Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Nothing unusual. A few wills. I drew up powers of attorney—that sort of thing.”

  “Did you talk much to Vince?”

  Grant narrowed his eyes. “What about? When you ask that, I know you have something in mind.”

  She tapped her temple. “Reading my mind already. You’re ahead of the game.”

  Grant shook his head. “What do you want to know?”

  After a brief hesitation, she said, “I just wondered if Vince mentioned if Roz brought up Michelle.”

  Grant cast a narrowed-eye look in her direction. “And you really think we talk about that?”

  She twirled lo mein noodles onto her fork. “It’s a possibility.”

  Grant spooned half of the sweet-and-sour chicken onto a mound of rice on his plate. “Vince was in court most of the day, so I hardly saw him. When I did see him, we talked about baseball.”

  Caprice frowned. “That’s no help at all.”

  Her phone buzzed. She’d set it on the counter to charge. “That could be Juan. He was going to check in on availability of a few rental pieces for the bohemian house.”

  Grant nodded. He was used to her business calls and she was used to his. But when she pulled her phone from the plug and saw that Vince was calling, she was puzzled. “It’s Vince,” she told Grant.

  “Were your ears burning?” she asked him. “Grant and I were just talking about you.”

  “Caprice, this is serious.”

  She heard a note of panic in her brother’s voice. “What’s serious?”

  “Travis Dodd was found in the tasting room at the winery this morning. He was stabbed in the neck with a double-bladed cheese knife. Michelle finally called me to help her because she’s at the police station being questioned. They’ve kept her for hours. I’m on my way there. Roz’s phone keeps going to voice mail. Can you find her and tell her what’s happening?”

  “Exactly what is happening?” Caprice asked.

  “Michelle didn’t know who else to call, so she called me. For the time being, I’m going to act as her lawyer.”

  Caprice frowned, knowing this was a mistake on so many levels. “Vince, you shouldn’t.”

  “Don’t even go there,” he ordered. “Just find Roz for me, will you? Tell her what’s going on. I’ll get home as soon as I can. I’m going to cut off the questioning. From what Michelle told me, she’s already been over what happened too many times.”

  “I’ll find Roz,” Caprice promised. “But, Vince, don’t you think Michelle needs to hire another lawyer . . . a criminal defense attorney?”

  “One decision at a time, Caprice. One decision at a time.”

  Chapter Five

  “Where do you think Roz could be?” Grant asked Caprice as they filled Kong balls for their dogs which would disseminate treats when the dogs played with them. Lady and Patches started nosing the toys with kibble as soon as Grant rolled them onto the kitchen floor.

  Caprice didn’t bother with a coat, just grabbed her purse. Grant took his keys from his pocket. “Let’s take the SUV.”

  As Caprice thought about the question Grant had asked, they climbed into his vehicle. “Roz usually keeps her phone on no matter where she goes. The only place that she might be unreachable would be at the Green Tea Spa. They won’t give information about their clients whether they’re there or not, but we can drive by their parking lot and see if Roz’s car is there.”

  Since Grant thought that was a good idea, that’s what they did.

  In the parking lot of the Green Tea Spa, Caprice pointed out the window at the little red hybrid. “That’s Roz’s. Do you want to wait here while I run in?”

  “That’s probably a good idea. I don’t think Roz would want me to see her with mud all over her face.”

  Caprice groaned at his attempt at humor, unfastened her seatbelt, climbed out and dashed toward the entrance to Green Tea Spa. Now and then she went to the spa herself on special occasions, like the time she gave Bella a gift certificate for her birthday and Bella wanted company, or if her mom decided they all needed a spa day.

  Fortunately, Caprice knew the receptionist who sat at the desk. She quickly glanced around what was supposed to be a relaxing atmosphere. On a side wall, a black fountain dripping water down at least five tiers played its own liquid tune and somehow fit in with the soft instrumental music in the background. The reception area was painted sea-foam green, somewhere between aqua and blue. Ergonomic furniture upholstered in shades of blue surrounded large hassocks where anyone waiting could put up their feet and relax.

  Caprice said “Hi” to the receptionist who sat at a Plexiglas desk that looked as if it was floating in air. It wasn’t, of course, because it held a computer. But it gave a light airy affect to the rest of the décor. The metal sculpture of a yin yang symbol that hung on the wall reminded clients that everyone had a masculine and feminine side. One of the other walls held a grouping of photographs from the purple and blues of the Grand Canyon, to the red rocks of Sedona, to the beach at Big Sur and the rocky shore of Maine.

  The receptionist asked Caprice, “Can I help you?”

  “I come here for treatments sometimes,” Caprice said honestly.

  The receptionist suddenly recognized her. “You’re Caprice De Luca.”

  “I am and I have an emergency, or rather one of your clients has an emergency. Roz Winslow is having a treatment. I wonder if you could send her out as soon as possible.”

  The receptionist said, “Give me a minute,” and scooted down the hall. A few minutes later she came back and said, “Danielle is with Roz. She says she knows you. She’s been to your open houses. She’ll tell you where to go.”

  Caprice had taken yoga classes here too, as well as a self-defense course. She supposed it was a good thing the staff remembered her . . . or maybe not.

  Danielle, a petite blonde, motioned to Caprice from a set of double doors. Once Caprice reached the doors, Danielle said, “Roz asked for you to come back instead of her coming out. She finished the body wrap and massage and is now having a facial. But you can talk to her.”

  Caprice hurried in and found Roz in a motorized lounge chair that was laid back. She had white goop all over her face but Caprice could tell it was Roz from her slim figure in the robe and her green eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Roz asked. It seemed as if her lips were moving but her face wasn’t. “Danielle said it was an emergency. Is someone hurt?”

  “That depends on how you look at it,” Caprice answered.

  “Don’t talk to me in riddles, Caprice, while my face is getting stiff as a board. Soon I won’t be able to ask questions.”

  “Maybe you’d better sit up.”

  “Some of the mask could fall off her face,” Danielle said quickly.

  “I don’t think that’s going to matter when she hears what I have to say. She might get a few more wrinkles.”

  That did it. Roz pressed the button to raise the back of her chair.

  When she was staring at Caprice, totally perplexed, Caprice explained, “Travis Dodd was murdered. I don’t have all the details yet, but apparently the police have been questioning Michelle for hours and she called Vince. Here is where I don’t want you to over-react.”

  Roz waved her hand so Caprice would continue.

  “Apparently she didn’t know who else to call and Vince went to the police station to advise her.”

  Although Roz didn’t comment, she picked up a towel lying over the arm of her chair and started rubbing at her face with it.

  “Wait a minute,” Danielle said. “You’ll scratch your face. Let me get a moist towel.”

  Roz was already on her feet.

  But Caprice stopped her panic. “There’s no reason to hurry. Vince is at the police station, and he asked us to find you and tell you what was happening.”

  Danielle handed Roz a moist towel and she wiped the rest of the goop from her face. Although her face was buffed red, at least she looked like herself.

  Roz s
aid to Caprice, “All I can do is to go home and wait for him. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Grant drove me over. Are you sure you want us there?”

  “You need to find out the details too. Maybe you’ll have to move your reception.”

  At the moment, Caprice wasn’t worried about her reception. She was worried about Vince and Roz’s relationship.

  * * *

  Caprice really liked the split-level home that Vince had bought and Roz had moved into with him. It had a few unique characteristics that gave the house charm, from a stone fireplace to a renovated kitchen with quartz countertops. Like most split-levels, it had three—a bedroom level, a living room and kitchen level, and a family room level.

  Now as Caprice and Grant followed Roz into her home, she was silent. Grant clapped Caprice’s shoulder and nodded to Roz who seemed to be walking in a daze to the kitchen.

  “I’m going to give you and Roz time to talk. I’ll go to your place and make sure the animals are okay.”

  “My place will soon be our place,” Caprice reminded him with a smile.

  He gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “Yes, it will, and I can’t wait. Call me once Vince gets home, okay? And I’ll come over.”

  Caprice went into the kitchen with Roz after Grant left. “Why don’t I make us tea? Do you want herbal or do you need caffeine to be alert?”

  “I don’t want to mellow out now. Let’s go with caffeine.”

  Caprice took the teapot and set it on the stove burner. Because she spent some time here, she also knew where Roz kept her tea. She took two mugs from the mug tree and put a teabag in each.

  Finally Roz said, “I know Vince is your brother, so sometimes it’s hard for me to talk to you about him.”

  Caprice’s family was loyal to each other. But when there was a problem, they preferred to face it head on. “Tell me what you’re thinking. We’re friends, Roz. You can do that.”

  “Ever since Vince bought the house and wouldn’t let me put any money into it, I’ve been concerned about his level of commitment.”

  “That’s not news. I suspected you’d feel that way. Did you talk to Vince about it?”

  “I tried but he just insists this way is simpler. That’s what his lawyerly advice would be to any couple like us. How am I supposed to argue with that?”

  Sometimes her brother’s education got in the way of good sense and feelings. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

  Vince came home an hour later. As soon as Caprice heard his car, she called Grant. After all, they only lived a few blocks away. Grant arrived before Vince even had time to make himself a mug of coffee in the one-cup brewer.

  Her brother wasn’t talkative, so Caprice just let the moment settle. Roz didn’t go to him and kiss him. He didn’t go to her. The silence between them was a tension as taut as a charged electric line.

  Vince motioned to the sofa in the living room. “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  While Vince sat next to Grant on the sofa with Caprice by his side, Roz sat in an armchair.

  Vince, his handsome face troubled, his dark-brown hair mussed, turned to Caprice. “As I told you when I called, Travis was murdered in the tasting room with a cheese knife to the neck. It severed his carotid artery. Michelle found him sprawled over the chaise lounge.”

  “Is she a suspect?” Grant asked.

  Vince ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sure Detective Jones thinks she is. He was the one questioning her. You know the spouse is always suspected first. I’ll tell you, though, his attitude needs an adjustment. I felt like doing it for him but knew better.”

  “So you think the killer knew what he or she was doing?” Caprice asked. “I mean, did they know if they hit his carotid, he’d die? Or do the police think it was a lucky shot?”

  “The autopsy might tell the detectives more, but for now they’re focusing on Michelle and any other suspect they can find.”

  Finally Roz spoke. “Did you take Michelle home?”

  Vince sighed with resignation, as if he’d expected the question. “The police picked her up so she didn’t have a car. Yes, I took her home. I wanted to make sure she got home okay.”

  “Did you go in?” Roz’s gaze was like a laser, focusing on Vince.

  He obviously knew he was under her scrutiny and he didn’t like it. He tersely stated, “Yes, I went in until she turned the lights on. Someone was murdered in their tasting room. I wanted to make sure the house was safe.”

  “I’m sure they have a security system,” Roz said.

  “Yes, they do. But even security systems can be breached. I might as well tell you, I’m meeting with her again tomorrow.” His gaze was locked with Roz’s, but then suddenly he broke it and turned toward Caprice. “Michelle requested that you be there.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with your wedding, but I’m supposed to bring you along.”

  Grant sat forward on the sofa cushion. “Vince, we’re not criminal defense attorneys. She needs to retain somebody who is.”

  “It isn’t going to come to that,” Vince protested. “She’s innocent.”

  But from the look Roz gave Vince, Caprice could tell her friend wasn’t so sure. From the looks Roz and Vince were giving each other, they needed to talk, fight, and communicate somehow. They wouldn’t be able to do it with other folks present.

  Caprice elbowed Grant. “We’d better go.”

  Grant appeared to want to protest, as if he wanted to convince Vince finding another lawyer for Michelle would be the best thing to do. But the subject of lawyers just wasn’t the topic Roz and Vince needed to talk about right now.

  Caprice took Grant’s hand and stood. “Vince, text me on what time you’ll pick me up tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do that,” her brother confirmed. “Michelle’s going to call me with the best time for her.”

  Caprice felt like rolling her eyes. That was exactly the wrong thing to say in front of Roz. Men!

  First, she gave Vince a hug, then she went to Roz and did the same. She whispered in Roz’s ear, “Try to listen, but make your feelings clear.”

  Roz gave a nod and, as Caprice pulled away, she saw her friend’s eyes were moist with emotion. This whole situation wasn’t going to be easy for anyone, not unless Vince had nothing more to do with Michelle.

  Outside on the sidewalk, Grant took Caprice’s arm. “You should have let me drill into Vince’s head that he’s not equipped to handle this.”

  “I’m not worried about whether he is or isn’t,” Caprice said. “I’m worried about Roz and Vince.”

  “They’ll get through this,” Grant assured her. “And when they do, their relationship will be stronger.”

  “Maybe so, but there’s a reason they have a problem. Roz isn’t convinced that Vince is committed to her since he wouldn’t let her pay for part of the house. If she’d invested in it, she’d feel he trusted her and they were reaching the next level in their relationship.”

  “You already know why Vince decided not to,” Grant reminded her.

  “Oh, I know why. But common sense has nothing to do with this, feelings do. And there is a problem, a big one, if Vince is still attached to Michelle by either guilt or affection . . . or even friendship.”

  As they reached the curb, Grant pulled Caprice into his arms and leaned his forehead against hers. “We have to let this play out. You know we do.”

  She nodded. “I know. It’s just hard to stand by and watch them struggle.”

  “Roz and Vince watched us struggle. Let’s give them the chance to figure this out on their own terms. We might have a worry of our own. We might have to look for a new venue for our wedding reception.”

  “If the murder was in the tasting room, the police will have the crime scene cleaned up in a few days. That really doesn’t have anything to do with the reception hall.”

  “Except for the fact that there will be publicity. Do you think
our guests will want to attend a wedding reception where a murder took place?”

  * * *

  The following morning Caprice found herself sitting in one of the parlors at the winery house with Vince and Michelle. After Travis’s father died and Michelle and Travis rethought how they wanted to renovate and run the winery, they’d decided to let Caprice decorate the tasting room as well as the two-story brick Colonial with its east and west wings. They’d wanted the traditional out and contemporary in. The contemporary look Michelle had chosen consisted of silver and black and lots of glass. The rug on the floor was a geometrical black-and-white design. Every time Caprice had suggested pops of color in the room, neither Michelle or Travis had approved. So they’d gotten exactly what they’d wanted.

  Right now, sitting across from Michelle in a black leather armchair, she paid attention as Michelle told Vince, “The police are riding me hard because I was alone when Travis was killed and I don’t have an alibi.”

  “Where were you?” Vince asked. He turned to Caprice. “I didn’t let Michelle answer that last night.”

  “I took a drive.” Her chin went up and Caprice knew there was more to the story than that.

  “Why did you take a drive?” Caprice asked.

  “Travis and I had an argument,” Michelle said with a sigh.

  “What was the argument about?” Vince queried.

  “I had talked to Travis’s CFO, Neil Allen, about increasing the amount of a severance package that Travis had put together for Fred Schmidt, an employee he’d let go. The older man was furious that Travis had fired him after he’d been working at the winery for twenty-five years.”

  Although Caprice had supervised the decorating of the tasting room, she’d never met Fred Schmidt. He must have worked in the back where the grapes were unloaded and the wine was created.

  “Why did Travis let him go?” Vince asked.

  “Because of budget cuts,” Michelle answered, shaking her head.

  “And you spoke to this Neil Allen because you felt sorry for Fred?” Vince queried.

  “It wasn’t just that. His wife has been ill and this is the worst time for him to lose his job. But Travis wouldn’t even consider increasing it and he was angry that I’d gone to Neil.”