Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  Lady rubbed against Dulcina’s leg and Dulcina studied her. “Have you ever asked him if he thought of you while he was married to her?”

  “No!”

  “Why so vehement? Grant has gotten an annulment on the grounds that his marriage was never a true sacrament because Naomi was pregnant, because they were married by a justice of the peace, because there were probably lots of doubts.”

  Caprice tried to think about Dulcina’s question with less emotion. “I still don’t know if it’s a question I’d ever ask him.”

  “What I’m saying is that maybe he never forgot about you, just as you never forgot about him. It took you two long enough to find each again after he was back in Kismet. But you did. He was your destiny and you were his.”

  Caprice smiled. “You make it sound very romantic.”

  “Isn’t it?” Dulcina countered.

  “It didn’t feel very romantic when we were going through it, but now it does. And now I just want to be Caprice De Luca Weatherford. I might keep my maiden name for business purposes or maybe I’ll hyphenate the two names. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You don’t have too much time.”

  “No, but it’s an important decision in lots of ways. I do want Grant’s input on that to see how he feels.”

  “Then you’ll make the right decision.”

  Lady moved away from Dulcina to snuffle around the porch as if she was looking for food.

  “I’d better take her home and feed her breakfast.”

  “And have some breakfast yourself?”

  “At my desk.”

  Caprice said good-bye and walked Lady down the steps, but she was already thinking about the rental furniture she wanted to use for her next house staging.

  * * *

  After Caprice left her felines napping and she’d rolled Lady her treat ball and said good-bye, she drove to the winery. As she veered onto the winding drive, she considered everything she’d learned about Travis’s murder. It wasn’t really much. That’s why today she wasn’t here to see Michelle. She intended to visit Neil Allen.

  Caprice parked and went to the tasting room entrance. No one was in the tasting room again and she supposed news media reports were keeping tourists and even locals away. The room had been cleaned up from whatever mess had been there, including fingerprint powder and possibly luminol.

  Caprice easily noticed that the teal chaise lounge was missing, probably the one that Travis had been discovered on. She supposed he had fallen on it when the murderer killed him. Would Brett give her details about that? Probably not.

  She continued through the room into the hall that led to the offices. Neil Allen must have heard her footsteps because he came out to the doorway. When he saw her, he said, “Michelle’s not here.”

  “I’m not here on wedding business today. I actually came to see you.” There was no point prevaricating because when she began asking questions, Neil would know what she was about.

  “Me?”

  “I’m trying to learn a little more about Travis. I’m helping Michelle stay clear of charges. If the police don’t have another suspect, you know how that goes.”

  Neil was middle-aged, probably in his late forties. His hair was thinning on top and he had a mustache, maybe to make up for what he was losing on top of his head. He had a long nose and thin lips.

  His hazel eyes were piercing as they studied her. “I don’t know what I can tell you that Michelle doesn’t already know.”

  Neil was dressed in a polo shirt and jeans today as if he didn’t expect to be doing winery business. Were things really that bad?

  Instead of asking that, however, she said, “I’d like somebody else’s perspective. Do you think you could give me that?”

  Neil motioned down the hall to his office. Caprice followed him and sat on the chair across from his desk. Her lime bell-bottom slacks nestled against her espadrilles as she crossed one foot over the other. Neil was studying her, from her fuchsia-and-lime Peter Pan–collared blouse to the ring on her finger.

  He gestured to it. “That’s a beautiful ring. Michelle told me it was unusual.”

  Caprice looked down at the heart-shaped pink diamond set in a band of alternating pink sapphires and diamonds. “My fiancé picked it out. He has good taste and he knows what I like.”

  “That’s a good start,” Neil acknowledged with half of a smile. Sobering he asked, “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me why you think Travis was murdered.”

  Neil’s eyes widened a bit as if he hadn’t expected that question. He took a few moments but then he answered her. “Travis could be ruthless in business and he made enemies. Yes, he could be charming when he wanted to be, like when he courted Michelle. But it wasn’t long before she saw his true colors.”

  “True colors?”

  “He courted her as if she were the most important woman in the world. Do you know what I mean? Flowers, candy, jewelry. Even more than that, he gave her his time. But as soon as he had her, he changed.”

  “I don’t understand why he’d go to all that trouble if he wasn’t going to follow through.”

  “He went to all that trouble because his father wanted him to marry well. And not only well, but a woman who was accomplished. Michelle is. Although she was a nurse, she could hostess a party and make everyone a friend quicker than you can say winery. It wasn’t long after they were married that Travis was at the winery eighteen hours a day. He was always wheeling and dealing promotions and opportunities. Not that they ever did much good. He had no time for his marriage.”

  Caprice shifted her straw purse on her lap. “Certainly, he would go home at night.”

  Neil shook his head. “Michelle would set up dates for them and he’d always bail out.”

  “He couldn’t have wanted Michelle just as a hostess,” Caprice protested.

  “Marriage looks good on paper. Travis could claim he was a family man. Michelle handled the events so it looked as if they were a team.”

  Caprice thought about all that. “Michelle mentioned that Travis had an interest in old cars.”

  “Not simply old cars. It wasn’t just a hobby. Travis’s true passion involved antique cars that he had restored. Why don’t you come over to the garage and I’ll show you around his cars?”

  “I’d like a tour.”

  Neil grinned. “Come on then. You probably haven’t seen anything like the cars he has in the garage.”

  Caprice followed Neil through an outside door at the end of the hall. They turned right at the garage. Neil took a remote control from his pocket. One of the garage doors went up.

  “Do you recognize the first one?” Neil asked.

  Caprice did recognize the body. “It’s a Dodge Coronet.”

  “You’ve got a good eye.” Neil seemed surprised at her recognition.

  “My father and my brother taught me well.”

  “It’s a 1969 Coronet RT, completely restored with original parts.”

  The car had a high-gloss finish and looked as if it had never been driven.

  “Do you recognize this one?” Neil asked.

  The yellow car was almost the same color as her yellow Camaro. “That’s a Plymouth Duster.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. The lady is right again. It’s a 1973 coupe with a V-8 engine and a five-speed manual.”

  Caprice could only imagine the price of these restored cars. She could only imagine the money that Travis had sunk into them to restore them.

  “Then there’s this one,” Neil said proudly.

  “I’m not familiar with that one,” Caprice said. “Is it rare?”

  “It’s a 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda. This little baby cost Travis around ninety thousand dollars to restore.”

  “What was the original cost?”

  “Around one hundred and fifty thousand.”

  Caprice whistled as she would when she was calling Lady. “So even though the winery might be in the red, Travis’s personal accounts were stoked up by
these cars.”

  “That’s right.”

  The two of them kept staring at the cars, appreciating the restoration.

  “Who did Travis’s work for him?”

  “The guy’s name is Leon Wysocki.” Neil checked his watch. “I’d better get back to work. The books have to be in order for the lawyer and the accountant. I wouldn’t want to be in Michelle’s shoes.”

  Caprice stepped out of the garage. “Because the police consider her a person of interest?”

  “Not just that. Settling the estate in general. And now with Jarrett here, I don’t know if that will help or hinder her.” Neil pressed the remote and the garage door came down.

  “Were you and Travis friends?” Caprice asked, remembering that Michelle had said there had been tension in the men’s relationship lately.

  Neil started walking toward the winery. “We worked together. It was uncomplicated.”

  Caprice didn’t know of any relationships that were uncomplicated.

  Turning toward her, Neil asked her a question. “Are you trying to gather information for the police?”

  “If I can.”

  “Who’s next on your list to talk to?”

  “The man Travis fired—Fred Schmidt.”

  Neil shook his head. “That was such a shame. Fred only had a year until retirement. He and his wife really need his salary. I tried to tell Travis that, but he wouldn’t listen. He said it was merely business.”

  Merely business. Travis’s philosophy could have been what had gotten him killed.

  * * *

  That evening while Caprice and Grant were in the backyard with Patches and Lady, letting the cocker spaniels run off some of their energy, Caprice caught Grant up on everything she’d discovered. She explained about the cars in detail.

  “Wow,” Grant said. “And the thing is, if someone sees one of those classic cars, or even a garage full of them, they don’t realize how much they’re worth. You have to know cars to know that.”

  “Imagine, a hundred and fifty thousand to buy one, and another hundred thousand to restore it. I’m not sure why Travis didn’t sell more cars to buy out his brother. Rambling Vines might not be in the trouble it’s in if he had.”

  Grant’s cell phone buzzed. He took it from his windbreaker’s pocket and said with lots of enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s Holden. He’s finally calling me back. I’ll put him on speaker.”

  Hoping beyond hope that this was good news, Caprice waited beside Grant, tilting her head toward his so she could hear the conversation too.

  “Hi, Holden. It’s good to hear from you. Did you call to give me your measurements for the tux?”

  “Not exactly,” Holden said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Grant’s. Caprice had seen pictures of him. He didn’t have the maturity in his face that Grant did. But then maybe he hadn’t had the heartache either. His hair was dark-brown instead of black, and his eyes were green instead of gray. She could picture him now.

  “Exactly why did you call?” Grant asked warily.

  “In order to tell you I’ll be coming to the wedding,” his brother responded without much enthusiasm.

  “That’s great. You can be a groomsman along with my partner Vince, Caprice’s brother-in-law and her sister’s boyfriend Brett. Her uncle too.”

  “That’s the thing, Grant,” Holden explained. “I really don’t want to be in middle of all that. Is it okay with you if I just come as a guest?”

  Caprice glanced at Grant’s face and could see he was disappointed. He didn’t let that emotion show in his voice. “Certainly it’s all right. I’ll just be glad to have you here.”

  “On the happiest day of your life?” Holden asked a bit cynically.

  “I hope it will be one of them,” Grant answered. “Don’t worry about booking a hotel or anything like that. You can stay in my townhouse with me.”

  “I don’t want to put you out or make things too tight.”

  “It won’t be tight. I have two bedrooms. It should be convenient for you. If you don’t leave right away after the wedding, you can have the place to yourself.”

  “Mom and Dad said they’re not sure where they’re staying yet—if they’re going to stay in a motel or at your fiancée’s parents’ house.”

  “I’m hoping they’ll stay with Caprice’s parents.” Grant gave Caprice a look that said he meant that. She knew he wanted their in-laws to get to know each other in more than a superficial way.

  “Dad won’t want to put out the money so they probably will. If you’re sure it won’t be a bother, I’ll stay at your place.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad you called, Holden. We should talk . . . more.”

  “About our lives?” Holden asked. “There’s not a whole lot to tell with mine. I’ll text you when I know I’ll be arriving. I’m thinking about driving.”

  “Whatever’s most convenient for you. Mom and Dad are going to fly because I told them there are plenty of people who can pick them up at the airport or chauffeur them around if necessary. They don’t even need to rent a car.”

  “I’ll probably drive so I have my car. I’m going to take time off from work and maybe drive down to Hilton Head while I’m at it.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “I’ll let you know if anything changes. I’ve got to run. I’ll text you before the wedding.”

  Grant hardly had a chance to say good-bye before Holden ended the call.

  When Grant turned to her with a shrug, Caprice wondered if their wedding could bring these brothers closer together. She put her arms around Grant and gave him a huge hug. After that conversation, she suspected he needed it.

  Chapter Eight

  Painted with swirling psychedelic colors and a few large flowers, Caprice’s van advertised in large turquoise lettering CAPRICE DE LUCA—REDESIGN AND HOME STAGING. Even more noticeable than her yellow Camaro, the van promoted her business. Today she wanted to reinforce her identity. She was driving to an out-of-the-way location outside of Kismet to the home of Fred Schmidt.

  Following her GPS and the Australian male voice that guided her, she found herself on a gravel lane leading to a cottage-style house off of one of the rural roads. This was one of those times—going to visit a stranger in an out-of-the-way location—that Caprice was going to take Grant’s advice. She’d brought along Lady. She was also going to dial Grant and keep her line open.

  As Caprice parked, she reminded herself not to be nervous. To distract herself, she thought about her wedding gown fitting tomorrow afternoon at Bella’s and knew her heart was beating fast out of excitement, not fear. Still, Fred Schmidt had been fired by Travis before retirement and he could be furious. He could have been the one who killed the winemaker.

  Caprice went to the back of her van, opened it, and let Lady out of her kennel. Her cocker eagerly hopped down from the van and looked up at her mistress, proud of herself for doing so.

  Although Caprice didn’t use treats as rewards as much as she had when she was training Lady, today she took one out of the pouch on her belt and held it up before her cocker. Lady sat without the command.

  “I want you to keep your eyes open. You know I trust your judgment on whether someone is trustworthy or not, or nasty or not. So help me out here today, okay?”

  Lady cocked her head and then raised her paw. Caprice shook it and gave her the treat. Afterward, she attached Lady’s leash, walked around to the side of her van, and dialed Grant.

  “I’m here,” she told him.

  “And I’m too danged far away. You should have let me follow you and park on the road.”

  “You’re my fiancé, Grant, not my keeper.”

  “And you remind me of that every chance you get,” he grumbled.

  “I’m putting you in my pocket.”

  She didn’t wait to hear his reply, but she knew he probably had one. She’d worn a maxi-length denim skirt today with pockets deep enough for her phone. Her peasant blouse was embroidered with a riot of colors
and her jeweled sandals completed the outfit. After all, her fashions today matched her van pretty well.

  The cottage was small, sided in narrow white lengths. Black shutters hung at the windows, and window boxes under those acted as colorful decoration with the purple and yellow pansies that filled them. The well-tended lawn around the cottage and the trimmed boxwood shrubs spoke of care for the outside of the property, as did the white trellis at the side of the house. Caprice liked the homey feeling of the little house. But she also knew looks could be deceiving.

  She pressed the doorbell and heard the ding-dong so she knew it worked. An older man opened the door with a grumpy look on his face that could have wilted the pansies. He had an oval face with lots of wrinkles, a bald pate with a fringe of gray hair on each side. He was wearing a plaid shirt and jean overalls, and his feet were bare.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Caprice De Luca.”

  He peered around her to see her van. “If you’re selling something, I’m not buying.” He seemed about to shut the door in her face but then he saw Lady. His expression changed and he almost smiled.

  “I assure you, I’m not selling anything,” Caprice said. “I know Michelle Dodd, and our wedding reception is supposed to be at the winery. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Travis, if you don’t mind. We could do it out here if you don’t want me inside. Let me show you ID.”

  She fished in her pocket, the opposite one from her phone, and pulled out a small wallet. Fred Schmidt could see her driver’s license through the plastic window on the front.

  The man scowled. “I don’t know why you want to talk to me. I don’t have anything good to say about him.”

  “Michelle told me that he fired you. I’m afraid she’s the police’s number one suspect, and I’m hoping to clear her of that suspicion, even if I can’t figure out who killed Travis.”

  Fred Schmidt tilted his head first one way then the other and backed up a step. “I don’t have my glasses on but I’ve seen your picture and your name isn’t common. You’re the one who helped the police with solving murders.”

  “I am. Does that mean you’ll talk to me?”

  Fred stuck his hand out to her. “I’m Fred.”