Drape Expectations

by Karen Rose Smith

  He sat back in his chair and then steepled his fingers in his lap. “What do you want to know?”

  “I know all about the adoption, how there wasn’t supposed to be any contact between Alanna and Diane. I want to know Alanna’s state of mind after her baby’s birth.”

  The attorney seemed surprised by that. “She was angry. She was angry at me, angry at Barton, angry at the world, and, most of all, angry at herself.”

  “And that anger changed her,” Caprice guessed, remembering what Muriel had told her.

  “It certainly did. When Barton first married her, she was the proverbial steel magnolia, but not unbendingly hard. During her first years of marriage, she found out Barton wasn’t the man she expected him to be. He certainly wasn’t any armored knight on a pedestal, though he did armor himself. She found out about all of his flaws, his armor, and how his ruthless nature could sometimes take over. When I arranged that adoption, she thought she’d lost total control of her life.”

  “Were you privy to how the affair with Archer came about?”

  “As I said, she’d become disillusioned with Barton and their marriage. When Barton was so adamant about not recognizing Archer as his son, not taking a DNA test, not letting any of it come to light, Alanna saw yet another side of him. She liked Archer. He was younger than she was, but closer to her age than Barton. They connected. They really connected.”

  “So, why didn’t she just run off with Archer and divorce Barton? Why agree to his terms in giving up the baby?”

  “That’s where you need to understand the real Alanna and how insecure she could be. Barton confided in me about her from the moment he’d met her. I wasn’t sure marriage between them was a good idea because of their diverse backgrounds ... as well as their age difference. But he fell head over heels. He loved her until the day he died.”

  “But his love wasn’t enough?”

  “Archer was kind, younger, energetic, affectionate even. I found all that out when Alanna was ranting about the adoption. I think she really loved Archer, but she agreed to Barton’s terms because she needed the security of his wealth. She’d had nothing growing up, and she was determined never to return to that kind of living. So she traded her child for security, and she hated herself for it.”

  Caprice could easily see how that self-hatred would happen. She had to find out something else. “Did she confide in you about her relationship with Ace?”

  “She did.”

  “Because she wanted to tell him about her daughter.”

  “Yes. I believe she had true feelings for him.” Then he added, “But not for his lifestyle. Barton had traveled too much and she didn’t want to go down that same road in another relationship.”

  “Did you know about Alanna’s deal with Len Lowery to sabotage Ace’s road trip?”

  Mr. Travers looked blank. “No, I didn’t know about that, yet it doesn’t surprise me. She had confided she was going to do something to have the life she wanted with Ace.”

  “Thank you for being forthcoming with me.”

  “I want to see Alanna’s murderer brought to justice. It’s true, I was Barton’s lawyer. But after he died, Alanna had to depend on me in many ways. She didn’t want to take over the reins of running the business, and I had to make sure it ran smoothly.”

  “What happens to the business now?”

  “It will be sold to the highest bidder.”

  “And then it will become part of Alanna’s estate?”

  “Actually, no, it won’t. Barton had arranged for a separate type of trust for the business. Once it’s sold, the proceeds will be divided among all the shareholders—those individuals who helped him get started, who backed his patents, who made Goodwin Enterprises a success.”

  “Did the shareholders know this?”

  “No, they did not. They do now, since Alanna’s will was read. But if you’re looking for motive, there was none there.”

  “Are you a shareholder?” Caprice asked.

  He looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Yes, I am.”

  “Then you had motive.”

  “You could see it that way,” he said. “But Detective Carstead knows all about that and he hasn’t pulled me in for further interrogation, so I don’t think I’m a suspect. Besides, I had a solid alibi for the day Alanna was murdered.”

  Good, Caprice thought. She didn’t need another suspect to add to her list.

  After she left her meeting with Travers, she exited the building, climbed into her van, and thought about everything she’d learned. Alanna wasn’t as cold as she’d seemed. Her motivation had come from insecurity rather than malice. If she loved Archer Ford and dumped him, he had motive for murder. She needed to find out more about him, but she probably shouldn’t do that alone. Maybe Grant would like to go along.

  She would have to put another trip to York aside while she attended the open house tomorrow. A weekday open house was unusual but not unheard of, especially when the showing was by invitation only. The luxury broker representing the house had told her she had at least thirty people on her list who were coming, and there were the other real estate agents from York, Baltimore, and even D.C. who had claimed they had interested clients. Yes, tomorrow would be a busy day. And tonight?

  Tonight she was going to call Ace and tell him what she’d learned about Alanna. He might feel better knowing that Alanna had true feelings for him, feelings deep enough that she wanted to tell him about her daughter.

  And then she’d call Grant to see if he wanted to do a little sleuthing with her ... and maybe to see if their relationship could grow into a permanent commitment.

  The magnificent house with its walls of glass was all modern architecture. That’s why Caprice had gone with a minimalist theme. It sat atop a hill, stone and wood enhancing the glass and steel. In some ways, its angles stood out against the rhythm of the rolling grass, the swaths of trees, the bubbling creek below, and the hills in the distance.

  But this house wasn’t supposed to fit into its landscape. It was supposed to make an architectural statement. That’s what Caprice had tried to do, too, using the sunlight that sometimes glared and sometimes sifted into each and every room. She’d decorated one bedroom in hunter green. The bed frame was that color, along with the headboard, the nightstands, and the round rug that lay in front of the bed. That green brought the outside forest in, and you could almost smell the scent of pine from looking at it. The foyer and living room further highlighted the glass by being wood wrapped, bestowing warmth in spite of the house’s angles and edges. A gas fireplace was encased in stone and faced the sectional black sofa, where anyone could stare into the flames.

  Glass gave off a miraculous amount of light and Nikki was playing with that. The light and darkness and minimalist theme was reflected in her food. One of her hors d’oeuvres—deviled eggs with a caviar top, couched on a romaine leaf—was an example of that. Other offerings included shrimp-topped parsley sauce, pecan-encrusted Brussels sprouts on a bed of couscous, and a plate of beef stew surrounding a scoop of white rice. Fresh, beautifully red strawberries nestled on meringue. Nikki had combined color with natural ingredients to present an unusual buffet.

  When Caprice approached Nikki, her sister was arranging tangerine slices around a sprig of green grapes.

  “Everything looks fabulous, as always,” Caprice complimented her.

  “I’ll accept that compliment today because I’m feeling fabulous ... like I’ve got my mojo back.”

  “You always have mojo,” Caprice teased.

  “Drew Pierson took it away for a while.”

  “I saw your social media pages. You’re having lots of contact with members of the community and great interaction. Your campaign to pull in new clients is in full swing.”

  “It is. Two of the guests from our last open house signed on with me for catering jobs last week and gave my information to friends.”

  Caprice’s cell phone played. When she slipped it from her pocket and checked the
screen, she saw Ace’s picture.

  “It’s Ace,” she told Nikki. “I’d better take this.”

  Nikki just nodded and returned to arranging tangerine slices.

  “Hi, Ace. What’s up?”

  “I didn’t break anybody’s nose again, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “It never entered my mind,” she lied.

  He laughed. “What a friend you are. I just wanted to tell you I sent Marsha and Trista over to your open house. Is that okay?”

  “For this open house we have a restricted list, but I’ll put Marsha and Trista on it. Is there a reason they want to see this place?”

  “Marsha was intrigued when I told her about the glass. And the thing is . . .”

  Caprice just waited.

  “The thing is,” Ace repeated, “Marsha’s thinking about moving here with Trista. I want her to have a place she really likes, somewhere where Trista can have her friends over. The house does have a media room, doesn’t it?”

  “On the lower level. The glass is equipped with darkening shades, just like the first two stories.”

  If she was surprised Marsha was thinking about moving to Kismet, she didn’t let it show. But she couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Did you and Marsha come to some agreement about Trista?”

  “I went to Virginia to visit them last weekend and we had a long talk. You know I want to spend more time with Trista. Less traveling back and forth would make that easier. It’s not as if Marsha has a job or anything. In fact, she’s thinking about going back to school. We have colleges within about an hour from Kismet—Gettysburg, Millersville in Lancaster ... even McDaniel in Westminster. There are Penn State annex campuses. We’re close to Harrisburg for cultural events, and York has plenty of shopping centers. I think Marsha could be happy here.”

  Maybe after Ace recovered from Alanna’s death, or at least the grieving eased, he and Marsha could find their way back to each other.

  However, before that could happen, Alanna’s murderer had to be found. Caprice remembered her phone call to Grant, his easy acceptance of her invitation for him to accompany her to talk to Archer Ford’s neighbors. Neighbors often held the lowdown on comings and goings ... as well as personality traits. And having Grant along?

  That would be a bonus.

  Chapter Nineteen

  As Grant drew up in front of a brick bungalow, with black shutters and unassuming landscaping with boxwoods, Caprice felt like wringing her hands. They’d made small talk the whole way down—about their dogs, about her family, about Grant taking Patches along to work and what the dog might need there to keep him happy. She wanted to talk about the two of them.

  On the other hand, that could be a long, face-to-face discussion and they had investigating on their minds now. Didn’t they?

  After they’d climbed out of Grant’s SUV, and studied Archer’s property, Caprice was less sure about what she was going to do here.

  “How do you know he won’t come home unexpectedly?” Grant asked.

  “It’s not like I’m going to break and enter. I called the hotel and he’s working until ten.”

  Grant’s brows arched and she noted the lines around his eyes that hadn’t come from laughter.

  “They gave you that information?” he asked.

  “I told the person who answered I had business I wanted to discuss with him and asked how long he’d be there.”

  “I think you’re getting too good at this,” Grant muttered as he took a few steps closer to the porch. He nodded to the back lawn. “I think you might be in luck. His neighbor is pruning her roses.”

  The properties on this block in West York were fairly close together, maybe only twenty to twenty-five feet separating the houses. The home to the east side of Archer’s was a little bungalow, with white siding and blue shutters. It was an L-shape, with a garage sitting forward in the front. Caprice caught sight of the neighbor now, her straw gardening hat obvious against the forsythia hedge that bloomed along the back of her yard. A row of freshly pruned roses was a boundary between her property and Archer’s.

  Caprice was ready with a list of questions. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

  Grant caught her arm. When he did, his fingers were warm on her bare skin under her lime green bell sleeve. As she looked up at him, her breath caught.

  “Do you know what you’re going to say?” he wanted to know.

  “If all else fails, I’m going to say he’s dating my sister and I want to know more about him.”

  Grant shook his head. “As I said, you’re getting too good at this.”

  As they walked toward the older woman, Caprice studied Grant in his wine-striped Henley shirt and black jeans. Her eyes could linger on him all day. Instead of indulging that whim, she turned her focus onto Archer’s neighbor. She could see now that the woman was older, maybe in her sixties. She wore bright blue glasses and a pink-and-yellow-flowered, long-sleeved blouse over a white T-shirt and pale blue dungarees. Even her sneakers were decorated with flowers. It was obvious she was a gardener, which gave Caprice a starting point.

  Approaching the woman, she smiled. “Hi. Your forsythia is fabulous. They’re so airy and pretty when they’re free form.”

  The woman looked a little wary as her focus turned to tall, broad-shouldered Grant. “Did you ring my doorbell?”

  “No, we didn’t,” Caprice answered. “We came to see Archer, but he’s not here.”

  “Oh, my, no. Not on a Wednesday. He always works late. He works most weekends, too. It’s a shame, really, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I’m glad to see he does have friends. His work schedule doesn’t leave him much time for socializing.”

  “I know what you mean. Evening work doesn’t help, either.”

  “That’s for sure,” the neighbor agreed. “He used to switch hours with somebody so he’d have a few evenings off. It’s lucky for me, though, that he’s here many mornings.”

  “How so?” Grant asked.

  “He helps me with things I can’t do anymore—like changing light bulbs or the batteries in my smoke alarms. He even trims my bushes for me sometimes.”

  “So you like living next door to Archer?” Caprice asked.

  “He’s a kind young man. I just wish I were thirty years younger so I could snatch him up.”

  Caprice laughed. “I’m surprised he’s still single.”

  “He was dating someone for a while,” the chatty neighbor told them. “I saw him come home with a snazzy suit. I recognized the name of the men’s shop. He told me the woman he was dating expected men to dress as well as she did. I never saw her. He always went out, never brought her home.”

  “Maybe he thought his house wasn’t grand enough,” Caprice guessed.

  “I don’t know about that. He has a nice little place, smaller than mine, but it’s well kept. When I cook, I often take him a casserole or a cake. I kid him his place is never messed up, and he always says that’s because he’s not there very much. A cleaning service comes in every two weeks.”

  Caprice and Grant exchanged a look, because obviously this woman saw everything that went on next door.

  “You said he was dating someone,” Grant prompted. “When we’re around him, I haven’t heard him talk about anybody lately.”

  “That’s just like a man, not talking about personal details. I think he broke up with her around Christmas. He seemed pretty down to me over the holidays. After all, I know down. When my kids don’t get home for Christmas, it’s lonely. But he didn’t want to talk about it, and he worked on Christmas Day. My daughter was here and we baked a ham, so I took some of that over to him the following day. He just didn’t have the Christmas spirit. He even took down the lights he’d hung around the door before New Year’s Day.”

  Caprice could see into the yard on the other side of Archer’s house, too. There was a swing set and one of those jungle gyms with a sliding-board attachment.

  Archer’s neighbor caught Caprice looking that way and she sm
iled. “You should see Archer with Donald’s kids. They climb all over him like he’s a favorite uncle.”

  “I hope they’re not too big,” Caprice said.

  “Four and six, an adorably active age when they have to be doing something constantly. Little Barney— he’s the six-year-old—had a birthday party last month. Archer planned a scavenger hunt for them. It was a big hit. He had to leave the party early to go to work, but he helped supervise the activities while he was there. But you probably know all of that.”

  “We only met Archer recently,” Caprice explained, “so we have a lot of history to catch up on.” Before Archer’s neighbor decided she wanted to know their names, Caprice gave her another smile. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. When I see Archer, I’ll tell him he’s lucky to have a neighbor like you, who even feeds him!”

  The older woman flushed with the compliment. Before she regained her composure, Caprice and Grant excused themselves and returned to Grant’s SUV.

  Once in the vehicle, Grant didn’t switch on the ignition, rather he angled toward her. “Archer Ford sounds like a decent guy.”

  “Yes, he does,” Caprice said thoughtfully. “Maybe he should know he has a daughter.”

  “Maybe, or maybe not. He’s still a suspect, and any revelations should wait until the murder investigation is over.”

  “Will it be over?”

  “Someone’s going to solve this puzzle, Caprice. I don’t know if it will be you or Carstead or Jones. But I do know none of you give up easily.”

  “I want to clear Ace.”

  He took her hand. “I know you do. That’s how I know you won’t give up.” His thumb rested on the top of her hand and she got lost in the feel of it for a moment. Then Grant asked, “Will you answer a question for me?”

  “If I can.”

  “Can you tell me the honest-to-goodness reason you broke off your relationship with Seth?”

  Above all, Caprice knew honesty was important with Grant. “I broke it off with Seth because I can’t date two men. I just want to date one man. You.”