Silence of the Lamps

by Karen Rose Smith

  “How long have you done this?”

  “Since that episode of my card club member trying to steal them from me.”

  “How old was Drew?”

  “That was shortly after he came to live with me. He might have been eleven.”

  “Is it possible that over the years he heard you talking about those recipes being hidden in the floor lamp? Possibly to Kiki?”

  “I suppose that’s possible.”

  Caprice continued with that train of thought. “Maybe he suspected you kept recipes hidden in the table lamp, too. Maybe he checked every once in a while to see if you had inserted any.”

  “I suppose that’s likely. Do you think he was looking for the recipes in the lamp when he let the murderer in?”

  “If whoever came to the door was someone he knew, maybe he just left the lamp apart while he answered the door. There’s no way of knowing, but it’s as likely a theory as any.”

  Rowena suddenly snapped her fingers. “You know what? I found Drew’s yearbook for his senior year. Would you like to see it?”

  “I would.”

  Rowena crossed to a stand of cookbooks on the counter and pulled a tall volume from the wooden holder. “After I found this, I just put it here so I could get my fingers on it easily. Kiki looked through it. I haven’t. I remember too well what Drew and his friends looked like back then.” She handed the book to Caprice.

  Caprice began paging through the volume. There were the usual shots—the football team and the cheerleaders. She found a photo of Drew and Larry and Bronson, standing at what looked like a lab table. The picture must have been taken during a science class. She commented about it to Rowena.

  “Larry was the one interested in science,” Rowena explained. “I remember I bought Drew a chemistry kit one year. The three of them were in the basement using it. Suddenly they ran upstairs and told me I had to open all the windows. I don’t know what they had done, but I think Larry was the instigator of that one. Now and then I found him helping Drew with his math. I think if Larry could have gone to college, he would have done well. But his family didn’t have the money. And I don’t think his achievements showed up well enough on paper to earn him scholarships.”

  Paging through the rest of the yearbook, Caprice found Drew’s photo in the lineup of the senior graduates. She studied his face. Larry’s photo was right before his.

  As she turned each page, she thought about her own high school reunion that was soon coming up. For her, the past fifteen years hadn’t changed the way she looked at the world that much. She might be more confident about what she did and how she did it, but her basic values were still the same. What her parents and teachers had taught her was ingrained and had become part of her moral code.

  As in most yearbooks, at the end of the volume, pages had been saved for autographs. She studied the signatures Drew had collected, which were mostly short comments—You did it! Congratulations, you passed. What’s next, bro? But then she passed her finger over one that was a little longer. Larry had written, Hey Drew—Never forget we’ve got a pact. All for one and one for all. Larry.

  Just what kind of pact had this trio made? Something general, like they’d always be friends? Or had that pact been about something more particular?

  She considered both Bronson and Larry. Bronson’s manner was too facile to give anything away. He considered carefully what he said and who he said it to. But from her conversation with Larry Penya, she had a feeling he might be more open.

  “Do you have any idea where I can find Larry?” she asked Rowena. “You mentioned he separated from his wife and moved out. I left a message at that number, but she hasn’t called me back or given Larry the message to call me.”

  “From what I understand, Linda is bitter about the marriage he couldn’t give her. She stayed in the house, and she’s a single mom trying to make payments on her own. You might want to give her another call or just try to see if you can snag her in person.”

  “Do you know where she works?”

  “She works at that daycare center over near the mall—Little Tykes.”

  “Then she should be home in the evening. I’ll try to visit her tonight. Her attitude would probably be even more closed if I tried to visit her at work.”

  “You’re right about that,” Rowena agreed. “Though it might not be much better if she’s trying to take care of a four-year-old and get supper at the same time.”

  “I’ll have to take my chances.”

  Caprice remembered the threat that had been made against Lady. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her dog, her friends, or herself. The best way to keep harm from happening was to figure out who killed Drew and to do it quickly.

  * * *

  The house Larry Penya had moved out of was basically a box shape with a carport attached to one side. As Caprice had driven up to the curb, she’d spotted a shed in the back. The yard wasn’t very big, so that outbuilding was close to the house. Still, there was a small swing set and a Big Wheel bike crisscrossed in front of it.

  As she walked to the front stoop, she had no expectations. Linda Penya might slam the door in her face. She hoped she could prevent that.

  When she pressed the bell, she didn’t hear a corresponding ding inside. Not working maybe?

  Opening the screen door, she knocked.

  From inside, she heard “Just a minute” in an impatient voice. That didn’t sound like a good start.

  The woman who opened the door looked frustrated. Her ash-blond hair was gathered in a messy topknot. Strands escaped around her face.

  She didn’t even wait for Caprice to open her mouth. “If you’re selling something, I don’t want any. I have a four-year-old in the kitchen who’s in the middle of supper.”

  She turned and was about to close the door when Caprice stopped her. “Wait. This is important. I want to talk to you about Drew Pierson and your husband.”

  That froze the woman in her tracks. She turned around slowly. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Caprice De Luca. My sister worked with Drew. I know Drew and Larry and Bronson were good friends. I’d like to speak to Larry. Do you know where he is?”

  The woman crossed her arms over her chest, thought about it a moment, and then opened the screen door. “Come on in. I have to get back to Joey or he’ll have food all over the kitchen.”

  As Caprice stepped into the small living room, she could see at once that the house was in disorder with Joey’s stuff thrown here and there and toys scattered across the floor. But it looked clean. Not only that, but Larry or his wife had framed their little boy’s drawings and hung them on the wall. There were pictures, too, of when Joey was an infant and later photos taken in the backyard. This appeared to be a house that had once held love.

  Linda didn’t stop in the living room but went straight into the kitchen, where a towheaded four-year-old in a T-shirt and jeans was digging into what looked like a bowl of SpaghettiOs. He had sauce all over his mouth and his little fingers, and he’d picked up one of the tiny meatballs and was holding it in his hand.

  Linda shook her head, went over to him, and advised, “Put the meatball in your mouth, then I’ll wash your hands.”

  Joey’s hazel eyes twinkled as he did as she’d asked and then grinned at her.

  “Gotta love the cuteness,” she murmured.

  Caprice knew what she meant. Megan and Timmy could get away with a lot too with a smile like that.

  She said to Caprice, “Larry doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Drew’s grandmother told me that. She said you were separated?”

  “For about six months now. Larry lost his job, and then he tried to set up his own handyman business, fixing people’s appliances and things you can’t get repaired anymore. He’s good at that.” She motioned out back. “He has his workshop out there. He always went there to smoke. He still stops in to use it now and then. But sometimes he doesn’t even let me know he’s out there. Probably when he’s been drinking.
That’s one of the reasons I asked him to move out.”

  Caprice wondered if Larry could have a Tiffany lamp base in his shop somewhere. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Can I take a look at the workshop?” she asked.

  Linda looked perplexed. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I’m just curious to see how big his enterprise was. I heard Bronson helped him out.” A little fib now and then to get information didn’t hurt.

  Looking embarrassed, Linda admitted, “Bronson gave us money to tide us over—so our electricity wouldn’t get shut off and we could pay our mortgage. But he didn’t help with the shop as far as I know. Larry already had tools, a workbench, things like that. But advertising is a problem. I think Bronson lent him money to do an ad in the paper, but that didn’t bring in many people. I think he’s looking into setting up a social media page. But he really doesn’t know anything about all of that.”

  “I saw Larry at the gym,” Caprice said, wondering where he got the money for the membership. It wasn’t cheap. If they were having financial difficulties, wouldn’t he drop that first?

  “That was also a gift from Bronson last Christmas. He thought it might help Larry’s mood if he kept up physical activity. Bronson’s been a good friend. We owe him so much. Life just got too overwhelming for both of us. We argued all the time. Joey was getting upset. It just seemed better if Larry moved out for a while. Do you really want to see the shop?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s never locked.”

  Linda went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a pack of cookies. She unfastened the package, took out five of them, and placed them on the table in front of Joey. She said to him, “You can have these with your milk. I’ll be right back.”

  The back door was already open to let in the hot breeze. As she led Caprice outside, she said, “I know I should be giving him carrot sticks instead of cookies, but those cookies were on special and I got them really cheap. Everything for me is about money these days. I hate it.”

  Caprice felt sorry for Linda, who seemed to be in the middle of a hurricane with everything around her spinning out of control. What if it fell apart even further? What if Larry had killed Drew? For what reason? Caprice had no idea.

  It was only about ten steps to the shed. It looked as if it had been hand-built by either Larry or a previous owner. She said as much.

  “It was here when we moved in,” Linda said. “It was one of the reasons Larry liked this place.”

  She threw open the wooden door, and a wave of heat and stale smoke accosted Caprice. There were two windows, and they were open. But the small building seemed to draw the heat into itself. She spotted a fan sitting on the workbench and realized that Larry probably kept that going during the summer. On one side of the building, shelves were filled with small appliances—mixers and blenders. She thought she spotted two XBoxes. A canister-style vacuum cleaner with its attached hose was sprawled across on the floor. The workbench held the usual tools—chisels, pliers, a utility knife, and even a small hammer. Rows of jars with different types of screws and nails lined the back of the workbench against the wall. A roll of appliance cord leaned against two rolls of duct tape.

  On quick inspection, she didn’t notice a Tiffany lamp base anywhere. But then it would be foolish to keep that here, wouldn’t it?

  “I’m checking into Drew’s background,” she told Linda. “I’m trying to discover if he had any enemies that nobody knew about. Did Larry ever talk about Drew? What he was doing now? Or maybe the old days when they were drag racing in high school?”

  “Drag racing?” Linda asked. “I never knew about that. Larry had it rough growing up, so he never talks about that very much. I knew he and Bronson and Drew were friends since then but not much else. Larry and Bronson drove down to D.C. when Drew worked there. And when Drew came home they’d meet for drinks.”

  “So Larry never mentioned a pact that he and Drew and Bronson might have had in high school?”

  “A pact? No. They did act like blood brothers, though, when they were around each other . . . the joking, arm punching, sports stuff.”

  “You said Bronson helped out Larry. Did Drew know about that?”

  “Sure. I don’t think they kept anything from each other. And Bronson was helping Drew too. He let him open his business from his kitchen. Granted he has a huge house and he isn’t there much, but still . . .”

  “So Drew and Larry got along fine?”

  “As far as I knew. Sometimes I thought Drew looked down his nose at Larry. You know, like he was going places and Larry wasn’t, especially after he sold that barbecue sauce recipe. From what Larry said, the last time he phoned, Drew wouldn’t stop bragging. Larry was down on his luck, and it was like Drew kept throwing it in his face . . . all that success. I’m sure that annoyed Larry some, but as I said, they were like brothers.”

  Like brothers. There was only one way Caprice could get a real beat on this. She had to talk to Larry. “Can you tell me where Larry’s staying? He might know some detail that could lead to Drew’s murderer.”

  “He stayed at Bronson’s for a while, but I don’t think Bronson liked him hanging around when he was drinking so much. So I think Bronson sent him to the cabin that belonged to his dad. Larry always liked fishing, being in the woods. I think Bronson figured it would help.”

  “Are you in touch with Larry?”

  “I haven’t been for a couple of weeks. We couldn’t afford cell phones anymore, so we don’t have those, and that cabin doesn’t have a landline. When Larry calls, he does it from a convenience store. Bronson told me if I needed to get in touch with Larry, he’d go get him. But I haven’t needed to. I’m just trying to make life work for me and Joey now.”

  Caprice could call Bronson to find out where his dad’s cabin was located. But what if Bronson, or Larry, had killed Drew? What if one knew the other had done it?

  No, she didn’t want to raise Bronson’s suspicions. She didn’t want to think he’d sent her the note . . . or the ribs. On the other hand, she didn’t think Larry in his mental state right now would devise that plan either. That was just a gut feeling. She’d gone with gut feelings before. If only Detective Carstead would share what he knew. But she knew he wouldn’t. If she talked to Larry and figured anything out, she’d go to the detective. Again.

  In the meantime she knew someone who could find out the directions or the address of Bronson’s dad’s cabin. Reporter Marianne Brisbane had helped her before. She had access to all kinds of databases and public records. Caprice was on a mission now, and she wouldn’t stop until she had some answers.

  She studied Linda. “You know, don’t you, that there’s a food pantry connected to the soup kitchen. They even have fresh produce this time of year. Gardeners who have extras bring it in. By August there will be tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini.”

  “I haven’t wanted to go that route,” Linda confessed with pride in her voice.

  “You’re going through a tough time, and Joey deserves the best you can give him, doesn’t he? Even if you have to accept a little help from others.” Caprice took out one of her business cards and handed it to Linda.

  When Linda looked at it, she laughed. “A home stager? That’s the last thing I need right now.”

  “I’m not handing it out for professional reasons. My home number’s on there if you want to know more about the Kismet Food Pantry or Everybody’s Kitchen.”

  Linda glanced down at the card again, then at Caprice. “I don’t have any family. Larry lost his mom, and his dad has his own problems with alcohol, so he’s no help. I don’t like to keep taking from Bronson either.”

  “There’s a social worker who comes into Everybody’s Kitchen. She tries to hook people up with the programs they need. She’s usually there from four to five while volunteers are preparing dinner. Just think about it, okay?”

  Linda nodded. “Okay.” Then she headed toward her house and her son.

/>   Caprice hoped she’d accept help to get her life back on track.

  Chapter Nineteen

  All the house needed, Caprice surmised the following day, was a rotating strobe light in the octagonal-shaped room. It was a silly notion, but it seemed fitting.

  Denise Langford, the broker handling the Nautical Intertude house, had called her this morning and told her she had a couple who wanted to look at the property late this afternoon. Kim and David were moving from Delaware to Pennsylvania to be closer to her family who lived in York. They’d love to be near the Chesapeake Bay, but that was just a little too far away from her parents. However, this house in Kismet would give them the nautical feel that they’d like, yet put them in a good location. Both husband and wife were self-employed. He was a video game developer and she was a web designer, so they could work from anywhere. And from what they’d seen of this house online, they thought it might be perfect for them.

  And Denise was eager for the sale.

  Caprice wasn’t sure why they needed her here, but she supposed she’d find out.

  Denise was already at the house with the couple when Caprice arrived. She was sure she was on time. She set her phone on vibrate so any calls coming in wouldn’t disturb the meeting. She found the front door, with its porthole window, unlocked.

  After she pushed it open, she stepped inside onto beautiful teak floors. She’d used the colors of the waterfront to decorate—from furniture to wall hangings. This was an eastern seaboard retreat, splashed with yellows, blues, whites, and reds. The downstairs, or main level, was basically one large open space that encompassed the great room, dining area, and kitchen. There was a study and, although it was still open to the other rooms, it was tucked into an alcove to provide privacy. The first floor also boasted, of course, the lighthouse room with its two-and-a-half-story ceiling. The upstairs level held the master suite, in addition to three other bedrooms. An outdoor balcony ran across the second floor and met the widow’s walk, which circled the lighthouse room.