Staged to Death (A Caprice De Luca Mystery)

by Smith, Karen Rose

  “Maybe Dad could say something to the chief about Waxman.”

  “I imagine he could, but Mack never talks about ongoing investigations.”

  “Not even after a few glasses of Dad’s favorite wine or a shot of Rock and Rye?”

  “Mack is pretty tight-lipped, but maybe your dad can find out something. Maybe he can find out if Roz is a real suspect or not. Even if Mack won’t talk, your father can tell him about Bart Waxman.”

  It hadn’t taken many detective skills to figure out that Roz was a prime suspect. Changing the subject, because that thought caused chills to run up and down her spine, Caprice asked, “So do you know what everyone is bringing for dinner on Sunday? I wish you would just let Bella, Nikki, and me cook.”

  “Nonsense. You know your grandmother and I enjoy doing it. We’re making ravioli. Some cheese, some sausage. Bella is bringing a vegetable casserole. Nikki’s making antipasto salad and the cannoli shells. And you’re bringing the cream for the cannoli and baking bread.”

  “Don’t forget Vince’s wine.”

  Her mother laughed. “I could never forget Vince’s wine.”

  The back door opened, and Roz and Dylan came in.

  Caprice said to her mother, “Roz just came in with Dylan. We’re going to have lunch, then I think I’m going to give Bella a call. I might stop in for a visit.”

  “You’re stopping in for a visit? You’ll be seeing her Sunday. What’s up?”

  “Not a lot. I just wanted to talk to her about her beautician.”

  Later that afternoon Caprice picked up a basket from the stack just inside the door of Kismet’s Grocery Fresh Market. The small store, with its produce, fruits, and deli was her favorite place to shop for ingredients for home-cooked dinners. When she’d called Bella, her sister had invited her to come over anytime, and asked if she could pick up some vine-ripened tomatoes and peppers so Bella could use them for dinner. Her car was on the fritz again.

  The vehicle had been giving Bella problems for the past year. But her sister insisted she and Joe just didn’t have the funds to buy a new car or the monthly income to sustain higher payments. With two kids and one breadwinner, their budget was stretched to the limit. But just like all the De Luca women, and even their father on occasion, Bella preferred fresh ingredients for cooking. She clipped coupons, watched for sales, and skimped in other ways in order to buy fresh fruits and vegetables. Caprice knew her sister would insist on paying her for whatever she bought, but she didn’t have to tell her the real total of the bill. The vine-ripened tomatoes would just happen to be on special today.

  For some reason Caprice suddenly compared Bella’s scrimping to Roz and Ted Winslow’s ability to buy anything their hearts desired. She’d left Roz making phone calls and working on an obituary for her husband. How hard was that going to be, knowing the man had been unfaithful?

  For now, all Caprice could do for her friend was provide her with a place to stay, be available to listen, and cook food that would keep Roz healthy during this difficult time. Since it was a warm day, tonight she would whip up Nikki’s avocado, tomato, and pasta salad. Strolling past the produce counter, she picked up an avocado to use for that dish.

  With that in her basket, she proceeded to the ledge that held the tomatoes. Caprice couldn’t wait until the plants her mother raised from seedlings were growing in cages in her own garden and she could pick the tomatoes right off the vines.

  But she didn’t want to rush summer when there was so much to enjoy about spring.

  She’d dropped several tomatoes into her basket and was ready to move on to the poblano peppers when she noticed the man striding through the sliding-glass doors. Dr. Seth Randolph took a basket from the stack and headed toward the produce.

  Caprice felt her heart give a little skip. Should she wait for him to catch up and maybe say hello? Would he remember who she was? Or should she just move on and forget about every silly notion that had just entered her head?

  But the decision was made for her. Dr. Randolph walked up beside her, picked up a tomato, glanced at her . . . and recognized her. As he mentally placed her, the lines around his eyes crinkled and he smiled.

  “Miss De Luca, isn’t it?”

  “Caprice,” she said, pleased much more than she should have been that he’d remembered.

  He set a tomato in his basket as his gaze passed over her flowered and fringed vest, her Beatles T-shirt, her red jeans. “And it is Miss, right?”

  “Yes, it is.” Was he checking again for a reason? Her heart did that pitty-pat thing, and she wished she could just act like an adult and have a conversation without feeling all . . . giddy.

  So she said the first thing that came into her head. “I didn’t expect to see you here at this time of day.”

  “This happens to be my day off. At least it’s a day off until my phone buzzes or vibrates.”

  That was the life of a doctor, she supposed. Mostly on call. That thought was fleeting as she registered the fact that he’d looked good in a lab coat, but he looked ten times better in a green football shirt and blue jeans. His sneakers had been around the block more than a few times. This was the everyday Dr. Seth Randolph, and she had to admit, shallow as it was, she really liked the way he looked—broad shoulders, tousled tawny hair, and all. Not to mention those very blue eyes that looked as if they were studying her now, trying to find an answer to a question.

  “How’s your friend?”

  She knew privacy laws kept her from getting information from him, but there was no reason he couldn’t ask her. Especially if he cared and he seemed to. “Physically she’s doing better. I encourage her to eat and drink, and mostly she just does it by rote. Emotionally, I’m not sure. She still stares into space a lot.”

  He lowered his voice. “It’s awful imagining the two of you finding her husband’s body the way you did. I’ve come across accident scenes and of course trauma in the ER. It’s not easy to forget afterward.”

  “No, it’s not.” In fact, she’d awakened last night with visions of the murder scene in her head. “I know how it affected me. I can only imagine the impact it had on Roz. One thing is helping, though. I took in a stray dog about a month ago. He and Roz have taken to each other. He even slept on her bed last night.”

  “Animals are good therapy. Encourage her to take him for walks and she’ll get some exercise too.”

  “On a walk she’s afraid reporters will find her. But she took him outside to play. That could become a habit while she’s with me.”

  “Do you know how long that will be?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m worried.” Maybe because Seth Randolph was a doctor, it was easy to confide in him. “The police asked her to come in for questioning this morning.”

  “Because she wasn’t coherent last night?”

  “I don’t think so. They wanted to delve a little more. They’re questioning her alibi, so we don’t know what to think.”

  “If she was out running, someone probably saw her.”

  “You really do have a good memory.” Maybe that just went along with being a doctor.

  “I hope so.”

  He checked out her basket. “It looks as if you’re going to be doing some real cooking.”

  “The tomatoes are for my sister. I’m stopping over at her house for a while.”

  She checked his basket. “One tomato, Dr. Randolph? Endless possibilities for that.”

  He laughed. “It’s Seth. And try bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. Do not tell me I shouldn’t be eating bacon.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. You’re the doctor.”

  “Yes, I am, and on the healthy side I was thinking about picking up a pineapple to slice for dessert. You approve?”

  Was he flirting with her? A man was actually flirting with her, Caprice De Luca . . . a man she was interested in too. “I approve.”

  “I don’t want to hold you up,” he said.

  She suddenly wished she wasn’t going to Bella’s to ask h
er about her hairstylist. As he paused, she held her breath.

  “Do you like to play miniature golf?”

  “I haven’t played since high school,” she admitted.

  “That’s good. Then I can beat you. I was thinking maybe next Saturday afternoon. I’m on call this weekend. Unless you’re busy?”

  He seemed a bit uncertain, and she liked that. She liked that he didn’t take for granted she’d fall at his feet. Many women would, and she suddenly wondered why he’d decided to ask her out. “Can I ask you something before I accept?”

  “Sure, if it means that you are going to accept.”

  “I am. But I’d like to know if you pick up girls often in a grocery store?”

  He chuckled, then checked her expression and saw she was serious. “No, I don’t pick up women in grocery stores. Actually I haven’t dated at all since moving here a year ago. Experience has taught me that being a doctor and dating don’t often go well together.”

  “Because of your hours?”

  “Because of interruptions. My phone and pager often become hated items by women I’ve dated.”

  “So why me?”

  “I guess the very reason that you asked is why I would like to go out with you. You seem really interesting. You like to cook, which is a plus. I like the way you dress, which is unusual. I mean the way you dress, not that I like it. You like animals, and at the top of the list is the fact that you seem to care about everything.”

  “Wow!” she responded, not knowing what else to say.

  “What time is good for you?” Seth asked.

  “Around two would be good.” Saturday mornings were usually busy with errands and pulling together all the loose ends from the previous week.

  “Two, it is. What’s your phone number?”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card.

  “A home-stager,” Seth said with another one of those smiles. “Good to know. I’ll call you next week to make sure you’re still free. Have a good visit with your sister.”

  “I will.” Caprice gathered two peppers, plopped them into her basket, gave Seth another glance, then went to the checkout counter. She was going to play miniature golf with Dr. Seth Randolph.

  Should she tell Bella about this date or keep it to herself?

  Caprice found herself still smiling as she approached Bella’s front door. A date with a man shouldn’t make her feel . . . happy. After all, she was a self-sufficient woman who guarded the door to her own happiness. She grabbed it whenever she could. No woman should rely on a man to make her happy. Still, she felt as if she’d won some kind of prize.

  Bella’s ranch-style house was very much like Bella, all manicured and precisely perfect on the outside. Joe could be as much of a control freak as her sister. He kept the lawn trimmed, the bushes banked, and the weeds to a minimum. He could edge with the best of them. To Caprice’s way of thinking, a little color would have been nice, but Joe didn’t take time for flowers or care anything about Caprice’s suggestions. That was okay. She knew by now when to button her lip around him so as not to create friction between husband and wife, or between him and her family. Though it was hard sometimes.

  Caprice never knocked. After all, sisters didn’t have to do that. Besides that, Bella was expecting her.

  With Seth’s smile still turning up the corners of her mouth, she opened the screen door, which was letting the May breeze invade the one-story house.

  There wasn’t much of a foyer, just a step-in with a door leading to a closet on the left. The living room was to the right, and a hall through another archway led to the three bedrooms. The dining area and kitchen were to the left; the laundry room and garage were that way too. Bella’s house was compact and at times seemed to be stretching at its seams as it accommodated the Santinis’ daily needs.

  Four-year-old Megan came running as soon as she saw Caprice. She practically tied her arms around Caprice’s knees, and Caprice burst into a laugh. “Hi there to you too, munchkin. How are you today?”

  “My name is not munchkin,” her niece insisted in a back and forth they had almost every time Caprice saw her. “My name is Megan,” she said importantly.

  Caprice let the bag of tomatoes and peppers drop to a green and tan plaid arm chair. Everything in Bella’s house was coordinated to the nth degree. Green and tan were the only colors in the living room, from the carpeting to the drapes to the furniture. Bella had gone with basic earth tones because Joe liked them. Caprice had her own thoughts about that because she knew her sister would have preferred flowers and a little more color. If Caprice could redesign the room . . . How many times had she thought about that? She’d move the sofa there, a light over here, get rid of the heavy drapes, add box shelves for the kids’ toys. But she wasn’t redesigning. Heaven forbid that Joe would let Bella do anything like that.

  Kind thoughts, she told herself. Think kinder thoughts about Joe. He loved Bella. That was the important thing. And he loved their kids, though he didn’t shoulder the burden of caring for them very often.

  “Wanna play with my American Girl doll?” Megan asked.

  Bella called from the kitchen, “In here. If you have those tomatoes, I’ll skin them and put them in the Crock-Pot. The sauce will be ready whenever Joe gets home. He’s still busy from tax season. I guess clients are amending their returns.”

  Caprice bent down to Megan again. “Why don’t you dress Lanie in the very latest outfit you have for her. Then you can bring her in and show me.”

  Megan thought about the idea, then agreed, “Okay.”

  She scampered over to the sofa, where doll clothes were spread from one end to the other. Caprice knew Bella would be gathering all of them up before Joe came home. Everything in its place when the husband entered his domain.

  Stop it, Caprice told herself again. Joe was a perfectly nice guy. If you weren’t married to him.

  Bella was removing a frying pan from a hook in the kitchen closet when Caprice set the grocery sack on her counter.

  “Do you need me to do anything?” Caprice asked.

  “Sure. You can start the onions and peppers in some olive oil while I skin the tomatoes. Add two cloves of garlic too.”

  Bella already had a pot of water on the stove, simmering, to plop the tomatoes into. After she did that, she pulled a silicone bowl from a cupboard, scooped ice into it from the freezer, and set it in the sink.

  As she added a little water, she asked, “Where did you get that outfit?”

  Caprice’s clothes were an ongoing abomination to Bella. She hated vintage anything, let alone a tapestry fringed vest that could have been as old as she was.

  “You know where I get most of my clothes, Secrets of the Past, downtown. Believe it or not, the T-shirt’s new. Lots of retro going on right now.”

  When Bella didn’t respond to that, Caprice wondered why. Her sister usually took every chance to make a jab at Caprice’s penchant for Paul McCartney and anything about the Fab Four.

  Her sister took a pair of tongs from a drawer. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Seven bucks.”

  When Bella gave her a look, Caprice shrugged. “On special today.”

  Bella frowned, but again didn’t give her usual rejoinder.

  Something was up. Caprice could feel it in her bones. Or maybe the telltale sign was the way Bella kept sliding her gaze away from Caprice’s. That usually meant she had something to hide.

  But jumping into it feet first was never the way she operated with Bella. Nikki, yes. But with Bella, she had to be more subtle, even though Bella never was.

  Knowing where her sister kept most things in her kitchen, Caprice slid a cutting board from a shelf in the closet, grabbed an onion from a basket on the counter and one of the peppers that had tumbled out of the bag when Bella upended it to reach the tomatoes.

  After washing the pepper and peeling the onion, Caprice took a knife from the wooden block near the sink. That knife brought back pictures she did
n’t want to remember. It’s not a dagger, she reminded herself. She was just going to chop some vegetables.

  As she sliced the pepper in two and seeded it, she asked Bella, “When did you have your hair done last?”

  “Why? Do I need a trim?”

  Bella took everything personally. “No, you don’t need a trim. Your hair always looks perfect.” It was thick and curly, and who could tell when she did need a cut? “I wondered who your stylist is.”

  “My stylist is Rhonda Fitzmore. Aren’t you happy with Peggy?”

  Peggy Latimore did a fine job with Caprice’s long, straight hair—angling it around her face, fringing her bangs, making sure the back blunt cut was just right. “I’m good with Peggy. I just wondered if Rhonda ever talks about her boss?”

  “You mean the queen of décolletage?”

  Caprice had to laugh. “Yep, she’s the one.”

  Bella’s lips finally turned up in a smile. “What do you want to know? Rhonda’s mostly discreet, but she does talk about Valerie when she’s not there. All the stylists do.”

  “What do they say about her?”

  “I think a lot of it stems from jealousy because Valerie sure knows how to turn heads.”

  “Do they talk about her clothes or her dating habits?”

  “Why all this interest in Valerie?”

  Usually Caprice didn’t keep anything from Bella. But if word got out about Ted and Valerie, and the police heard about it, that could be bad news for Roz. So she simply said, “I’m interested, that’s all.”

  Bella’s eyes narrowed. “Does this have something to do with Ted Winslow’s murder? Mom told me Roz is staying with you.”

  “I can’t say anything else, Bee.” She lapsed into her childhood nickname for her sister, so Bella would know she was serious. “I’d really rather you not tell anyone that I was asking questions, okay? Or that Roz is staying with me.”