Slay Bells Ring

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Sara’s stunned. She can’t believe it. She never had an inkling.”

  The dogs, checking in with their humans, came to the porch and sat in front of the glider.

  Caprice absently pet Lady. “Do you think Mack knows?”

  “I don’t know. Your mom and Nana were at a meeting at church tonight and I couldn’t talk this over with them. I didn’t want to overreact or do something I shouldn’t. But I do think maybe I should talk to Mack. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a good idea, but we should do it face-to-face. Shall we ask him to come here?”

  “Let me give him a call and see what he’s up to. I’ll play it by ear.”

  When Caprice’s dad called Mack, he learned that he was just leaving the station. He told him he had something important to talk to him about and asked him to stop at Caprice’s. Mack said he wanted to know what it was about, but her dad just told the chief he’d tell him when he got there.

  Caprice heard her dad say, “I don’t like surprises either. But I had one and I need to talk to you about it.”

  While they waited, Caprice made coffee and cut slices of the chocolate loaf. Setting them on a turquoise stoneware plate, she placed it on the table. The coffee had just finished brewing when Mack arrived.

  The cats had since vacated the chairs and were happy lounging on the cat tree in the living room. Caprice let Mack in, and after greetings led him to the kitchen. She took his coat and hung it around a kitchen chair.

  Mack faced her dad. “Now what’s going on? We’re not in some kind of spy movie.”

  “No, we’re not,” her father agreed. “Have a seat. There’s something I want to ask you.”

  Mack seated himself warily but looked a little more relaxed once Caprice placed a cup of coffee in front of him and offered him a slice of the chocolate loaf.

  He slid a slice from the serving plate to a dessert dish and picked up his fork. “All right. What’s this about?”

  Her father said, “Sara found out yesterday that Chris had an affair when he was in Nam and he has a son.”

  Mack tried to keep his face expressionless but he didn’t succeed.

  “Tell me the truth, Mack. Did you know?”

  The chief laid down his fork, apparently his appetite for chocolate loaf forgotten. He frowned. “I knew about the affair but not about the son. I’ve kept the secret all these years.”

  He stopped, looking pensive. “Maybe I made excuses for Chris. I know infidelity is a horrible thing in a marriage, but Chris—he and Sara were young when they got married. Soon after, he was sent to Nam. He never intended to be unfaithful. He wasn’t that kind of man. But war and death, needing solace, not knowing if he’d live or die, led him to a friendship with a beautiful young woman. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Sara again, and he fell in love with Kim. But I thought his association with her was truly over when he came home.” Mack shook his head. “A son. I can’t believe Chris never told me.”

  “It seems Chris kept many secrets,” her dad said, almost angrily. “Apparently, Kim died several years ago. Their son Trung works in management in a shoe production factory in Ho Chi Minh City.”

  “The knowledge that Chris had a son had to be devastating to Sara. How is she?” Mack asked.

  “Shell-shocked,” her father answered. “I’m not sure she knows which way to turn. Her life—her marriage—has been shaken up. It’s going to take her a while to find her bearings and decide what she wants to do next.”

  “Apparently, you’ve become someone she confides in,” Mack suggested, giving her father a steady look.

  Her dad said, “I know. I don’t know why she didn’t call you instead of me.”

  “Maybe my position as chief of police has something to do with that, or maybe she felt betrayed by me too. Maybe she guessed that I knew about the affair.”

  “It was a burden to keep that secret, wasn’t it?” Caprice asked Mack.

  “Yes, it was. Yet in a way, it seemed like a past life. Chris and I didn’t talk about it. I thought Chris had put it behind him. I thought he was just dealing with PTSD all these years.”

  “Did you have problems with PTSD?” Caprice asked Mack.

  “I did. For years. My wife was a saint. She had to go through some bad times with me, just like Sara did with Chris. Fortunately, she talked to our family physician about it, and he put me in touch with a group of guys who’d gone through something similar. That group saved me.”

  “Was Chris part of that group?” Caprice asked.

  “Oh, no. He didn’t want any part of something like that. Or maybe the reason was, what happened with Kim would have come out. He wasn’t going to let anyone know about that.”

  “Except maybe Father Gregory,” Caprice mused. “And he, of course, could tell no one.”

  They all sat there solemnly thinking about it. Finally, Caprice suggested, “Don’t you think Brett should know about this?”

  “I can’t tell him,” Mack said. “I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the investigation.”

  “I can tell him,” Caprice decided. “If he wants more information, he’ll have to talk to Sara. But at least he’ll have the basics.”

  “He’s at the station now almost twenty-four hours a day,” Mack said.

  “I’ll convince him to have lunch or coffee with me. After all, he has to take time to eat,” Caprice maintained.

  “He barely does. Nikki has been bringing food to his office. All the other guys are jealous.”

  “I’m glad she’s doing something positive to stay in touch with him. I have a feeling he puts a wall up when he works like this.”

  “He has to, Caprice. Part of him has to stay detached. Besides, he can’t go spilling everything to Nikki, and that’s probably what she’d want.”

  “Not if he’d tell her he can’t.” She wished these men would stop underestimating her sister.

  “Sore spot?” Mack asked.

  “Not for me but for the two of them.”

  “Anyone involved with a cop usually doesn’t stay involved long,” Mack said with regret.

  “Nikki’s not a saint, but she has a well of understanding if Brett would just give her a chance,” Caprice pointed out.

  “I’m staying out of it,” Mack said, pulling that chocolate loaf closer now. “When we were in Nam, I warned Chris not to get involved with Kim. That advice did no good. So I stay out of everybody’s love life. That’s safer for me and for them.”

  Caprice didn’t know if staying neutral was the best thing to do or not. What if Sara had found out about Chris’s affair? Would she have forgiven him? Would that have made their marriage stronger? Would the fact that he didn’t have to lie to her make their bonds better? Those were questions she’d never have the answers to.

  While Mack and her dad sipped on their coffee and each ate a second piece of the chocolate loaf, Caprice called Brett. She simply told him she had information that might help his case, but she didn’t want to come to the station.

  “I need to talk to you about the Merriweathers. I’ll text you tomorrow when I can get free,” he told her. “Maybe I can make it to the Sunflower Diner. Good for you?”

  “Good for me. I’ll fit you in whenever your schedule allows.”

  After she ended the call, she realized she wasn’t sure what this information had to do with the murder, if anything. But it was a lead and a strong one. Now maybe they would get some answers.

  * * *

  Caprice wanted to meet with Brett as soon as she could, but he couldn’t get free until later in the afternoon on Monday. She had to get her mind back on work anyway. She had a job to do and this one was going to be enjoyable. Her assistant Juan would be meeting her at Ace Richland’s estate. They were going to be decorating the rock legend’s house for Christmas. He was having a party in a week and he wanted the house to proclaim “Christmas.”

  Since Caprice was in and out of Ace’s estate now and then, his housekeeper texted her the new code
to get through his gates whenever he changed it. She punched in the code and the gates opened for her. After she drove up the drive and parked, she crossed to his front door, remembering the night she’d met Grant there—the night he’d proposed.

  Instead of Mrs. Wanamaker, his housekeeper, Ace himself met her at the door, his green eyes twinkling, his spiked brown hair not quite as stiff as usual, his earring that was at least two carats of sparkling diamond catching the light. He gave Caprice an encompassing hug. They’d become friends through her efforts decorating his house and discussing common backgrounds. He was really Al Rizzo from Scranton, Pennsylvania, and an Italian through and through. They’d gotten to know each other even better through his days as a suspect in his girlfriend’s murder. She’d helped clear him, and he’d always be grateful for that. Besides all that, she’d become pals with his daughter, Trista. Trista had taken a pup from the same litter as Lady and named Lady’s sister Brindle.

  Ace leaned away from her now and asked, “Still happy about the engagement?”

  “Wonderfully happy.”

  “Good. I can’t wait until your wedding actually takes place.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I want to believe there’s hope in the institution.”

  She gave him a shrewd look, wondering what was behind those words. But he just grinned at her. “Your assistant already okayed the deliveries of Christmas trees and flower arrangements, and the house is starting to look holiday prepared. Even more so now that Trista is here.”

  “She is?”

  “Her mom took her out of school for a couple of days. They’re both staying here while Marsha house hunts in the area.”

  “So that’s still a possibility?”

  “Very much so, according to Marsha.”

  “And what about you? Will you be glad she’ll be in the vicinity?”

  “I’ll be more than glad Trista will be close by. We can spend even more time together when I’m around. The tour is taking up so much of my time now that the less traveling we have to do, the better.”

  “And having Marsha nearby?”

  From the way they’d been acting when she’d seen them the past few times, they were more than amicable.

  “We’ve been having lots of long conversations. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Juan came into the foyer then. He said to Caprice, “Give me your coat and we’ll get started. You can see what I’ve done. Check if you want to change anything.”

  “You go ahead,” Ace said. “I have work to finish in my studio downstairs. Trista is up in her bedroom with Brindle. I’ll alert her on the intercom that you’re here. She’ll be disappointed you didn’t bring Lady.”

  “With live Christmas trees, strings of twinkle lights, and garlands with berries, I just thought this time it would be better if I didn’t. But I’ll bring her by soon to see Trista and Brindle after we’re finished. I promise.”

  Juan said, “Let’s start with the kitchen. I used copper canisters, red velvet, and white silk flowers.”

  “Sounds elegant.” A few minutes later as she looked around the kitchen, she said, “And it looks just as elegant. I like that Christmas tree by the door.”

  “Trista helped me decorate it. She has a decorator’s eye.”

  “When I redecorated her room for her, she knew exactly what she wanted. She does have a good eye.”

  They moved into the dining room and Caprice suggested greenery across the top of the hutch, a huge red poinsettia with glitter for the table, and Christmas balls in a Waterford vase.

  “Red and gold?” he asked.

  “That will set off the china,” she responded. “I think we need some of those ten-inch diameter pillar candles too. Ace probably won’t light them, but they’ll give off a bayberry scent and add cheer.”

  “How’s it going with the Merriweathers’ house? Are they still going to sell?” Juan asked.

  “I don’t know if Sara and her children know what they want to do. And she probably shouldn’t make any decisions, not within the next few months anyway. It’s such a heartbreaking situation. Chris knew so many people. In some ways, that makes grieving even more difficult for Sara.”

  “There are rumors,” Juan said.

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “Something about an illegitimate child of Chris’s.”

  “I can’t believe information has gotten out already. Where did you hear this?”

  “At the Koffee Klatch. We live in a small town, Caprice. Somebody there said they heard talk about it when they were in the phone store that Ryan manages.”

  Caprice shook her head. “I imagine the family’s talking about it because they’re so shocked. But talking about it in public with friends who can’t keep their mouths shut is just going to lead to more talking about it.”

  “I heard something else too,” Juan admitted.

  What else could there be? Though she knew this is how the gossip tree worked in Kismet—one branch dropping leaves onto another, some true, some not so true. If she could squelch unfounded rumors, she would.

  “A friend of mine was at Susie Q’s a couple of weekends ago.”

  The sports bar again. That name had come up before.

  “And?” she prompted, eager to get away from gossip and get back to decorating. Yet she knew Juan didn’t gossip idly, and if he thought she should know something, then maybe she should.

  “I heard you’re involved again . . . in figuring out who killed Chris.”

  “No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not actively searching. That’s the police’s job. Brett Carstead is on it, and so is Jones, for that matter. They’re not going to let this one go unsolved. There’s a lot of pressure coming from several directions. Mack can’t even have a hand in the investigation because he was Chris’s friend. So, they’re really stepping up their game to do this without him.”

  “But you are keeping your ears open for anything important?”

  She had to be honest with Juan. They worked closely together and could trust each other. “Yes, I am.”

  “As I said, my friend was at Susie Q’s. He’d gone out back for a smoke and ran smack dab into a fight.”

  “Who was involved?”

  “Chris Merriweather and a guy who was bigger than he was. My friend knew Chris because his picture’s been in the paper. It has been every year he’s played Santa, and there’s publicity for his store too. So, he recognized him right away. He said Chris was getting the worst of the action. When the other guy saw my friend, he pushed Chris into the wall and left.”

  “Your friend didn’t call the police or anything?”

  “Would you want to get involved with the cops? Never mind. Don’t answer that. He did ask Chris if he needed an ambulance. He had a cut on his head. He was holding his jaw and his ribs. But Chris Merriweather wouldn’t let him make the call. He said he was fine and he walked away, or hobbled away. He was a little bent over from those blows to his ribs.”

  “And your friend gave no description of the guy who was beating him up?”

  “Just that he was big—tall and husky like a linebacker.”

  That could be a description for either Ray Gangloff or Harrison Barnhart. Both were big men, and if Mack had seen bruised knuckles on Harrison Barnhart—

  Caprice touched Juan’s arm. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be seeing Brett later today. I’ll talk about it with him. Can you give me your friend’s name?”

  “Not without permission. So, just see what Brett says. If it’s necessary, I’ll ask him to come forward.”

  “Will do.”

  Just then, Trista came running into the dining room with Brindle close by her side. Brindle looked very much like Lady though her coloring wasn’t quite as golden dark. Her ears were definitely lighter, but she was a beauty and sweet . . . just like Lady.

  Trista gave Caprice a big hug. “Dad says I can decorate with you if it’s okay. I’ve been helping Juan.”

  “He told me. Tha
t Christmas tree in the kitchen looks terrific. He says you have a good eye.”

  Trista, at thirteen years old, looked as proud as could be from the compliment. She wore the latest fashion: slim-legged jeans, a long sweater that came mid-calf with a bateau neck and worn over a shirt in a contrasting color. Tall and lanky, she took after her dad, not only in her leanness but in her long face, her chestnut hair, and her very green eyes. She was getting prettier day by day, and soon Ace would probably have to fight off her boyfriends or at least give them fair warnings.

  “The living room has barely been started, so we can have a blast in there. What would you like to help me with most?” Caprice asked.

  “I don’t know if this goes with your decoration theme, but Mom let me bring along a Nativity set that she and Dad had when they were first married. Can we set that up somewhere? The figures are hand-carved and really beautiful. The stable is made of real miniature logs.”

  “I’m sure we can find the right place for it. Let’s go look.”

  “I’ll finish up in here,” Juan said. “Then I’ll come help you, or I can move on to Ace’s den.” He was giving her a look that said he understood if she wanted to spend some time with Trista or Trista wanted some alone time with her.

  “Ace’s den sounds good,” Caprice said. “Just try to keep it toned down a bit in there—pine arrangements, maybe with some of that leopard ribbon, gold balls, and copper ones.”

  “Will do,” Juan said as Caprice and Trista went into the living room. Caprice gave the room a look, keeping her mind on Trista and the job and not what Juan had just told her about Chris.

  She asked Trista, “Where do you think the Nativity set would look good. How big’s the stable?”

  “It’s about a foot and a half high.”

  While Brindle sniffed at boxes that Juan had brought in that contained everything from vases to antique balls to artistically crafted ornaments, Trista pointed to the bookshelves beside the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. “How about on that biggest shelf in the middle? We could remove the books.”

  “Sure, we can. Do you need help bringing the set down from your room?”

  “Yes, I could use the help. The stable is in a big box, and some of the figures are in there with it. But then there are two other boxes.”