like some coffee?”

Caprice hadn't yet had her morning fix. “Sure, if you have time. I don't want to interrupt. When will Mr. Downing be home?”

“Oh, he said something about this evening. I don't think he can stand being here, you know, without Mrs. Downing, without Louise. She always wanted me to call her Louise, but when she had visitors or I talked about her, I always spoke of her as Mrs. Downing. It just seemed right.”

Caprice followed Rachel through the living room, down a hall, past Chet's den, into the kitchen. Through all that, she hadn't seen anything amiss.

“What do you have to clean up?”

“The walk-in closet in the master suite is a bit of a mess and drawers have been emptied or shuffled through. I'll have to remake the beds. I guess the police were looking in between the mattresses and under the pillows. I'm not sure. They even questioned and fingerprinted me yesterday.”

Standard operating procedure. Caprice was sure they'd been looking anywhere a gun could have been hidden. And as part of the household, they'd be looking at Rachel as a suspect.

“Tell me something, Rachel. Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Louise?”

“The police asked me the same thing.”

“Do you know of anyone?”

“There were women who didn't like her. Some of those Garden Club friends. When Louise would leave the room, they could be so catty. They acted like I wasn't even there. But I don't think they'd have a reason to murder her.”

“How long have you been working here now?”

“Seven years.”

“And in those seven years, did Louise ever tell you she was afraid of anyone?”

Rachel moved to the coffeepot and poured. “Louise wasn't the type of woman to be afraid of anyone. I don't think I ever saw her afraid, though sometimes she seemed sad.”

“When were those times?”

“She'd hear a song play on the oldies station, or she'd be sitting on a bench in the rose garden. Once, I caught her crying there.”

“Did she tell you what was upsetting her?”

“No. She just said the roses were so pretty they made her cry.”

Caprice would have to ask her mom about that. Where had Louise gotten her love of roses, or was it just a hobby that had popped up as she'd gotten older?

“So you don't know of anyone who might have been a threat?”

An unusual look crossed Rachel's face.

“What?” Caprice asked.

“Since you put it that way . . .”

“Who do you think might have been a threat?”

“The housekeeper who was here before I came.” She said it with a lift of her chin.

“I was just getting started in the decorating business around that time. When I was little, Louise had a really nice housekeeper who baked cookies whenever I came over. But when I was a teenager, she left. I never knew her replacement very well. Her name was Pearl, wasn't it?”

“You have a good memory. Yes, it was Pearl. From what I heard, she made lots of threats before she left. Louise had more help back then. Pearl was the housekeeper, but she also had a cleaning lady, and someone who came in for the laundry. They used to tell stories.”

“And why did Louise let Pearl go?”

“I'm not exactly sure, but the official reason was that she'd become too cocky. She thought
she
ran the house rather than Louise, and Louise didn't like that one little bit.”

If there was one thing Caprice had known about Louise, it was that she liked to be in control. “So what happened?”

“When Louise fired her, Pearl made threats.”

“Life-threatening threats?”

“That depends on how you look at it. She said she'd give details of Chet and Louise's life to the gossip chain in Kismet. So Mr. Downing gave her a settlement and she went away.”

“Was it a meaningful settlement?”

“It was enough to make her be quiet and to move to York and set up a cleaning business. She hasn't come back since. Only Mr. Downing or his lawyer would know if she was in contact with him again.”

“I see. Pearl was a large woman, wasn't she?”

“She was. She was quite intimidating. She left in a harrumph the day I came for an interview. I wouldn't want to meet her in a back alley.”

Apparently Caprice had just found her first suspect. The question was, Would Pearl be her last?

Chapter Six

Gracefulness on the ice didn't come easily for Caprice. She envied Megan and Timmy who were skimming around the rink Sunday afternoon, looking as if they actually knew what they were doing. Although Caprice had had access to this rink since she was young, that hadn't seemed to help her skills. Maybe it was because when her sisters and brother enjoyed coming here and meeting friends, she'd preferred staying home watching over whatever pet had followed her home recently. Or when she was older, volunteering at the SPCA and giving some lonely pets much-needed affection.

Her thoughts wandering helter-skelter, like the individuals on the ice striving to keep their balance, she found herself zooming much too fast toward a raven-haired woman in green slacks and a green jacket, her tweed scarf flying out behind her. The woman stopped abruptly and it took Caprice every detail of instruction she'd ever learned about ice skating to stop before she ran smack-dab into her. The woman must have felt Caprice's breath on her neck because she turned abruptly.

Instead of the watch-what-you're-doing warning Caprice expected, she heard, “Caprice De Luca! Imagine seeing you here.”

Caprice knew that high-pitched voice anywhere. Millicent Corsi ran with the Kismet country club crowd. She could be scathing with gossip when she found someone to listen to her. She was older than Caprice's thirty-two, but probably wouldn't admit she was a few years over the hill. She was the type of woman who would use every scientific advance in plastic surgery to assure she looked at least ten years younger. From the scuttlebutt, not only from the Country Squire Golf and Recreation Club but at the Garden Club, too, Millicent had had breast augmentation and a tummy tuck, possibly liposuction. No one was sure about that. Caprice hadn't seen Millicent since she'd spoken to the Garden Club about simple decorating rules to help flower arrangements spiff up any room.

Automatically Caprice looked toward Timmy and Megan to make sure they weren't in any trouble. Megan was skating around the rink, trying to keep up with her brother, and doing a fair job of it.

Before Caprice could even say, “It's good to see you, Millicent,” or some congenial opener, Millicent leaned close to Caprice and asked, “Did you hear about Louise Downing?”

As she was thinking about how to respond, Millicent went on. “Well, of course you have. Your family was sort of close to her and Chet.”

Caprice wasn't exactly sure what that “sort of” meant, so she stuck with “Yes, we were. It's awful. Mom's really broken up about it.”

“I guess she would be, but on the other hand—Could anyone really be surprised? Louise rubbed lots of people the wrong way.”

The remark was so catty, Caprice responded defensively, “She was
shot,
Millicent. Who would have ever expected that? She was a respected member of this community, as is her husband. I don't quite understand why you weren't surprised.” Caprice wasn't letting any information out she shouldn't. The shooting was the lead story on local news outlets.

“Oh, my dear. I
was
shocked. But Louise wasn't the paragon everyone thought she was. You know that, don't you?”

Paragon. Who wanted to be a paragon? Louise had been wealthy and admired by many. Caprice supposed she'd been envied, too. Had Millicent envied her? Was that where this was coming from?

“Louise was never anything but kind to me and my family.”

Millicent's eyes narrowed and she studied Caprice with a shrewd smile. “Maybe you just didn't look under the surface. For one thing, she was a perfectionist, and critical of anyone else who wasn't.”

Yes, Louise had been particular. Yes, she'd wanted Rachel to do things a certain way . . . and Chet, too. But was that so unusual? She demanded much of others, but she demanded much of herself.

“She
was
a perfectionist,” Caprice agreed, wanting Millicent to go on because listening in this situation would be wiser than talking.

“She wanted things her way, and she didn't trust easily either.”

That remark puzzled Caprice. “How do you know that?”

“Their grand love story. Everyone in Kismet knows how she fell in love with Chet. But what they don't know is that it took Louise a long time until she trusted him. Months. He wanted to get married long before she did.”

Caprice didn't know if Millicent was spinning a tale or had real knowledge to back it up. “A lack of trust shouldn't lead to murder.”

“Maybe not, but I believe if she'd been able to trust more, she would have been less critical and would have made fewer enemies.”

“Who do you think were her enemies?”

Millicent lowered her voice. “There were women at Country Squire and in the Garden Club whom she pushed around when she wanted her own way. But I think you could even look closer to home than that. Certainly you know about the housekeeper she let go after ten years.”

Caprice hadn't paid attention to any gossip around Pearl's departure, but now she wondered about it more since her history with the Downings had come up again.

Because Millicent seemed to know the whole story, Caprice asked, “Why did she let Pearl go?” She wanted to see if the story Rachel told and the one Millicent had heard matched up.

“I heard the woman had become too cocky, that she started changing the menu without Louise's permission, that she was taking liberties and inviting friends over, and using Louise's own living room when she did. So Louise let her go, with severance, of course. But Pearl wasn't happy. I think she thought she'd be there the rest of her life. She made threats. To prevent anything detrimental from happening, Chet gave Pearl a settlement, and Pearl slunk away. If you really want to know the scoop, you should talk to Louise's manicurist about Pearl at the Nail Yard, and to Louise's best friend, too.”

An odd expression must have crossed Caprice's face because she was definitely taken aback by the idea that somebody else, besides her mom, was Louise's best friend.

Keeping her tone even, she asked, “Who do you think her best friend is?”

“Oh, that's easy. Her best friend was Gail Schwartz, the manager of that headhunter agency.”

Caprice knew Gail slightly. They'd worked together on a few church projects. Gail was also a member of the Chamber of Commerce and the Organization of Women for a Better Kismet that Caprice also belonged to. She was an entrepreneur herself. In her early fifties, she'd been running her headhunter agency for about fifteen years.

“Tell me why you think Gail is Louise's best friend.” Caprice tried not to sound defensive.

Millicent could see right away why Caprice was surprised at the idea of Gail being Louise's best friend. Close to her shoulder now, Millicent said, “I understand that you think your mom and Louise were best friends. But the fact is, Gail and Louise ran and played in the same circles. They knew what money was and how to use it. Your mom, on the other hand—”

Millicent didn't have to elaborate. Francesca De Luca was simply a high school teacher who'd known Louise before she married Chet. She'd connected with Louise on a personal level and they had a history. But it was true that other than that, they didn't have much in life in common.

Caprice realized how hurt her mom would be by that idea.

 

 

“Can we build a snowman?” Timmy asked the adults in general as the De Lucas gathered in the living room where logs crackled and blazed in the fireplace.

Lady had run to Caprice to welcome her. Caprice had dropped off Lady here before going to pick up Timmy and Megan, thinking her mom could use the comfort of a furry friend.

“Aren't you tired after ice skating?” Caprice's dad asked them as he rocked Bella's baby back and forth in his arms.

“No!” Megan and Timmy answered at once.

“It will soon be time for dinner,” their grandfather told them.

“Not for another hour,” Nana said, brushing her thumb across the infant's forehead.

Sitting beside Nana, Nikki asked Caprice, “Aren't you going to mix up pepperoni bread?”

“That will take about five minutes,” Caprice explained. All she had to do was collect all the ingredients, mix, turn the dough into a bread pan, and shove it into the oven.

Just then, the front door opened again, and Vince, Grant, and Patches burst inside.

“I brought someone along who needs a good meal,” Vince teased. “And his dog. I figured Lady would be here.”

Grant shook his head. “For some reason, he thinks I'm like him and I don't cook. But I've got to admit, a meal here is a great bribe so I don't beat him too badly at one-on-one in basketball the next time. He assured me Patches was welcome, too—” As soon as he released Patches from his leash, the pup scampered to Lady.

Timmy ran over to Vince. “Do you want to build a snowman with me, Uncle Vince?”

Megan crossed to Grant. “Can you build one with me?”

Caprice's dad got into the act. “That sounds like a fine idea, and I'll judge which one's the best.”

“What does the winner get?” Timmy asked, already competitive.

This time her father answered, “How about a ride around the yard on your uncle Vince's old sled?”

That seemed to please both Megan and Timmy, and they went to grab their coats.

“I'll watch Benny so you and Joe can join the fun,” Caprice's dad told Bella.

“Building a snowman could be fun,” Bella admitted and turned to Joe.

He said, “I'll get our coats.”

“I'll watch the pups,” Nana offered. “You won't want to leash them while you're building a snowman or take the chance they'll run into the street unleashed.” She patted her hip as Caprice and Grant did, said, “Come,” and the dogs bounded after her into the library.

“I'll go pull out the bread pan,” Caprice's mom offered, heading to the kitchen.

Before Caprice could also escape to the kitchen to mix up the pepperoni cheddar bread, Grant caught her elbow and leaned close. “How's your mom holding up?”

She glanced toward the kitchen. “I'm not sure. I'm hoping a meal and some company will help. She's trying to act like nothing's wrong, but we all know something is. Losing Louise was like losing a little piece of her heart.”

Grant was silent for a moment, then asked, “Are you going to join in the snowman making?”

She cocked her head and looked him straight in the eye. “I think you ought to make a snow
woman
.”

He raised his hands in a stop gesture while shaking his head. “Oh, no. I'm not going there. We'll just see what Megan wants to do with it. If she wants to put a fancy hat on its head, that's fine.”

“I'll see if I can find an old one in Mom's closet before I come out.”

“Don't you have to watch the bread?”

“It will be fine with a timer. Mom or Nana can tell when it's done. I have a feeling Nikki will be in the thick of it with you and Vince.”

Suddenly Megan popped back inside and asked, “Grant, are you coming?”

“I sure am. Let's show your brother and his uncle what we can do.”

When the snowman brigade left the house, Caprice went into the kitchen.

After another glance at her mom who was standing at the window looking out, Caprice gathered ingredients from the refrigerator—shredded cheddar cheese, a pack of turkey pepperoni, milk, and five eggs—and lined them all up on the counter near the mixer. Next, she reached for the bread pan. This really was an easy recipe. In no time at all, she'd popped the batter-filled pan into the oven.

As she closed the oven door, her mom moved to the counter and poked the pot roast that was cooking in a large Crock-Pot. “An hour will do it,” she said. More softly she added, “We often had pot roast when Chet and Louise came to dinner.”

Caprice went to her mom and stood beside her, then wrapped her arm around her waist. She didn't know whether to go into this now or not, but it might be a good time.

“I saw Millicent Corsi at the ice skating rink.”

Her mom turned to her. “Millicent is a gossip.”

In a town the size of Kismet, there were a lot of gossips, and a lot of gossip centers, like the Koffee Klatch, the Cupcake House, even the local drugstore. Where anyone gathered regularly, people talked. But her mother was right about Millicent Corsi. She liked to be in the know and spread the news. After all, the Garden Club and the country club were two more of those gossip centers.

The subject Caprice wanted to broach was delicate, and she wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. “Did you consider Louise your best friend?”

Her mother thought about that. “She was a good friend, and an old friend. Other women in my life have come and gone, but she was a constant. Why?”

“I just wondered.”

Her mom narrowed her eyes. “Did Millicent say something about my friendship with Louise?”

She wanted to be truthful with her mother, but she didn't want to be hurtful. “Did Louise ever talk to you about Gail Schwartz?”

Her mother considered her question. “Louise and Gail were on the boards of several fund-raisers together. They also played golf and lunched at the Country Squire. Now and then they asked me to join them for lunch, but I rarely could. Sometimes in the summer it worked out. Why do you ask?”

“Millicent made a comment about them being best friends. I thought
you
were Louise's best friend.”

“I thought I was, too,” her mom said, looking a little hurt. “But over the past five years or so”—she shrugged—“Louise and Gail did seem to do a lot more together than Louise and I did. But she and Chet seemed to keep to themselves more, too, and didn't come over to dinner as often when I invited them. Everyone's so busy nowadays. Too busy for long dinners and old friendships. There was a time when we talked on the phone a few times a week. That was replaced with e-mails, and over the past year, texting. Now I'm wondering if we both just didn't drop the ball on our friendship.”