Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  Caprice smiled. “This is my dog Lady.”

  “Will she behave if we go inside?”

  “She certainly will. I’ve had her since birth and still run her through her training.”

  “The reason I ask . . . my wife’s resting. She went through chemotherapy and radiation for breast cancer and she’s recovering.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about the cancer, but glad she’s recovering.”

  Fred motioned Caprice inside. When he did, Lady stayed right by Caprice, but she didn’t seem afraid of Fred at all. She just cocked her head and watched him.

  The living room’s furnishings were definitely dated, but the green-and-white-patterned slipcover on the sofa looked fairly new. There were two recliners—a dark-brown leather one that showed signs of wear and a newer one upholstered in fabric that had a control hanging over the arm. Side tables were maple and had Colonial-style legs. The only thing that wasn’t dated was the small flat-screen TV that was as big as Caprice’s computer monitor. Caprice guessed the beautiful lead crystal dish on the middle of the coffee table that held rose petals was an antique.

  “Have a seat,” Fred said, motioning Caprice to the sofa. He headed for the recliner.

  “Tell me about Travis,” she prompted.

  Fred snorted. “Travis was a SOB who only cared about the bottom line. Yet he couldn’t do even as well at the winery as his father had. Pouring all that money into redecorating and promotion was downright stupid.”

  “You don’t think promotion works?”

  As if he was unburdening himself, Fred blurted out, “Not the way he went about it. There are ways to sell wine and there are ways not to sell wine. He did everything all wrong and wouldn’t listen to anybody. If you’re going to spend money on ads, it has to be the right ads where wine buyers and connoisseurs will see them. He went flitting around the Internet and paid good money for ads on way too many sites. But those ads, those sites, didn’t even target wine buyers.”

  “You mean like social media?” Caprice asked. Fred sounded as if he knew what he was talking about and Travis hadn’t taken advantage of his experience.

  Fred’s heavy brows knit together. “Where messages are called tweets? How stupid is that?”

  “Some people do sell their products that way.”

  Shaking his head, Fred admitted, “Maybe so. But Michelle kept telling him they needed to build up a good following first, that the new ways were fine, but you had to spend time on it before you could sell on it. She wanted to post pictures of the winery, the tasting room, the reception hall, to interest customers. He just wanted to post ads.”

  “I suppose the two could be combined.”

  “Sure, they could. But he wasn’t open to her advice, and he wouldn’t let her design the ads or target the audience. He spent too much money on everything. Some graphic designer he’d met somewhere charged him big bucks for the winery website and designing ads. I’ll tell ya, I have a soft spot for Michelle. She tried to save my job, and she was always good to me—polite and respectful. Travis had no respect.”

  That assessment seemed to parallel what others had told her about Travis. “Did you know that Jarrett is back in town?”

  Lady stood and went over to Fred, sitting by his feet. She’d apparently assessed his character and decided she liked him.

  Fred reached down and petted her. “I didn’t know Jarrett was back. That’s interesting.”

  “Can you tell me what the winery was like when Jarrett was helping to run it? I understand he worked there for about a year.”

  Stooping lower, Fred ran his hand down Lady’s flank and she rolled over. “Unlike his brother, Jarrett was an okay guy, just not very focused. They really were opposites. Their dad always considered Jarrett the black sheep.”

  “But his father never really saw him work at the winery.”

  “Jarrett returned for a visit now and then, but that wasn’t often. He was close to his mom and when she left, he was devastated.”

  That was new information and Caprice wanted more of it. “When did she leave?”

  Fred closed his eyes for a moment to think about it. “Travis was about fourteen and Jarrett was twelve. The settlement William gave Vivian with their divorce stipulated that he had full custody of the boys and she had no say in their upbringing. She was a weak woman with no backbone. After the divorce, she went home to New Hampshire. I think Jarrett always stayed in touch with her, and he blamed his father and Travis for her leaving. He confided in me once that they made her life miserable. I’m not exactly sure how, but I imagine if two people in the house were against you, and you’re not very strong, you’d soon cave in to their demands. But I don’t know that for sure.”

  Caprice suddenly heard a door open. When she looked toward the rear of the cottage, she saw an older woman coming out from the bedroom. She had very short white hair. She was wearing navy sweatpants and a zip-up jacket in the same material. She looked pale and frail.

  Fred hurried to her immediately. “Agnes, honey, you should have called for me.”

  It was easy to see from the expression on Fred’s face that he would do anything for this woman.

  “I didn’t need you to help me out of bed, and I can walk on my own. Remember the doctor said that’s good for me.”

  Still, Fred tucked his wife’s arm around his and walked her to the fabric recliner. She sat and then shooed him away. When Mrs. Schmidt’s eyes fell on Caprice, Caprice thought she saw fear there. What did she have to fear? Whatever questions Caprice might ask?

  Lady was perceptive about moods. As if she could sense the older woman’s emotions, she went to her, looked up at her, and then sat at her feet.

  “This is Agnes, my wife,” Fred told Caprice. And then he introduced Agnes to Caprice and Lady.

  When Agnes stooped to pet Lady, some of that fear seemed to vanish from her expression. Pets always seemed to give comfort.

  Fred briefly explained why Caprice was there.

  Relaxing a little, Agnes said, “Michelle was always kind to me and good to Fred when she could be. While I was having chemo, she would come and sit with me for a while. She sent us baskets full of fruit or goodies. I know she mailed Fred coupons for takeout after Travis fired him because she knew I wasn’t cooking.”

  Yet Agnes’s face suddenly turned determined. Straightening in the recliner, she shook her finger at Caprice. “I’ll tell you, young lady, you need to be careful.”

  “Of anyone in particular?” Caprice asked.

  Agnes and Fred exchanged a look but neither of them answered. So Caprice proceeded on her own. “Can you tell me how well you know Neil Allen?”

  Agnes ruffled the fur along Lady’s neck and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the man. He’s as slimy as Travis was.”

  Caprice wondered if Agnes thought that because Neil couldn’t keep Fred from being fired. But she knew better than to assume anything. “Tell me why you think that.”

  After another look at his wife, Fred explained, “I overheard several arguments between Travis and Neil. During the most recent ones before I left, I heard Travis telling Neil he should fire him. Neil shot back that Travis couldn’t do that because Neil knew too much about the winery and sabotaging the competition.”

  “Do you think someone was sabotaging Travis?”

  “I never saw any signs of that,” Fred said.

  Following her instincts, Caprice revealed to Fred and Agnes what happened with the teenager who’d tried to spoil the wine in the vat. “Do you have any idea who might have planned to ruin Rambling Vines Wines?”

  Fred gave a huge sigh as if talking about all of this was a relief somehow. “Well, we know it wasn’t a teenager. Do you know if it was a man’s or woman’s voice the boy heard on the phone?”

  “There are machines that can change the sound of any voice,” Caprice informed them.

  Agnes shook her head. “What’s the world coming to? This tech age is passing me by.”

  “Remember, I got
you a medical alert system and a smart phone so we can be in touch all the time,” Fred reminded her.

  “Those medical alert people are too nosy. I have to press that button every night or they call to ask if I’m all right. No privacy.”

  Caprice held back a smile.

  Sitting to the front of his recliner, Fred said, “You asked who I think would ruin Rambling Vines wine. That could be anyone from Jarrett, who didn’t feel his settlement when Travis got his half of the business was just, to the owner of Black Horse Winery near Hanover. I’m not positive, but I think it was Travis who bribed the reviewer to give Black Horse bad press. Everyone in the local wine business had a niche carved out. When Black Horse received that bad review, Travis stepped right into that gap, promoting his wine wherever he could, spending outrageous amounts to ensure he got their business. Maybe competition was what killed him.”

  Agnes was leaning her head against the chair back now. She looked even paler and exhausted.

  Caprice didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Taking a business card from her pocket, she laid it on the coffee table next to the crystal dish. “I’m going to leave my card with you. If you think of anything else that might help, just give me a call. You can call my landline and leave a message if I’m not there, or just call my cell. Either is fine.”

  Agnes roused herself and again stooped down to pet Lady. Lady turned her head toward Agnes and then licked her hand.

  “I think you’ve made a friend,” Caprice said.

  “If you come back again,” Agnes said, “Please bring her with you. And remember, we like visitors. I know I get tired quickly but that’s going to change in the coming months.”

  Caprice went over to Agnes, stooped down and patted her hand. “I’ll be glad to bring Lady along when I visit again. She likes coming with me instead of staying at home with my two cats.”

  Agnes laughed. “I suppose she would.”

  Fred stood and walked Caprice and Lady to the door. “I hope we helped you,” he said as he opened the door.

  “You gave me leads to follow and I’m thankful for that. Both of you take care.”

  Fred watched from the open door as Caprice put Lady in her kennel in the van and shut the door. He was still watching as she jumped into the driver’s side and started the ignition. She liked the Schmidts. She just hoped she and Lady were reading them correctly and they’d had nothing to do with Travis’s murder.

  * * *

  Caprice climbed the steps of Bella’s house on Sunday afternoon, noticing the pristine white porch railing that Joe had recently painted. The white trim and shutters went well with the yellow siding. The old-fashioned door had sidelight windows and the white storm door was decorated with a black emblem of a carriage with a horse. She heard women’s voices through the storm door.

  She and her sisters had an open-door policy. As she stepped inside, her sandals tapped on the parquet floor in the foyer. Through the wooden pillars on her left, she could see the small living room and, through French doors, into the family room beyond. Sunnybud, the yellow tabby cat that Bella had adopted, lay across the seat of Joe’s comfy chair. Rousing a bit, he blinked green eyes at Caprice. She blinked back.

  Nikki, Roz, and Bella were standing in front of the built-in birch bookshelves in the family room.

  “Am I late?” Caprice asked as she walked through the kitchen and into the family room through that doorway.

  “No, we’re early,” Nikki said. “Want a glass of iced tea before we get started? You can’t drink it when you have your wedding gown on. We’re not taking any chances with spills.”

  Caprice laughed. “I agree. No chances with spills.”

  She studied Roz who had pasted on a bright smile. But Caprice didn’t see that smile in her eyes. She gave all three women hugs. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Bella pointed toward the kitchen and the door that led to the basement. “Let’s go down to my workroom. I have a dais there that you can step up on to check the hem.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was standing on the dais in her wedding gown and white bridal shoes. “Bella, I love it.”

  Bella had designed the gown, replicating their grandmother’s wedding gown. There was ruching across the waist and hips. The sweetheart neckline did not show cleavage. Sleeves reached to her elbows but had a flutter to them which would be great if the day was hot. Caprice’s train was detachable. Attached to the dress now, it flowed at least six feet behind the gown. For the reception, Caprice could detach it to move around more easily.

  Nikki and Roz both said at the same time, “The gown is perfect.” They looked at each other with tears in their eyes.

  Bella produced the lace-edged cathedral-length bridal veil that had been a Christmas present from her mom and Nana. Flower appliqués that matched the lace were strategically placed on the bottom third of the veil.

  Bella noted, “The veil is attached to two pearl-studded combs. Are you wearing your hair up or down that day?”

  “I’m not sure. I usually wear it down and that’s how Grant knows me. On the other hand, I wore it up for that Valentine’s Day dance and I think that’s where he first decided he might want to get closer.”

  “Then up it is,” Bella said. “We can keep the combs or . . .”

  From her worktable Bella produced a headband that didn’t look anything like a headband. It was decorated with pearls and tulle and tiny crystals. “If I use this, that veil will be a lot more secure on your head. It seems light but that’s plenty of material to have flowing down your back. What do you think?”

  “I love the headband,” Caprice said. “I think it will be perfect.”

  “Give me a few minutes to attach it, and then we can see the whole picture.”

  While Bella worked, Caprice asked Roz, “How are you doing. Really?”

  “I hate to talk behind Vince’s back,” Roz murmured.

  “We’re his sisters,” Nikki protested. “Who better to vent to? If you want to hold in your feelings around his business associates or your friends, that’s fine. But you can be honest with us.”

  Roz tried to smile. “That’s what I like about the three of you. You’re always so tactful.”

  They all laughed, breaking the tension.

  Nikki touched Roz’s arm. “Tell us what’s really going on. I don’t know if we can help but you might feel better if you talk about it. You know what happens if you keep it in. You’ll explode.”

  “Have you exploded with Brett yet?” Roz asked with a raised brow.

  “No, of course not. I try to be straight up about any issues. I told him last week he’s got to get over this idea that I won’t stick by him because of his job. I think he’s beginning to realize that his attitude is a turn-off, not his police life.”

  Bella added her two cents. “Okay, Roz, you deflected the question. Tell us what’s going on.”

  “I’m worried,” she confessed. “I’m not sure where our relationship is headed. Not a day goes by that Vince doesn’t talk to Michelle. And now I found out that he saw her at the coffee shop before Christmas.”

  Caprice was worried about that supposed run-in too. Vince said it was happenstance. Was he downplaying it? “Is he open with you about the phone calls?”

  “Yes, he is. Some of them are about winery business. Apparently, Michelle doesn’t know who to trust so she’s trusting Vince.”

  “You know, don’t you, that Vince would never have asked you to move in with him if he didn’t want a future with you.”

  “I remember he used to be a speed dater,” Roz said.

  “But not after he met you,” Bella reminded her.

  Roz wasn’t buying it. “If he trusted we could have a life together, I still don’t understand why he didn’t let me pool my money with his and put my name on the house title.”

  The women all exchanged looks. “Have you told him how you feel?” Caprice asked.

  “Not lately. There’s tension between us, and I don’t want to make it
worse.”

  “I think you’re making it worse by not talking to him about it,” Caprice said.

  “Maybe,” Roz finally admitted.

  “I’m done,” Bella announced, carefully folding the veil over her arm. She stepped up onto the dais and then fitted the headband on Caprice’s head, even though she was wearing her hair down. The veil softly floated over the gown’s train.

  Roz began to cry. Tears came to Caprice’s eyes too, because she was so eager to be married to Grant, so thankful they’d found each other, so grateful they didn’t have long to wait to become one. She loved him so much that sometimes she felt as if her heart would burst with it.

  Everyone had tears in their eyes now.

  “That’s it,” Bella said with a sniff. “Take it all off, Caprice. We need to go up and sit with Sunnybud in the family room. I have iced tea and Nana’s biscotti and we can simply yak about nothing that matters.”

  “Amen to that,” Caprice agreed, also thankful that her sisters were her friends, and that Roz was like a sister. That’s why she would help her and Vince by solving this murder.

  Chapter Nine

  Ever since Caprice was around ten, she’d cherished her teatime with Nana Celia. She guessed their teatime dates had started when she was sick and had to stay home from school. Since her mom was a teacher and her dad was at work, Nana took care of her and always brewed tea. Whenever she’d visit Nana with news to share, her grandmother would bring out a box of flavored teas. When she was little, the idea of strawberry or peach had been a treat like a piece of candy. Even better than candy, though, were her Nana’s stories.

  As Caprice had gotten older she’d asked her Nana more than once why she’d married when she was only seventeen. She’d inquired about her grandfather’s barbershop and studied the old photo albums. Nana was all about tradition, family history, and old-world charm. She was smiles and joy, encouragement and love.

  Now as Caprice followed Nana into her parlor—in other words, her small living room—Nana’s cat Valentine, a gray tabby, darted in and out between their legs. Lady, who was very familiar with Valentine, darted after her in a pretend chase. Valentine ended up on the top shelf of her cat condo with Lady sitting on the floor underneath her.