Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Uh, oh. That doesn’t sound good,” Roz decided.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It sounds like it might have a virus. Let’s see what happens when we turn it off and then back on again.”

  Caprice turned the machine and the monitor off, gave it a few moments to settle, and then switched both back on.

  Roz gasped when she saw what was on the screen. “This isn’t any ordinary virus,” she said in a whisper.

  On the screen in bold print and large letters flashed a warning—STAY AWAY FROM RAMBLING VINES WINERY . . . OR ELSE.

  * * *

  There had only been one thing to do with the threatening message. She knew better than to keep it to herself. She called Brett Carstead.

  Roz left to check in at her shop, taking Dylan along as she usually did. About an hour after Caprice called Brett, he showed up in her video monitor at her front door. He had somebody with him. When she opened the door, Lady ran to him. After all, she knew him.

  He reached down and ruffled her ears and ran his hand down her flank. “Hi there, girl. Keeping your mistress safe?”

  The man beside him said, “The way she greeted you, I don’t think she’d make a good guard dog.”

  Brett smiled. “You’re probably right. This is Matt Leighton. He’s a tech expert, and I thought we could use him. He’s going to take a cursory look at your computer, but my guess is he’s going to have to take it with him.”

  “Thank goodness I took screen shots of the furniture and e-mailed them to myself.”

  “Furniture?” Matt asked. He had red hair and blue eyes, and a smile that maybe could charm a virus from a computer. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt rather than a uniform. There were tattoos on his arms, one of an anchor and something else she didn’t recognize. The way he stood straight and tall, she wondered if he’d been in the military.

  “I’m a home stager,” she explained, “and a house decorator. This morning I was sorting through furniture to show one of my clients for her new house.”

  “I imagine it takes more time than one thinks to do that,” he offered. “Since I know my way around a computer, I realize that.”

  “Are you part of the Kismet police force?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say I’m a consultant,” he commented.

  “She asks a lot of questions,” Brett told Matt in a warning tone. “But you don’t have to answer them.”

  After Caprice wrinkled her nose at Brett, she took the men back to her office. Matt took one look at the message, sat at her desk, and pressed a few keys. He turned the computer off and then booted it up again and shook his head. “This is going to have to go back to the station with me. I have equipment there that could help me figure out what’s going on.”

  “My guess is he already knows but he wants to make sure,” Brett told Caprice. “While he unplugs and collects everything,” Brett said, “let’s go to your living room and talk.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?” she asked, half joking, half serious.

  “You know you don’t . . . this time.”

  After they were both seated in the sixties-chic living room decorated with bright colors in geometric shapes, Brett gave her a steady look. He laid his hand on the arm of the sofa that was striped in purple and lime and fuchsia to compliment the sixties décor of the room that included a lava lamp. His gaze fell on the seventies, pop-art, psychedelic framed print on one wall.

  “Is this lecture time?” she asked Brett.

  “No, because I know a lecture won’t do any good with you. What I want you to do is to take that threat seriously. Back away from this.”

  Her answer was immediate. “I can’t. My wedding reception is at the winery, and don’t tell me to change venues. If I was supposed to, I’d feel it in my gut.”

  “Maybe your gut’s too excited about getting married to have a sixth sense about anything else.”

  Brett’s tone was gentle and she realized he was probably right. Still . . .

  “Michelle has become a friend, and if I got a threat on my computer, then apparently I’m getting close to something.”

  Shaking his head, Brett insisted, “I can’t understand you or Vince.”

  “We’re nothing alike.”

  “Oh, yes, you are. You’re both De Lucas, both intent on getting your own way. You should be concentrating on your wedding, and Vince should realize he could lose Roz if he doesn’t wake up.”

  Apparently, Nikki had been talking to Brett about the couple. “You’re welcome to talk to Vince.”

  Brett waved her words away. “I know how much good that would do.”

  “It might. He respects you.”

  “Grant could talk to him.”

  “Grant feels it’s better to stay out of people’s private lives.”

  “Good thing. He can balance you out.” Brett’s tone was wry and a bit teasing.

  But he’d struck a nerve. “Maybe I don’t need to be balanced out. Maybe we just need to listen to each other.”

  Brett gave her a questioning look. “Uh, oh. Problems before walking down the aisle?” He wasn’t teasing this time. He was asking as if he wanted to know.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “We need to talk but both of us are being stubborn . . . or something.”

  “As I said, you’re just like Vince,” Brett reminded her. “You know what to do if you’re both being stubborn. Give in.”

  Caprice sighed. “Why is that so hard to do?” Shrugging, Brett explained, “For guys, it’s a matter of pride. I don’t know about women. Maybe if they feel they’ve gotten a raw deal at times, they want to stand up for themselves.”

  “Aren’t you perceptive.”

  “It comes with the territory. I do have to be able to read suspects, you know.”

  “I know.” Enough about her. She decided to turn this around. “Since you’re giving advice, maybe I can ask a few questions and give some to you?”

  He made a point of looking at his watch.

  Just then Matt came out of her office carrying her computer tower. “I’ll be back in for the monitor.”

  “I have to go,” Brett said.

  “Are you and Nikki having more than half-hour coffee dates early in the morning?”

  “With this murder investigation, we’re not even having many coffee dates. And don’t ask me anything else.” He shook his finger at her. “You are way too nosy.”

  “One of my best qualities,” she joked, hoping Grant could accept that about her as well as everything else.

  After Brett and his tech friend had left, Caprice was deciding how she could work without her computer. She could work on her tablet but that wasn’t the same thing. There were necessary programs on her desktop. Still, she’d settled on the sofa to choose more furniture for Marsha. Shopping she could do on her tablet.

  When her cell phone rang, or rather played, Bella’s face popped up on her phone’s screen.

  “Hi, Bella, what’s up?”

  “I’m at All About You with Roz. I came in to work a few hours for her. Don’t you think it’s time you find a dress for the rehearsal dinner?”

  “Do you think Roz has dresses that would work?” She’d found a couple of outfits at Secrets of the Past to take along for the honeymoon.

  “I do. I have a few picked out. This is important enough that you really should take some time for it, don’t you think?”

  “Brett was just telling me the same thing.”

  “Brett? Does this have something to do with your computer? Roz said you were having problems.”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. But, yes, I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Terrific. We’ll be waiting.”

  Bella had a lilt in her voice. That meant she was going to try to talk Caprice into something. If she did, that was okay as long as the dress was pretty and looked good.

  Two hours later, still worried about Grant because she hadn’t heard from him, Caprice carefully laid the d
ress she’d chosen in the back seat of her Camaro. It was reminiscent of the 1920’s style in a beautiful shade of turquoise and it would be just right . . . if everything between her and Grant was just right.

  Knowing if she went home, she’d fidget and think, and deciding her pets could wait another half hour for lunch, she drove to the nearby community center. She was going to have a talk with Leanne, Michelle’s former assistant.

  The community center was located just outside of the downtown area. It wasn’t far from Restoration Row where Roz’s shop was located and was within walking distance of the stores, restaurants, and professional buildings. The community center had once been a warehouse that had been renovated more than twenty years ago. Since it needed renovations again, the board had been fund-raising.

  A chain link fence surrounded the outside basketball court. Inside were a game room, an arts-and-crafts room, a couple of offices, and a meeting room. She entered through the game room entrance. That room had been given a fresh coat of beige paint not so long ago. There were finished murals on three of the walls. One depicted teenagers standing in a group. The other two were similar—one with boys playing basketball and the other with girls kicking a soccer ball. Kids from the center had painted the murals with particular help from Danny Flannery, a teen Caprice had come to know well during a previous murder investigation. He was a true artist and Ace was helping fund his dream by sending him to art school.

  Caprice checked in at a desk and asked Reena, the receptionist, if Leanne was there.

  Using the phone system on her desk, Reena called one of the offices. She held her hand over the phone and asked Caprice, “What’s this about?”

  “It’s about Rambling Vines Winery.”

  Reena just arched her brows and conveyed to Leanne what Caprice had said. When she hung up the phone, she told Caprice, “She’ll be right out.”

  Because Leanne was coming out to the game room, Caprice suspected she wanted to have a short conversation. But that wasn’t entirely what Caprice had in mind. When she saw Leanne, she thought how pretty the woman was with her short blond hair, pretty green eyes, and pale-blue sheath dress.

  “Caprice, how are you? Reena tells me you’d like to talk to me.”

  Caprice leaned in a little closer as if what she had to say was confidential. “Since I’m having my wedding reception at the winery, I’m helping gather information for the investigation into Travis’s murder. As Michelle’s assistant, I thought you could help with a few things. Is there somewhere we could go to talk?”

  Leanne studied Caprice with a piercing look but then she nodded. “Let’s step outside. There are too many listening ears in here.”

  Caprice understood how people liked to gossip.

  They exited through the entrance Caprice had come in. Leanne motioned to the walk that wrapped around the building. “Let’s step over here in the shade of the building.”

  Caprice followed her and they stopped. “What is it you’d like to know?” Leanne asked bluntly.

  Remembering what Ace had said about Michelle and that maybe Caprice should dig deeper, Caprice was blunt too. “Since you were Michelle’s assistant, you must have become friends working so closely together.”

  Looking across the street to the apartment building there, Leanne took a moment to answer. “We were friends but Michelle didn’t tell me everything.”

  Leanne’s comment alerted Caprice that there was more to learn. She’d have to be tactful about it. “I assure you, I don’t want you to break any confidences. But the police are trying to find Travis’s murderer.”

  “How is Michelle really?” Leanne asked.

  “I don’t know how to tell exactly. I guess upset would be the closest word. I’ve learned some things about Travis, and maybe now that he’s not in her life, she’s relieved. But I’m not sure about that, either.”

  Leanne again let silence settle between them. Finally she revealed, “Michelle loved Travis, and as the years passed, I think she still wanted to love him but was having trouble doing it.”

  “Because of his attitude?”

  “From what I understand, before they were married, he treated her like a princess. After they were married, he had expectations of her but was so wrapped up in winery business he didn’t spend much time with her.”

  “And?” Caprice prompted.

  Leanne looked left and then she looked right. Satisfied no one was in earshot, she admitted, “I’m not breaking any confidence because I figured it out by myself.”

  “Figured what out?”

  “Michelle became lonelier and lonelier. I’d often see her fighting tears. Then suddenly she wasn’t.”

  “Travis’s attitude changed?” Caprice asked, knowing that probably wasn’t the case.

  “Oh, no. His attitude didn’t change. If anything, it became worse. But Michelle’s attitude did change. Suddenly she was smiling again and even humming when she was working. I accidentally found out why. She and Dion Genet from Oak Grove Winery were having an affair.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Michelle and I had gone to Oak Grove Winery to talk to Dion about a joint promotional venture for the York County Fair. Michelle thought I was in the office picking up brochures, but I wasn’t. I went into the winery area and I saw the two of them kissing. I backed out quickly and Michelle didn’t know that I knew.”

  “Did anything else give it away?” Caprice asked.

  “Michelle received texts from Dion that came much more often than they should have for business. But I could tell without her confiding in me that Dion was making her happy. I had no idea what his intentions were or what hers were. She might have been planning to file for divorce. But if she was . . .”

  If Michelle was planning to file for divorce, that would give the police even more reason to suspect her of Travis’s murder.

  Caprice was surprised by the news of Michelle’s affair but she realized she shouldn’t be. If someone is unhappy in a marriage, that kind of thing happened.

  She considered going directly to Michelle, but Michelle hadn’t told her the truth so far, and she could deny the affair. That left a couple of options. She could go to the source, Dion Genet, or she could talk to her brother Vince first. He was familiar with the local wineries. And while she talked to Vince about that, she could give him sisterly advice about Roz.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vince was surprised when Caprice turned up on his doorstep in the late afternoon. She’d called the office and Giselle had told her he’d gone home for the day. That was unusual. Had Roz’s exit from the house really challenged him?

  He invited her inside the house with a wave of his hand. Before she even had a chance to sit, he asked accusingly, “How long is Roz going to stay with you?”

  “You do realize I’m in the middle,” Caprice said.

  “In the middle of what is what I want to know. Roz is upset because I’m giving Michelle serious advice. I keep the calls short. Roz knows when Michelle calls because I tell her. I don’t know what more she wants.”

  Caprice settled in on his sofa. “Will you accept advice from me?”

  Vince rubbed the back of his neck and he looked tired. His shirt was rumpled again and his tie pulled down. She spotted a glass of wine sitting on an end table.

  “What advice?” he asked tersely.

  Caprice pulled one leg up onto the sofa. “You need to talk to Roz before she moves out of your house permanently and into an apartment.”

  “Is that what she told you she’s going to do?”

  “Vince, I’m really trying to stay impartial. I’m not going to be a messenger.”

  “But she is still staying with you?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Did you come here just to give me advice?”

  “That was one reason, but I have another too.” She motioned to the glass of wine.

  “If you’re going to tell me to give up drinking wine”—he blew out a frustrated breath—“I’m
not overindulging if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Since when did you become so defensive?” He sighed and settled on a chair across from her. “Since I’m not getting enough sleep or eating right. Giselle told me today I was a grouch. It’s why I left early to come home. But you know, it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

  “I didn’t stop in to scold you about your wine habits. In fact, I need your knowledge on the subject.”

  “Does this have something to do with the murder investigation?”

  “It does, and don’t shake your finger at me or I’ll shake it right back.”

  A bit of a smile twitched his lips. “All right. What do you want to know?”

  “Do you know anything about Dion Genet from Oak Grove Winery?”

  Vince looked surprised. “What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Tell me what you know. What do you think of him?”

  “From what I know, he’s a standup guy. He’s descended from a family of French vintners and his wine is superb.”

  “Is he married?”

  “No. As far as I know he’s never been married. As a child, he was brought up in France. Then his father moved here and opened the vineyard. He and his dad still run it together. I think he lost his mother a year or two ago. Why are you asking?”

  “I don’t want to start rumors, so I prefer not to tell you, at least right now. But I’m following up on a lead.”

  “That he might have murdered Travis?”

  “I’m not ruling anybody out, but I’ll know more after I talk to him. I just wasn’t sure how to approach him. But if he’s an honest standup guy, it should be easy, right?”

  “Unless you ask personal questions he doesn’t want to answer. You’re well known for doing that.”

  “I only ask personal questions because I think I can help.”

  “I know,” Vince admitted, leaning his head back against the sofa cushion. But then he sat upright again. “You know, Grant hasn’t been in such a great mood either. I think Giselle was fed up with both of us. What’s his problem?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Honestly, Caprice. Does this have something to do with the wedding?”