Gilt by Association

by Karen Rose Smith

  “What’s that?” Marianne asked curiously.

  “I need to talk to Chet Downing again.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Caprice took Lady with her. Really, it was a no-brainer. She wasn’t going to leave her alone again after she had left her at home for three hours. Besides, Chet liked Lady. Having her cocker along could help him relax, too. If he was relaxed, he might tell her more. Right?

  Would Chet be honest with her? Would he admit he was having an affair?

  She needed to confront him and find out. After all, he might have had an affair. He might have thought Louise was having one with Don Rodriguez. But deep down, Caprice didn’t believe he was a murderer. She simply couldn’t see him buying a gun on the street or shooting his wife in the greenhouse he had built for her.

  Although snow wasn’t in the air, the temperatures would be dropping to around ten tonight. Snow that had melted had slicked up, and Caprice was careful to avoid icy spots. Black ice was as bad as regular ice. Remembering driving this same route the night she’d met with Nikki and Louise, her heart felt weighted with sadness. That was one of the reasons why she had to figure out who had done this, one of the reasons why she had to ask Chet serious questions.

  As she turned into the Downings’ driveway, she didn’t expect to see what she saw. At eight o’clock on a Saturday evening, what was a beat-up truck doing sitting there? She thought she remembered seeing that truck somewhere before. It was green with an open bed, somewhat filled with snow. There were a few scrapes along the side and rusted marks, too. It was as if the owner couldn’t afford to have it painted. Where had she seen that truck?

  After she parked beside it, she switched off the ignition and climbed out of her van. At least the wind wasn’t blowing.

  She opened the back door, released Lady from her crate, praised her, and petted her a few moments so her cocker wouldn’t barrel out and jump down off the van too quickly. Lady was always ready to give a kiss or receive a pet.

  When Caprice gave the command to sit, Lady sat, and Caprice gave her a treat from her coat pocket. Then she attached her leash and they strolled together up the walk to the back door, hoping Rachel was nearby. Maybe the truck was a second vehicle that belonged to her.

  Caprice rang the doorbell. She couldn’t help glancing over to the greenhouse. Louise had spent so many happy times there, but that wasn’t what that structure would be remembered for now.

  After a few moments, the door was flung open. Rachel had answered it quickly but she wasn’t looking like herself. She appeared so pale and very . . . green.

  Lady was ready to walk right in, but Caprice said, “Stay,” and Lady obeyed. One of the reasons was probably that Rachel was holding on to the door as if it were holding her up.

  “Are you all right?” Caprice asked, worried now.

  “No, I’m not. My stomach’s really queasy, and I’ve been to the bathroom. My heart feels . . . funny. I had one of those peanut butter creams that Jamie brought. They looked and smelled so good—”

  Rachel had become even paler by the moment. She tossed over her shoulder, “Bathroom again,” and ran off to the downstairs powder room, which was closer than her apartment.

  That truck. Caprice had seen that truck in the parking lot at Garden Glory. She’d just never associated it with Jamie because Jamie used the Garden Glory van to make deliveries. She suddenly remembered the truck that had sped away from the snowy driveway the night she’d met with Nikki and Louise.

  Standing stock-still beside Lady, Caprice thought about Jamie, plants, chicken wraps, and the peanut butter creams at the crime scene. She considered Louise’s heart condition—atrial fibrillation and her tachycardia episodes. What had been in those peanut butter creams? What had made Rachel sick—gastric symptoms, her heart feeling “funny”?

  As Lady looked up at her with questions about why they weren’t moving forward, Caprice’s mind calculated the events. Louise could have had lunch with Jamie Bergman the day she got sick. They’d been friends because of the Garden Club. Jamie had only moved to Kismet about a year ago. She didn’t have a Texas accent, but more of a Midwest one. Still . . .

  Suddenly Caprice heard her name being called. She said to Lady, “Let’s go,” and patted her hip.

  Rachel called her name again, and she was indeed in the powder room about five feet from the kitchen. She was on the floor near the toilet, looking whiter than death, holding her hand over her heart.

  “I think that candy had something odd in it,” she gasped.

  “You said Jamie gave it to you?”

  “Yes. She’s with Chet. She was going to give some to him, remind him how much Louise liked them—”

  If Jamie was with Chet, and if Jamie was the murderer, Chet could be eating that candy right now, headed to death’s door.

  Taking out her cell phone, Caprice jabbed in 9-1-1.

  When the dispatcher came on the line, she said, “I need an ambulance at 1642 Middlebrook. It might be poisoning. I think Louise Downing’s murderer is in the house. Send police backup, too. This is Caprice De Luca. Detective Jones knows me. I can’t stay on the line.”

  Though Caprice left the line open, she slipped the phone into her pocket. She had to see what was going on with Chet and do it right now.

  Thank goodness Lady had learned how to heel. Caprice was tempted to tell her to stay in the kitchen and her dog might do it . . . but she might not either. The last thing she wanted was Lady running around, with a murderer in the house. Her gut was telling her, with each second that passed, that Jamie Bergman was probably that murderer. Puzzle pieces were falling into place.

  Caprice’s footsteps and Lady’s pawsteps were muffled by the hall carpet. The door to Chet’s den was ajar.

  Jamie must have already started in on her story because Caprice heard Chet ask Jamie, “So you changed your name and after thirty years you thought no one would recognize you?”

  “No one did.”

  Caprice recognized Jamie Bergman’s voice. But she wasn’t a woman named Jamie Bergman.

  The nursery clerk went on to say, “No good photograph of me ever was printed. With a haircut and dye job and thirty years on me—It’s not hard to buy a new identity. After my daughter died, I saved for a year to do it. It took me another year to find Lucy. I couldn’t hire no fancy private detective like you would have done.” There was bitterness in her voice, enough for Caprice to know that this was Stacy Miller, Troy Mathers’s lover. And she was set on more revenge.

  Chet must have wanted answers or wanted to keep her talking. Did he think Rachel would save him?

  “But why revenge after all these years?”

  Now even more venom was obvious as Stacy spoke. “Your wife was the reason Troy got killed. Your wife was the reason I lost my daughter to drugs three years ago. Troy and Shandra and I could have been living a good life in Mexico. I was going to meet him there. But after he was sent to prison and was killed, I could hardly put food on the table.”

  Stacy’s voice was rising with each sentence. Her outrage could be heard down the hall, and Lady was getting restless. She’d sat at the door when she’d heard Chet’s voice, but now she stood, nosing closer to that partially open door.

  Caprice used her hand to try and wave her back.

  Lady did take a few steps back but was agitated. Caprice wasn’t sure what she was going to do about Lady, about herself, about Rachel, about Chet . . . about Stacy Miller.

  However, she listened as Stacy went on. “Shandra had to wear thrift store clothes. She always felt like an outcast. She started on drugs early and couldn’t get clean. You bet I have to get revenge for all of it.”

  “But why kill me?” Chet’s voice cracked, and Caprice wondered if Stacy had more than candy in that room.

  Apparently Stacy was tired of keeping the whole story bottled up, tired of being someone else, tired of the life she’d led.

  Her words spilled out with as much force as fury. “You gave Louise everything,�
�� she almost shouted like the mentally unhinged woman that Caprice realized she was. “From fine cars to jewels to this house, she had everything. I found that out when I traced her down. You gave her anything she could have ever wanted,” she said again.

  Apparently remembering Chet’s question, she answered him. “Why kill you? Because she loved you. Because now you can identify me. Your housekeeper can, too. But soon you’ll both be so sick you won’t be able to move. I want both of you retching on the floor, your hearts crazy, then slowing down to nothing. I’m going to collect everything of value I can in this house and fence it all—the sterling, the artwork, the jewelry. I overheard Louise telling Fran De Luca at a Garden Club meeting that she was going to wear the emerald necklace she stored in a fake book on the bookshelf in her bedroom. She had no right to have everything a woman dreams of with you.”

  Caprice held her breath and prayed for Lady to be still.

  Obviously Stacy was proud of what she’d learned and the plan she’d thought up. She didn’t hesitate to explain it all to Chet. “The first time I tried to kill Louise with the shaved oleander leaves in the chicken wrap, I messed up. There weren’t enough to kill her. But when I came back to the greenhouse, if she would have eaten just one of the peanut butter creams with the tincture of oleander injected in it, she would have died without anyone knowing it was murder. Her heart would have just gone crazy, and the symptoms would have been the same as a digoxin overdose.”

  “What happened the day she was murdered?” Chet asked hoarsely, as if he was short of breath.

  “She wouldn’t eat even one candy! So I shot her. The day I killed her, I couldn’t take the chance of collecting any valuables. I knew the open house people could arrive anytime. But I knew tonight, if I could just get in, I’d be home free. If the oleander doesn’t kill you by the time I leave, I’ll shoot you and Rachel just like I shot Lucy.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Chet said.

  When he did, Caprice knew he’d eaten at least one of those candies, too.

  Caprice tried to wave Lady away from the den, but she wouldn’t go. In fact, she suddenly pulled hard on her leash, and it fell from Caprice’s hand as her dog raced straight into the den.

  Caprice rushed after her and saw exactly what she’d feared. Stacy was holding a gun on Chet.

  Caprice froze. The problem was, Lady didn’t.

  As Caprice dove for her pet, she wasn’t quick enough. Lady ran toward Chet, the leash wrapping around a tall, metal waste can. It fell over with a clang.

  Caprice wished she’d taken that self-defense refresher course that Grant had wanted her to take, but she’d never forgotten how to pitch the way Vince had taught her. She tossed her heavy, fringed purse at Stacy’s wrist and knocked the gun from her hand.

  Apparently Chet wasn’t too sick yet because in a last energetic lunge, he fell on top of Stacy.

  Now Caprice used more than her purse.

  “Lady, come,” she called, and the cocker came to her side immediately. She unfastened her leash and jumped on top of Stacy along with Chet. Somehow they both managed to roll the woman over and Caprice used Lady’s leash to tie her hands in back of her.

  Sirens screamed now, and Caprice hoped the paramedics would be rushing in first. She just hoped they weren’t too late to save Rachel . . . or Chet.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later

  Saint Francis of Assisi Catholic Church held many memories for the De Luca family. Caprice knew today they’d be making another one here.

  The church was about a hundred years old and had that innate holiness about it. The painting of angels on the high ceiling in the sanctuary, the arched stained-glass windows depicting the nativity, St. Francis, as well as the archangels, all added to the hushed sacredness of the place. Afternoon sunlight streamed in the windows now. Father Gregory had performed Benedict’s baptism in conjunction with the last Mass. Caprice, Nikki, and Vince had taken turns holding him, and he’d been the best baby ever.

  Now as they all gathered at the back of the church, Joe and Bella looked so proud. Friends of the family had gathered there, too—Bella and Joe’s neighbor who often babysat the children, a few of her mom and dad’s friends, Roz and also . . . Grant.

  Nikki, her mom, and Nana were the first to leave. Nikki had prepared trays of lasagna, sausage bread, salad, and an assortment of cookies for dessert. They’d decided to have the gathering at the De Lucas’ home since Joe and Bella’s house was smaller. It just made sense.

  Caprice hadn’t spoken with Grant since the debacle at the Downing estate had gone down. Caprice knew she’d walked right into it, not knowing what she was walking into. Thank goodness the paramedics had rushed Chet and Rachel to the hospital quickly enough to save them from the effects of the tincture. Thank goodness for modern medicine—activated charcoal, gastric lavage, and breathing support. Thank goodness Stacy Miller had been caught. In a bit of rage, she’d confessed to everything, even to Detective Jones after she had been Mirandized. She’d been charged and arraigned for first-degree murder, two counts of attempted murder, and aggravated assault. Since she seemed willing to plead guilty, her sentence could be life imprisonment instead of the death penalty.

  Joe and Bella tucked Ben into his bunting and then into his car seat. Bella said to Caprice, “We’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Caprice assured her.

  She heard Vince ask Grant, “You’re coming to dinner, aren’t you?”

  Grant glanced at Caprice. “I’ll be along.”

  Vince exchanged a look with Roz, with whom he was spending more time, and then nodded, guiding her out of the church with his hand at the small of her back.

  Grant approached Caprice, and she felt a bit jittery.

  “They seem to be getting along,” he said as an opener.

  “They are. The Valentine’s Day dance could have started something.”

  Grant looked uncomfortable at the mention of the dance, and Caprice hadn’t wanted to make him feel uncomfortable, so she quickly rushed ahead. “The christening went well, don’t you think?”

  “I think you and Nikki and Vince will make terrific godparents.”

  “We’ll certainly try.”

  Avoiding eye contact, Grant looked up the aisle at the inside of the church, along the pews, his gaze settling on the altar. “I haven’t been in a church for a long time.”

  Caprice thought that was as personal a statement as Grant had ever made to her because it spoke deeply about what he’d been through, about dark days, about his attending the christening anyway in spite of what he might be feeling.

  She waited, having no idea what he’d say next.

  “It’s a day I wanted to be here, not just for Joe and Bella and your family, but because I have a lot to be grateful for. You being here, for instance.”

  Now he did look at her, really look at her, and she couldn’t look away.

  She swallowed hard. “I’m okay, Grant. I can’t tell you I wasn’t in any danger . . . because we all were. But I didn’t go to the Downings’ looking for what I found. I just wanted to talk to Chet.”

  “I know. Vince told me that, along with how you saved Chet’s and Rachel’s lives.”

  “Lady did that,” she said with a smile, hoping to lighten their conversation.

  “I don’t know if I want Lady being your partner in snooping.”

  “I would have caught on to Stacy more quickly if she’d originally been from Texas and had an accent, but she was raised in Kansas. Her family moved to Texas when she was a teenager.”

  “And if you had caught on more quickly?”

  “I would have gone to Detective Jones, of course.”

  Grant was quiet for a few moments, and then he asked, “Have you taken a refresher course in self-defense yet?”

  She felt herself blushing, because she was embarrassed she hadn’t. “With the pups, raising and training Lady, and then the holidays . . .” She trai
led off.

  Grant stepped a little closer. She smelled his woodsy cologne and liked the crags on his face. She liked so many things about Grant Weatherford.

  Shoulder to shoulder with her now, he said, “You can’t rely on the pitching arm Vince helped you develop if you’re going to continue to investigate murders. You’ve got to take that refresher course. I’ll be glad to pup-sit for you.”

  Her heart beat faster. She quickly agreed. “I’d like that.”

  Together they left the church, looking forward to the christening celebration at the De Luca family home.

  Original Recipes

  Fran’s Baked Macaroni and Cheeses

  Preheat oven to 350°.

  2 cups elbow macaroni

  3 ½ tablespoons butter

  1 small clove garlic, grated

  ¼ cup finely chopped onion

  3 ½ tablespoons flour

  ½ teaspoon salt

  ¼ teaspoon pepper

  2 ½ cups whole milk

  12 ounces Cooper Brand CV Sharp Pasteurized Process American cheese cut into small cubes (I use this cheese because it melts smoothly and doesn’t separate.)

  ½ cup Monterey Jack cheese, grated

  A sprinkle of smoked paprika

  Bring four quarts salted (2 teaspoons) water to a boil. Pour in macaroni and stir. Boil according to package directions—about ten minutes. Drain well and pour into a three-quart ungreased casserole.

  Melt butter in 3-quart saucepan. I use a stainless-steel pot on medium heat. Add onion and garlic and stir for about one minute. Do NOT brown. Blend in flour, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring constantly on medium heat until smooth. Slowly stir in milk. Allow mixture to come to a boil (I turn to high-medium heat—if heat is too high, you will get lumps!), stirring continuously so it doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan. Let bubble until thickened—about two minutes. Lower heat and add cubed American cheese and grated Monterey Jack, stirring often. Once cheeses are melted, stir the cheese sauce into the macaroni. Cover and bake for thirty minutes. Uncover and bake an additional ten minutes.